The Regency Season: Ruined Reputations: The Rake's Ruined Lady / Tarnished, Tempted and Tamed

His brutal comment was like a dousing with cold water for Beatrice. He couldn’t have made it plainer that he thought her a wanton, desperate for his attention, just as she had been years ago when she’d promised him anything he wanted, then cried when he’d coolly told her he must stop seeing her.

A small hand, liberated from entrapment between their bodies, flew up to crack against his unshaven cheek, jerking his head sideways. ‘I’m not infatuated and never will be again...not with you, at least. I’m disgusted by your lust and insolence.’ She backed away, pressing quivering fingers to her pulsing lips. ‘Colin might not be able to marry me under the terms of his inheritance but I’d sooner be his mistress than your wife.’

Hugh stalked her on their way back, until she realised she’d got the stream directly behind her and could go no further.

‘I don’t recall proposing to you...ever...not then, not now,’ he gritted through his teeth, infuriated with himself as well as her.

He would have risked even worse humiliation at her hands if he’d let those four damnable words circling his mind trip off his tongue.

‘But if it’s a lover you want...’ Hugh continued in a deliberately lewd tone as he trailed just one tormenting digit down a hot silky cheek. ‘I’ll provide a better service than the doctor...in every way. Just name it and it’s yours, whatever you desire.’ He grunted a callous laugh as she flinched at his crude proposition. ‘So...the decent man’s gone off to Miss Rawlings to keep his estates safe, has he?’

‘Don’t you dare mock him!’ Beatrice cried. ‘He didn’t want to leave me! He had to for his future heirs’ sake!’

‘Quite the martyr, then, isn’t he?’ Hugh mocked. ‘Yet Sir Colin, as he demands to be known, gives the impression of a man content with his lot in life...whereas I have just realised I am not, because I want what he doesn’t.’

Beatrice gulped down an indignant protestation. She had not seen Colin since he’d jilted her, but for her pride’s sake she’d clung to a belief that he was missing her as she missed him. She might tell her family...she might tell herself...that she was glad they’d parted, but in private moments she knew it wasn’t wholly so. There had been tender interludes during their relationship, if no great passion. For this man to brutally throw her fiancé’s faithlessness in her face—even if it were the truth—was galling.

‘If Colin seems content it is because he is stoic and sensible enough to know he must accept what he cannot change!’ Beatrice hissed. ‘Whereas you are a disgusting degenerate.’

‘Am I? Who told you so?’ Hugh enquired with specious softness.

Beatrice pressed together her lips, as though to prevent herself repeating what she’d learned about him from Lady Groves: he was a man who preferred spending time with harlots rather than decent women, despite his popularity with debutantes. If the ladies’ comments about the flirtatious Miss Rawlings were to be believed Colin’s future wife seemed, with awful irony, particularly taken with Hugh Kendrick. And if that were not enough then there was the other business which, if she’d guessed correctly, had taken place overseas.

‘Come...if you want to slander me, Beatrice, let me have some details and your source.’

‘But I’ve not slandered you, have I?’ she breathed, removing tendrils of fair hair that a stirring breeze had lashed across her vivid blue vision. ‘That damning description is accurate and could be added to.’

He shrugged, cruelly amused. ‘With a little more information, sweet, I’ll be able to judge.’

The temptation to provoke him into admitting he had dallied with exotic women was too great, and he had invited it. ‘It wouldn’t matter where in the world you were, you’d sooner scandalise decent people than curb your lust.’

‘Ah...I see... It worries you that I might have let my eye rove when in India. You told me you weren’t jealous, Beatrice...’ he goaded, glad that she didn’t seem in possession of any firm facts.

‘I’m not jealous...’ Bea raged.

But he was ready for her fist this time and caught the small curled digits inches from his face. ‘What do you want me to tell you, sweet? All of it?’

‘Get out of my way,’ she choked in frustration and fury.

Her eyes continued sparking blue fire despite the burn of tears making her blink. She’d never win this verbal battle and knew she was close to breaking down so must withdraw from it. She was not jealous or upset in any way because of Hugh Kendrick, of that she was certain! Her distress came from the unpalatable news that Colin might already have eased his conscience where she was concerned. It was hard to bear, especially as he must replace her with a woman who seemed likely to stray—perhaps before they’d even wed.

As a sob raised her bosom, then grazed her throat, Hugh released her and strode away. Gathering the reins of the two horses, he brought them closer to where Beatrice still stood, holding herself rigidly, on the bank of the stream. When she refused to approach he jerked her closer and, without a word, hoisted her atop Molly with such strength that she had to cling to the mare’s neck to prevent herself toppling straight off the other side.

‘My offer of carte blanche stands,’ he said with quiet gravity, gazing up at her steadily, a hand on Molly’s bridle preventing her escape. ‘Perhaps, in the circumstances, you should consider it.’

‘And perhaps you should go to hell!’ Beatrice hissed, slapping wildly at his fingers until he removed them. She set off across the meadow at a gallop, the wind drying her wet face as fast as the brine was falling.

