How To Tame a Rake (2 page)
“It won’t leave me destitute. I have my grandmother’s money. What happens to Hawkeswood if I refuse?”
“Cousin Hendley inherits.”
He thumped the table. “Hendley? He’ll lose it all at the gaming tables.”
Lady Elizabeth raised her brows. “Quite so.”
Their conversation halted again as servants appeared carrying an apricot tart, a dish of fruit, nuts and sweetmeats.
Blake waved away a sweet wine and downed the last of the Claret. The little maid was returning to his bedchamber at eleven. “Well, perhaps I’ll reconsider it in a year or two, Mother.”
Lady Elizabeth selected a bon bon. “There’s a time limit to it, Blake, which is the reason I sent for you. You must marry before the year is out. That is why I took the liberty of demanding your presence here and why I asked Wilhelmina to visit for a couple of days. She arrives tomorrow.”
Groaning softly, he rose to draw back her chair. “I feel quite justified in being sorely manipulated.”
She rose from the table. “I suppose you have a right to.”
He offered her his arm and as he escorted her from the room, she said, “A game of cards before retiring?”
He glanced at the Grandfather clock in the hall. Ten o’clock. “Why not? But you always win, Mother.”
“That’s because you let me. It is one of your endearing qualities.”
“Do I have many?”
She gazed up at him, her eyes as warm as his were serious. “I believe you do, although you’ve chosen not to exhibit many of late.”
“Ouch,” he said with a frown.
Chapter Two
Blake rose from his bed the next morning with a sense of foreboding. It took him a while to discover what had caused it. Then it all came rushing back. Wilhelmina! A skinny urchin, barely out of the schoolroom, with mousy hair, no bosom and a hoydenish disposition. His father must have owed Uncle Avery a big favor and he was to repay it.
His head ached. He’d drunk too much last evening. He thought of Sarah, no skinny wench, her. Perfect bottom.
Having washed and dressed, he made his way to the breakfast room. “I’ll have a sirloin, Crowley,” he said to the butler. “I’m going to need fortification.”
Crowley’s eyes twinkled. All the servants were up on the latest, no doubt. Perhaps they found it amusing. Blake scowled. He’d been pleasing himself for far too long to be tied to a woman’s leading strings. And wives will try to do it. Hadn’t Freddie Yate’s life changed horrifically when he married Serena Borrowdale? None of them see Freddie now from one season to the next, except when accompanied by that string of brats.
There was no way out of it, though. He would do the right thing by Wilhelmina, give her a child to make her happy and then depart for London. His friends would welcome him back into the fold. Men were so reliable. They didn’t get into a pet over nothing, and they enjoyed the same pursuits as he. Boxing at Whites, gambling and going home at dawn, foxed if one chose. Then, of course, there was the horse races, the best balls of the season, and the lovely women of the theatre, who knew just how to make a man happy. All his needs provided for. Well, Wilhelmina was welcome to enjoy everything else that was his to offer, provided she left him to his own devices.
* * * *
As the sun grew high in the pale autumn sky, a coach trundled down the raked gravel carriageway and pulled up outside the imposing, front entrance of Hawkeswood. The footman opened the carriage door and a girl climbed out, followed by her maid. Willy took a deep breath and straightened her poke bonnet. “Come, Alice,” she said to the maid. She raised the skirt of her dove-grey carriage dress a shade too high, showing a little more leg to the groom than was seemly. Entirely unaware of his appraising glance, she walked quickly up to the front door.
“Hello, Crowley, nice to see you again,” she said, stepping inside the panelled great hall.
“Very nice to see you too, Miss Corbet,” he answered.
Willy shed her travelling pelisse and bonnet, handing them to the waiting maid. “Is Lady Elizabeth here? Or Lord Dangerfield?”
“Her Ladyship is in the drawing room, Miss.” Crowley turned to summon the maid. “I believe his lordship is out riding.”
Willy’s fine, straight brows met in a frown. “Very well, I’ll freshen up and then see my aunt.”
Willy followed the maid up two flights of the carved wooden staircase to her room. She gazed around at the lovely room. Framed pictures hung on the flowery wallpapered walls, cream silk curtains framed lead-light windows and a fine view of the lake. The white-painted fireplace was already ablaze. Her father would be outraged at such extravagance. A quilted chintz counterpane adorned the brass and iron bedstead. The wash-stand held a set of delicate, pink china. She felt she was to be hopelessly spoiled, and possibly a trifle lonely. She had shared a bedchamber with her sister, Amabel, for the whole of her life. The thought occurred to her that she would not be lonely for long. She put her hands to her hot cheeks.
