How To Rescue A Rake (Book Club Belles Society 3) by Jayne Fresina Page B
Authors: Jayne Fresina
Tags: Fiction, Romance, Historical, Adult, Travel, Regency, England, 19th century, Novel, Bachelor, Victorian, Britain, reading, bride, escape, Rejection, Book Club, rescue, heartbreak, Forever Love, Single Woman, Charade, London Society, Belles Society, Five Young Ladies, Meetings, Comments, Discussion Group, Hawcombe Prior, Reckless Rake, Marriage Proposal, Three Years, Propose, New Wealth, Rumor Mill, Age Of 25, Suitable Girl, Cousin In Bath, Avoiding, Heart On The Line, Follow
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charge his tenants full rent and had soon run through his savings.
As Nathaniel had recently learned, Rebecca’s husband had gotten the major out of a sticky spot a few years ago by buying up some of his fields and assuming landlord duties. Now the major was happier, with less stress hanging over his head and his accounts managed ably by his son-in-law at Willow Tree Farm. No one dared try to cheat “Lucky” Luke Wainwright out of the rent due.
Apparently, only the residents of that short row of cottages at the end of the High Street still paid rent directly to the major. Nathaniel thought his father probably insisted on that because he enjoyed making haughty Mrs. Makepiece pay him. Her superior attitude had always grated on the major’s nerves, as it did on his son’s.
At dinner last night his father had had news to share on any and everything except Diana, and Nathaniel had not felt able to raise the subject in a casual way. The conversation never seemed to come close enough to be diverted in that direction.
He should simply have asked after her and been done with it. One quick, nonchalant remark could have ended this pain, but instead he was drawing it out, like a slow blade scraped over his skin. Self-punishment, he supposed, for his sins.
She was another man’s wife. What else could they possibly tell him about her now? And why should he care to hear it?
He had kissed her under the trees of the Bolt. How sweet her lips had tasted, even directly after rejecting his proposal. Their taste did not match the bitter words that came out of them, probably because those words were her mother’s, not her own.
Nathaniel laughed contemptuously and shook his head. What asinine fellow would kiss a woman after she rejected him? A fool who didn’t know when to give up, when to quit the battlefield.
But despite his intention to hate her, other feelings, raw and primal, dominated his thoughts.
She should be with him now. She should be his wife. He’d wanted her from the first moment her hand was placed upon his. That first dance in Manderson when they were so young. Nathaniel couldn’t account for it, couldn’t understand it, but back then he had not been the sort of man who studied reasons. He’d acted on impulse, driven entirely by his bodily instincts. He’d known immediately that she was special, the one woman who made him feel calm, who made that busy, reckless young man want to stop, sit down, and put his boots up. Perhaps even get fat and surround himself with children.
Diana and her mother had had other plans. He was not good enough for them.
The injustice bit cruelly into his flesh and clung there. He could not shake it off. His desire for her had been too great.
Often at night, in need of comfort and release, Nathaniel lay in bed with his eyes closed and pictured Diana beside him. That’s where she belonged—naked, with open eyes, her lips damp from his kisses, her cheeks flushed, her hair spilled loose over her shoulders. Given the chance, he would have made love to her in such a manner that she knew her place was with him, that she felt as he did and understood they were made for each other.
Really it was ridiculous that he’d ever proposed marriage to her. He wished he could forget it. Undoubtedly she had. If he saw her again, he would treat her with as much chilly disinterest as she had shown him.
In the years since he’d left Hawcombe Prior, Nathaniel had learned to be less transparent about his thoughts and feelings. He kept his instincts and his hot blood reined in. Usually.
Alas, his mind and his limbs were too restless tonight.
Storming back across the room to the washstand, he poured water into the bowl and splashed his face. Unfortunately the water was frigid cold, so it woke him further, rather than soothing him into drowsiness.
Nathaniel dropped heavily onto his back across the narrow bed and gazed up at the low ceiling, memories of the green-eyed girl plaguing his thoughts.
* *
As Nathaniel had recently learned, Rebecca’s husband had gotten the major out of a sticky spot a few years ago by buying up some of his fields and assuming landlord duties. Now the major was happier, with less stress hanging over his head and his accounts managed ably by his son-in-law at Willow Tree Farm. No one dared try to cheat “Lucky” Luke Wainwright out of the rent due.
Apparently, only the residents of that short row of cottages at the end of the High Street still paid rent directly to the major. Nathaniel thought his father probably insisted on that because he enjoyed making haughty Mrs. Makepiece pay him. Her superior attitude had always grated on the major’s nerves, as it did on his son’s.
At dinner last night his father had had news to share on any and everything except Diana, and Nathaniel had not felt able to raise the subject in a casual way. The conversation never seemed to come close enough to be diverted in that direction.
He should simply have asked after her and been done with it. One quick, nonchalant remark could have ended this pain, but instead he was drawing it out, like a slow blade scraped over his skin. Self-punishment, he supposed, for his sins.
She was another man’s wife. What else could they possibly tell him about her now? And why should he care to hear it?
He had kissed her under the trees of the Bolt. How sweet her lips had tasted, even directly after rejecting his proposal. Their taste did not match the bitter words that came out of them, probably because those words were her mother’s, not her own.
Nathaniel laughed contemptuously and shook his head. What asinine fellow would kiss a woman after she rejected him? A fool who didn’t know when to give up, when to quit the battlefield.
But despite his intention to hate her, other feelings, raw and primal, dominated his thoughts.
She should be with him now. She should be his wife. He’d wanted her from the first moment her hand was placed upon his. That first dance in Manderson when they were so young. Nathaniel couldn’t account for it, couldn’t understand it, but back then he had not been the sort of man who studied reasons. He’d acted on impulse, driven entirely by his bodily instincts. He’d known immediately that she was special, the one woman who made him feel calm, who made that busy, reckless young man want to stop, sit down, and put his boots up. Perhaps even get fat and surround himself with children.
Diana and her mother had had other plans. He was not good enough for them.
The injustice bit cruelly into his flesh and clung there. He could not shake it off. His desire for her had been too great.
Often at night, in need of comfort and release, Nathaniel lay in bed with his eyes closed and pictured Diana beside him. That’s where she belonged—naked, with open eyes, her lips damp from his kisses, her cheeks flushed, her hair spilled loose over her shoulders. Given the chance, he would have made love to her in such a manner that she knew her place was with him, that she felt as he did and understood they were made for each other.
Really it was ridiculous that he’d ever proposed marriage to her. He wished he could forget it. Undoubtedly she had. If he saw her again, he would treat her with as much chilly disinterest as she had shown him.
In the years since he’d left Hawcombe Prior, Nathaniel had learned to be less transparent about his thoughts and feelings. He kept his instincts and his hot blood reined in. Usually.
Alas, his mind and his limbs were too restless tonight.
Storming back across the room to the washstand, he poured water into the bowl and splashed his face. Unfortunately the water was frigid cold, so it woke him further, rather than soothing him into drowsiness.
Nathaniel dropped heavily onto his back across the narrow bed and gazed up at the low ceiling, memories of the green-eyed girl plaguing his thoughts.
* *
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