The Rake by Mary Jo Putney Page A

contrast to his prior manner. “You can accept it, but you would rather have my guts for garters.” He got to his feet and looked down at her. “I don’t care what you think of me as long as you do your work and don’t sulk. Agreed?”
    Alys also stood. After a moment’s hesitation she offered her hand with grudging respect. “Agreed.”
    His hand was firm and hard, not soft like many London gentlemen’s. After arranging to meet her early the next morning for a tour of the estate, he took the last six years of account books to the main house to study.
    After he left, Alys sank back into her chair with a sigh. She still had a job, at least for the moment. Now she would consider the serious question of whether she could work for Reginald Davenport without murdering him.
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    Having survived the ordeal by the owner, that night Alys faced interrogation by her wards. She waited until dinner was over before announcing, “Mr. Davenport arrived from London today.”
    A chorus of responses overlaid each other. Meredith looked up so quickly that her golden ringlets danced. “Lady Alys,” she said accusingly, “you didn’t tell us!”
    Her fifteen-year-old brother Peter asked eagerly, “How long is he going to stay?”
    William, at seven the baby of the family, swallowed his pudding in haste and demanded, “Tell me about his horses!”
    Alys grinned at her charges. All three of the Spensers were staring at her, bright-eyed with curiosity. Even Attila watched avidly, though in his case the cause was hope for a handout. “I wanted to eat before I told you because I knew there would be no peace afterward. To answer your questions, I don’t know how long he is going to stay, but it looks like he’ll be here for a while. He rode down on a really magnificent black stallion. He has a carriage and some hunters coming. If the hunters are half as fine as the stallion, William will be in horse heaven.”
    William, who had his sister’s golden hair and sunny disposition, sighed rapturously. Merry, remembering Alys’s concern, asked, “He doesn’t mind having a female steward?”
    Alys hesitated, remembering that dark, sardonic face. “He minded, but he’s willing to overlook my failings in that area, at least for the moment.”
    Peter said wistfully, “I’d like to meet him. It’s hard to imagine a real out-and-outer in Dorsetshire.”
    Alys regarded him thoughtfully. Unlike his blond and pragmatic siblings, Peter had brown hair and a dreamy, scholarly nature. While his ambition was the church, he tempered that with a lively interest in the doings of the London fashionable world. Like his brother and sister, Peter was remarkably happy and stable considering that he had been orphaned so young, but now he was at an age where he needed a father’s guidance, and Alys couldn’t give him that. It would be all too easy for the boy to hero-worship a man like Strickland’s new owner.
    Hoping to reduce Davenport’s glamour, she said dampeningly, “He may be an out-and-outer in London, but he looks like any other country gentleman here.”
    Undeterred, Peter said, “He’s a member of the Four-in-Hand Club. They say he’s one of the best boxers in England, that he could have been a professional champion if he wanted to.”
    Alys sighed. Her four years as a foster parent had taught her that sometimes it was impossible to derail the direction of youthful thought. Peter was determined to be impressed.
    â€œIs he handsome?” That was from Merry, of course.
    Alys eyed the girl with misgivings. Though Meredith handled her young suitors with innate skill, she was no match for a man of the world like Davenport. Alys wished she could keep the two of them apart, but Strickland was too small for that. “No, he’s not especially good-looking, and he’s old enough to be your