Willy walked into the drawing room and found Lady Elizabeth sitting on the settee with a small dog perched beside her on a blue, satin pillow.
“My dear child, how lovely to see you again. Come and kiss me. How are your Papa and your sisters?”
“All are well and send their love.” Willy kissed the powdered, fragrant cheek. She sat down and patted the dog’s wavy, black fur. His lolling tongue sprayed droplets of spittle over her hand. She wiped it with her handkerchief. She was fond of all animals, but preferred bigger dogs that splattered through the mud after her, chasing her horse.
“You’ve filled out, my dear,” her aunt was saying. “And put up your hair.”
“Yes, Father implored me, and I finally got around to it,” Willy said briskly. “Not much use for it in the depths of the country.”
“Northumberland is very far away from everything, but surely you have town dances and the like?”
“I went to one, but I didn’t enjoy it much.” Willy thought of the oafish young men who couldn’t or wouldn’t dance a step. Only the older, married men wished to and most of them had trodden on her toes.
Her aunt was eyeing her gown. “You’ll need a new wardrobe befitting of your status.”
“I dare say.” Willy looked towards the door. “Is my cousin due home soon?”
Lady Elizabeth leaned forward and patted her hand, sighing faintly at the condition of it. “Don’t call him your cousin, dear. Blake or Dangerfield, if you prefer.”
Willy leaned back on the settee, crossing her legs. “And don’t sit like that,” her aunt added, looking alarmed. She glanced at the door. “I thought I heard a horse ride to the stables. Sit up dear, cross your ankles. Hasn’t anyone instructed you in the ways of a young lady?”
“There’s only Father, and I don’t think he notices much.” Willy sat up. “I’m a bit of an outdoor girl, I’m afraid.”
The door opened and Blake strode in, pulling off his tan leather riding gloves. His royal blue coat was sculptured to his broad shoulders and tapering waist. As if that wasn’t enough, it also matched his deep blue eyes. He removed his hat and smoothed back his dark hair. Willy drew in her breath. He was still exceedingly handsome. Her heart began that strange, pit-a-patter that happened the last time she saw him. And the time before that. How old was she then? Twelve.
“Wilhelmina, welcome to Hawkeswood once again,” he said crossing to take her hand. He raised it to his lips.
A thrill passed through her body, reaching her toes. “Thank you, Cous … Blake.”
He sat down on the opposite chair. “Out of the schoolroom, I believe.”
She frowned. “I’ve been out almost two years.”
He cleared his throat. “Yes, of course. And what have you been doing with yourself? No season in London?”
“Father doesn’t put much store by it. Chloe has a beau. Amabel came out last year and is yet to choose one. I would have this year, except…” she was unable to finish the sentence. Why did she always lose her confidence around him?
Blake went on smoothly. “Yes. We have some arrangements to make, eh? But first, I think we should take some time together, to get to know each other. Perhaps a ride later this afternoon, and I’ll show you a little of the estate.”
“Oh, capital! I mean, thank you, it sounds wonderful. I believe you have some very fine horseflesh in your stables.”
“Not without a chaperone,” Lady Elizabeth interjected. “Perhaps my maid, Gertrude can go along, although she hates to ride.”
Blake groaned. “Not that namby-pamby church mouse! What nonsense. Wilhelmina and I have never needed one before.”
“I agree.” Lady Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. “You haven’t needed one before.”
Blake looked at Wilhelmina. She appeared to be all grey. Her hair was arranged very badly, pulled back tight from her face, and it was mouse coloured. Her eyes seemed grey, too, as well as her gown. At least she’d filled out a bit, although it was hard to tell what was under that dress buttoned up to her neck.
“I assure you, Mother, we shan’t need a chaperone. You have my word that I’ll be the very figure of proprietary.”
His mother stared at him silently, pursing her lips.
* * * *
When Willy arrived at the stables, Blake was nowhere to be seen. The groom brought out the mare that Blake had chosen for her. It was not much above ten hands and appeared to be half-asleep.
