To Wed a Rake (2 page)

March 17, 1817

The Earl of Kerr to the Countess of Bredelbane

My dear, dearest Godmama,

I can’t take myself to the country today and marry my provincial paragon; I have an appointment to look at a horse. And a fencing match to attend as well. She will have to wait. Granted, I haven’t seen Miss Loudan for some time, but she seemed clearheaded enough when I last found myself in St. Albans. She won’t think twice of these rumors of my degeneracy, should they make their way to her.

Affectionately yours,

Gil

March 17, 1817

Lady Dyott to her cousin, The Hon. Emma Loudan, St. Albans, Hertfordshire

Dearest Emma,

This will be a quick note, as Dyott awaits me. We’re off to Tattersall’s to find a pony for Garret who is quite a bruising rider at age five, and does us proud. You know how much I hate bibble-babble, but I’m told Kerr informed a roomful that you are too old to bear a child; I merely wished to reassure you that I was all of forty-one when Garret was born, and since you are half that age, breeding is not a concern. I only have to think of your sporting nature, and I have no concern for your future. Thank God you didn’t marry Kerr already, because he’s nothing more than a job horse, and you deserve a high-stepper. Do come to London, and we’ll find you a proper spouse.

Much love,

Your cousin Mary, Lady Dyott

March 18, 1817

The Countess of Bredelbane to the Earl of Kerr

The news of your appalling jest has spread throughout the town. I have no doubt but that Emma has heard every loathsome detail. Can you not consider your duty, which is clearly to provide an heir to the estate without delay?

The Countess & etc.

March 18, 1817

Gilbert Baring-Gould, Earl of Kerr, to the Countess of Bredelbane

Dearest Godmama,

I’ll marry Miss Loudan someday, but not this week. And certainly not due to a jest on my part, if admittedly in poor taste. Don’t you think that the
ton
has become alarmingly illiterate, given that no one seems to recognize a Shakespeare play? I shouldn’t worry about the question of an heir; I’ve heard that country air is remarkably healthy. I can turn out five or six little Kerrs in the next decade.

Yours with affection,

Gil

March 19, 1817

Lady Flaskell to her sister, The Hon. Emma Loudan

Dearest,

I was suffering from a stomach upset and so missed the initial flurry of news about Kerr. Darling, I’m so sorry! But we must move quickly, Emma, given that your betrothal obviously must be
terminated. You are all of twenty-four now, and fiancés, especially those with a hefty fortune and title, do not grow on trees. You have been immured in the country so long that you have no idea what it is like here. Women are considered decayed at two and twenty. You must come to London at once and find a husband. I shall arrive tomorrow and expect tly and expo find you packed.

With love,

Your sister Bethany Lynn

March 19, 1817

The Earl of Kerr to Mademoiselle Benoit

Madeline,
ma cherie
,

While I naturally adore you and kiss your feet in pure admiration, it would not be prudent for me to accompany you to the opera tonight. The Puritans are out in force. In fact, I am very much afraid that I shall have to forgo the pleasure of your company in the future. Please accept this ruby as the smallest hint of my regard for you.
Tu seras toujours dan mon cœur měme si tu ne seras pas toujours avec moi.

Kerr

March 19, 1817

The Countess of Bredelbane to the Earl of Kerr

Kerr:

I can’t force you to abide honorably by the vows that your father made on your behalf. I take your behavior much amiss though, and I say that to you seriously. I shall write Emma myself and try to soothe her feelings. I’ve no doubt but that she’s hearing the same as I: that you intend to marry some rubbishing
Frenchwoman with putative claims to being a lady. Do so, Kerr, and you will never darken my door again.

The Countess of Bredalbane

March 20, 1817

Gilbert Baring-Gould, Earl of Kerr, to the Countess of Bredalbane

Tsk, tsk, dearest Godmama.

You who know your Shakespeare so well should avoid clichés about darkened doors and such like. When my sainted godfather was alive, did he object to your sharp tongue? I go about my business with a rejoicing heart, knowing that you will soothe Miss Loudan’s troubled brow. You needn’t worry about Mademoiselle Benoit. While I shall always find a French accent
irrésistible
, I concede that the country charmer is my fate. I also know that you, my sainted godmother, would never wish for me, her beloved godson, to be unhappy, so you will forgive me if I cease to think about marriage this very moment.

Yours & Etc.

