The Redemption of Lord Rawlings (6 page)

Emma offered her a look of concern. “Where has Phillip run off to?”

Wanting nothing more than to curse the man who had embarrassed her, Abigail had to fight to keep her face and words kind. “Oh, I believe he had another engagement. I wouldn’t worry.”

Content with the answer, her sister looped her arm with Abigail’s and led her to the place Rawlings had indicated earlier. “My dear, look at all these gentleman. They’ve been asking about you all night. I do believe we’ll have many callers tomorrow afternoon. Why don’t I introduce you?”

Abigail tried to think of any excuse to allow herself to remain where she was. The last thing she wanted to do was make friendly with gentlemen her own age. All she wanted was the horrid wretch who had ridiculed her inexperienced kiss.

“
My head aches,” Abigail lied, lifting her gloved hand to her forehead in attempt to deter her sisters pestering questions.

The tears Abigail had been holding back grew painful as she tried to keep them captive behind her eyes. Emma seemed to understand and escorted her quickly down the hall. “Has something happened, Abby?”

“
No.” Abigail sighed. “I’m just exhausted. It has been a very trying night. After all, it is my first ball.”

“
But you haven’t danced with anyone other than family and Rawlings. However are we to find you a match if you don’t make yourself available? Abigail, remember. You wanted your first Season, though Mama and Papa argued that you should wait.”

She hadn’t wanted to wait, because she was worried Rawlings would find someone else to steal his heart. Desperately, she had done all she could to get her parents to agree to allow her to debut this Season, short as it was—only a month of social occasions left.

“
It is merely a headache, Emma. I’ll be feeling better in the morning. Will you give my apologies to everyone for retiring so dreadfully early?”

Skeptically, Emma’s eyes narrowed before she nodded her head and gracefully returned to the ballroom.

Slowly, Abigail took the stairs. How had things gone so horribly wrong? Had Rawlings not been transfixed when they kissed? Was he merely skilled at looking devastatingly handsome, no matter what the weather? His eyes had sparkled after their lips touched. But perhaps he was upset, or worse, irritated that she had interrupted his brooding.

Abigail bit her lip, and the music from the ballroom floated to the ceiling. Boisterous voices and laughter echoed off the walls. She was a young debutante; she should be out dancing, experiencing her first time in London. Instead she was retiring early and heart-broken over a rake’s rejection.

Had Rawlings changed so much? Perplexed, and now in danger of an honest headache, Abigail continued marching towards her room. She sat in front of the fireplace, pulled her knees to her chin and thought. Men were men. Easy enough to control. All except Sebastian, who seemed to see right through her every ploy. Not that it bothered her. In fact, he had been nothing but wonderful to her since her arrival. Even after knowing the way Abigail had treated Emma before their marriage; both had still welcomed her with open arms.

The fire crackled. Abigail watched the flames, felt the heat of the fire warm her skin. Maybe Rawlings needed to see her as more of a woman. She looked down at her dress. White muslin. It was pure as snow and looked like every other debutante’s. And the cut, although not conservative, was nothing compared to what Sara and Emma wore.

“
That’s it!” Jumping from her chair, she danced around her room and hugged herself. He just needed to see she had grown up. Nothing a few scandalous dresses couldn’t fix. After all, he was a man.

“
Exactly,” she said out loud. He’s a man. Men are drawn to beautiful things, and Rawlings, with his reputation, was no exception. He just needed to see her as more than an irritating little sibling. If desire was what was required to evoke emotion in Rawlings, then Abigail knew just the way to do it.

“
Miss? Did you say something?” Abigail’s maid knocked on the door.

“
No, Meg. I was merely woolgathering.” Out loud. “Will you ready me for bed? I would like to retire. I’ve a busy morning ahead.” And with a gleeful smile, Abigail sighed.