“Not that one, I think,” Willy said. She wandered along the row of stalls. A tall, black horse caught her eye. As she went to stroke his nose, his nostrils flared and he dug at the floor of his stall with a hoof. “What about this one?”
The groom shook his head. “That’s Thunder Clap. ‘is lordship would have my ‘ead on a stick if I gave you ‘im.”
“I shall take full responsibility,” she said. “Please saddle him.”
The groom, shaking his head and muttering to himself, brought out the saddle. He led Thunder Clap from his stall to the mounting block. The horse snorted and fidgeted.
She patted his nose. “Poor boy. When is the last time you had a good run?”
“Not since he threw his rider,” the groom said. “And that was Johnson, who can ride fast asleep. Are you quite sure, Miss Corbet?” He looked as if he was about to face the gallows.
“I am, Tarrow. Please don’t fuss.” Willy arranged her skirts on the side-saddle as the horse danced about. She led him away from the stable quadrangle, down the path a way and back again. He was a perfect lamb. By the time Blake appeared, she felt she and Thunder Clap were old friends, almost. She suspected no one would ever completely tame him. And possibly no one would tame his master either. Blake walked down the avenue, looking anything but eager for her company.
The groom rushed over to him and engaged him in conversation. When Blake spied Willy atop Thunder Clap he looked much like thunder himself. He gestured for her to return to the mounting yard.
“You are not riding that animal, Wilhelmina! That stallion was a misjudged purchase of my father’s. He’s the very devil.”
“As you see, Cou … Blake, I
am
riding him.”
“Come here.”
She rode up to him and Blake unceremoniously pulled her down from the horse. “Take him back to his stall, Tarrow,” he said, tossing the reins to the groom.
More breathless from the touch of Blake’s hands at her waist than at the confrontation, Willy studied the handsome man, hating to see the world-weary expression in his eyes. She was just a nuisance to him and he wished her gone. “I assure you I can handle him. He was a perfect angel.”
“An angel one minute and the devil the next.”
Willy folded her arms. “I would have thought you could ride him.”
He raised an eyebrow. “I can.”
“But you’re a bit wary of him,” she said politely.
Blake frowned. “I’m not a bit afraid of him. I prefer Ebony Fire—he’s a far superior horse.”
“Oh, I understand.” She gazed up at the sky. “One is entitled to have a favorite.”
“Thank you,” he said, in an ironic tone.
“Not at all, I quite understand.” Willy tapped her riding crop on the ground.
“You are repeating yourself,” he said suspiciously.
“But I
do
, honestly.”
“Why, you horrendous girl,” he said in an amused tone. “I believe you are toad-eating me.” He called to the groom. “Bring Thunder Clap back, Tarrow, and put a saddle on him. I’ll ride him.”
“Oh, if you’re sure?” Willy said. “He really does need some exercise.”
“And shall you be glad if he throws me over a hedge?”
“Oh no,” Willy said hurriedly. “I shan’t like that at all. But you can ride him can’t you … I wouldn’t…”
“Enough!” Blake roared. “We shan’t travel down that road again.” He looked around. “Where’s that horse I picked out for the lady to ride?” he bellowed at the hapless groom.
Willy crossed her arms. “I’m not riding that … that sleepy pony.”
Blake gave a grudging laugh. “Sleepy pony, is it?” He walked along studying his stable of fine horses. He stopped in front of a solidly built grey of about fourteen hands. “What about Silver Shadow?”
She came and rested her arms on the box and the sturdy horse nudged her hand looking for apples. “Very well,” she said. But she intended to ride Thunder Clap one day. She would fight to prove her worth to this man.
They clattered over a stone bridge and rode out over the fields. Willy thought the big, black stallion suited Blake to perfection. She hoped that Thunder Cloud would behave, although she was sure that Blake could handle him. She tried to urge Silver Shadow into a gallop, but he seemed content to canter a long way behind the other horse. She felt annoyed and helpless when Blake had to circle more than once to wait for her.
When they reached the river, Blake helped her dismount. His hands at her waist sent another rush of warmth through her body. She prayed she didn’t blush. Her fair skin was annoyingly prone to it. She leaned against a tree and stripped leaves from a willow frond, as Blake tied up their horses. He went to stand and stare down into the river.
She joined him. The river was wide and fast flowing. “How big is the Dangerfield estate?”
“Around six hundred acres of woodland and eight hundred acres of pasture.”