Dare to Risk it All (Daring Daughters Book 7) Read online

  Raphe frowned. “Yes, but, no. I mean….” He shook his head, wondering what on earth he did mean. “You are dreadful, obviously, but it’s….”

  “It’s?” she prompted when he didn’t answer.

  Raphe remembered he wasn’t supposed to encourage any closeness between them and shrugged, looking away.

  “I’m twenty-four in February,” she mused, giving a despondent sigh. “An old maid. An ape leader. On the shelf.”

  “Oh, come now,” Raphe said, annoyed. He wanted to shake the men of the ton for making her feel unwanted, whilst at the same time he was glad, glad they’d not noticed what he had seen at once. “You’re hardly in your dotage. There’s bound to be some amiable chap just desperate for the opportunity to marry you.”

  The thought of someone else marrying her made something cold and unpleasant squirm in his stomach, and he thought he might be sick.

  She returned a faint smile that only worsened the sensation and made his chest hurt.

  “You must have admirers?” he pressed, wondering if she’d give him names so he could make a list of potential victims.

  “Not that I am aware of. I have a lot of friends, though, because I’m great fun,” she added with a quick grin that made him want to haul her into his lap and ravish her again. “But men don’t want a fun wife. They save that for their mistresses. They want a wife to entertain and elevate them in society, someone elegant who will make them proud, never say the wrong thing, and who will make perfect young ladies and gentlemen of their children. Does that sound like me?”

  “No, thank God. It sounds tedious beyond bearing.”

  “For the wife, certainly,” she retorted, putting up her chin.

  Raphe laughed. “Certainly.”

  “I’d make an excellent mistress, I suppose,” she said with a sigh, bending down to retrieve her bonnet, which still lay where he’d tossed it to the ground.

  “Christ! Don’t say things like that!” he exclaimed, horrified.

  She gave a helpless shrug, turning the bonnet in her hands and tugging fretfully at the ribbons. “And there you have it. That’s why no one wants to marry me.”

  I do! a voice inside him insisted furiously. Raphe jolted, shocked beyond words. He certainly did not; he told himself sternly. He didn’t! They’d just met, for heaven’s sake. Besides, he didn’t wish to marry anyone. Well, no, not anyone, but….

  “Anyway,” she carried on, blithely unaware of the explosions going off in Raphe’s brain. “Never mind that. We’d really better get back or you’ll have to explain yourself to Papa, and I think we’d best avoid that so early in the visit.”

  Raphe got up at her urging. His head was still reverberating with shock at the recent revelation that he did not wish to remain a bachelor for the rest of his days, so he did not notice her implication that he would have to explain himself to her father at some point. Chastising himself severely for the entire walk back to the house, he made a solemn vow to put as much distance between himself and Miss Cadogan as possible.

  Greer avoided her sister on returning, which gave her a little time on her own while she changed out of her walking dress. This was a blessing, for she was not at all prepared to face her twin. Elspeth knew her far too well.

  She had known exactly what Greer was doing in remaining behind after the others had left for the house. Mama had known too, she was certain. Why Mama would allow her to behave in a manner most people would believe forward and wicked, Greer was not entirely sure. Except that Mama had her own rules about life, and certainly about love. She thought perhaps her mother had seen in Raphe what she too had seen. Before she had met him, she had been all agog to meet the shocking libertine who was always in such outrageous scrapes in the scandal sheets. She had thought she knew what kind of man he would be, and in some ways she had been right. He was dangerous and seductive, as she had experienced first-hand. When passion had got the better of him, he’d had the instincts of a predator. That was far from all, though. She had been unprepared for the lost quality she saw in him, the loneliness that clung to him like a heavy cloak, shutting out the light and keeping him apart from everyone else. No wonder he sought comfort in the arms of all those pretty light skirts. It was probably the only time he did not feel so alone. Her chest ached at the thought, and she felt the irresistible desire to take care of him, to make sure he realised he was valued and cared for. That way lay danger, though.

