The Rake To Ruin Her. Julia Justiss
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Max on the shoulder to set him in motion, Alastair paused to kiss his mother’s hand. ‘Tell the girls to visit us later, once their virginal guests are safely abed behind locked doors.’
Max followed his cousin down the hallway and into a large library comfortably furnished with well-worn leather chairs and a massive desk. ‘Are you sure you don’t want to leave?’ he asked again as he drew out a decanter and filled two glasses.
‘Devil’s teeth,’ Alastair growled, ‘this is my house. I’ll come and go when I wish, and my friends, too. Besides, you’ll enjoy seeing Mama and Jane and Felicity—for whom the ever-managing Jane arranged this gathering, Wendell told me. Jane thinks Lissa should have some experience with eligible men before she’s cast into the Marriage Mart next spring. Though she’s not angling to get Lissa riveted now, some of the attendees did bring offspring they’re trying to marry off, bless Wendell for warning us!’
Sighing, Alastair accepted a brimming glass. ‘You’d think my highly-publicized liaisons with actresses and dancers, combined with an utter lack of interest in respectable virgins, would be enough to put off matchmaking mamas. But as you well know, wealth and ancient lineage appear to trump notoriety and lack of inclination. However, with my equally notorious cousin to entertain,’ he inclined his head toward Max, ‘I have a perfect excuse to avoid the ladies. So, let’s drink to you,’ Alastair hoisted his glass, ‘for rescuing me not only from boredom, but from having to play the host at Jane’s hen party.’
‘To evading your duty as host,’ Max replied, raising his own glass. ‘Nice to know my ruined career is good for something,’ he added, bitterness in his tone.
‘A temporary setback only,’ Alastair said. ‘Sooner or later, the Foreign Office will sort out that business in Vienna.’
‘Maybe,’ Max said dubiously. He, too, had thought the matter might be resolved quickly … until he spoke with Papa. ‘There’s still the threat of a court-martial.’
‘After Hougoumont?’ Alastair snorted derisively. ‘Maybe if you’d defied orders and abandoned your unit before Waterloo, but no military jury is going to convict you for throwing yourself into the battle, instead of sitting back in England as instructed. Some of the Foot Guards who survived the fighting owe their lives to you and headquarters knows it. No,’ he concluded, ‘even Horse Guards, who are often ridiculously stiffrumped about disciplinary affairs, know better than to bring such a case to trial.’
‘I hope you’re right. As my father noted on the one occasion he deigned to speak with me, I’ve already sufficiently tarnished the family name.’
It wasn’t the worst of what the earl had said, Max thought, the memory of that recent interview still raw and stinging. He saw himself again, standing silent, offering no defence as the earl railed at him for embarrassing the family and complicating his job in the Lords, where he was struggling to sustain a coalition. Pronouncing Max a sore disappointment and a political liability, he’d banished him for the indefinite future from Ransleigh House in London and the family seat in Hampshire.
Max had left without even seeing his mother.
‘The earl still hasn’t come round?’ Alastair’s soft-voiced question brought him back to the present. After a glance at Max’s face, he sighed. ‘Almost as stubborn and rule-bound as Horse Guards, is my dear uncle. Are you positive you won’t allow me to speak to him on your behalf?’
‘You know arguing with Papa only hardens his views—and might induce him to extend his banishment to you, which would grieve both our mothers. No, it wouldn’t serve … though I appreciate your loyalty more than I can say—’ Max broke off and swallowed hard.
‘No need to say anything,’ Alastair replied, briskly refilling their glasses. ‘“Ransleigh Rogues together, for ever,”’ he quoted, holding his glass aloft.
‘“Ransleigh Rogues,”’ Max returned the salute, his heart lightening as he tried to recall exactly when Alastair had coined that motto. Probably over an illicit glass of smuggled brandy some time in their second Eton term after a disapproving master, having caned all four cousins for some now-forgotten infraction, first denounced them as the ‘Ransleigh Rogues.’
The name, quickly whispered around the college, had stuck to them, and they to each other, Max thought, smiling faintly. Through the fagging at Eton, the hazing at Oxford, then into the army to watch over Alastair when, after the girl he loved terminated their engagement in the most public and humiliating fashion imaginable, he’d joined the first cavalry unit that would take him, vowing to die gloriously in battle.
They’d stood by Max, too, after the failed assassination attempt at the Congress of Vienna. When he returned to London in disgrace, he’d found that, of all the government set that since his youth had encouraged and flattered the handsome, charming younger son of an earl, only his fellow Rogues still welcomed his company.
His life had turned literally overnight from the hectic busyness of an embassy post to a purposeless void, with only a succession of idle amusements to occupy his days. With the glorious diplomatic career he’d planned in ruins and his future uncertain, he didn’t want to think what rash acts he might have committed, had he not had the support of Alastair, Dom and Will.
‘I’m sure Aunt Grace would never say so, but having us turn up now must be rather awkward. Since we’re not in the market to buy the wares on display, why not go elsewhere? Your hunting box, perhaps?’
After taking another deep sip, Alastair shook his head. ‘Too early for that; ground’s not frozen yet. And I’d bet Mama’s more worried about the morals of her darlings than embarrassed by our presence. Turned out of your government post or not, you’re still an earl’s son—’
‘—currently exiled by his family—’
‘—who possesses enough charm to lure any one of Jane’s innocents out of her virtue, should you choose to.’
‘Why would I? I’d thought Lady Mary would make me a fine diplomat’s wife, but without a career, she no longer has any interest in me and I no longer have any interest in marriage.’ Max tried for a light tone, not wanting Alastair to guess how much the august Lady Mary’s defection, coming on the heels of his father’s dismissal, had wounded him.
‘I wish I could think of another place to go, at least until this damned house party concludes.’ With a frustrated jab, Alastair stoppered the brandy. ‘But I need to take care of some estate business and I don’t want to nip back to London just now, with the autumn theatre season in full swing. I wouldn’t put it past Desirée to track me down and create another scene, which would be entirely too much of a bore.’
‘Not satisfied with the emeralds you brought when you gave her her congé?’
Alastair sighed. ‘Perhaps it wasn’t wise to recommend that she save her histrionics for the stage. In any event, the longer I knew her, the more obvious her true, grasping nature became. She was good enough in the bedchamber and possessed of a mildly amusing wit, but, ultimately, she grew as tiresome as all the others.’
Alastair paused, his eyes losing focus as a hard expression settled over his face. Max knew that look; he’d seen it on Alastair’s countenance whenever women were mentioned ever since the end of his ill-fated engagement. Silently damning once again the woman who’d caused his cousin such pain, Max knew better than to try to take him to task for his contemptuous dismissal of women.
He felt a wave of bitterness himself, recalling how easily he’d been lured in by a sad story convincingly recited by a pretty face.
If only he’d been content to save his heroics for the battlefield, instead of attempting to play knight errant! Max reflected with a wry grimace. Indeed, given what had transpired in Vienna, he was more than half-inclined to agree with his cousin that no woman, other than one who offered her talents for temporary purchase, was worth the trouble she inevitably caused.
‘I’ve no desire to return to London either,’ he said.