A Rake's Vow Read Free

stop.
    She could feel him behind her, mere inches away, could sense his strength surrounding her. For one definable instant, she felt trapped.
    Then the long fingers twisted; with a flick, he set the door swinging wide.
    Heart racing, Patience sucked in a breath and sailed into the dim passage. Without slowing her pace, she inclined her head in regal, over-the-shoulder dismissal. “I’ll speak to Masters directly—I’m sure my aunt won’t keep you long.” With that, she swept on, down the passage and into the dark hallway beyond.
    Poised on the threshold, Vane watched her retreat through narrowed eyes. He’d sensed the awareness that had flared at his touch, the quiver of consciousness she hadn’t been able to hide. For gentlemen such as he, that was proof enough of what might be.
    His gaze fell on the small grey cat which had hugged Patience Debbington’s skirts; it now sat on the runner, considering him. As he watched, it rose, turned, and, tail high, started up the corridor—then stopped. Turning its head, it looked back at him. “ Meeow! ”
    From its imperious tone, Vane deduced it was female.
    Behind him, lightning flashed. He looked back at the darkened day. Thunder rolled—a second later, the heavens opened. Rain pelted down, sheets of heavy drops obliterating the landscape.
    Fate’s message couldn’t have been clearer: escape was impossible.
    His features grim, Vane closed the door—and followed the cat.
    “Nothing could be more fortuitous!” Araminta, Lady Bellamy, beamed delightedly at Vane. “Of course you must stay. But the second gong will go any minute, so cut line. How is everyone?”
    Propping his shoulders against the mantelpiece, Vane smiled. Wrapped in expensive shawls, her rotund figure encased in silk and lace, a frilled widow’s cap atop sprightly white curls, Minnie watched him through eyes bright with intelligence, set in a soft, lined face. She sat enthroned in her chair before the fire in her bedchamber; in its mate sat Timms, a gentlewoman of indeterminate years, Minnie’s devoted companion. “Everyone,” Vane knew, meant the Cynsters. “The youngsters are thriving—Simon’s starring at Eton. Amelia and Amanda are cutting a swath through the ton , scattering hearts right and left. The elders are all well and busy in town, but Devil and Honoria are still at the Place.”
    “Too taken with admiring his heir, I’ll wager. Daresay that wife of his will keep him in line.” Minnie grinned, then sobered. “Still no word of Charles?”
    Vane’s face hardened. “No. His disappearance remains a mystery.”
    Minnie shook her head. “Poor Arthur.”
    “Indeed.” Minnie sighed, then slanted an assessing glance at Vane. “And what about you and those cousins of yours? Still keeping the ton ’s ladies on their toes?”
    Her tone was all innocence; head bowed over her knitting, Timms snorted. “More like on their backs.”
    Vane smiled, suavely charming. “We do our poor best.” Minnie’s eyes twinkled. Still smiling, Vane looked down and smoothed his sleeve. “I’d better go and change, but tell me—who do you have staying at present?”
    “A whole parcel of odds and ends,” Timms offered.
    Minnie chuckled and drew her hands free of her shawl. “Let’s see.” She counted on her fingers. “There’s Edith Swithins—she’s a distant Bellamy connection. Utterly vague, but quite harmless. Just don’t express any interest in her tatting unless you’ve an hour to spare. Then there’s Agatha Chadwick—she was married to that unfortunate character who insisted he could cross the Irish Sea in a coracle. He couldn’t, of course. So Agatha and her son and daughter are with us.”
    “Daughter?”
    Minnie’s gaze lifted to Vane’s face. “Angela. She’s sixteen and already a confirmed wilter. She’ll swoon away in your arms if you give her half a chance.”
    Vane grimaced. “Thank you for the warning.”
    “Henry Chadwick must be about your age,” Minnie mused,