  Innocent she might be, but not stupid and certainly not ignorant. Mama had told them all about wicked men and their wiles, and the seductive way he had drawn her into that kiss had not been the least bit surprising. Only the kiss itself had shocked her. She had not expected to feel so much. She had wanted to cry and to laugh at once. It had been so beautiful, so devastating, and yet not nearly enough. Her desire for him had shocked her. Even Mama’s frank warnings about how desire could overwhelm one had not prepared her for the way she had wanted him. All she’d been able to think about was how good it would feel to have the weight of him pressing down upon her, to feel his skin against hers. She’d wanted him to possess her in a way that had frightened her a little, but had not made her want him any less. It would not have been so terribly difficult for him to seduce her. Though she had laughed at him for being dramatic when he had pointed that out, it was closer to the truth than she was comfortable with. Greer was a hoyden, and she knew it, but she was not fool enough to get herself compromised if there was no hope of marrying the man she wanted.

  She wanted him. That was undeniable. The only question was, did she want him for always, or was this simply a passing attraction that would fade in time? More pertinent still, would he ever consider marrying at all, let alone marrying her?

  Pondering this question as she made her way downstairs, and consumed by memories of that decadent kiss, she was not as prepared as she ought to have been to meet Elspeth.

  “Where were you?”

  Elspeth stood waiting for her in the grand entrance hall, arms folded.

  Greer sighed, knowing her twin was looking out for her, but rather wishing she wouldn’t.

  “In my room, getting changed,” she replied, all innocence.

  Elspeth snorted, aware that Greer knew that was not what she’d been asking. “I know he can be charming, but he’ll ruin you without batting an eyelid and then go on to the next girl.”

  “Oh, Elspeth, I am not entirely witless.”

  Elspeth’s expression was taut, but she reached out and took Greer’s hand. “I know that, and I know you think I’m interfering and trying to lord it over you because I’m married, but that isn’t it, Gee. It really isn’t.”

  “I know,” Greer grumbled.

  “When he arrived here,” Elspeth said, lowering her voice as they walked, “he was in a shocking state. I’ve never seen a man so out of his head. He… well, he was vile, there’s no two ways about it.”

  Greer nodded. “And you think he might do it again.”

  Elspeth nodded, her eyes filled with concern. “He is trying to reform. I can see that. Indeed, he is unrecognisable from the man I saw all those weeks ago. But since then, he’s not left the estate. He’s been busy working with Dare, but what happens if he returns to town?”

  “I understand,” Greer said, knowing it would be foolish to disregard the warning.

  “Do you?” Elspeth asked. She stopped, turning to take both Greer’s hands in hers. “You are impulsive like Mama. You know you are. And he’s dreadfully handsome, and charming when he wants to be. And you have a tender heart, Greer. I just don’t want you to fall in love with him and get hurt when he lets you down.”

  “Goodness, Elspeth, I just met him and you’re speaking about falling in love!” Greer exclaimed, though the words rang hollow, for she saw the danger just as her sister did. Raphe was sinfully tempting, and Greer had never been able to resist temptation. Elspeth knew it as well as she did.

  Her sister said nothing, only held her gaze. She leaned in and kissed Greer’s cheek.
r />   “Just have a care, love,” she said, and they walked on to find the other guests.

  Chapter 5

  Dear Viv and Ash,

  Here I am at Rowsley Hall for the Christmas period. It is dreadfully ancient and romantic, filled with ghosts and surrounded by such history. I am not sleeping a great deal as so many restless spirits keep me awake, but I am having a marvellous time all the same.

  This afternoon we shall ride out to the Nine Ladies standing stones. The legend tells that they were petrified in punishment for dancing on the Sabbath. The tenth—known as the king stone—is their fiddler who comes back to life once a year to play. Isn’t that wonderful? I don’t believe a word of it, naturally, but I know the ancients must have considered it a powerful spot for magic, which makes me eager to investigate.

  Greer is on form as usual. She makes me laugh so and I sometimes wish I could be so uninhibited. Mama does not understand my shyness at all, for she was always so bold, but such confidence must skip a generation.

