Page 36 of Dare to Risk it All

Greer stiffened at the slight to her mother, and to Raphe, but before she could answer, another voice boomed through the prickling silence.

“They’re not alone, Mrs Hampton,” Bainbridge said calmly, from the other side of the room, though Greer could not fathom where he’d sprung from. “We’ve been chasing my father’s blasted dogs all over the house before they got into the ballroom. The children have been up to mischief, the little devils. Well done, Raphe. You’re quicker than I am.”

“No trouble at all,” Raphe said easily, picking up on the lifeline the marquess had just thrown them. “Ladies. If you’ll excuse us, we must take the dogs back to the stables.”

Bainbridge nodded. “Aunt, be so good as to escort Miss Cadogan to the ballroom. I have imposed on her long enough.”

“Of course, dear,” his aunt, Lady Dorcas Beauchamp, replied, her eyes twinkling with interest. Greer suspected she hadn’t believed a word of it, but nothing could be proven otherwise, so she was saved. “Are those little jockeys on the dogs' backs? How charming, and what fun. Such clever little monkeys my grandchildren are. Don’t you think, Cora?”

“Oh, I do. I do. Spirited children, just like Raphe and dear Laurie when they were boys. Such mischief makers they were.”

“Still are,” his aunt muttered, sending an amused glance towards Raphe, but led her friend and the glowering Mrs Hampton towards the door before turning back to Greer. “Come along, my dear, before you miss the party entirely,” she said kindly.

Greer nodded, hurrying after her, and did not look back.

Chapter 10

Nic,

What the devil am I supposed to say to the duchess? She wishes to know of any traditions or recipes I remember fondly from Christmases past. Perhaps I should ask her to toss me a crust of stale bread or allow me to sleep on the kitchen floor? The best Christmas I ever had was when that bastard was too drunk to beat me. You know I loathe this time of year.

Why, in God’s name, did I agree to go? I wish you would all let me alone.

―Excerpt of a letter from Louis César de Montluc, Comte de Villen to his brother, Nicolas Alexandre Demarteau – translated from French.

Still the night of the 13th of December 1840, Royle House, Derbyshire.

Raphe watched Greer leave the room and not look back. His chest felt unpleasantly tight, and the desire to run after her was hard to resist. Selfishness, he told himself. She was beyond his touch and that was all to the good. He didn’t want to get married and settle down, anyway. If she didn’t learn her lesson and keep away, he really would ruin her and there would be no choice. They’d both be trapped, and she would come to loathe him. They’d had yet another lucky escape. How many more did he expect to walk away from unscathed?

“Bad form, old man.”

Raphe looked up to see Bainbridge scowling at him. He really didn’t look best pleased. Raphe could hardly blame him, but he shrugged, pretending an indifference he did not feel.

“Where did you spring from?” he asked sourly.

“Secret passage. The house is riddled with them. I heard the dogs and followed the noise,” Bainbridge said, watching him intently. “What the hell do you think you’re playing at?”

“Bastard! Cock! Wicked devil!”

Bainbridge narrowed his eyes at the parrot. “Yes, thank you, Macintosh. I’ll handle this.”

Raphe glared between the parrot and Bainbridge. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Bainbridge tutted, impatient now. “Debauching an innocent is what I mean, you bastard. There are rules, remember. I knew you’d sunk pretty low, but I thought that was one rule you’d yet to break.”

“Sorry to disappoint you,” Raphe retorted with a smirk, though his guts had tightened into a knot. Christ, he’d hit a new low if even Bainbridge disapproved of him.

There was a taut silence and, as Raphe did not know how to fill it, he made a show of walking to a gilt-framed mirror and rearranged his neckcloth, which was askew thanks to Greer. He tried to push away the memory of her hands in his hair, the sounds she’d made when he’d pleasured her, but she’d burned them into his mind. He still ached for her, wanted her, and he very much feared it was not only lust that made him pine for her touch.

“Ah, well,” Bainbridge said, his tone even. “No harm done. I suppose Miss Cadogan ought to have expected as much from you, and she appears to be a game girl. If it hadn’t been you, no doubt some other blighter would have persuaded her into naughtiness this evening.”

“What the devil do you mean by that?” Raphe turned to glare at his friend as anger surged through his veins. Greer wasn’t like that at all. He could not understand why she’d formed a tendre for him, but it was only for him. She had risked everything to be with him, God knew why, but that did not mean she was a light skirt. To hear his friend disparage her made him furious.

Bainbridge shrugged. “Only that I suppose it wasn’t entirely your fault. She must know of your reputation, so she knew what to expect. I suppose she might be an innocent, but she’s a wild one, ripe for a tryst. Not like her sister. She’s bound to come to no good— Oof!”

Bainbridge staggered back as Raphe lunged at him. Raphe realised his mistake too late, as Bainbridge flashed a knowing grin. The devil had provoked him on purpose.

“Liar, liar,” he taunted Raphe, wagging a finger at him. “Methinks the lovely Miss Cadogan has got under your skin. Considering getting leg shackled, are you? I can recommend it.”