Chapter Six

This author’s curiosity had been piqued. While taking an innocent stroll through Mayfair, it was noted that a curricle of a certain earl was outside a particular duke’s home. Well, they say that opposites attract. This author wonders if even the Angel Duke can influence a man as corrupt as Rawlings. It has been said that he once had a mistress in every hair color to suite his scandalous tastes. Alas, it seems we will be seeing more of this unfortunate creature. Ladies, guard your honor.

—
Mrs. Peabody’s Society Papers

Of all the ways for a man to swallow his pride, this had to be the worst. Phillip arrived at the house of his once betrothed, now the Duchess of Tempest, and one of the wealthiest dukes of the realm—a man he had wanted to kill and a woman he had desired for himself not so long ago.

Asking them for help was reminiscent of the time Lady Fenton had yelled at him for gawking at her bosom, when he was all but one and five. The lads hadn’t let him live it down for years. He had been appalled the witch had seen him staring, and to this day, felt he couldn’t quite look at her in the face without thinking of something else entirely. Shuddering, he lifted his gloved hand to the door and knocked.

They should be just about ready for afternoon callers. And although it was a little early for the women to begin making visits, Phillip had hoped he could have this dreadful conversation done and over with before the dandies and puppies made their appearances. No doubt they would be crowding the doors of the duke’s home in hopes of an audience with Abigail.

He shook his head, a cynical grin creasing his lips. It would be impossible to use any other sort of address for her. She would always simply be, Abby. Not Miss Abigail Gates. And certainly thinking of her marrying and obtaining a title made him want to spit. Fortunately, it seemed she was merely out for a bit of fun this Season and not planning to marry. Her actions proved she was nothing more than a curious innocent out for London adventure.

“
My lord?” The butler answered the door and recognized Phillip. Not because he was such a good friend of the duke’s, much to Phillip’s dismay, but because he was the infamous rake. That blasted Mrs. Peabody had made him sound more deranged than even he could imagine. How was it that the menacing woman knew what he was up to so often? It seemed he was being stalked like a lion’s prey, and he did not appreciate it one bit. For every time he read the society papers a new sin of his was on display, warning the entirety of the female population in London to be wary of him.

It was another reason he had decided to take Emma up on her offer.

Nobody would have him otherwise.

Just this morning, when he went for his usual ride through Hyde Park, he was appalled to endure an elderly lady’s attempt to throw an apple at his head. Unsuccessful, she had yelled a derogatory name, loud enough for some young ladies to hear. Their faces lit up in seductive smiles which were quickly smacked away by their mamas, who whispered who-knew-what in their ears. Their eyes widened in horror, and they scurried away as if he was some diseased creature.

Which he wasn’t.

But they didn’t know that. All they knew was he had been with so many women that even the men who called themselves rakes looked like innocent boys standing next to him. Not that the talk was minutely true. Hundreds of women was quite a stretch, even for a man of his appetite, and he hadn’t fed said appetite in over a year.

The butler heaved a deep sigh, which spoke volumes, then looked behind Phillip as if to make sure nobody knew he was entering their house, and quickly ushered him in.

His pride would have been pricked had he any left, but instead, he was grateful the butler had insight Phillip hadn’t. And even more grateful that the duke’s butler had been reading his papers, for he had tea and biscuits brought in from the kitchens. Food wasn’t that scarce yet at Phillip’s house, but good hot tea was.

Nodding his head in a silent thank you, Phillip ate, and then he waited.

As he finished the last of the biscuits and his tea began to cool, Emma rushed in with Sebastian at her side.

“
I knew it!” She tapped Sebastian across the chest with her glove. “I was just telling him this morning after reading the papers that you would be desperate enough to take me up on my offer.”

“
Ah, desperate.” Rawlings rose so he could bow to the duchess. “A word I’ve been overusing as of late. And yes, you are correct in your assumption. Did you know someone threw an apple at me this morning? And the number of lovers I’ve had has tripled over night. Imagine my shock to wake up in my bed alone whilst I was apparently debauching half of London.” Frustrated, Phillip hadn’t meant to announce all that information to the duchess, but he was at his wit’s end. Had he just said
debauch
in front of the Duchess of Tempest?