  I fear darling Gee has developed a tendre for Lord de Ligne, who is dreadfully unsuitable and hasn’t a farthing to his name. Though he is very handsome and charming, I do not think I could put my trust in such a man. I am afraid Greer does not seem to agree with me.

  My only fly in the ointment is Lord de Ligne’s brother, Sylvester Coote. I believe he means to make a conquest of me, and I may need to resort to desperate measures to put the wretched man off. We shall see.

  ―Excerpt of a letter from Lady Aisling Baxter (daughter of Kitty and Luke Baxter, the Countess and Earl of Trevick) to Vivien and Ashton Anson. (Children of Silas and Aashini Anson, Viscount and Viscountess Cavendish).

  12th December 1840, Rowsley Hall, Derbyshire.

  “Well, four walls, some decent timber, and a clean space to work. It’s something,” Dare said with a laugh.

  Raphe rubbed his dirty hands on his equally filthy trousers and looked up in satisfaction. They had worked doggedly to clear the cottage of the old rotten thatch and the generations of accumulated dirt that had fallen with it to ready the site for the workmen. Dare’s workers had long since given up gawking at the pair of them, getting their hands dirty and labouring for fun. They’d decided they were as raving mad as the rest of the aristocracy and ought to be left in peace. Strangely, that was exactly why Raphe did it.

  Dare had told him the work would give him a measure of peace and no little satisfaction, and he’d been right. Raphe had never worked before, unless you counted at school. He’d been a good scholar, excelling at languages and anything involving literature. He had dabbled at writing, a bit of poetry too—much to his stepmother’s amusement and disdain—but nothing had ever come of it, and he’d known he did not have the talent to make a name for himself. This, though… to start with something that was unusable and improve it with his own two hands, this gave him a sense of well-being and satisfaction he had never known before. He had even begun spending time with the artisans, watching them work and asking them to teach him the knack of whatever it was they were doing. They were unfailingly generous with their time, though they ribbed him a good deal. But he rather liked that, too. There was a sense of camaraderie, and he wondered if perhaps he could do some good on his own long-forgotten estate. He had no money, but he had time and energy. Perhaps there was something he could do to encourage tenants to return to the abandoned property, which was currently nothing but a tax burden.

  Raphe and the family survived on an annuity that had been left him by his mother, one his father had not been able to touch, thank God. Most of it, however, went to paying the taxes on his inheritance, Marcross Manor, a property he could not sell but could not afford to improve. It was like a great stone about his neck, dragging him down into the mire.

  The other reason he was working like a man possessed, and the one he was trying hard not to think about, was that it kept him from the Hall and the company of the delectable Miss Cadogan. Try as he might to keep his mind on the job at hand, his thoughts returned again and again to her. To that kiss.

  He need only think of it and his flesh reacted, his body growing hard in anticipation. It was damned inconvenient. There was a constant ache beneath his skin, as though he needed the touch of her hands to soothe it away. He had dreamed of her every night since, though somehow he had kept his promise to himself to avoid her as much as possible over the past ten days.

  Though Dare only worked on the estate for a few hours in the morning now, returning to entertain his guests in the afternoon, Raphe remained for the full day. Returning to the hall dirty and fatigued, he appeared only at dinner, trying not to fall asleep in his soup before making his excuses and going to bed. Greer was undaunted, forcing him to converse with her, and he could hardly ignore her in front of everyone. Every evening he discovered more about her. She could not sit still for five minutes at a time; her mind was like quicksilver, darting from one conversation to the next with such speed he had to concentrate to keep up. He also learned she was kind and funny and witty, and he never wanted the evenings to end, even though he was exhausted. Yet no matter how tired he was, thoughts of Miss Cadogan kept him awake, and he indulged in lascivious fantasies.

  He could still feel the shape of her beneath his hands, could still taste her, sweet and tart and pure. The memory of her scent filled his senses, as heady as opium smoke, sending him reeling. His mind was a wicked place where he debauched her innocent flesh every night, in every decadent way his imagination could conjure. The things he had done to her during those sleepless dreams would shock her beyond words. His only saving grace was that he knew he was reprehensible, and did the only decent thing he could manage, and kept away.

