The Rake's Handbook (26 page)

He took a misstep and quickly righted his footing. “Damnation, I bet that dunderhead Browne's proposal was smoother.”

“I think it is going very well so far.” Her smile was almost genuine.

He grimaced. “You're enjoying this, aren't you?”

“Immensely. You, suffering gentle panic.”

“Pardon?

“Nothing of the least importance. Continue.”

“Why don't you refuse me now?”

“You haven't asked me.”

Two couples approached close enough to hear their conversation. Ross scowled at them and waltzed her to the empty side of the dance floor. As soon as this was accomplished, several other people moved in their direction. Whatever look Ross gave them, they immediately retreated.

She saw the matrons watching them, as they had done at the summer assembly. Mrs. Harbottle glared at her, so she smiled back and raised her arm to cheerfully wave at the woman.

“Where was I? Ah, why are you here and not sailing away to America?”

She shook her head. “That doesn't sound like a proposal—”

“I've a speech prepared, but you could save us time and just say ‘yes.'”

She smiled coyly. “I could. But I want to hear your speech.”

He winked. “Is this what marriage will be like?”

She gave a short burst of laughter. “You must offer first before you find out.”

“No, no. It's all wrong here. Later, lovely lady, later. Oh look, now that Browne fellow approaches.”

Henry and Ross exchanged the briefest of bows. “Good evening, sir,” Henry said. “Since you and Mrs. Colton are obviously on such excellent terms, I expect you will abandon your plans for a foundry. I will therefore immediately cease my efforts on the nuisance lawsuit. I must admit I am relieved.”

“Actually, Mr. Browne, I need your legal expertise. My investment group would like to dig a canal to service the Macclesfield area. Perhaps from somewhere around Marple to Bosley.”

She squeezed Ross's arm in silent approval.

Henry nodded. “Of course. I'm just pleased this foundry scheme has ended.”

“No, we'll build it at another location,” Ross said. “That way, when the new canal is completed, we will have a route to move our new engines to our customers.” He glanced at her. “No children will be employed, I promise. Now if you will excuse us, we have some waltzing to do.” Without waiting for a reply, he spun her into the center of the dance floor.

Whirling in his arms, she rejoiced in the comforting embrace of the man she loved.

“Where was I?” He spoke in a low voice, so the other dancers would not hear him. “Madam, due to my physical restrictions—temporary, I can assure you—and the restrictions of propriety due to our gallivanting in a public place”—he took the opportunity of a fast twirl to whisper in her ear—“madam, consider yourself thoroughly
kissed
.”

“Oh,” she replied, her heart skipping a beat before escalating into a rapid gallop. “Sir, consider yourself thoroughly”—she gave him a coy smile—“
kissed
in return.”

His eyes widened in pretend shock before he passed his mouth close to her ear. “Madam, consider your figure…
worshipped
.”

“Oh. That is the most scandalous thing ever said on the assembly floor. And a comment like that demands a reply of a similar nature.” She waited a minute or two until they swirled over to the edge of the crowd, then expressed her desire. “Sir, consider your cravat
torn
off
.”

“Madam, I may faint. But high spirits like yours deserve a proper mate.” He surveyed the room with a sly expression. “Consider your bodice
rent
.”

“On the assembly floor,” she exclaimed, gathering everyone's attention for a moment. She felt a blush stealing up her cheeks with the thought of his hands and mouth on her breasts. “Sir, and here I took you for a gentleman.”

“No, not a gentleman. Failed at that endeavor, almost got me killed too. Therefore, I'll be a rake forever.” He leaned close. “
Your
rake forever.”

This time she leaned to whisper in his ear. “Now that you mention it, who were those women at the bazaar?”

He stepped back, holding her at arm's length. “Are you too warm? Shall I retrieve some refreshments?”

She laughed loudly. “Who?”

He shrugged and failed to answer her question for a minute, before he spun her into the crowded floor. “Parker's cousins acted as tarts to assist me in my misguided—very misguided—attempts to protect you.”

“Parker's cousins.” Her eyes widened. “The milkmaid was a nice touch.” They chuckled together as they performed an extra-fast whirl across the floor. “Although I was suspicious. Men don't usually read books to tarts, do they?”

“Ah, caught.”

“Now that I think of it, his cousins must be the dark-haired ladies like Parker. Who was the redhead then?”

He chuckled. “Maybe one real tart snuck in.”

