Anne Herries - The Rake's Rebellious Lady

‘Then please allow me to pass,’ Caroline said and gave him a frosty stare. Until that moment she had been revising her opinion of him, and liking what she had discovered, but now she was once again aware of the danger of allowing herself to like such a man. If she were foolish enough to develop a tendre for him, he would be sure to break her heart. ‘My partner is waiting and I am already late for our dance. As you said, all my dances are taken.’

‘Just so,’ Freddie said, releasing her. He felt the reserve in her and mentally drew back. If he were not careful he would find himself drawn into a situation that could lead to only one end. He liked her enough to enjoy a light flirtation—but marriage? No, he had no thought of it! He reverted to the mocking stance that was his habitual manner. ‘You intrigue me, for I do not believe that you can be all that you seem, Miss Holbrook. You have made an impression. I dare say you could marry one of several gentlemen, all of them titled and wealthy.’

‘Do you think so, sir?’ Caroline lifted her head. ‘Perhaps you imagine that I wish to marry for fortune and position? If that is so, I think you may regard yourself as safe. I believe a marquis is as high as you can aspire in the future? I have only to encourage it and I may become a duchess one day…’ She walked off, her back straight, leaving Freddie to watch her in wry amusement.

The devil of it was that she was probably right! He was annoyed that she intrigued him, holding his thoughts more often than he liked. What was it about her that had caught his attention? She was a beauty, but there were other ladies as lovely who aroused no more than a flicker of interest in his mind. It seemed that the only way he might free himself was to develop the acquaintance, for he was sure to find her out in the end. She could surely not be as innocent and pure of mind as she seemed.

Caroline returned to the ballroom. Had she been a cat, her tail would have been twitching, for he had managed to get beneath her skin. Sir Frederick Rathbone was a sight too sure of himself for her liking. He had deserved a set down, and that was the only reason she had spoken in a way that might be seen as bragging. It was true that a young gentleman, who was the second in line for a dukedom, had paid her considerable attention, but she would not normally have dreamed of drawing anyone’s notice to it—and she had no intention of encouraging Sir Frederick to make an offer. Indeed, she had done her best to discourage it.

She wished that she had thought of some other way to put Sir Frederick down, for she did not wish him or anyone else to suppose that she was hanging out for a title. It was the furthest thing from her mind. At the moment she did not precisely know what she wanted from a husband. He must be an educated gentleman, able to discuss poetry and literature and to appreciate music and art. She thought that he must also have a sense of humour, for she did not think she could bear to be married to someone who was serious all the time.

For a moment her thoughts turned to Sir Frederick. She smiled at the thought of him giving into the seduction of a helpless puppy, allowing it to inveigle its way in to his good graces. Perhaps he was not as reserved or haughty as he sometimes seemed…and perhaps she did quite like him after all. At the back of her mind the thought hovered that, perhaps if her aunt had not been so very keen to see her marry Sir Frederick, she might have liked him quite a lot…

The next morning, Caroline had almost forgotten the little incident of the previous evening. She had decided to go to the lending library to take out a book one of her new friends had told her about. She went early, escaping without her maid, though she knew that her aunt would not approve of such behaviour. However, since the library was only a few streets away, she thought that it was quite safe for she would be at home again before her aunt was aware that she had been out.

It was as she emerged from the library, her parcel of books held by the string the assistant had obligingly tied for her, that she almost bumped into the man she had been thinking about despite her struggle to put him from her mind. He lifted his hat to her, and she could not but admire the way he looked in his dark green riding coat and pale breeches. It would seem that he had been riding earlier, for he still carried his whip. It was impossible to avoid him, so she smiled and wished him good morning.

‘You are about early, Miss Holbrook.’ He glanced at her books, a flicker of amusement on his lips as he saw that she had chosen not only a book of poetry, but also a rather lurid gothic novel that was just then causing quite a stir amongst the younger ladies. ‘Ah, I see you have fallen victim to a great piece of nonsense, mistakenly described as excellent stuff.’

‘You do not like Ann Radcliffe’s work, sir?’

‘I do not find it particularly entertaining,’ Freddie said, ‘though I can see it might appeal to the female mind.’

Caroline’s eyes glinted with anger. ‘I think you are patronising, sir. The female mind is equally capable of understanding more worthy works of literature, but a novel of this kind is meant for entertainment.’

‘Yes, I dare say,’ Freddie said, amused by how easily she had risen to his bait. ‘Personally, I prefer the Marquis de Sade—but that would not be fit reading for a young lady, of course. If you wish to read gothic novels, may I recommend Gregory Lewis’s novel The Monk to you?’

‘Had I not already read it, I would have been pleased for you to do so,’ Caroline said, lifting her chin. She suspected that he was teasing her and it brought a hint of defiance to her lovely face. ‘I thought it a little shocking, but it was very well written, did you not think so?’

‘Indeed, yes,’ Freddie said and laughed softly, for he had read the hint of challenge in her eyes. She looked just like an angry kitten! ‘Have you not guessed yet that I am teasing you, Miss Holbrook? It is a fault in me. My godmother often takes me to task for levity. She says that, if I were ever to conquer the need for such foolishness, I might become a better man.’

‘Yes, of course,’ Caroline said, sheathing her claws. ‘Then may I take it that you have read Mrs Radcliffe’s book The Mysteries of Udolpho ?’

‘Indeed, I have, some years ago,’ he agreed. ‘I found it the best of her work—though I dare say others are tolerably readable.’

‘I have not yet found it on the shelves,’ Caroline said. ‘It seems to be popular still, even though it was published some years ago.’

‘Ah, then perhaps I may be of service to you,’ Freddie said. ‘I believe I still own a copy. Allow me to lend it to you, Miss Holbrook…’

Freddie became aware that she was not attending. Her eyes seemed to be fixed on something behind him, and he turned, taking in the incident instantly, for he saw the young boy being attacked by a group of older boys. Seeing that Caroline was about to plunge recklessly into the path of an oncoming dray wagon, he took hold of her arm, restraining her so violently that she yelped with pain.

‘Forgive me,’ he said, ‘but I beg you, leave this to me. Stay here!’

The instruction was given in such a severe tone that Caroline remained where she was while he crossed the road, dodging between the traffic. She watched as he spoke to the lads, sending them off about their business, and noted that he slipped a coin into the hand of the one that had been attacked.

‘What happened?’ she asked as he returned to her. ‘Was he much hurt?’

‘It was merely a spat amongst brothers,’ Freddie told her. ‘The boy had lost some money one of the others had given him to buy their supper—nothing for you to be distressed about, Miss Holbrook.’