  Raphe knew he’d been incredibly fortunate that his friends had saved him from his growing dependency on drink before he’d been too far gone to come back. Sobering up had been vile, but he’d done it, and he hoped he was strong enough not be tempted to return to such behaviour. Now though, he feared he had found something far more addictive than booze had ever been.

  “Right, I’m back to the Hall. Will you come?” Dare asked, reaching for his coat and pulling it on.

  Raphe shook his head. “No, I’ll carry on here.”

  “Oh, come on. Don’t be such a dull dog. You’ve missed all the entertainments so far. We’re going for a ride later. Lady Aisling wants to see the Nine Ladies stone circle in Matlock, though I’ve no idea why.”

  “That’s because you don’t have a romantic bone in your body, you great philistine,” Raphe remarked. “They’re ancient and mysterious.”

  Dare yawned and stretched, apparently unimpressed.

  “I’ll take your word for it,” he said, grinning as Raphe rolled his eyes at him. “See you later then, old man, though I’d really like you to come along. Think about it, at least.”

  “Fine. I’ll think about,” Raphe agreed, though he didn’t have the least intention of going.

  Dare raised a hand in farewell and strode off, leaving Raphe to carry on. Not much later, the workmen headed off for their lunch. Raphe’s belly gave an uncomfortable rumble of complaint too, but he ignored it. They had lit a huge bonfire of all the old thatch and rotting timbers and Raphe took a moment to rest standing in front of it. The smoky thatch had burned off now, leaving the timbers blazing. Raphe poked at a bit of wood with the end of a rake, sending a shower of sparks into the sky as it collapsed. It was pleasant on a wintry day, to stand and tend a fire that warmed your front even as your backside froze.

  “Found you!” called a cheery voice from behind him.

  Raphe’s heart immediately began an agitated dance behind his ribs, worsening as he turned to see Miss Cadogan bearing down on him. She was carrying a basket with a folded blanket draped over it. The lovely creature wore a gown of deep red with a matching velvet pelisse robe. Her blonde hair was arranged in long ringlets about her face and her bonnet was tied under her chin with matching red ribbons. More ribbons, fashioned into small bows, marched down the front of her dres
s and fluttered as she walked, giving the impression of butterfly wings. To Raphe she looked like a freshly wrapped present, ready for him to undo. With one tug, the ribbons on her bonnet would come untied and he could cast it aside as he had done days earlier and take that sweet pink mouth and… Stop it, you devil!

  “Miss Cadogan; This is a surprise,” Raphe said, trying with all his might to remember the promise he’d made himself and Lord Rothborn to keep his bloody hands off her.

  “Is it?” she asked, quirking an eyebrow at him. “You have been avoiding me for well over a week, my lord. I get a little polite conversation at dinner and then you run away again. Surely you cannot be surprised if I take the bull by the horns and track you down.”

  No. He wasn’t surprised. He was glad, damn him. Hell, he’d been waiting, hoping, praying she would do so. Raphe drank in the sight of her, feeling something ease in his chest at having her near. No, that was ridiculous. He couldn’t have missed her. For one, he saw her every night, staring like a starving dog at a butcher’s window. It was lust, that was all. It was impossible to become attached to someone so quickly. Belatedly, he remembered he was filthy and dressed in old clothes Dare had dug out for him to work in. He must look a fright. Well, probably for the best. Hopefully it would put her off.

  “What’s that you have there?” he asked, knowing he ought to get rid of her but finding himself unable to do so.

  “A picnic,” she said, grinning at him. “Lord Roxborough said you’d had no lunch, so I went to the kitchen and asked them to make up a basket. There’s a slice of game pie—which was delicious, I might add—some bread and cheese, an apple, cake, and a bottle of beer.”

  “A feast,” he remarked, wishing he could cast the basket aside and feast on her instead. The urge to reach for her was an itch he dare not scratch.

  “Where shall we sit?” she asked, looking about her for a place.