When the Hall was in sight she realised that he had not followed her all the way back. She clattered onto the cobbles of the stable yard and, turning her head, saw him stationed on the brow of the hill, watching her. Involuntarily Bea shivered at his dark, brooding presence outlined against a pale sky. A moment later he’d turned the stallion’s head and was heading fast in the direction of London.

Chapter Ten (#uf1865651-26c4-5264-befc-4525a57dd051)

‘You will do as your uncle wished!’

‘I don’t see why I must.’ Stella Rawlings had been pouting at her reflection while fixing a garnet to a small earlobe. Now she swivelled on the dressing stool to give her aunt a sulky look. ‘I’m becoming popular and I’d sooner have my pick of the bachelors than have a husband chosen for me.’ She stood up and approached the mantelpiece to sort through invitations, selecting one. ‘See...the Rutherfords want us to join them in their box at the opera.’

Idly, she waved the parchment. The Rutherfords were close to the heart of the ton and every chaperon wanted her ward to have their patronage.

Apart from Maggie Monk.

The woman stomped closer, snatching the card from Stella’s fingers and tossing it back whence it came. ‘The only reason you’re in demand, my girl, is because you’ve drawn attention from every randy fellow in Mayfair. Bertram Rutherford is rumoured to have at least five bastards.’

Stella flounced to sit on the stool, head tilted to one side while she playfully flicked the eardrop. She’d sooner have had rubies, but at least Colin had bought her a gift to mark the announcement of their betrothal. She twisted the garnet ring on her finger. She’d sooner have had a ruby engagement ring too...but mostly she craved a magnificent diamond...from Hugh Kendrick...

Her grey eyes lifted to her reflection, assessing her features. She knew she wasn’t a conventional beauty: her small snub nose was littered with freckles and her full mouth had a natural droop that made her look dissatisfied even when she wasn’t. She twirled a ringlet about a finger, wishing her hair were golden-blonde rather than flame-red, but gentlemen liked her generous bosom and curvy hips; they also appreciated her brazenness, even if their wives didn’t.

So, in all, Stella Rawlings was satisfied with her looks and the way things were going since she’d arrived in town. She just wished her aunt would accept that Sir Colin should be kept dangling in reserve...just in case she failed to hook a gentleman with a good deal more to offer than a minor title and a modest country estate.

‘Did you hear what I said, miss?’ Maggie exploded when Stella continued simpering at her reflection. ‘You are making a fool of yourself, flirting with every gentleman who ogles you. Lord Whitley is over sixty and yet I thought at one point you were about to sit on his knee, so close did you get to his chair.’

‘The old goat would have liked that,’ Stella snorted, planting her hands on the dresser and pushing herself to her feet once more.

‘Maybe...but his wife would not. You do not irk somebody as important as Lady Whitley at her own soirée.’

‘Why ever not?’ Stella piped up. ‘Her husband will ensure she asks me again.’

‘How do you know that?’ Maggie snapped.

‘Because he assured me of it.’

‘I imagine Lord Whitley’s assured plenty of girls of plenty of things, and none of it came to pass.’

‘Oh...hush, Auntie.’ Stella changed tack, embracing Maggie to sweeten her temper. ‘I’m just enjoying myself and I wish you’d be happy for me.’

Maggie gave a mollified sniff. ‘I’ll be happy when your fiancé adds a gold band to that garnet ring. Your uncle Donald wanted you to be quickly wed to Sir Colin so your future would be secure and you’d be a titled lady. We must set the date without delay.’

‘I don’t want to just yet,’ Stella insisted sulkily. ‘There are better titles going begging than his.’ She noticed her aunt’s expression darkening so added, ‘But if I do want Sir Colin I’ll keep him...don’t worry your head about that.’

Stella felt confident she had her fiancé wound about her little finger, and all it had taken was a sly glimpse of her shapely calves. She’d schemed to give him a taste of what she could offer but hadn’t wanted Sir Colin to think her a little trollop, so had pretended to be unaware of him entering the parlour at the very moment she’d been adjusting a garter.

His fulsome apology for intruding had not been able to disguise the burst of lust in his eyes. The following day Sir Colin had presented her with the gift of garnet eardrops. Stella’s lips knotted in ruefulness. She should have raised her skirts higher that afternoon...she might then have got the rubies she wanted.

Maggie shook her head in a mix of despair and appreciation, watching Stella sorting through her jewellery box. The eardrops were removed and a different set, bought by a previous admirer, tried on. She’d received that gift of oval amethysts from a besotted old coal merchant in York.

Maggie knew Stella was still a virgin, so Sir Colin had no quibble there. But the girl was adept at getting cash spent on her while preserving the goods. She could understand why Stella wanted more than Colin Burnett could give. But only he could give what Maggie Monk was determined Stella would get...so the girl was marrying him and no other.

* * *

‘You must come and stay with us in London and let Hugh see that you don’t care a fig for him and he’ll never force you to be his mistress.’