A Lady's Guide to Rakes (29 page)

The minister opened a small book and began to read, but Meredith could not understand a word he uttered. Her heart was throbbing mercilessly in her ears, and one persistent thought pelted her mind—run.
Run!

Meredith felt her new lace fichu, for Chillton had insisted she wear one for modesty’s sake, slip from one shoulder. Instead of catching it, she let it fall onto the dusty floor. And it felt magnificent to be free of it.

Lifting her skirt in her hand, she prepared herself mentally for what she was about to do. What she had to do. Her heart would not allow her to marry anyone but her Alexander. Slowly she turned on the ball of her right foot.

Then a faint, slightly musky French scent sailed beneath her nose. She tilted her head up to breathe it in, feeling a calmness come over her as she did so.

He was there. Somewhere, Alexander was there. And, since she could smell it from her place before the altar, he was wearing quite a lot of scent.

Suddenly there was a clatter of hooves, shouts of alarm from people on the street and a raucous orchestra of carriage wheels on gravel. The minister stopped speaking as the congregation turned, gasping and murmuring, as they strained to see out the church’s open doors.

Meredith lifted the comer of her veil just enough so she could see a carriage pass by. But surely her eyes were deceived, for it appeared to be none other than Three, Lansing’s driver, hollering and cracking a whip over his team. Even more stunning was whom she thought she saw looking out the window in the carriage door—
Arthur Chillton himself!
No, surely she was mistaken.

Her fingers trembled and the edge of the inner veil slipped down before her eyes. Meredith caught the edge and yanked it back over her hat, but it was too late—the carriage was gone.

Then a startled thought burst in her head. If Chillton was in the carriage, then who… ? She whirled around and stared at the man standing next to her.

“Alexander!” Her breath came faster and she felt herself begin to swoon. Was this a dream—a wonderful, perfect dream?

“Yes, my sweet,” Alexander whispered back to her. “Your part is coming up. Best pay attention.” He grinned at the man standing to his right.

Unable to think past that very moment, Meredith glanced at the gentleman as well.

Could it
be?
She rubbed her eyes and looked again. It could not be. The Earl of Harford stood proudly beside his son.

She looked at the earl, completely confused. “My lord?”

The earl smiled brightly at her. “Daughter… er… well, if you allow the ceremony to continue and marry my son, that is.” There was a hint of laughter in his quiet words. He gestured to the minister and her eyes followed his lead.

Another gentleman, white-haired and quite familiar, nodded to her.

“One?” Her voice was as unsure as the sight her eyes beheld.

The minister looked up from his text and leaned close to her. “No, my child. Were I in Lord Lansing’s employ, like my brothers, I suppose I would be ‘Four.’ But as it is, I am Reverend Herbert, the minister, trying very hard to marry the two of you.” He smiled good-naturedly.

“Oh!” Meredith looked up at Alexander, who gave her a quick nod and glanced past Reverend Herbert.

“One is over there,” he whispered. “I believe he was counseling young Mr. Chillton earlier.”

Meredith gazed deep toward the sacristy and saw One standing in the shadows, dressed identically to Reverend Herbert. When he appeared to notice that he had the attention of his employer, he clapped his hand to his bicep and smiled broadly, a motion Alexander answered in kind.

———

As her family looked proudly on, Meredith dipped the nib into an inkwell and signed her name to the parish register.

She looked up at Alexander, her beloved husband. “So this is all quite legal?”

“Perfectly. Reverend Herbert has signed the license. You are mine now, Meredith, and there is nothing you can do about it.”

“Except allow your father to kiss your bride.” The earl of Harford stepped past Alexander, meaning to press a kiss to Meredith’s cheek, but she pulled back.

“I am sorry, my lord,” she began, “but I do not understand. You forbade this marriage. Threatened to disown your son.”

“Meredith—” Alexander tried to interrupt, but the earl raised his hand.

“I did not understand that he loved you.” He bent his head and seemed to find particular interest in the joining of the floorboards. “After hearing of your past and your guidebook I was convinced that you sought only to make a mockery of him, of his past, something he was genuinely trying to put behind him.” He breathed deeply, his eyes fixed on the wide oak floorboards, as if struggling to find the right words. Finally he lifted his round face to hers. “But when Alexander told me that he would rather live penniless than to live without you, I knew he truly loved you. And for Alexander to love anyone, more than himself”—the earl chuckled—”I knew that you must be an extraordinary woman to have so profoundly affected my son,
my heir.
“

When a single tear trickled down Meredith’s cheek, the earl dabbed it away with a handkerchief, then kissed the very spot it had fallen. “Forgive me… Lady Lansing?”

Meredith’s throat was thick with emotion; so instead of speaking, she nodded, then hugged the earl to her.