She burst out laughing, as did Sebastian.

“
Glad to amuse you this morning,” Phillip grumbled and reached for his tea. “I need a wife and fast.”

“
How fast?” Sebastian asked.

“
Fast.”

“
Yes, you’ve said that.” Sebastian closed the door to the salon and took a seat. “Now, answer the question.”

Swallowing a bit of tea before answering, Phillip said, “Before my birthday.”

To his credit, Sebastian did not swear, nor did he laugh. He merely stared at Phillip as if he had just announced that the world would end in two days, and that he was, in fact, God, come to pass judgment on the entirety of London.

“
That’s not so bad, is it?” Emma said, gliding to the settee. “After all, your birthday isn’t until…” She looked away and closed her eyes.

“
Get there faster, love,” Sebastian mumbled. “Oh, fine. You’ve never been one for numbers. He has less than three months to not only change his reputation, but find a woman willing to trust him.”

Emma’s face fell.

It was always reassuring when one’s friends had such faith in his abilities.

“
Should I just leave then? Am I that hopeless?” Phillip swallowed, the fear rising in his chest. “I am aware I’ve been compared to the devil himself.”

“
It’s not so bad as that, is it?” Emma’s voice held the optimism that Phillip lacked. “After all, you did help Sebastian and me.”

Phillip tensed. “Yes, but it seems one good deed isn’t enough to erase all the bad.”

Emma laughed. “Well, this will be too easy.”

“
This?” Phillip asked.

“
Easy?” Sebastian laughed.

Emma took a sip of tea. “Men, always thinking with logic rather than strategy. What we need is to clean up his reputation—make an announcement of sorts that he’s starting a charity, wishes to marry for love rather than connections. But we’ll have to change a few things.” She looked him up and down before glancing away and sighing.

“
Change things?” Even as he asked it, he knew the answer. His hair was unfashionably long, curling around his ears. His face hadn’t a good shave in two days, and then he looked at his clothes. Black and white. Always black and white.

“
I see,” he mumbled, suddenly wishing the tea was laced with brandy. “I don’t have the money to completely change my wardrobe and way of life, Emma.”

“
Exactly.”

“
Is she always this vague?” he asked Sebastian.

Sebastian nodded. “Yes, but I’ve come to accept her the way she is, flaws and all.”

Emma stuck out her tongue. “Gentleman, we’ve some shopping to do. If you’ll just give me a moment, I’ll notify Abigail that we’ll be gone for the afternoon and unable to receive any callers. After all, time is short. We can’t afford to waste even as much as an hour.”

At the mention of Abigail’s name Phillip’s chest constricted. “Will she be joining us?”

“
Doubtful,” Emma said, rising from her seat. “She retired early last night complaining of a headache. I believe she’s ill, or that she believes herself to be ill. Though for the life of me, I cannot imagine what would cause her to feign a sickness during her first ball.”

Phillip swallowed the knot of guilt lodged in his throat. Breaking eye contact, he stirred another heap of sugar into his tea. “Right then. I’ll just wait until you’ve said your goodbyes.”

****

Abigail sat drinking her tea in the comfort of her own room. She practiced her best and most impressive smile, for she would ask her father for more pin money. In order to obtain the gowns necessary, she would need more blunt—blunt she did not have. Unfortunately, her mother had already outfitted her for the remainder of the Season. They would think her the most ungrateful sort if she asked for more, especially considering the Season was coming to an end.

Since she was staying with her sister and the duke, she would have to walk the short distance to her parents’ townhome near Grosvenor Square. Taking one last look in the mirror, she attached her bonnet and grabbed her pelisse.

“
Going somewhere, dear?” Emma asked from the door.

Abigail swallowed convulsively. “Yes, I thought a walk would be in order before afternoon callers.”