Reforming the Rake. Sarah Barnwell Elliott

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      “It’ll be easy,” Charles said, placing Egremont’s lead into her palm. “That’s why gentlemen carry canes, you know. For helping damsels in distress.” He fished around in the puddle for a moment with his cane, and rolled Edward’s ball out.

      The dog barked in appreciation, and Beatrice couldn’t help but applaud briefly. “Bravo,” she said, laughing.

      He grinned roguishly and bowed with exaggerated chivalry. “May I demonstrate a proper throw, my lady?”

      She smiled back and curtsied. “Indeed, my lord.”

      “All right, Miss Sinclair. Observe,” Charles said confidently, before sending the ball flying off in a smooth arc. Beatrice watched as Edward galloped after it, swooping low to the ground to retrieve it. They waited in silence a moment for him to come trotting back.

      He did not. With ball in mouth, Edward kept on running and disappeared into the park.

      After about ten seconds of silence, Beatrice began to grow concerned. “Oh, dear. He’s always come back before.”

      Charles smiled reassuringly, although the thought of having lost Louisa’s beloved Edward chilled his heart to the core. “I’m sure he will…. Perhaps we had best follow him a bit, though. Just in case.”

      Beatrice nodded. “I think so.”

      She, Charles and Egremont started off, the former two keeping apace and the latter one lagging slightly behind on his little legs.

      Beatrice looked back at Egremont with a sigh.

      Charles noticed. “In Eggy’s defense, my dear Miss Sinclair, he would have retrieved that ball himself.”

      She knew when to be quiet. Instead she turned around to pick him up and carry him.

      “Here, let me,” Charles offered gruffly, reaching out to take the dog from her arms.

      He immediately wished he hadn’t. It brought him too close to her. He could smell her hair, and the way his arm brushed against hers was enough to awaken his less honorable feelings. Charles suppressed them hard. For the moment, he wanted to enjoy the simple pleasure of her company.

      She felt it, too. He could tell by the way her lips parted slightly in shock, her eyes widened and she instantly picked up her pace and began calling the dog’s name.

      “Edward!”

      Charles followed suit.

      As they neared Rotten Row, Beatrice began to worry even more. On a brilliant morning like this one, there were always many people about. Being seen with Charles could be disastrous. She halted.

      “Problem?” he asked.

      She blushed. “No…I just prefer to avoid this part of the park days. I only hope Edward hasn’t gotten into too much trouble.”

      Suddenly, she saw him. She should have been relieved, but she was not. He had paused for breath at the foot of a park bench and had laid his head lovingly in the nearest empty lap. That lap belonged to Lady Barbara Markham. Although a luxurious mink pelisse enveloped her from waist to mouth, and a frothy hat obscured everything north of her eyebrows, Beatrice would have recognized her anywhere. Babs Markham was one of her aunt’s best friends; she was also a notorious gossip and as bad-tempered as an adder.

      Lady Markham’s beady eyes peered out from between her hat and her fur, glancing disparagingly down her nose at Edward. Sensing new company, however, she aimed her gaze straight at Beatrice and Charles. Her target fixed in her sights, she lifted her hand to shield her narrowed eyes from the sun so she could peruse them better.

      “I say,” Charles said, “isn’t that him over there?”

      “Yes,” Beatrice answered weakly.

      “You don’t sound pleased.”

      She began shaking her head. “Don’t you see who Edward is with?”

      He looked again and groaned.

      Lady Markham, called across the lawn, “I say, Beatrice, isn’t this your aunt’s mongrel?”

      Beatrice gulped. “It is, Lady Markham. He escaped from his lead…I do hope he hasn’t been bothering you.”

      Lady Markham sniffed loudly in response. “Come closer, girl. I can hardly hear you. Who is that you’re with?”

      “Damn.” Beatrice swore under her breath and took a step forward.

      Charles raised an amused eyebrow at her language.

      “I don’t know what you think is so amusing. You’re coming with me.”

      “Must I?”

      She stared at him in disbelief. “You heard what she said. Lady Markham didn’t leave you any choice. All she wants, anyway, is to find out who you are so she can gossip about this. She probably can’t see you from this distance, and she wouldn’t be able to stand not knowing your identity. Besides, you’re the one who threw the ball.”

      Charles couldn’t argue with that logic, and began walking, as well.

      When they reached Lady Markham, she held up her quizzing glass. “Eh? Is that Summerson?”

      “Good day to you, Lady Markham,” he said smoothly, bowing.

      She ignored him. “Beatrice, what are you doing with that lot?”

      Beatrice felt ill. “Lord Summerson was merely helping me find Edward.”

      Lady Markham looked at Charles doubtfully. “Is that the case, Summerson?”

      His composure didn’t even crack. “Yes, Lady Markham. But afterward I plan to follow her into the bushes and make violent love to her.”

      Beatrice kicked him in the shins. Hard.

      “Eh? I didn’t hear you, Summerson. Repeat yourself.”

      “He said,” Beatrice answered before Charles could make things worse, “that he would follow me to the street and make his goodbyes. That is all, Lady Markham.”

      She looked skeptical. “Humph. Not what I heard.”

      Beatrice maintained stony silence, vowing to strangle Charles at the first opportunity.

      “Well,” Lady Markham continued, “come take your dog, Beatrice, and tell your aunt I plan to visit her soon.”

      “I will, Lady Markham. Good day,” Beatrice replied, hoping she sounded more lighthearted than she felt as she reattached Edward’s lead.

      The only reason Lady Markham wanted to come for a visit was to relay the news that she had seen Beatrice in the park with Charles. And Bea would be lucky if she were allowed out of the house alone ever again.

      “Everything all right?” Charles asked after a few steps.

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