The Rake's Rebellious Lady

‘Then I shall certainly be there,’ George said and shot a look of triumph at his friend. ‘But I believe Freddie has other engagements?’

‘Yes, I fear I have,’ Freddie said and gave his friend a look that spoke volumes. The challenge was fairly joined and both men were enjoying themselves. ‘But I shall be at Lady Broughton’s rout—do you attend?’

‘Yes, I believe so,’ Caroline said. ‘Indeed, we have so many cards that I am not sure how we shall manage to attend a half of the affairs we have been invited to.’

‘You will no doubt simply make an appearance at some and then go on as many of us do,’ Freddie said. ‘But I shall engage to dance with you at least twice at the rout, Miss Holbrook. Please mark your card for me as you will.’

‘Thank you, sir…’ She looked at Mr Bellingham, for she sensed a friendly rivalry between the two and was amused by it. ‘And for you, sir?’

‘I believe two would be suitable,’ he said, ‘and I should like to take you driving in the park—perhaps tomorrow afternoon, if you have no prior engagements?’

‘I know we are engaged for the evening, but I think there is nothing as yet for the afternoon. I shall be delighted to drive out with you, sir.’

‘I shall look forward to it,’ George assured her and glanced at Freddie. Their habitual rivalry was good-natured, but often quite fierce, and their friendship was all the stronger for the occasional clash of temperament.

Freddie was eating his supper. He made no comment, apparently leaving the field for the moment, though George did not doubt that he would re-enter when he chose.

Caroline looked up and saw her aunt bearing down on them. ‘Gentlemen, I think my aunt may need me.’

The gentlemen got to their feet as Lady Taunton descended on them, but she smiled and indicated that they should sit. ‘Please continue with your supper, gentlemen. I came only to see if my niece wanted to accompany me to the rest room?’

‘Thank you, Aunt.’ Caroline rose obediently, for she knew when she was being told to do something, however charmingly it was put. ‘Excuse me, Mr Bellingham—Sir Frederick. I shall hope to see you at the rout we spoke of.’

She followed Lady Taunton from the room and up the stairs to the bedrooms that had been set aside for the comfort of the ladies, waiting for the tirade to begin. However, when they were alone, her aunt smiled at her.

‘You have done well, Caroline. Mr Bellingham is a wealthy gentleman, though some think him a confirmed bachelor—but of course Sir Frederick is one of the catches of the Season. He has been for years, of course, but so far has shown no inclination for matrimony. If you were to receive an offer from either of those gentlemen it would be highly satisfactory, though Sir Frederick is the better catch of the two. He is his uncle’s heir, you know—and will be the Marquis of Southmoor one day.’

‘I am sure that they were just being gallant,’ Caroline replied. ‘They wanted to pass the time pleasantly.’

‘I am not quite so certain,’ her aunt replied, looking thoughtful. ‘Rathbone’s godmother is a friend of mine. I do not think you have met her—Lady Stroud?’ Caroline shook her head. ‘No, I thought not. She told me that he has been attending more of these affairs recently, something he hardly ever does. I imagine that must mean he has set his mind to taking a bride. You have clearly caught his eye. It might be to your advantage to make a push, Caroline.’

‘We share an interest in certain poets,’ Caroline told her, ‘but I dare say that is all we have in common. Besides, there were many others who asked me to dance, and to take supper, Aunt.’ Her aunt’s untimely interference was irritating, for she had only just met the gentlemen in question.

‘Yes, of course. You must not show neglect in your manner to any gentlemen who take an interest in you, my dear—but bear it in mind that Rathbone is a good catch.’

Caroline did not answer. Her aunt’s words had the opposite effect of the one she had surely hoped for. If anything were calculated to set Caroline against someone, it was being pushed in his direction.

Freddie looked across the card table and sighed inwardly. He had been holding the winning hand for the past few minutes, but was reluctant to declare it. He would have preferred not to play Farringdon, but had been unable to refuse the challenge, having won from him only a few nights previously. He was aware that the fool was playing out of his depth, and could probably not afford to pay a half of the notes he had so carelessly thrown on the table. He toyed with the idea of throwing his hand, but that was against all the rules of play. Farringdon must learn not to gamble beyond his means.

He took a card from the pack; it was the one card that could improve his hand, which was now virtually unbeatable. He discarded and then laid his cards on the table. A groan broke from two of the other players; they complained of his incredible luck, but did so with a smile and a careless shrug, for both were well able to pay what was owed. Freddie looked at Farringdon’s white face as he sat staring at the cards in disbelief.

The other gentlemen got up and left the table almost immediately, in search of wine or food, but Farringdon sat on, almost as though he were frozen to the spot.

‘It will take me some time to raise the cash,’ he said in a flat voice, the seriousness of his situation showing only by a slight nerve flicking at his right temple.

‘Yes, of course,’ Freddie said, gathering up the various gold coins and notes that had been tossed on to the table. ‘Unless you would wish to toss for double or quits?’

