The Redemption of Lord Rawlings (25 page)

Abby tilted her head, waiting.

“
Are the rumors grossly exaggerated?”

“
Rumors of…” Abigail prompted.

The dowager gave Phillip a very slow and uncomfortable look, starting at his toes and ending at his head. Winking, she turned back to Abigail. "His rakish reputation of course. Are the rumors true, my dear?”

Blushing, Abigail answered, “Every single one.”

“
Delightful!” The dowager clapped and did a little curtsy to both of them. Phillip grabbed her hand and bestowed a kiss on her fingers. But noticed, as he leaned down, that they were covered in ink.

He snapped his head to attention, looking at the dowager through different eyes.

“
Mrs. Peabody?” he whispered.

“
Our little secret. Good evening.” She laughed and waved as she walked through the crowds, yelling “move,” each time someone didn’t go fast enough.

“
Devil take it!” Phillip grabbed Abby. “She’s Mrs. Peabody? Who would have thought?”

But Abigail wasn’t focused. Instead she was staring, quite blatantly, at his mouth.

“
What is it?” he whispered near her ear.

“
There is one rumor that I sometimes wonder about. I feel the need to see things demonstrated in order to give a fair answer to questions like the dowager's.”

“
Oh? And what is this rumor?”

She smiled wickedly. Tracing her finger along his jaw, she leaned in and whispered, “I once heard you danced naked in the moonlight, then made love until dawn…care to show me?”

Phillip didn’t have the heart to tell her it was another exaggeration. That he had in fact danced naked only because he had taken a stupid dare, and no women were involved. Instead he whispered scandalous and naughty things into his wife’s ear and took her down a darkened hallway.

Reformed rake, he was…but that didn’t mean he couldn’t seduce and scandalize his own wife.

“
Where are we going?” She giggled.

“
Oh just somewhere I can ruin you. Where you can say ‘yes, Phillip’ and ‘again, Phillip’ without being heard.”

She stopped abruptly in her tracks, then pushed him hard against the wall. “Yes, Phillip. Now, Phillip. Again, Phillip…”

He laughed, kissed her hard, and pulled her into the next room. Grateful that this siren had sought him out when he had nothing, vowing to give her everything, and overjoyed he was able to love her forever.

Upon A Midnight Dream

London Fairy Tales

Book 1

Prologue

That, if then I had waked after a long sleep, will make me sleep again; and then, in dreaming, the clouds me thought would open and show riches ready to drop upon me; that, when I waked I cried to dream again

—
William Shakespeare

He made the grave mistake of looking into her chocolate brown eyes and cursed himself all over again for having such delusional feelings. She wasn’t his to fawn over, but someone else’s entirely. Despite the obvious, he was in love, or at least it had felt that way ever since he first set eyes on her the year before. But what good was his love when her heart fully belonged to someone else?

She had been betrothed to his brother and he hated himself for it. Because it meant that for the rest of his eternity he had to watch them laugh and smile while inwardly a part of him died each time her eyes gazed at his little brother instead of him.

There were three of them. Three brothers in all and their father, “The King,” as they always referred to him, had spoiled them greatly.

His youngest brother had set eyes on Elaina and fallen madly in love. Just as the rest of the family had. With long golden hair and deep brown eyes, she was every man's dream. And the youngest son, the one without the title, the one who was to be a vicar, had won the ultimate prize. The one thing that money and a title could obviously not buy—love.

Stefan looked away. How much pain could a heart take before it was ripped in two? Could unrequited love kill a person’s soul with one breath?

His body tensed when she breathed, his breath hitched when she spoke, and his passion ignited when she laughed.

Curse her, and curse his brother Fitz.

It was in moments like this that he wished he were more like the second son, James Gregory. Without a care in the world. But no, Stefan was too blasted serious for that. He was the heir. The marquess, living in his own version of solitary.

“
I’m to be touring India,” he suddenly announced knowing it was poor timing but needing it to be said nonetheless. His father had made arrangements after seeing Stefan mope around for the last year. It was easily decided upon that a tour of India was just the thing—though at times, Stefan wondered if his father hoped to be rid of him if only to push away the heartache at seeing his eldest son so depressed.

The room went dead silent; his father turned a knowing eye to him. Always perceptive, his brother Fitz gave a brief nod. “Is that what you think is best, considering your position, Whitmore?”

“
I do.” Short, clipped tones fell out of his mouth.

Elaina tilted her head and smiled. “What are you about, Stefan? You aren’t the type to go around seeking adventure. Wouldn’t you be much happier here? Where it is safe? And you can live a quiet, happy life?”

If he hadn’t already made up his mind, her sorry speech of his character would have. “I’ll make arrangements.”

His brother Fitz squinted through his looking glass. “Stefan, this isn’t like you? Blast,” he laughed. “You’re afraid of your own shadow!”

The room erupted into laughter. All save his brother James, who with a gleam in his eye said, “I hope you find what you’re looking for, brother, and do try to make it back in one piece. You wouldn’t want the title passed down to someone such as I.”

Stefan Hudson Marquess of Whitmore and future Duke of Montmouth left that following week and never looked back.

****

Rosalind Hartwell felt like she was up for auction to the highest bidder. One minute she was engaged to the most ridiculous dandy she had ever laid eyes on and next thing she knew, a man with darkened skin and sandy blond hair announced he was the rightful marquess. Head spinning, she grabbed for champagne and winced when she saw the display of male beauty standing before her.

Whoever this stranger was, he made every other male specimen in the room appear gaunt and sick. His skin was dark, his teeth glaring against the set of his square jaw. How had her life come to this?

