Rapturous Rakes Bundle (4 page)

of finding her in the Archangel’s carriage, her appear-

ance and demeanour were as far removed from that of

a courtesan as was possible to find. The Angels would

not be seen dead in the shabby gentility that had char-

acterised Miss Raleigh’s clothing. Not that she was in

any way an antidote. Lucas suspected that, if suitably

attired, Miss Raleigh might outshine some of the ac-

credited beauties of the season. Her hair had been a

lustrous dark russet beneath that ugly bonnet, her fig-

ure was extremely neat and her blue eyes were mag-

nificent. He had noticed. Of course he had. He would

defy any red-blooded male to look at Miss Rebecca

Raleigh and not feel a flicker of interest, to study her

mouth and
not
want to kiss her...

Lucas shifted his shoulders beneath the damp ma-

terial of his jacket. If Miss Raleigh defended herself

so effectively against all comers, then such thoughts

were quite pointless. Lucas had been on the wrong end

of plenty of weapons in his time in the army, but this

had been the first on which he had been menaced by

an engraver’s scribe. He accepted wryly that it was no

more than he deserved for trying his luck. It had been

a deliberate challenge he had thrown down to her—

and she had responded with a coolness and a courage

that had won his admiration. Lucas smiled to himself.

Miss Raleigh had not liked him, but all the same, she

Nicola
Cornick

29

had not been indifferent to him as a man. She had

been unable to hide that from him. He had seen it in

her eyes when he had touched her. There had been a

vulnerability about her then that she could not conceal.

He finally turned into Grosvenor Square and ran up

the steps into the house. Byrne, the butler, noted his

rain-soaked jacket but made no comment beyond the

very faintest of raised eyebrows. The servants were

accustomed to Stephen arriving back in all manner of

disarray. To see Lucas in a like state was very unusual.

Stephen was awaiting him in the library, faultlessly

attired in buckskins and a jacket of blue superfine.

Lucas shrugged off his own jacket and handed it to

the footman before making his way across to the table

and pouring himself a brandy. He waved the glass at

Stephen.

‘One for you, little brother?’

Stephen nodded. There was a wary look in his eyes

as he watched Lucas pour for him. He took the prof-

fered drink with a word of thanks and waited until

Lucas had taken his seat by the roaring fire before he

did the same.

Lucas sat back with a sigh, removed his neckcloth

and stretched his legs out towards the blaze. His eyes

were fixed on the flames. By now he was fairly con-

vinced that Miss Raleigh had been telling the truth and

he certainly did not believe Stephen capable of car-

rying off a deception. Without turning his head, he

said, ‘So tell me, Stephen, how comes it that I find

you conveyed home in a carriage belonging to the

Archangel Club?’

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Stephen jump

30

The
Rake’s
Mistress

and spill his brandy on his jacket sleeve. Stephen

cursed under his breath. He had paled and now fixed

Lucas with a pleading look.

‘The Archangel? But I had no notion... I mean...

Oh, Lord!’

‘Oh, Lord, indeed,’ Lucas said, very drily. He

smiled. ‘Are you telling me, Stephen, that you have

had no dealings with the Angels before tonight?’

‘I haven’t had any dealings with them at all!’ His

brother protested. ‘I only jumped in the curst coach

because it was passing and I did not know what to

do!’

Lucas looked at him. His younger brother had never

been the brightest apple in the barrel, and when Lucas

had discovered that he would be nursemaiding Ste-

phen around London for a few weeks he had roundly

cursed his elder brothers who had assigned him the

task. It could not be helped—Justin, the Duke of Kes-

trel and head of the family, was at his estate in Suffolk

and Richard was on his honeymoon, and not even Lu-

cas could blame him for prioritising his married bliss

above keeping an eye on a wayward youth. Besides,

Lucas had business to attend to in London, and had

therefore been the obvious choice to rein in Stephen’s

wilder excesses. It seemed, however, that this partic-

ular incident was not as serious as it had originally

appeared. Both Stephen and Miss Rebecca Raleigh

were telling the same tale and Lucas was inclined to

believe that it was a true one.

‘You did not know that you had appropriated a car-

riage belonging to one of the most notorious clubs in

town?’ he repeated, just to be sure.

Nicola
Cornick

31

‘No!’ Stephen was looking most unhappy. ‘Lucas,

I swear I had no idea—’

‘Very well,’ Lucas said. He eyed Stephen closely,

aware that his brother was trying to utilise seldom-

used mental machinery. A deep frown marred Ste-

phen’s brow. Lucas waited patiently.

‘But if Miss Raleigh was in the carriage,’ Stephen

said slowly, ‘and the carriage belongs to the Archangel

Club, then that would make Miss Raleigh—’ He broke

off, a look of horror crossing his face. ‘Oh, no! That

must make Miss Raleigh a Cyprian! I say, Lucas, that

cannot be right!’

Lucas laughed. He was interested to see the loyalty

that Miss Raleigh had inspired in Stephen, even on so

short an acquaintance. Stephen’s face had set in a stub-

bornly disbelieving expression.

‘That cannot be so,’ he said again.

Lucas raised his brows. ‘Why not?’ he asked, cu-

rious to know Stephen’s reasoning.

‘Because it was clear to see that she is a lady,’ Ste-

phen said. His face lightened. ‘In fact, she is a capital

girl! Do you know, Lucas, she did not scream or have

the vapours when she saw me? She offered me her

cloak in case I caught a chill. I thought that most prac-

tical of her.’

