Too Hot For A Rake. Pearl WolfЧитать онлайн книгу.
and fled the library.
What a fool she’d made of herself. The man she loved no longer loved her. Her passion disgusted him, he’d said. What was wrong with wanting him that way? Wrong? Nothing, except she’d made love to the wrong man. Why couldn’t I make Chris understand that it wasn’t lust? I did it for love. How ironic. What made me think I could be so bold? Livy’s the adventurous sister. I’m not at all like her. All my hopes and dreams are gone. What is there left for me to live for?
Helena hugged her arms as she flew across the lawn that separated their homes. The cold night air was chilly and damp. It cooled her flaming cheeks, yet nothing could ease the mortification of being discovered naked in bed with the wrong man. Tears formed in her eyes. Her soft-soled shoes skidded on the dew-covered grass and her arms flailed wildly before she regained her balance.
I wish I were dead! Tragically, she envisioned her funeral at the family crypt. The duke held her grieving mother close, his tears mingling with hers. Her brother Edward, grim faced, clasped his hands behind his back. Olivia leaned on her husband, Sebastian. Georgiana, Mary and Jane huddled together, sobbing for their sister’s short life and her untimely death. Chris would receive the news and it would tear him apart. Hic-cups of helpless rage welled up within her. Serves him right! She tried to think of something else, to rid herself of gloom.
The thought of Lord Waverley’s warm body caused her to shiver, but the image faded only to be replaced by a disapproving Darlington, his eyes narrowed. He looked like the very devil.
Helena unlatched the gate and stepped onto her lawn. A single candle in her chamber held vigil in an upstairs window. A Great Dane loped out of the shadows, his tongue drooling as he panted. She bent and stuck out her hand to the pup. In it she held a bit of bacon she’d taken from her pocket. “Good boy. Come here, Prince.”
The dog sniffed and snatched the bribe. She tiptoed across the lawn and stepped onto the terrace, her destination the French doors leading into the library. The pup swallowed his treat and sped after her.
“Go away,” she pleaded. Prince wagged his tail and waited for her to open the door. “I don’t have any more treats, you traitor,” she hissed. If she allowed him to enter the library, he would bound inside, bark in triumph, and rouse the whole household.
She made as if to throw a second treat in the opposite direction. “Go get it, Prince.” The pup raced after it and the diversion gave her enough time to slip into the library. His ears perked up when he realized he’d been duped and he raced back toward her, but she managed to shut the door just before he could reach it. She tiptoed across the plush carpet and listened at the door, but all was quiet in the hallway.
When she reached her chamber, a lone candle on the mantel guttered. She drew in her breath at the sight of a familiar figure seated next to the fireplace, his forbidding eyes never wavering.
Helena’s heart sank. “Father? What are you doing here?”
“It’s past two in the morning, Helena. Where have you been?”
Chapter 2
Thursday, the Second of April, 1818
The Duke of Heatham intimidated lesser men, if not by his sheer size, then certainly by the power he inherited when his father died. At fifty-one years of age, the head of the House of Fairchild was often described as aristocratic. His grace had broad shoulders and slim hips. An athletic man, he stood six feet tall in stocking feet. His shock of black hair was beginning to gray at the temples and his penetrating brown eyes darkened when he was angry.
His grace had been prepared to issue a roaring scold to his daughter when she returned to her chamber, but he decided against it when she fell to her knees, buried her head in his lap and burst into tears. “Where have you been?” he repeated in a gentler tone.
“I’m so sorry, Father. I find this hard to tell you, but tell you I must. I’m such a failure.”
“What do you mean, child?” The duke handed her a hand kerchief. “Wipe your tears, Helena. You had better tell me the whole.”
Helena did as she was told and drew in a deep breath. “Chris w…won’t marry me. He’s broken our betrothal.”
His grace lifted her chin to meet her eyes. “Were you with him in his home without a chaperone?”
“Yes. Oh, what does it matter now? I’m ruined and it’s my own fault. How could I have been so stupid? Help me, Father! What shall I do?”
Once again, the duke checked his desire to chastise his daughter, for her pain was all too evident. “What reason did he give, Helena?”
“He says I’m not proper enough to be the wife of a diplomat. He could not possibly marry me under the circumstances.”
The duke frowned. “Circumstances? What were they?”
“He thought I behaved in an…unladylike fashion.” She lifted her tear-stained eyes and said bitterly, “I can’t tell you what passed between us. But I wouldn’t have him as a husband now under any terms. Not after the terrible things he said to me tonight.”
The duke stroked his chin. “You must explain this to me, Helena. I have no idea what you mean.”
“Don’t ask me to repeat this ugly tale, I beg of you. It will do you no good to hear it and only pain me the more. As it is, I haven’t a shred of dignity left. I was full of joy at my beloved’s homecoming just a few hours ago, when I knew who I was and what I was meant to be. My life is meaningless now. I feel so…empty. Help me, Father, for I’ve lost my way.”
Having witnessed Lady Helena’s departure from his window, Waverley made his way to the library. There he found Darlington draining a large glass of brandy. “Are you all right?”
“Allow me to apologize for Lady Helena’s shocking behavior, Waverley.”
“No need, Darlington. She thought she found you in my bed.”
“And what did you think when you found a nude woman in your bed? Did you think I had provided you with the gift of a doxy to welcome you home to England? She had no right to do what she did, but neither did you.”
“I won’t deign to answer such a rude remark, Darlington. I had nothing to do with tonight’s fiasco and you know it. Your anger is misplaced.”
Waverley ignored the seething fury in his host’s countenance and poured himself a brandy. Perhaps I should have remained in Paris. Is this what I’ve come home to? Would a Frenchman rake me down like this? No, he’d be more likely to challenge me to a duel and join me for breakfast after the first harmless hit.
He resisted the temptation to throttle his host. “The lady in question is in love with you, Darlington. Apparently, she appeared to be under the impression that you love her as well.”
“Love her? Ha! Not anymore. A man needs a wife who comports herself respectably. Not some wanton hoyden filled with lust.”
“You are mistaken. Lust is a part of love. That was clear, at least to me. Does that count for nothing to you?”
“If she really loved me, she would have remembered after all these years that I require a wife who behaves with decorum. Enough said, Waverley. I’m off to bed. I want some rest before I see his grace to tell him our betrothal has been terminated.”
“What reason shall you give?”
“Oh, I’ll tell him she’s changed her mind. I’m too much of a gentleman to be the one to cry off.”
Too much of a stiff-neck, I think. The lady’s better off without your smug sense of morality. Let’s hope she knows it. “Goodnight, then,” Waverley said and returned to his room. He climbed into bed, only to toss and turn. When it became clear to him that sleep was out of the question, he got up and began to dress. What was needed was a walk, he decided. It would take his mind off the trials ahead of him. He held his shoes in hand and stole quietly down