Lara Temple - The Rake's Enticing Proposal

‘How the devil do you know what suits me?’

Chase didn’t answer. His encounters thus far with his prim cousin-to-be were not conclusive and he had nothing to support his conviction Henry was making a very serious mistake. In fact, he could not quite make sense of Henry’s engagement. The title was modest but respectable and, without Huxley draining the accounts to pay for his travels and artefacts, in a few years the estate could be dragged into profitability.

If Henry chose, he could do better than an impoverished neighbour from a scandal-stricken family, past her first blush of youth and with nothing but passable good looks and a sharp tongue to recommend her. Strangely, though, Chase didn’t think she had done the running. Or perhaps it was merely his unexpected reaction to her accidental proximity in the Folly that was colouring his judgement. And his inability to pin her down. She was... He was not quite certain what she was. In her plain dress and her hair sternly disciplined into a depressingly practical bun, she looked every inch the spinster schoolmistress. She even ate like one—as if measuring each bite for its utility and dismissing the syllabub as pure frivolity.

But though her cool haughtiness did not appear assumed, it did not accord with that burst of temper in the Folly or her sudden and unsettling flashes of humour. Under the ice he sensed there were volatile forces at work and he wondered if she suffered from any of her father’s instability of character. For Henry’s sake he hoped not.

Henry sighed and put down his glass, dragging Chase out of his uncomfortable reverie.

‘The truth is I’m glad you’re here, Chase. Don’t take it wrong, but I think Aunt Ermy might resent me and Ellie less if she has you to dislike. Ellie isn’t precisely the type of biddable females Aunt is used to.’

Chase smiled despite himself and rubbed the sore spot on his thigh. That was a mistake, as the memory of their near tumble down the stairs woke other aspects of his anatomy. Her mercurial transformation from ice maiden to scolding hellcat was a very enticing combination, dowdy or not.

‘You just might be luckier than you deserve, Henry.’

Henry stood and stretched.

‘I know. She’s a good ’un. Well, goodnight, Chase. I must rise at dawn for some absurd reason to do with sheep and pastures.’

‘You won’t object to Miss Walsh helping me in the East Wing?’

Henry yawned and wandered towards the door.

‘No, she will enjoy rooting through Uncle’s rubbish heaps. She likes books and things.’

‘Aren’t you worried I might take advantage of her?’

Henry’s laughter trailed back from the hallway and was swallowed by another jaw-cracking yawn.

‘She can keep you in line, believe me. G’night, Chase.’

Two steps into the passage connecting the East Wing to the rest of the Manor, Ellie understood why the servants were so reluctant to enter the previous Lord Huxley’s domain. The passage walls were lined by glass-fronted cabinets crowded with a bizarre and unsettling collection of masks, jars, figurines and other artefacts.

Like a child witnessing something she knew was forbidden, she was drawn inexorably by a collection of jars filled with viscous fluids and what appeared to be lizards or snakes or...something.

She approached cautiously and rose on tiptoe to make out the contents of a particularly large glass jar with a purplish mass inside. It looked horrid, but her disgust wasn’t sufficient to counter her curiosity and her hand rose towards the latch securing the cabinet door.

‘Careful.’

She jerked away from the voice directly behind her, her hands flying out to stop her descent towards the cabinet, and an arm closed about her waist, pulling her back.

‘Trust me, you don’t want to bring that lot crashing down on us. I’ve already torn one pair of trousers because of you and I don’t want to sacrifice another.’ His breath was warm against her ear and temple as he held her against him and again she felt the unravelling of heat, her body exploring the points of contact with his as it had yesterday. It was foreign and unwelcome, but too powerful to reason away.

Like other unwelcome realities of life, she allowed it to present itself fully before she set about beating it back. Piece by piece. She began by prying his hand from her waist, which was perhaps a mistake because his hand felt just as warm and strong under hers as it felt against her waist. She dropped it and moved away, focusing on the disgusting object in the jar.

‘What is that?’

‘That is...or rather was an Egyptian cat. A mummified one. My cousin thought it might be interesting to see what would happen if he rehydrated a mummy.’

She moved away, feeling a little ill.

‘That is horrid. Why is it purple?’

‘The gauze around the mummy was decorated with indigo. It is a rather dominant colour.’

‘Why on earth would they do that to a cat?’

‘Cats were considered sacred in ancient Egypt. One of their gods, Bastet, even had the form of a cat and not far from where we lived in Egypt there was a cemetery dedicated solely to felines. Did you know it was said that if a house cat died a natural death the members of the household must shave their eyebrows?’

She touched the tip of her own eyebrow and he smiled. She took another step back.

‘That sounds rather extreme.’

‘No more than many religious practices and far less violent than some.’

‘True. What will you do with this relative of...Bastet?’

‘I think I shall donate her to the Museum. Along with her amphibian friends.’

‘Amphibian? Are those frogs?’

His smile widened at the revulsion in her voice.

‘Huxley was in his biblical phase at the time and was fascinated by the ten plagues of Egypt. Luckily, he confined himself to mostly frogs and locusts and avoided boils and the like. Would you care to see the locusts?’

She backed away yet another step, shaking her head, all too aware she was giving him fodder for his teasing, but the sight of that gelatinous feline was defeating her attempt to remain cool and collected.

‘Here,’ he said, moving forward. He twitched a string and a blind descended over the cabinet, hiding the most offensive sights from view. ‘Huxley wasn’t immune to their grisliness, though they did serve to keep other members of the Manor away. I’ll have them packed and removed first thing. Meanwhile you can help me in the study. There is nothing more terrifying there than reams of scribbles and more salacious Latin tomes.’

She followed, both resentful and grateful for his casual acceptance of her queasiness. She did not like being considered weak in any way.

The study was surprisingly small after the imposing passage, though the bookcases and the cherrywood desk were covered with haphazard stacks of books, bound notebooks, and papers. Chase went to stand by the desk, frowning as he leafed through one of the notebooks.

‘How may I help?’ she asked, clasping her hands before her.

‘Do you wish to? Or was this merely a ploy to escape from Aunt Ermy’s despotic influence?’

‘She clearly hates it when you call her that. But then I reckon you are aware of that. And delight in it.’

‘Delight is a word I prefer to save for more suitable subjects. My irreverence keeps her at bay and that is all I ask.’

‘Are you always so blunt?’

‘It saves time and effort.’

‘For you, perhaps.’

‘That is the whole point.’

She sighed and turned to survey the desk, frowning at the chaos.

‘What is it we need to do?’

‘ You need to do nothing but hide until Ermy tires of toying with you, but I must begin working on this paper labyrinth. Go refresh your memory of Ars Amatoria . It is somewhere on the far shelf with the other immoral ancients. Just don’t tell Henry; he won’t thank me for colluding with your efforts to keep him on a short leading string.’