‘It was indeed,’ Lucas murmured. For a moment he

wondered. Miss Raleigh might not be a courtesan, but

such coolness when confronted by masculine naked-

ness did argue some prior experience.

‘And,’ Stephen added, warming to his theme, ‘she

even suggested I might creep inside the house by way

of the servants’ door to prevent you from seeing me.

32

The
Rake’s
Mistress

I thought that very clever of her. So you see, there is

not the least possible likelihood of her being a cour-

tesan. She is far too—’

‘Too?’

‘Too special,’ Stephen muttered, turning scarlet.

Lucas viewed his young brother with some pity. It

was clear to him that Stephen was suffering the first,

unavoidable pangs of calf love. It had been bound to

happen sooner or later, and rather Miss Raleigh than

some
genuine
Cyprian who would take all Stephen’s

allowance, turn his untried emotions inside out and

probably sue him for breach of promise into the bar-

gain. Remembering an episode from his own youth

that had involved an older woman, an unguarded mar-

riage proposal and a large sum of money from his

father to buy the harpy off, Lucas repressed a shudder.

It was fortunate that Stephen’s admiration for Miss

Raleigh seemed of so innocent a nature. In point of

fact,
he
was the one who had entertained decidedly

less than innocent notions of Miss Raleigh,
and
at-

tempted to act on them. He was the one who had

thought of Rebecca’s thick, russet hair released from

its confining pins and spread across his bare chest, had

imagined her mouth crushed ruthlessly beneath his

own, had dreamed of freeing those voluptuous curves

from the restraint of that disfiguring worsted dress.

Miss Rebecca Raleigh had been very tightly buttoned

up and he had wanted to unbutton her. He would have

given a great deal for the privilege. He shifted in his

chair as his thoughts had their inevitable physical re-

action.

Nicola
Cornick

33

‘I say, Lucas,’ Stephen said, looking at him closely,

‘are you feeling quite the thing?’

Lucas shook his head slightly to banish the images

of Rebecca, naked and wanton in his arms. Damna-

tion! The more he tried to dismiss the thoughts, the

more they crowded in on him. And he was no callow

boy. He had suffered his own youthful infatuation

years ago and these days preferred to keep such mat-

ters on a far more businesslike footing. Not for him

the pitfalls of love, nor the placidity of marriage either.

He would leave that to his elder brother, Richard.

‘I was thinking of Miss Raleigh,’ he said truthfully.

‘Pray do not concern yourself, Stephen. As you so

perceptively noted, she is no courtesan. In point of

fact, she is a glass engraver. She tells me that she is

undertaking a commission for the Archangel Club.

That is all.’

Stephen looked slightly puzzled, as though he had

not previously realised that the profession of glass en-

graving existed.

‘Oh well, then...’ he said, his brow clearing. ‘As I

said, she is a capital girl.’

‘She is indeed,’ Lucas agreed, ‘and I shall be calling

on her to convey our gratitude for the service she ren-

dered you. I do not think that we need say any more

on the subject.’

Stephen looked slightly shocked, as though he could

not quite believe that he was getting away with matters

so lightly. He got to his feet, his gaze going to the

ormolu clock on the mantelpiece.

‘I say, Lucas, do you think that I might be able to

go back to White’s—’

34

The
Rake’s
Mistress

‘No,’ Lucas said.

Stephen deflated. ‘Oh, very well then. Good night.’

‘Good night,’ Lucas said, with a smile. ‘I wonder

in which part of London Miss Raleigh has her en-

graving workshop?’ he added, half to himself.

‘I have not the slightest idea,’ Stephen said, sound-

ing startled that his brother had even asked him. ‘I

have not given the matter any thought.’

‘Of course not,’ Lucas said. ‘I am surprised that I

even thought you would.’ He raised his glass in a

toast. ‘Sleep well, little brother. I thought that we

might go to Tattersall’s tomorrow afternoon if you

would like.’

Stephen flushed with pleasure. The hero-

worshipping look was back in his eyes again. ‘Oh,

may we? I should like that above all things!’

He went out and left Lucas shaking his head rue-

fully. Outside in the hall, he could hear Stephen re-

galing Byrne, the butler, with a highly coloured ver-

sion of his adventures.

‘How very exciting for you, my lord,’ he heard the

butler say expressionlessly.

Stephen’s voice faded away and there was no sound

but the crackle of the fire and the click as Lucas re-

placed his brandy glass on the table. His thoughts had

returned to Miss Rebecca Raleigh, but there was a

more professional interest in them now.

It was a curious twist of fate that had delivered to

him Miss Raleigh, engraver, when he had spent the

past three weeks checking every single glass en-

graver’s workshop in London, from the showrooms of

the great practitioners to the garrets of the artisans.

Nicola
Cornick

35

Lucas went over to the desk, took a small key from

his pocket and unlocked the top drawer. There was a

list within, marked with small ticks, crosses and ad-

ditional notations. Lucas scanned it quickly. Miss Re-

becca Raleigh’s name was not on the list, but perhaps

she worked for someone else. She had not made that

clear. Or perhaps, as he had originally thought, there

was more to her story than she had disclosed to him.

Lucas took out the most recent letter from his

brother Justin in Midwinter. For the past six months,

the Kestrels and their friend Cory Newlyn had been

involved in the delicate task of finding and catching a