A loud giggle escaped her. “They say reformed rakes make the best husbands. But what are unreformed rakes?”

“Husbands with happy wives? Still, consider me an
exclusive
rake. Exclusive in regard to relations, but by nature I'll probably continue to partner the matrons in the cotillion, and say outrageous things dangerously close to the wallflowers. Oh look, I must smile at Browne's new dance partner first, don't you agree?”

“I like your version of a rake best. He'll let me begin with a thorough examination.” She leaned close. “Consider your fig leaf
peeked
.”

“Madam, we'll do more than peek.” His radiant smile beamed, eclipsing all of the light in the room. “I've something to show you.”

“Not now.”

“You, my love, are being an impatient reader. The final chapter in
The
Rake's Handbook
must be savored slowly.” A look of sublime satisfaction danced in his eyes.

“Not in the middle of the assembly floor.”

He stopped waltzing and started to unbutton his waistcoat. “Now there's an idea.”

“No!” She flung herself at him, grabbing his hand to stop him.

“You really must contain yourself in public.”

“You devil.”

He leaned close enough his lips brushed her cheek. “Your devil, madam, and no one else's. In fact, you cannot even begin to understand what subject matters your devil has in wait for you.” He lowered his eyelids. “We'll become quite heated after reading the later chapters of my handbook.”

Her heart thumped in her chest as she grinned at the man who meant everything to her now. She needed to hold him, kiss him senseless, but not here with the town's matrons watching their every move.

He took a deep breath and held her closer than propriety allowed. He tried to speak, looked upward, and then whispered, “I should have waited. Tomorrow, my love. I'll show you tomorrow.”

“What is the nature of your surprise?” Elinor asked.

A brisk sunny day greeted them as Ross gathered her for a carriage ride to Blackwell. He ignored her question, handed her up into the carriage, and placed a plaid blanket around her knees before they set off. In unison, they clasped hands and intertwined their fingers. She felt the heat of his warm palm even through two layers of kid gloves. “Where are we going?”

He chuckled before giving her hand a squeeze. “I knew you would ask me that.”

“I—we—there are important subjects to discuss.”

He leaned over, kissed her on the neck next to her bonnet's blue silk ribbons, and then resumed stroking her arm.

Males.
Hopeless at conversation, just when you need to talk. She glanced at Ross abstractly staring at her fingers and realized he would remain silent. How could he be reticent when they needed to discuss Berdy, their living arrangements, the foundry, the wedding, and his mother?
Males.
She weakened at the sight of his dark hair against his white collar as he turned to peer out the window.
Males.
Wonderful, strong, loving men. Both similar in many ways, one gentleman kind and proper, the other kind and wicked. Why had she been gifted with the privilege to truly love a man a second time?

Elinor snuggled up to his warm body, and rested her palm on his deep green velvet coat. After a prolonged sigh, she shut her eyes. When she opened them, they had arrived at Blackwell's stables.

Ross bounded out of the carriage and reached up to help her down. “Come, come, you must see this.”

“See what?”

“Naughty, naughty girl, this way.” He tucked her arm under his and started off toward back of the house. “What a beautiful day.”

Once they reached the rear of Blackwell, she discovered many changes had taken place since the garden party. The sloping lawn had been graded into terraces, supported by short walls of new fieldstone. A wide gravel path separated the terraces into two large arcs of dark, freshly dug earth. Approaching the first terrace, she saw a half-dozen rosebushes taking benefit from the day's glorious sun. This early in the year, most of the roses resembled bare canes with few leaves, but one must have come from a glasshouse, since the plant had several fragile blooms.

“How lovely,” she said in a soft voice.

“My gardener is quite put out at being able to find only one plant with flowers. But as you can see, we are ready for spring. I've also ordered fifty more canes to be delivered. By next summer, the rose garden will have taken its first step toward becoming the most glorious sight in the neighborhood.” He leaned close with a devilish smile upon his face. “Of course, this does mean the air around your home will become a nuisance. I'm afraid the wind will blow the scent of roses right into the house.” He winked.

She grinned wryly. “You will have so many roses, you should start a new business. Use the old salt-evaporating pans down by the river to make rose water.” She giggled. “Thornbury's rose water, for the lady who has everything”—she looked into his eyes—“like me.”

He kissed her cheek and patted her hand. “Excellent idea, madam. Now stay there please. I shall be right back.”

