Page 31 of The Rake's Bride
Suddenly, there was a tug on his arm as Victoria’s steps halted in front of a shop. The glass-paned windows presenting displays of children’s toys had caught her eye.
“The children have enough toys,” Rafe said not unkindly, both because it was the truth and because he, too, had oftenfallen prey to the desire to bring gifts home to them nearly every day—even when his purse had been pitifully light. “They are quite spoiled,” he added as a warning. One area he’d refused to skimp upon was the children’s happiness. If he went without fresh beef that week, then he would gladly do so, so they might have new clothes for their ever-growing bodies or a few new toys to bring light back into their eyes.
Victoria stared determinedly through the window, her eyes dancing over the wares with interest. The evidence of her warming up to his nephew and nieces so quickly despite their unconventional meeting did curious things to Rafe’s insides. Was that a flutter?
“I think it might be a nice gesture to give them something from me. They’ve endured enough change in their short lives that I would like to make this transition as simple and as welcoming as possible.”
Rafe could not argue with that logic, so he guided his wife into the shop without further protestation. He watched silently as she touched and examined some of the displays, fingered a colorful fabric-covered papier-mâché sphere with a basket suspended beneath it like a balloon he’d once witnessed in Hyde Park. She reverently petted the dark curls on a porcelain doll’s head and adjusted another’s impractical, pristine white pinafore.
“I thought you said you did not know much about children,” Rafe commented idly as she bent at the waist to look into the face of a carved wooden soldier dressed in red wool.
Victoria lifted one shoulder and continued her perusal. “I do not. I have only common sense.” A miniature horse cart, complete with mule and driver, caught her eye next. “I longed for comfort and normalcy after my mother passed, and I would have resented anyone who attempted to step in and disrupt it. This might go a long way toward building a bridge between us.”Again, Rafe could not argue with the logic. He had never known life with his own mother, and he’d been relieved at his father’s passing, so he had never been in the situation Victoria described; however, he could see how it might make sense if one felt a modicum of affection both to and from one’s parents—especially as a child. These weeks had not been a comfortable transition for any of the children, like donning a pair of boots cut incorrectly and being told they were meant to fit. He hoped this gesture from Victoria would help ingratiate her with the children and mark the beginning of her finding her niche in his life.
Eventually, Victoria thoughtfully selected a toy for each of the children—a wooden sword for Dom, a new doll for May, and even a silver rattle for Faith. Rafe requested that the shopkeeper have them wrapped and delivered to their address that day, before they exited the shop and stepped back onto the street.
“Dominic is quite high-spirited, is he not?” Victoria mentioned lightly as they resumed their stroll through the crowds.
Rafe scoffed. “That is one way of putting it.” His house had been a great deal lonelier without the children, but there had also been a great many more fragile items in one piece.
“Why do you believe that is?”
“Likely because he is only a boy. That is how they are,” he replied matter-of-factly.
She made a thoughtful hum. “I may be wrong, but I wonder if it might be in part because he is hurting and does not know how to express it. He lost both parents less than a year ago, and he is old enough to feel those losses quite keenly. My brother was around his age and suffered similarly after our mother’s death.”
He’d known Victoria’s mother had passed of lung congestion following a particularly bitter winter, but he hadn’t considered it as a way to afford her beneficial insight into the children’s temperaments, as morbid as that was. He covered her glovedhand with his and applied just enough pressure to reassure her that he heard her and appreciated her opinion. He remained silent and contemplative as they continued walking.
The afternoon began to wane by the time they entered a shop where Victoria might order a few new pairs of warm gloves and have them made in plenty of time for winter. She had nothing in her current wardrobe to carry her through the colder months, and it had been decided that it would be more efficient for her to have most of those items made rather than ship them from America.
While Victoria’s hands and fingers were measured by the shopkeeper so a template could be made, Rafe examined a display of buttons and examples of embroidery one might request to have added to his or her order. It was then that an all-too-familiar tittering reached his ears.
A trio of young women was eyeing him from across the length of the display, fluttering lashes and whispering in one another’s ears. Coy tilts to their heads and practiced nibbling of lower lips were designed to entice, but they only made him feel a wash of weariness. This display was something he had grown used to over the years—especially after he’d begun garnering a reputation as a charming rake and a fantastic, generous lover. Even women who were afraid he would corrupt them simply by casting a smoldering glance their way were drawn to his magnetic smile and personality.
“Does that happen quite a lot?” Victoria had come up beside him and blatantly gestured to his admirers.
“It does,” he replied without conceit and adjusted the ribbon on her bonnet for her.
She glanced at the women and then looked back at him once more. “Why?”
He smiled, careful that it was not one she could interpret as condescending. “You do not place much credence in rumors and reputations, do you?”
“If I had, then I would have listened to my brother and never accepted your proposal,” she replied flippantly. The barb stung, but it was softened when she spoke again. “But, for argument’s sake, how much should I believe in them?”
He leaned in very close to her ear and said, “It is brave that you still married me, knowing what is said about me. I am either a shameless flirt without morals, or a heartless Lothario, depending upon the source.”
She placed a firm hand on his shoulder and pressed him back. Though her face was serious, the crests of her cheeks were growing pinker by the second. “How much is true?” she demanded.
He tilted his head and lifted a shoulder. “Knowing thetonas I do and having heard some outrageous whispers myself, probably less than half of what is said. Do not misunderstand me, I am by no means lily-white; I have rightly earned by reputation as a rake, and I am not ashamed of it. I would not insult you by denying who I was before I met you.”
She narrowed her eyes at him for a moment before tilting her chin back at the women, who, at that point, were whispering furiously as they attempted to sort out if Victoria was his new American wife or another mistress. “Well, if I wasn’t here, which of those women would you have chosen?”
“Victoria…” he said in a low, warning tone. Why did she wish to torture herself?
“Rafe…” she said, mimicking his tone. He knew she was displeased with him, but that logic did not speak to his eager body. Even her ire was arousing to him.
With a sigh of resignation, he looked the women up and down, which only caused them to blush and titter even more. It did not take him long to provide his wife with an honest answer.
“None of them,” he said with finality.