She looked from side to side. Surely someone would step forward and help her? The
ton
, it seemed, had lost their tongues at a very inappropriate time for Rosalind. The only help it seemed came from the infamous Lord Rawlings, who minutes before had nearly punched the younger brother James, her now ex fiancé, square in the face.

Abby, her dearest friend, and Lady Rawlings looked in her direction. Rosalind shook her head.
Let the man get his bearings before he realizes he’s betrothed. Saints alive!
He just came back from the dead. The last thing she imagined he would want was to be chained to a woman without his choosing!

Adjusting her gloves, she waited. The man laughed, the music started. And she continued to wait. That is until the Dowager Duchess of Barlowe looked in her direction, even though Rosalind could have sworn the plant had hidden her.

The bronze man walked toward her. She gulped, and for the life of her was not able to put anything close to a smile on her face. Flabbergasted, that she was.

“
Lady Rosalind?” He reached for her hand and planted a kiss on her knuckles.

Shivers ran down her spine. Fear, that was it. She was afraid. Surely she wasn’t attracted to this barbarian.

His next words, though there was no way for her to know it, sealed her fate—her eternity with that man. “I release you.”

Stunned, she closed her eyes to gather herself. “Pardon? Am I some sort of wild creature that begs to be released?”

Something flashed in his eyes, before he regained his composure and answered, “Surely, you don’t wish to be betrothed to a man you hardly know?”

Rosalind scoffed, “And surely you haven’t been away that long as to forget the way that betrothals work. I would shame my family if I broke off our engagement. But your words and manner of speech give the impression that you are politely doing it for me, is that correct?”

“
Yes,” he said.

Rosalind clenched her fist, for her arms suddenly felt heavy, as did her eyes and her legs. Oh no, it was happening. It could not be happening in the middle of the ballroom! Her tongue became heavy inside her mouth, swaying on her feet, she only ground out, “As you wi—” before she fell into his arms.

****

Stefan was at a total loss. A complete and utter state of awe. For never had a women ever fallen asleep while he was talking.

Ever.

And that included the ninety-seven year old Indian woman who smoked that devil's herb all hours of the night.

She
managed to stay awake.

His fiancée, however, had not.

“
Lady Rosalind?” he said quietly, though he wasn’t sure why. Not only had he caused the greatest scandal known to the
ton
by showing up alive and breathing at the Season's end, but also his fiancée had promptly fainted in his arms.

“
Good heavens, is she dead?” The Dowager Barlowe fanned herself vigorously as she motioned for help. Several people began whispering behind their fans as they watched the scandal worsen. Rosalind moaned in his arms. The girl looked slightly foxed, though he knew she was nothing of the sort. Merely sleeping.

Just what he needed. More attention.
By all means gather round. Seems I’ve single handedly killed the woman I’m supposed to marry. Please, feast your eyes.

“
Have you a place I can bring her?” Without waiting for the affirmative, he scooped the tall girl into his arms and began walking through the crush to the nearest room he could think of. Not wanting to ruin her reputation, but unable to think of any other option, he pushed into the first room that the dowager had pointed to and promptly dropped the girl onto the leather sofa.

“
Well we cannot just leave her. It isn’t to be done.” The Dowager continued her incessant fanning, just as the object of their discussion let out a very unladylike snore.

“
Is she…” He looked down at the beautiful face. Impossible. He didn’t trust his own ears. And then her bow shaped mouth opened, just slightly, and let out a puff of air. “Snoring,” he finished, completely astonished.

Feeling around him for a chair because he dare not take his eyes off the sleeping beauty before him, he finally managed to grab at something and sat.

Directly onto his grandmother.

“
Do you mind?” The dowager pushed flailing hands at his large form.

“
Apologies.” Scattering off his grandmothers’ lap, he raked his hands through his long, unfashionable hair.

Make that three impossibilities in one night, the last and final blow to his pride being that he was so focused on Lady Rosalind, and consequently unable to think straight, that he’d landed in his grandmother's lap. Something that hadn’t happened to him since he was a lad of eight.

“
Well, I’m off then. Have a brilliant time, Stefan, and it is so good to see you back. I’ll be expecting you in the morning, and sorry about all that excitement out there. After all, I had to play my part, couldn’t let on that I knew you were back before everyone else. Think of what your father would say.”

“
You did admirably.”

The dowager smiled. “Yes, well, I once tried for the theatre, many years ago, but did you know that they don’t take to women with opinions.”

“
I’m sure they don’t.”

“
It is of no consequence. I shall leave you with…” She pointed, but words stopped coming. Instead she shook her head and tsked out loud before closing the door behind her.

Stefan’s gaze were glued to the door his grandmother had exited, waiting for the inevitable.

The door jerked open. “Oh my heavens! I nearly forgot myself. You cannot be alone with her!”

How astonishing, he had been gone for six years and his grandmother, bless her soul, is ever so much the same as before. Why, even birds flying about drive her to distraction.

And he loved her to a fault. “Well Grandmother, I can promise you that I’ll be very discreet. Now why don’t you scurry off and have some sherry, hmm?”

“
Yes, yes, only if you think it best, Stefan. After all, you are betrothed.” What she didn’t know wouldn’t necessarily do her any harm. With a satisfied huff, she patted his head, quite a feat considering the little woman had to nearly jump up to reach it, and closed the door for a second time.

Alone, completely alone with a woman.

Not that she was a relative stranger, but then again he had achieved to shock her into sleep. How exactly he had managed to accomplish such a feat was beyond his comprehension.

Without much to do other than watch her, he took a seat on the sofa across from her and waited.