When Only a Rake Will Do (22 page)

Less than a week had passed since his initial meeting with Mr. Watson when Brendon exited his coach and strolled through the front lobby of White’s Gentlemen’s Club at half past two o’clock on Friday afternoon.  Having ascertained Blackburn’s daily routine from Mr. Watson, in addition to the principal information he’d requested he was fairly certain that he would find the earl within, for according to the investigator the man was a creature of habit. 

Moments later his assumption proved correct as he spotted Blackburn in one of the club’s front rooms.  He was alone, seated in a leather wingback chair on the far side of the room, reading a copy of the London Gazette.

“Hello, Blackburn,” he said, dropping casually into the empty chair next to him.

The earl looked up from his paper, regarding Brendon in surprise.  “Leighton,” he replied with a nod. 

Brendon settled back into his chair, eyeing the earl in silence.

“Is there something I can do for you?” Blackburn asked after a moment, lowering the newspaper into his lap.

Brendon smiled.  “As a matter of fact there is.”  Reaching into his jacket, he withdrew a narrow slip of paper, then leaning forward he set it onto the small table that sat between their two chairs.

Blackburn eyed it curiously.  “What’s this?”

“It’s a bank draft for one-hundred-thousand pounds, ninety-thousand to cover Thomas Hewitt’s debt and another ten to encompass any additional expenses you may have incurred.”

The earl’s disbelieving gaze snapped up to meet Brendon’s.  “Who told you I covered his debt?” he demanded.  “Huxley?”

“No.  It wasn’t Thomas.”

Blackburn frowned.  “Then who?”

Brendon relaxed back into his chair once again.  “Actually it was the private investigator I hired.”

“Private investigator?” Blackburn replied, clearly taken aback.  “What’s this all about Leighton?” he asked, regarding Brendon indignantly.

“It’s about a debt, one that Huxley owes you and that
I
intend to repay.”  Brendon’s tone was matter of fact. 

“I wasn’t aware the two of you were friends,” Blackburn stated, his eyes narrowing as he eyed Brendon contemplatively.

“We’re not.”

“Then why would you wish to repay his debt?”

“I have my reasons.”

Blackburn hesitated, studying Brendon’s face for a moment before replying.  “Huxley’s debt isn’t for sale.”  Reaching out, he placed his index finger atop the bank draft, sliding it slowly back across the table toward Brendon. 

Brendon’s gaze remained on Blackburn’s face.  “I suggest you reconsider.”

“And why would I do that?” he asked, his expression darkening perceptively. 

“Because if you don’t,” Brendon avowed with a small, menacing smile, “I’ll make certain that you regret it.”

“I beg your pardon,” Blackburn said, his spine stiffening, his expression one of outraged disbelief.

“I believe you heard me correctly.”

The earl cocked his head, regarding Brendon with a look that went from assessing to accusatory as understanding slowly dawned.  “This is about the girl, isn’t it?  You want her for yourself.”

“What I
want
is none of your concern.”

It was Blackburn who relaxed then, settling back into his chair with a smug expression.  “How delightfully ironic,” he smirked, “with all of the women falling at your feet, you’ve fallen for the one you can’t have.”

“Did I fail to mention that the investigator I hired did a bit of checking into the recent fire that destroyed your cotton mill in Sheffield, the one that caused serious injury to eight of your employees?”

Blackburn said nothing, though his expression was no longer smug.

“I wonder what people would think if they knew that the fire had been set intentionally?  That rather than spending the exorbitant amount of money it would have taken to modernize the antiquated operation, you decided to burn it down instead, using the insurance money to build a brand new, state of the art facility.”

“That fire was an accident,” Blackburn asserted in an icy tone.  “If you doubt it then you are more than welcome to view the official reports for yourself.”

“The official reports you paid for with a series of exorbitant bribes?”

“I don’t have to sit here and listen to this nonsense,” Blackburn stated, making to rise from his chair.

Brendon quirked his brow, his tone deliberately nonchalant.  “I can’t help but wonder what would happen if the investigation was to be reopened, what secrets might ultimately be revealed?”

The earl hesitated.  “You can’t prove a thing,” he said after a moment.

“Considering the lengthy jail sentences that accompany both arson and insurance fraud, I think you might be putting a bit too much confidence in the allegiance of those men you paid to falsify those reports.  Of course, even if they weren’t somehow convinced to give you up, a renewed investigation would most-certainly impede your pending insurance settlement, setting you back months, if not years while the local officials attempt to sort it all out,” he continued.  “Consequently, I can only imagine the strain that would put on your existing finances, especially considering your recent expansion efforts in Durham.  The way I see it, you lose either way.”