Gil

March 21, 1817

The Countess of Bredelbane to Gilbert Baring-Gould, Earl of Kerr

Kerr:

You were always an impudent child; I shall never forget how you made me laugh when you first arrived in my house, and your parents gone but a month. Still, there is an edge to your jests that gives me concern. How dare you speak of being unhappy to marry Emma? The poor girl will surely have need of valor, given that your foolish quotation has gone so terribly awry. I am surprised that she has not yet terminated your engagement. Expect me tomorrow after nuncheon.

Yours & etc.

The Countess

15 St. James’s Place, London

“You are the shame of your sex,” Lord Lockwood said, stretching out his long legs and regarding his boots with pleasure. “You make far too much of yourself, and have strayed into dissolute habits, and now your doom is upon you. I am inordinantly happy to see it happen.”

“Don’t be so intolerably smug,” his companion retorted. “Your reputation is as low as mine has ever been. ‘Twas
you
who thought it’d be a good idea to bring Madeline and her friend to Sandleford’s house. I said it’d be a boring affair.”

“It wasn’t boring after you made such an ass of yourself quoting the bard,” Lockwood pointed out. “Would you put on a shirt, if you please? It turns my stomach to look at your shoulders. You’re muscled like a barge man, Kerr. Grotesquely unfashionable, I might add.”

“The boxing does it,” the earl replied, unperturbed. He was seated at his writing desk, wearing only black pantaloons. “At any rate, I didn’t ask you here. I’ve a mountain of correspondence to get through, and I’m expecting my secretary any moment.”

“I’ll take myself off. Were you foolish enough to invest in Hensing’s canal scheme?”

“No. It sounded intriguing, but the man’s a fool.”

“I suppose that’s why your estate keeps growing, while my living shrinks,” Lockwood said. “But don’t you think there’s a chance he’ll make a go of it?”

“Unlikely,” Kerr stated, not even looking up as his pen scratched over a leaf of stationery.

But Lockwood paused at the door to the chamber and turned back, driven by insatiable curiosity. Kerr had finished sanding his letter and was reaching for a new sheet of foolscap. “So, are you going to marry, then? To be specific,
are you going to marry Madeline Benoit, as all London appears to believe?”

Kerr narrowed his eyes. “You think less of me than I deserve.”

They’d been friends since Oxford, and yet Lockwood flinched slightly at the expression in Kerr’s eyes. “I merely thought—”

“I heard about your bet in White’s. You’ll lose that money, as you’ll lose any blunt you put into Hensing’s canal. I shall fulfill my obligations to Miss Loudan,” Kerr said, turning back to his sheet as if he had no further interest in the conversation.

A grin spread across Lockwood’s face. Kerr looked up and frowned. “What are you smirking about?”

“You just made up for Hensing’s canal. I placed a bet in White’s that you’d marry Mademoiselle Benoit, but that was only to give Etherege enough courage to take my bet on the other side ... that you would honor your betrothal.”

“Etherege must have thought you were drunk,” Kerr observed. “Why the hell would you bet one way in White’s and place the opposite bet with him?”

“I gather he didn’t notice that the bet in White’s was for a shilling or two. He put a good four hundred pounds on your propensity to marry the mademoiselle, thinking I was too castaway to remember my own opinion.”

Kerr snorted. “Meet me at Miss Bridget’s tonight?”

Miss Bridget was a Frenchwoman who ran a house that was not precisely one of ill repute but damn near close, to Lockwood’s mind. “I see that your taste for Frenchwomen is much like the English taste for food: predicated on quantity rather than quality,” he remarked.

Kerr smiled faintly. “I thought it would amuse the
ton
to
see me with a woman other than Madeline. We’ll take one of Miss Bridget’s young friends to the opera.”

Lockwood laughed. “That’ll put the cat amongst the pigeons. plthe pig”

Kerr turned back to his papers.
“Quite.”

March 22, 1817

Mrs. Broughton to The Hon. Emma Loudan, St. Albans, Hertfordshire

Dear Miss Loudan,

Thank you so much for your gracious response to my letter; to be sure, I trembled before I took pen in hand. I should most dislike to be thought a gossipmonger, or some such, and yet I have every sympathy with your difficult position. I consider it my honor—if not my pleasure—to offer you such tidbits of news as might interest you. I hasten, then, to reassure you that it is no longer believed that the Earl of Kerr intends to marry Mademoiselle Benoit. Last night he and some friends made an appearance at the Royal Opera House accompanied by a group of young Frenchwomen. Everyone noted that Kerr paid particular attention to one of them, and since she cannot be considered a possibility
for matrimony, the consensus is that your fiancé has a propensity for women of Gallic origin. This is a most unseemly topic, and I feel reprehensible for even bringing it to the attention of an unmarried lady. But my loyalty to Miss Proudfoot’s School rises above manners.