The Rake Revealed by Kate Harper Read Free Book Online Page B

Well, now. He do to like the chittys, or so I’ve heard.’
    ‘The chittys?’
    ‘The lasses. You know.’ Gillie giggled, obviously forgetting who it was she was talking to. ‘He’s got them all a yammering for him. Mrs. Poulter at the Crown n’ Anchor, Lady Fallston up at Kerrimere, ever so taken with him, she is. I’ve seen her mooning about the place. They’s all hanging after him. He’s a proper rake.’ She sounded quite proud, as if she herself were in some way responsible for producing such a outstanding specimen of rascal.
    ‘Is he indeed?’ Camille tried to sound repressive, she really did, but she could not help being a little interested in the gossip. It all seemed so normal and trivial and far away from what she had left behind and Tapscott was by far the most intriguing creature she had encountered since her arrival.
    ‘Oh, aye.’
    ‘I have heard that he is interested in an archeological dig somewhere?’ Camille knew she should not be chattering with the servants, but there was nobody about and it was nice to talk to somebody.
    ‘Down by Boggart Bay, just along the way,’ the girl replied, wrinkling her nose. ‘There’s all kinds of old bits n’ bobs there. I seen him, fair mucking about in the dirt, making a mash of things. I do think that once in a way the gentry are as mad as a box o’ frogs.’ This was said so artlessly that Camille had to bite her lip to stop from laughing. Considering her dinner the previous evening, it seemed to sum up the English gentry very well.
    Gillie had been happy to supply the knowledge that her cousin Merry was looking for a place. Merry had the additional recommendation of already having been in service as a lady’s maid, although it had come to nothing when her mistress upped and ran away with a local lad only four months into Merry taking up the position. Camille said she would be delighted to interview the girl and the morning passed very pleasantly indeed.
    After luncheon, Camille decided that she would blow away the cobwebs with a walk. There was no reason why she should not. She was a widow, not a young miss in the first blush of youth. A widow had some advantages, one of which being that she could step out without a companion and still retain her respectability. And I am foreign , she reminded herself, remembering her conversation with Tapscott from the previous night. Apparently pretty, foreign women could get away with anything.
    The sea was an irresistible beacon on this fine afternoon, glinting gray-blue in the soft sunlight. There was only a gentle breeze, too, so she did not need to wrap up warm, but contented herself with her, by now, rather worse-for-wear amber walking dress and a light pelisse over the top. A bonnet would have been appropriate, but it was pleasant to feel the mild sunshine on her face. Camille had always enjoyed the outdoors. Once, she had ridden out most days on her favorite horse, a gorgeous sorrel stallion she had named Lionheart. Happier times, she reflected with a wistful twist of the heart. She had thought they would last forever. Perhaps she would find herself a decent horse again. Nothing could ever replace Lionheart, but there were many sound mounts to be had and it would be good to go riding. Only a little way behind Kirkham were a stretch of moors that would offer a horse an excellent opportunity to stretch its legs.
    She made her way down the laneway, heading for the beach. Once there, she began to walk along it, her boots sinking a little way into the fine tan sand, while overhead terns wheeled and called out, their voices harsh as their wings caught the thermals so that they hovered over the water. The breeze, scented with brine, blew tendrils of hair back from her face as Camille walked on, enjoying the sensation of freedom. It was good to step out like this. It was good to be in England and stand on the edge of her new life. Here, she would build a small, safe world and she would begin to look back on the