*****
 

Preparing for her night out with the Earl of Blackburn, Daphne had donned an evening gown of dove grey satin, the relatively uninspiring color an apt reflection of her present mood. 

“Shall I fetch your wrap, my lady?” Sarah asked, as Daphne cast one last glance in the tall cheval mirror. 

“Please,” Daphne replied with a nod.  Waiting as Sarah retrieved the matching satin wrap from the wardrobe, she studied her reflection.  With her hair coiled into a rather severe looking twist at the back of her head and her face completely devoid of cosmetics, she looked a bit pale and drawn, but that too was just another indication of her current disposition, she supposed.

“Here you are,” Sarah said then, handing her the wrap.

“Thank you, Sarah.”

“Enjoy the opera, my lady.”

Draping the length of satin over her arm she managed a weak smile for Sarah, then lifted her gloves and reticule from the nearby table as she made her way from the room.

“Good evening, my lady,” Hughes greeted her with a smile as she stepped onto the foyer’s marble-tiled floor.  “His lordship has arrived and is presently awaiting you in the front parlor.”

“Thank you, Hughes,” Daphne replied, somewhat surprised by the markedly good-humored expression playing upon the aged butler’s face, for Hughes was hardly an admirer of Lord Blackburn.  Well, at least someone was in good spirits she mused as she turned and walked toward the closed parlor doors.

Affixing an artificial smile upon her face she pulled them open a moment later, then stopped short at the sight that greeted her, for it clearly wasn’t the Earl of Blackburn who waited within, but someone else entirely who stood looking out the front window.

Hearing the sound of the doors quietly opening, Brendon turned from the window, his lips curving into a small smile as he met Daphne’s surprised gaze.

Stepping further into the room, Daphne regarded Brendon in confusion.  “My lord,” she uttered, cognizant of the open doors behind her, “What are you… er… this is a surprise.”  Her wide-eyed gaze traveled the length of him, noting his sophisticated evening attire.  “That is, I wasn’t expecting you,” she continued awkwardly. 

“I’m afraid the Earl of Blackburn won’t be escorting you to the opera this evening, or to any other event for that matter,” Brendon replied softly as he stepped away from the window and advanced toward her. 

“I don’t understand,” Daphne said, shaking her head in bewilderment as she tried to make sense of the situation. 

Moving past her, Brendon walked to the parlor doors and gently pulled them closed before returning to Daphne’s side.  “Will you sit with me?” he asked, motioning toward the upholstered settee that sat against the rear wall.

Daphne could only nod as she followed him to the small sofa and then sat down upon the tufted cushion, setting her wrap, gloves and reticule onto her lap.

“I met with Blackburn earlier today,” Brendon said as he settled onto the seat beside Daphne.  “I settled Thomas’ debt.”

Daphne gaped at him in astonishment.  “You…but…why would you do that?” she asked quietly, once she was able to find her voice.

Reaching out Brendon took one of her hands, clasping it within his own as he met her riveted gaze.  “Because I am head over heels in love with you, Daphne.  And fool that I am, I should have said it weeks ago,” he uttered softly.  “I only hope that you can forgive me, because I want you to be my wife more than anything in this world.”

Daphne’s mouth fell open, but words escaped her as she gazed into Brendon’s brilliant blue eyes. 
He was in love with her?
  No, surely she must be dreaming for Brendon’s words couldn’t possibly be true, could they?  Good heavens, was it possible that her most fervent wish had been granted?  But even as the questions flitted through her befuddled brain, Brendon moved from the sofa, dropping onto one knee before her.  She blinked, feeling tears welling in the corners of her eyes.

Withdrawing the diamond engagement ring he’d purchased earlier that morning from his jacket pocket, he held it aloft.  “Daphne, I love you.  Will you marry me?”

It was her very own fairytale unfolding right before her eyes and for a second she was simply too overwhelmed to speak, her awestruck gaze shifting back and forth between the ring and Brendon’s face.  But then recovering her wits in the very next instant, she flung herself into Brendon’s arms, nearly knocking him over as she dropped to her knees before him, her forgotten gloves, reticule and wrap spilling from her lap and onto the floor.  “Oh, Brendon, I love you too,” she cried, wrapping her arms around his neck as she buried her face against the side of his throat, tears of joy flowing unheeded down her cheeks.  “And yes, of course I’ll marry you,” she uttered blissfully.

