The Rake by Georgeanne Hayes Read Free Book Online Page A

encountering anyone. Her maid, Sarah, was in her room when
Demi dashed inside and bolted the door behind her. Dragging in a
shuddering breath of relief, Demi leaned back against the door, her
eyes closed tightly.
    “ Ye look as if ye’ve seen a
ghost.”
    Demi opened her eyes and stared at her maid,
repressing a hysterical urge to giggle nervously. “A dragon more
like. I thought sure Aunt Alma would meet me on the way up.”
    Sarah moved across the room, a finger to her
lips. “Ye’ve only missed her by a hair,” she said quietly. “How did
ye manage to get by without her seeing you?”
    Demi grimaced. “I sneaked up the backstairs.
I … uh … was ill. I went out to the necessary.”
    Sarah eyed her suspiciously. “An’ stopped by
yer dear departed uncle’s cellaret on the way back from the smell
of ye,” she responded tartly, leaning a little closer and
sniffing.
    Clapping a hand to her mouth, Demi’s eyes
widened. “You can smell it!” she gasped in horror. “I only had a
sip.”
    Sarah nodded. “An’ I suppose ye had no more
than a toke of one of his cigars while ye was at it?”
    “ Good God!” Demi exclaimed,
fighting the rising tide of hysteria inside of her. “Help me
change! Quickly! Aunt Alma has the nose of a bloodhound. If you can
smell it, she certainly will.”
    Without another word, Sarah helped her strip
her gown and shift off, bundling them into a ball as Demi rushed to
the washstand and quickly bathed her face and hands with soap. When
she turned, Sarah was holding out a linen hand towel. “Ye’ve the
look of a maiden that’s been thoroughly kissed, if you don’t mind
my saying so,” she commented, “and the smell of him on yer
clothes.”
    Demi pressed her hands to her cheeks. “Have
I?” she asked self-consciously.
    Sarah nodded. “I’m thinkin’ it weren’t the
Reverend Flemming, neither. He was that put out when he left a bit
ago.”
    Demi moved to the bed and sat down weakly on
the edge of the mattress. “Aunt Alma will be furious with me.… He
didn’t…. You don’t think he called off the engagement, do you?”
    Sarah studied her curiously for several
moments. “I’ve a notion I would’ve been belting back a bit o’ the
hard stuff if I found meself tied to that one. An’ I’m thinkin’ ye
agree with me on it. Would ye be that displeased if he did?”
    Demi covered her face with her hands,
feeling the urge to weep sweep over her. With an effort, she
swallowed the knot of misery. “It’s not a matter of what I want.
It’s what Aunt Alma wants, and what he wants. I don’t have a choice
…. Aunt Alma all but said plain out that she would disown me if I
refused his offer. And I’ve got nowhere to go!”
    Frowning, Sarah moved across the room.
Dropping the bundle of clothing near the door, she went to the
armoire and pulled a nightgown out for her mistress, then returned
and helped her remove her corset and slip the gown on. “What about
Lord Wyndham?”
    Demi glanced at her sharply. “Lord Wyndham,”
she echoed faintly.
    Sarah gave her a look. “It was him ye met in
the garden, weren’t it? I’ve seen the sheep’s eyes you been castin’
his way for the past six months and more, and the look on your face
whenever his name’s mentioned.”
    Blood climbed into Demi’s cheeks. She looked
at Sarah in dismay. “I’ve been that obvious?”
    Sarah smiled faintly. “Ye’ve no need to
worry anyone else noticed … except his lordship himself, that is.
There ain’t a soul in this household that ever notices anything
beyond their own nose.”
    Demi felt only marginally better. “I’m sure
he didn’t notice. I never once even glanced his way when he was
looking in my direction.”
    Sarah chuckled. “It’s been
almost comical to watch the two of you going to such pains not to glance at each
other. Lord Wyndham’d be loungin’ against a wall, or sprawled all
casual-like in a chair, watching your every move like a big, sleepy
cat ready to pounce and