Over the earl’s shoulder, Meredith saw Alexander gazing at her through glistening eyes. She smiled across at him as she and the earl broke their embrace.

Hannah slipped forward and whispered rather loudly into Meredith’s ear, “I am sorry about what Chillton did to you, Meredith. My brother is a complete fool. I suppose you and I were not to be sisters, after all.”

Aunt Letitia caught Hannah’s arm and drew back from the new couple. “No, gel, he is not. He knew that our Meredith belonged with Lord Lansing rather than with him. Can’t fault him for that.”

“Though I do wish he would not have waited so long to realize it, Sister.” Aunt Viola sighed. “Would have made this day so much less complicated.”

Meredith grinned at that. “And let me say, dear husband, that was a very risky scheme you and the Herbert brothers carried off this day. Your staff is very loyal, indeed.”

The Herbert brothers, now joined by Three, stood in the back of the chamber, chuckling.

“What is so amusing?” Meredith asked, turning her head to look at them.

“They are not only my staff.” Alexander exhaled a laugh, shrugged off his coat and rolled up his shirtsleeve. There, inked into his skin, was a Celtic ring. “They are my clansmen.”

The Herbert brothers, including Reverend Herbert, bared identical marks on their own arms for her.

One separated from his brothers and came forward. “We’re distant kin. All from the same village in the wilds of Scotland, I might add.”

Alexander nodded, then dropped his coat on the signing table. In a very rakish manner, he swept Meredith into his arms and poised his lips above hers.

Meredith inched her mouth back and lifted a brow at him. “Might I add that your plan was also very rakish, indeed.”

“Ah, that.” Alexander snatched Meredith off her feet and kissed her deeply, passionately, in a bone-melting way that only a very skilled rake could achieve. “Darling, I swear to you, it was my last rakish deed. I am now
completely
reformed.”

“Are you now?” She smiled coquettishly at him.
“Pity.”

A reformed rake makes the very best husband.

Meredith squeezed her husband’s arm tightly as Mr. Hurst, her publisher, placed a small red leather-bound book into her gloved right hand. Her guidebook had actually been published. Inhaling sharply, she flipped open the cover with her thumb and stared down at the title page.

Alexander bent and kissed the top of her head. “You did it, Meredith.”

“I did, didn’t I?” When she was finally able to pry her gaze from the volume, Meredith summoned the courage to ask Mr. Hurst the very question that had been picking at her brain for a full week. The question that, until today—when Alexander had pitched her bodily into the carriage—had prevented her from even venturing down to Paternoster Row to retrieve her author’s copy. “Dear sir,” she managed, “has anyone… bought a guidebook?”

Mr. Hurst wedged his knuckles atop his hips, threw his balding head back and chortled his amusement, sending his large belly bouncing about like a carriage on a pocked road. “The booksellers have been clamoring for additional copies all week. Can’t keep them in stock. I have already engaged every bookbinder in the city to keep up with the demand. Seems word has swept the matrons of London, and already we have sold nigh on seven hundred copies.”

“So many?” Meredith felt the blood draining from her face and she felt just a little dizzy at the prospect. “But ‘tis only a cautionary guidebook, not a great novel.”

“
A Lady’s Guide to Rakes
is filling a need, my good woman.”

Alexander playfully nudged her. “I shall wonder what seven hundred readers will think once they learn the authoress married London’s most notorious rake.”

“My lord, I would venture to say that most of your wife’s readers are already aware of that fact.” Mr. Hurst nodded his head, sending both of his chins wobbling. “In fact, I am quite sure of it—hence the guidebook’s popularity. A simple miss, scarred by her past, meets a rake and transforms him into an adoring husband, with nothing more than her heart. It’s a love story, pure and simple.” Mr. Hurst’s gaze shifted suddenly to the guidebook in Meredith’s hand, as though something had just occurred to him. He reached out and took it from her. “And then, there is the last line.”

Alexander took the guidebook Hurst handed him.

“Er… last page, my lord.”

Meredith snatched the book. “Allow me, please.” She released Alexander’s arm, turned to the final page of her guidebook and cleared her throat.

“Therefore, research has proved that a reformed rake does indeed make the very best husband.”

Alexander’s eyes twinkled as he pulled her back to him. “Is that so?” His voice was low and smoldering.

Mr. Hurst grinned and turned away, pretending to have business at the counter.

“Tis.” Meredith lifted her eyes to Alexander and slowly moved as if to kiss him, but at the last moment she turned her mouth to his ear. “And, darling,” she whispered into it, giving his earlobe just the tiniest bite, “I ought to know.”

Kathryn Caskie is the author of
Lady in Waiting, The Rules of Engagement
, winner of Romance Writers of America’s prestigious Golden Heart award for Best Long Historical Romance and Romantic Times Reviewer’s Choice Award for Best First Historical Romance.