“Would you mind if we didn’t have a terribly long engagement,” Brendon asked a few minutes later as he slipped the ring onto Daphne’s finger, “for I can hardly wait to make you mine,” he continued in a husky whisper.

Daphne grinned, her heart near to bursting with happiness as she lifted her hand, brushing her fingertips along the line of Brendon’s jaw.  “You must have read my mind, for I was just about to ask you the very same thing.”

One Month Later

“Have I told you how much I love you?” Brendon murmured, as he ran his finger slowly down the length of Daphne’s naked spine.

Daphne smiled softly.  “Hmm, I think you may have mentioned it a time or two,” she replied as she snuggled into him, “though I shall never tire of hearing it.”  Married just three days earlier, she felt as if she’d been floating on a cloud since the moment she’d said I do.

“Much as I hate to say it, we should probably get out of bed soon,” Brendon declared a few moments later.  “We’ve a busy day ahead of us, after all.”

Daphne sighed reluctantly.  “Must we?”

Brendon chuckled, for they had spent nearly every moment since they’d been pronounced husband and wife closeted within their bedchamber, venturing out only when necessity demanded.  “I thought you were looking forward to our holiday,” he teased.

“Oh, I am,” she replied with a languid smile, rising up onto her elbow so that she could see Brendon’s face.  “Though you still haven’t told me where it is that we are going.”

“I told you, it’s a surprise.”

Daphne pouted playfully.  “Won’t you give me even a hint?”

“No, no hints.  Besides, you’ll find out soon enough.  But first we have to get out of this bed,” he reminded her with a rakish grin.

*****

Feeling the coach roll to a stop, Daphne opened her eyes, lifting her head from where it had been resting comfortably against her husband’s shoulder for the past quarter hour.

“I’m sorry to disturb you, my love,” Brendon said with a smile, “but we have arrived at our initial destination.”

Daphne immediately turned her gaze to the window.  “We’re at the wharf?”

“Indeed we are,” Brendon replied as the footman leapt down from his perch and pulled open the door.  Then stepping from the coach he turned and held his hands out to Daphne, grasping her about the waist and lifting her down onto the ground.

As Brendon stepped to her side, Daphne’s gaze went immediately to the large yacht rocking gently in its berth some twenty yards in front of them.

“Well, what do you think?” Brendon asked.

“It’s beautiful,” she replied, eyeing the vessel with blatant admiration.  “Is it one of yours?”

Brendon nodded.  “It is.  As a matter of fact, I acquired it just recently.”

“
The Wanderlust
,” Daphne said aloud, reading the name painted on the side in large, bold script.

“Considering your desire to see the world, I thought it a fitting name.”

Daphne turned to him in surprise.  “My desire to see the world?”

Brendon grinned as he looped his arm around her waist.  “First, I thought we’d make our way to France, then to Spain, on to Italy and eventually to Egypt.”

Daphne gasped, her eyes going wide.  “Are you serious?”

“Of course,” he replied, his grin widening. 

“Oh Brendon,” she cried, feeling her eyes grow moist as she recognized once again just how truly fortunate she was.  Looking up into his beloved face she spoke softly, “Have I told you how much I love you?”

“Hmm, I think you may have mentioned it a time or two,” he said, repeating the words she’d spoken earlier that morning, “though I shall never tire of hearing it.” 

“And I shall never tire of saying it. I love you Brendon.”

“As I love you, my darling wife,” he avowed.  Then lowering his head he placed a soft kiss upon her lips.  “Come,” he said then, taking her hand as he led her toward the waiting gangway.

Stopping at the bottom of the wide wooden ramp, Brendon hesitated, turning to Daphne with a smile.  “Do you remember our wedding night, when you told me about the dream you once had?”

Once again Daphne felt the sting of moisture at the backs of her eyes, for it took her only a second to comprehend exactly what he was about.  Slowly she nodded, her teary-eyed gaze shining with happiness.

Grinning, Brendon promptly bent down, placing one arm behind her back and the other beneath her knees as he swept her up into his arms, the move eliciting several good-natured whistles from the waiting crew and a few racy comments from nearby observers.

Giggling, Daphne twined her arms around Brendon’s neck, pressing her check lovingly against his shirtfront as her dashing pirate carried her up the gangway.