Striding to the table on the terrace, he returned with a full glass of water. “My first attempt at being the proper lover females desire, so be easy on me.” He took a deep breath. “Once upon a time there was a young student who applied for a vacancy in a famous academy of philosophers. In answer to his request, the head of the academy sent him a glass of water so full—the addition of a single drop would run over the side. The young man sadly realized this message was the philosopher's way of telling him he was too late. There was no room at the academy—no room.” A wistful light shone in his eyes.

She understood the metaphor.
Her
heart
must
be
full
of
William's
love.

Ross continued speaking. “Peering through the water in the glass, the young man noticed a rose at his feet. He plucked a petal”—Ross did the same from the plant before him—“then carefully floated the petal so not a single drop escaped.” He lowered the velvety white petal until it touched the water and let go. The petal floated gently across the water's surface. “The young man handed the glass back to the head philosopher. He was then immediately accepted into the academy for his demonstration that room can be found where least expected. I know you will always love William, but I ask for room in your heart for me too, because I love you.” He tossed the water and the petal across the ground then set the glass down. He grabbed her hands. “Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

A soft, fulsome joy radiated through her. “Yes.” Her eyes started to water. “Yes, room.” She laughed. “Always room in my heart for you, my love.”

Reaching into his waistcoat pocket, he pulled out a gold brooch.

The sunlight bounced off the gold and diamonds of William's mourning brooch. Somehow he had rescued it from the leech man. “How…”

“You were right. It cost a small fortune to recover this, but I hope you approve of my alterations. Look carefully.”

She gazed at him in wonderment. Upon examining the brooch, she noticed the tight plaits of William's hair remained. Yet resting along the side lay one of Ross's sable curls. The bottom of his curl was held together with seed pearls, making his hair resemble a dark stalk nestled amongst the wheat-colored plaits.

“Oh.” Words failed her.

“Someday I hope you will tell me about him.”

She was able to nod. William's memory was safe in her soul, and her gratitude for the honor of that love still warmed her. “And you tell me about John.”

“Yes, I would like that.” He spoke softly. “So in my heart the phrase, ‘not lost, gone before' has an additional meaning. With your love, I can be myself. I don't have to pretend to be someone I am not. I truly am—
not
lost
.”

Now even an “oh” was beyond her capabilities. Warm tears obscured her vision as she began to laugh.

Ross gathered her into his arms. He wiped her tears away with his thumbs and kissed her resoundingly. “Hell's fire, we will have to wait three weeks for the banns to be read. Three weeks! I can no longer wait to—express my love.”

Elinor wiped the last happy tear away with the back of her hand. “We can always go fishing or for a carriage ride or, where is that pinery?”

“Madam, it is clear you and I shall suit.”

She laughed. “I know we will, my love, I truly know.”

He surveyed the area. “Just how far away is that pinery? Come, come. I'll need plenty of time this morning.” He grabbed her hand, imprisoned it under his arm, and strode briskly toward the glasshouse.

“Ross, someone will see us.”

“No, Mr. Douglas and the others are at the foundry site today. We'll have the pinery all to ourselves.” He stopped to kiss her deeply, then urgently pulled her toward the pinery. “Besides, Mother would find us anywhere in the house.” A reckless grin emerged. “Exactly what is that thing around your neck?”

“Pardon?”

“Your gown. Looks like I'll have a devilish time removing it. What is that cloth muddle around your neckline?”

Elinor peeked at her bright blue muslin gown, and found nothing more than lovely cording at the bust line. Above that, fine white muslin went all the way up and gathered in a ruffled edge around her neck. She reached her hand up and felt the delicate ruffles that framed her face.

“Yes, what do you call those?” He jabbed his finger in the direction of her neck.

“Ruffles?” she asked.

He groaned. “What
type
of ruffles?”

“Just ruffles, I suppose.”

He smiled brightly. “I can't think of anything I'd like more than to free you of those damnable ruffles.”

They reached the pinery and hurried into the inner chamber with its musty steam and soft pile of dark earth. He flung his cravat and waistcoat up in the air and started to disrobe her. “Time to read you the final chapter in
The
Rake's Handbook
. In fact, we will read it often.”

She giggled. “I expect we'll write the next book together. I've mentioned this handbook before, remember? You said it needed a new title.”

“Ah, yes, some handbook on marriage.”

“I've come up with a new title, and I'm sure this handbook will become immensely popular too.”

A dark brow lifted. “So what's the new title?”

“
The
Cornucopia
of
Connubial
Bliss
.”