The Ton's Most Notorious Rake. Sarah Mallory

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       Chapter Two

      Molly had never visited Newlands and as Edwin’s carriage rattled along the drive she leaned forward to catch a first glimpse of the house. What she saw, glowing golden in the sunlight, was a rambling stone house in a mix of styles. Its previous, ageing owner had not used it for years, so she could understand the excitement that had erupted in the town when Sir Gerald bought the hunting lodge. The gossip had started several months earlier, when workmen had descended upon the property. Word soon spread that Sir Gerald was a bachelor of substantial means who was planning to bring a large party to the house at the end of the summer. Molly’s sister, Louisa, soon provided even more information, writing to inform her that Sir Gerald was a familiar figure in London and numbered amongst his acquaintances many of the fashionable rakes and Corinthians who flocked to the capital each Season.

      Now those fashionable acquaintances were here, staying only a couple of miles from the town and far too close to Prospect House for Molly’s comfort. Beside her, she heard Edwin chuckle.

      ‘You look disappointed, Molly. Were you hoping Newlands would be so ugly and uncomfortable Sir Gerald and his friends would quit it within the month?’

      ‘Something like that.’

      ‘Do not fret, my dear,’ He patted her hands. ‘Sir Gerald has made it very clear he and his party are here for the sport. Why else would he have bought a hunting lodge?’

      ‘But if the area’s hunting, shooting and fishing do not live up to the party’s expectations, might not Sir Gerald and his louche friends look elsewhere for a little entertainment? And a house full of what they would consider to be “fallen women” is certain to attract their attention.’

      ‘Now you are being unreasonable,’ exclaimed Edwin. ‘You cannot deny that at last week’s assembly the gentlemen from Newlands behaved impeccably. You have no reason to think ill of them.’

      ‘I have Louisa’s letters,’ replied Molly darkly.

      ‘Louisa has nothing better to do with her time than pass on salacious gossip, for the most part untrue or exaggerated. Come, Molly, you are being unfair to Sir Gerald and his friends. When people are disparaging about the inhabitants of Prospect House, you tell them that one should not make hasty judgements, yet here you are doing just that.’ Edwin squeezed her fingers, pressing home his point. ‘I am sure our new neighbours will have no interest at all in Prospect House, and if they do...’ He spread his hands. ‘You cannot keep your charges locked away for the duration of Sir Gerald’s visit, my dear.’

      ‘I know that,’ she admitted, as the carriage pulled up before the house. ‘But even if the gentlemen have no designs upon them, I very much fear one or two of the girls might find the presence of such handsome and fashionable gentlemen in Compton Parva...distracting.’

      ‘My dear, if they are ever to make their way in the world again then they will have to learn to withstand the attractions of personable gentlemen.’

      ‘Of course.’ Molly clasped her hands together. ‘But you saw how the ladies at the assembly reacted. Such fashionable young bucks, with all the glamour of the town clinging to them, are particularly attractive to susceptible young women.’

      Edwin laughed. ‘Do you really believe that, Molly?’

      She thought of Beau Russington with his dark looks and careless charm and felt her stomach swoop.

      ‘Oh, yes,’ she whispered, her mouth suddenly dry. ‘I really do.’

      * * *

      Sir Gerald and his friends were waiting for them in the drawing room. With the exception of Mrs Molyneux, Miss Kilburn’s aged companion, they had all been present at the assembly where introductions had been made. As greetings were exchanged, Molly took the opportunity to study the company. She had been reassured at the assembly to see that Mrs Sykes and Lady Claydon were homely matrons, while Agnes Kilburn and the Misses Claydon had soon been at ease and mixing with the young ladies of the town. They were all very lively, but not at all the dashing sirens she had feared. This second meeting appeared to confirm her view, which was a relief, and she turned her attention to the gentlemen. Their host, Sir Gerald, was the most genial looking of them all, while Sir Joseph and Mr Flemington were the most flamboyant in their dress. But there could be no doubt they were all very fashionable—the cut of their clothes, the number of fobs and seals and the intricacies of their cravats had made them stand out at the recent assembly.

      All except Beau Russington. She had been too agitated at their first encounter to appreciate why he was considered a leader of fashion, but here, in the elegant drawing room of Newlands, she had the opportunity to make a calm appraisal of the man. It did not take her long to realise that although he was not as showily dressed as his friends, his style was far superior. At least to her inexperienced eye. There was a simplicity to his dress, but nothing shabby in the superb cut of his clothes. Not a wrinkle marred the perfection of the dark evening coat stretched across his broad shoulders. It fitted him so well she wondered how many servants it had taken to ease him into it.

      A plain white waistcoat was buttoned across his chest and she refused to allow her gaze to linger on the close-fitting breeches that sheathed narrow hips and powerful thighs. She quickly raised her eyes to take in the snowy neckcloth, intricately tied and with a single diamond winking from amongst the exquisite folds. The study of his cravat took her eyes to the countenance above it. A lean face, darkly handsome with a sensuous curve to the mouth. At that moment, as if aware of her scrutiny, the beau turned to look at her and her cool assessment came to an abrupt end.

      Even from the other side of the room she felt the power of his gaze. Those dark, almost-black eyes skewered her to the spot and caused her pulse to race. Not only that, excitement flickered deep inside, like flames licking hungrily at dry tinder. She looked away quickly, shocked to realise that he had awoken sensations she had never wanted to feel again.

      Sir Gerald was addressing her and she forced her mind to concentrate on his words. She exchanged pleasantries with his sister and then joined in a conversation with Mrs Sykes and Lady Claydon while the gentlemen discussed the day’s shooting until dinner was announced.

      Molly found herself seated at Sir Gerald’s right hand, with Sir Joseph Aikers beside her. Mr Russington, she was relieved to see, was sitting opposite her brother at the far end of the table. She did not think she would have enjoyed her meal half as much if the beau had been sitting beside her. Sir Joseph might be a fribble and a painted fop—as some people so cruelly described him—but Molly soon discovered he was exceedingly good-natured and assiduous of her comfort, ensuring her glass was filled and that she had her pick of the succulent dishes on offer.

      The food was excellent and the conversation interesting. No awkward subjects were broached and Molly began to relax. These were cultured, educated people who knew how to set a guest at ease. Perhaps she had been magnifying the dangers they posed. Just as that thought occurred to her, Edwin laughed and she glanced down the table towards him. After his day of sport, her СКАЧАТЬ