‘No, no, I think not,’ Farringdon said with an attempt to seem casual. ‘It is a temporary thing, Rathbone. I should be able to settle in a few weeks.’

‘Yes, of course. There is no hurry, none whatsoever. You may take as much time as you please, sir. Will you drink a nightcap with me? It is my intention to walk home.’

‘Thank you, no,’ Farringdon said and got up. He left the table and walked from the gaming club without looking from left to right, his face set in a frozen expression that gave no indication of his state of mind.

‘Have you won again?’ George Bellingham wandered over to Freddie as he sat on for a moment in contemplation. ‘Farringdon looked desperate. I heard a rumour that unless he finds some way to come about he may be forced to sell his estate.’

‘The damned fool should have cut his losses earlier,’ Freddie said with a frown of displeasure. ‘I have no desire to ruin any man, George, and if he comes to me with the truth, I shall return his notes to him. However, he must retire from the tables. He should take a bolt to the country and stay there until he has the funds in his pocket. The rule is that if you can’t pay do not play.’

‘A gaming debt is a debt of honour,’ George agreed immediately. ‘Why do you not put the poor fellow out of his misery, Freddie? Send the notes back to him if you mean to do it.’

‘He needs a lesson,’ Freddie said. ‘Had he lost to Markham or Lazenby, they would have demanded payment within the month. If I give him his notes, he may be tempted to play again with someone less lenient than I.’

‘Well, yes, there is that to it,’ George said. ‘But he will hate you if you show him leniency—it will damage his pride.’

‘Then he must hate me,’ Freddie said. ‘The man is not ruined yet—not while I do not press my claim. No, no, Farringdon must come to me, and then we may settle this thing like gentlemen.’

‘Well, I dare say you are right, though you may make an enemy,’ George said, and then grinned at his friend. ‘Tell me, what did you think of her?’

‘I am not certain what you mean?’ Freddie said with a lift of his mobile brows, though he was perfectly aware of George’s meaning. Caroline Holbrook had made her mark with him, even if he was not prepared to admit it. There was something very appealing about her, which had drawn him to her despite her youth.

‘Miss Holbrook, of course,’ George said. ‘Do you not think she is everything we spoke of the other day, Freddie? She has beauty, a liveliness of spirit that one cannot but admire, and when she smiles the room seems to light up. Enchanting would not be too strong a word.’

‘Ah, I see you have been smitten. When am I to wish you happy, my dear fellow?’ Freddie raised his brows

‘Oh, as to that…I am set in my ways, you know. I am not certain that I should be comfortable married to any lady…but I must admit that, if I were tempted to change my ways, I might ask Miss Holbrook if she would do me the honour. Not that I expect she would accept me. I am too old for her—and she may take her pick of a dozen or more gentlemen, I dare say.’

‘All this on the strength of one ball?’ Freddie looked incredulous. ‘She is not quite in the usual style for one so young, I give you that, George—but you have met lively young ladies before.’ He refused to allow that Miss Holbrook was anything out of the ordinary, even though she had unaccountably lingered in his thoughts these past few days. He had not yet decided if that ingenuous manner was genuine or whether it hid something rather less pleasant. The girl had been frank about her lack of fortune—but was she a fortune hunter herself? For the moment he was inclined to stand back and watch as others fluttered about the flame.

‘Yes, of course,’ George said. ‘I am not sure what it is, Freddie—but does she not strike you as being remarkable?’

‘She has an amusing turn of phrase,’ Freddie conceded. ‘But is that artlessness real or assumed? I am reserving judgement for the moment. You will not see me at Almack’s just yet, George.’

‘I shall certainly attend,’ George said. ‘Sally Jersey has been giving me hints for ages. She thinks I should bestir myself to find a wife before I sink into the murky waters of old age.’

‘Good grief,’ Freddie said, revolted. ‘You are in your prime, George. But if you fancy the little Holbrook filly, I shall not stand in your way—though I warn you she has scant fortune.’ Now why had he added that piece of information? It could make no difference to George, who had fortune enough not to need a rich wife.

‘Where did you hear that?’

‘She told me herself.’

‘Well, you may be right, though…’ George shook his head. ‘It matters not a jot either way. I am not on the catch for a fortune. I may not have your luck at the tables, but I am not done up yet.’

‘I never imagined you were, my dear fellow,’ Freddie said, amused as much by his own feeling of pique as George’s enthusiasm. ‘Do you care to walk with me?’

‘I have my carriage,’ George said. ‘Let me take you up, Freddie. It has started to rain.’

‘Has it? I had not noticed,’ Freddie said. ‘Very well, then. I had thought to stretch my legs, blow the cobwebs away, but I do not care for a soaking.’

The two men smiled at each other, in perfect accord as always as they went out of the club and into the waiting carriage. Neither of them noticed the shadowy figure watching as they were driven away.