Regency Betrayal: The Rake to Ruin Her / The Rake to Redeem Her - Julia Justiss

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      From the very first, he’d affected her differently than any other man she’d ever met. Being near him filled her with a tingling physical immediacy, a consciousness of her breasts and lips and body she’d never previously experienced.

      Yesterday in the conservatory, that strange but powerful attraction had urged her to touch him, kiss him, feel his mouth and hands on her. Thought and reason vaporised into heat and need, into a burning, irresistible desire to know him, to let him know her. She’d craved that contact with a force and single-mindedness she would never have believed possible.

      Even with the threat of the Curse hanging over her, she wasn’t sure she would have been able to bring her rioting senses under control and walk away if he’d made any move at all to entice her to stay.

      The power Henshaw had exerted over her while she struggled to escape him had frightened her, but what Max inspired in her was even more terrifying … because she hadn’t wanted to escape it. Indeed, recalling him poised motionless on the bench, inviting her kiss, making no move to cajole or entice, letting her own desire propel her to him, was more coercive than any force he could have employed.

      She’d been as powerfully in his thrall as … as her cousin Elizabeth had once been to Spencer Russell, the reprobate she’d married. The man who’d charmed and wed and betrayed, and almost bankrupted her cousin before a fortuitous racing accident had brought to an end Elizabeth’s humiliating existence as a disdained and abandoned wife.

      Caro did not want to be ensnared by an emotion that dazzled her out of her common sense, nor be held captive by a lust so strong it paralysed will and smothered rational thinking.

      Just as she reached that conclusion, a rap sounded at the door.

      Her heartbeat stopped, then recommenced at a rapid pace as a stinging shock rippled through her, setting her stomach churning. Wiping her suddenly sweaty palms on her gown, she took a deep breath and walked to open the door.

       Chapter Eight

      As expected, Max Ransleigh stood on the threshold. Looking solemn, he took her hand and kissed her fingers.

      A second wave of sensation blazed through her. Clenching her fists and jaw to try to dampen the effect, she mumbled an incoherent welcome and led him to a chair. Though she was still too agitated to want to sit, knowing he would not unless she did so, she forced herself into the place opposite him.

      ‘I’m so sorry to have involved you in this,’ she began before he could speak. ‘Though I did invite you to compromise me, I hope you realise I had no part in setting up the situation in the conservatory today! I would never have gone behind your back to create a scandal in which you’d already assured me you wanted no part.’

      ‘I believe you,’ he said, calming her fears on that matter, at least. ‘I expect it was Henshaw who sent Lady Melross the note, wanting her to find you with him in a state dishevelled enough to ensure you’d be coerced to wed him.’

      ‘Thank you. I would hate to have you think I’d use you so shabbily. Lady Denby has agreed to let me speak with you privately before she comes in, so shall we discuss what is to be done?’

      ‘Let us do so. You did get your wish, you know. You are quite effectively ruined.’

      ‘Yes, I know. I certainly didn’t enjoy being mauled by Henshaw, but it might turn out for the best. We need only tell people what really happened, establishing that you had no part in it, and all will be well. I’ll still be ruined, but with Henshaw showing his character to be so despicable, no one could fault me for refusing to marry him.’

      Frowning, Ransleigh shook his head. ‘I’m afraid that is not the case. Society would still believe the only way to salvage your reputation would be for you to marry your seducer. However deplorable his present conduct, Henshaw was born a gentleman, so much would be forgiven as long as you end up wed.’

      ‘But that’s appalling!’ Caro cried. ‘The victim is expected to marry her attacker?’

      ‘Rightly or wrongly, the blame usually attaches itself to the female. But it won’t come to that. Accusing Henshaw isn’t possible; he’s already left Barton Abbey. Any evidence that might confirm he was your attacker—bloody nose, ruined cravat—will have been put to rights by the time I could run him to ground. Since he can now have no doubt that you’d refuse to marry him, he has no reason to corroborate the truth, especially since Lady Melross is circulating a version of events that relieves him of responsibility. Indeed, he will probably think it a fine revenge to see me blamed for his transgressions.’

      Caro nodded, distressed but not surprised that Ransleigh’s assessment of Henshaw’s character matched her own. ‘I imagine he would, though I have no intention of allowing him the satisfaction. Whether he admits his guilt or not, I still intend to accuse him. Why should you, who intervened only to help me, suffer for his loathsome behaviour?’

      ‘I don’t think accusing him would be wise.’

      Puzzled, Caro frowned at him. ‘Why not?’

      ‘You were discovered in my embrace. I’m the son of an earl who exerts a powerful influence in government; you are the orphaned daughter of a rural baron. If you accuse Henshaw, who will justly claim he was in his room, preparing to depart when Lady Melross found us, there will be many who will whisper that I coerced you into naming another man to cover up my own bad conduct. Lady Melross in particular will be delighted to embellish the details of my supposed ravishment and assert such behaviour is only to be expected after my … previous scandal.’

      ‘You really think no one would believe me if I tell the truth?’ Caro asked incredulously.

      ‘What, allow such a salacious act to be blamed on some insignificant member of the ton rather than titillate the masses by accusing the well-known son of a very important man? No, I don’t think anyone would believe you. I can see the scurrilous cartoons in the London print-shop windows now,’ he finished bitterly.

      ‘But that’s so … unfair!’ she burst out.

      He laughed shortly, no humour in the sound. ‘I have learned of late just how unfair life can be. Believe me, I like the solution as little as you do, but with your reputation destroyed and the blame for it laid at my door, the only way to salvage your position is for you to marry me.’

      Alarmed as she was by his conclusion, Caro felt a flash of admiration for his willingness to do what he saw as right. ‘A noble offer and I do honour you for it. But I think it ridiculous to allow society’s expectations—based on a lie!—to force us into something neither of us desire.’

      ‘Miss Denby, let me remind you that you are ruined,’ he repeated, his tone now edged with an undercurrent of anger and frustration. ‘Fail to marry and you risk being exiled altogether from respectable society. Being cast out of the company of those with whom you have always associated is not a pleasant condition, as I have good reason to know.’

      ‘First, I’ve never really “associated” with the ton,’ she countered, ‘and, as I’ve assured you several times, polite society’s opinion does not matter to me. Certainly not when compared with losing the freedom to live life how—and with whom—I choose.’

      ‘But Lady Denby does live and move in that society and Miss Whitman’s future may well depend upon its opinions. We may be far removed from London here, but I assure you, Lady Melross will delight in dredging up every detail of this scandal when your relations arrive in London next spring.’

      Caroline shook her head. ‘I’ve already discussed that problem with my stepmother. If they band together, I’m certain Lady Denby, your aunt and Lady Gilford can manage this affair so that no harm comes to Eugenia’s prospects. Since you are already accounted a rake, it shouldn’t much affect your reputation and ruining mine has been my goal from the outset.’

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