Page 55 of The Return of the Rake

“I hope you are not going to cause trouble, Mr King,” Anne said, torn between laughter and indignation, for though he was teasing, she knew very well she offered good value for money, and she took pride in that.

“I’m afraid…yes, I am very much afraid, that I am,” he murmured, pulling her to her feet and then into his arms with very little effort.

Anne gasped at the swiftness of it, at the delight of feeling his lips upon hers, at the reassuring solidity of his body against hers. How wonderful it was to be held so, to feel for once that she was not alone, fighting life and all it threw at her all by herself. Yet, tempting as it was, she had been alone for a long time and her independence was hard won, and so she pushed away from him, breaking the kiss.

“I know,” he said, his expression grave, though his eyes were warm and full of the promise of more devilry if she allowed it. “I know I’ve got a good deal to prove, your trust to earn, before I can ask you anything of importance, but I shall do it.”

Anne gazed up at him, helpless to fight the spell he cast over her, wanting to believe it with all her heart.

“Do you doubt me?” he asked, a wry smile curving his lips. “No,” he added quickly, pressing his finger to her mouth before she could form an answer.

Anne raised her eyebrows, trying not to laugh for she had certainly intended to inform him of her doubts.

“Don’t say it. I know you do, it’s right that you do. Still, I’d rather not hear you say so for I shall hear your words repeating in my head every moment of the day. But I shall prove myself to you, Mrs Adamson, just you see if I don’t.”

With that, he placed a stack of coins on her desk to cover his bill and stood, walking to the door.

“How long—” she burst out, though she had promised herself faithfully that she would not ask him.

He turned and smiled at her. “If all goes well, I’ll be back in a few days, and then I’ll have some important plans to discuss with you. Business plans, as well as personal ones,” he added with a sly wink, knowing this would intrigue her and drive her distracted until he returned and explained himself. But then he was gone.

Anne laughed, and then cursed him, and then wrapped her arms about herself and gave a little squeal of delight. He was coming back, for her, and with plans for their future, plans he wished to discuss with her! Jasper King considered her his equal; a partner, not a possession, not something to be owned and kept safe in a gilded cage, and he wanted her, just as she was.

It seemed like a gift, a miracle of sorts, and she wondered if she was being a fool. The cynical voice in her head told her to consider any business proposition he presented very carefully, to ensure she did not give away her power, and yet her heart assured her that was not the man he was. He did not want to trick her, to take something from her, he wanted to build something with her, and she did not care that there were those in the town who would think she had lost her mind. She did not give a snap of her fingers for the old tabbies who would lick their lips and relish the gossip about the proud Mrs Adamson lowering herself to marry the wicked bastard who’d gone to London and become a crime lord. Because that was what he intended. He meant to court her, and marry her, in full view of the world, and as God was her witness, Anne intended to let him.

The Vicarage, Little Valentine, East Sussex, 7th October 1815.

“Papa!” Isabelle Honeywell called as she hurried into the vicarage. “Papa!”

“Here, child,” her father replied, his voice guiding her into his study. “Where’s the fire, Izzy, my dear? What a commotion you make!”

Izzy ran in, tugging at the ribbons of her bonnet and throwing it carelessly down his desk. “He still has not come home!”

“What’s that? Who hasn’t?”

“Bill Jenner!” Izzy said, breathless after having run all the way through Winsham Woods to give her father the news. “His boat is gone and there’s no sign of him.”

Her father set aside the letter he’d been reading and looked at her over his spectacles. “Can it be?”

“Oh, I know it is wicked of me to say so, but—”

“Hush!” her father said, wagging a finger at her. “Don’t. I feel it too, child, but never wish evil upon another, for it will come back upon you no matter how deserving the recipient.”

Izzy sighed, glowering. “Well, that’s hardly fair.”

Her father reached over and patted her hand. “We shall see what we shall see. The good Lord has his plans, and we mere mortals must do our best to rise to the challenges before us.”

“Will you go to visit Mrs Jenner, then?”

Her father nodded, getting to his feet. “I will indeed. Shall you come along too? Perhaps you could fill a basket for the poor creature. She looked like she had not eaten a good meal since—”

“Since the last time she stayed with us,” Izzy said tartly.

“True enough,” the reverend said with a sigh of regret. “Run along then, Izzy, my dear. I’m ready when you are.”

Izzy nodded and hurried down to the kitchens, where Mrs Addie helped her to fill a basket with a large pork pie, a jar of pickles, a dozen fresh eggs, a fresh loaf and a jar of honey. Satisfied with her haul, Izzy hefted the basket up the stairs to discover her father standing at the front door waiting for her.

“Swap,” he said with a smile, offering her the bonnet she’d abandoned in his study and taking the basket.