Page 3 of Her Rake Fiancé

He was tall and muscular under his rich, dark waistcoat, which sat somewhat askew. His high cravat was undone, and his breeches were crumpled. He was the embodiment of her every romantic fantasy. He had thick auburn hair, the fashionable windswept hairstyle disheveled. His features were perfectly correct and chiseled—high cheekbones, straight nose—like those of a Greek god. Dark auburn eyebrows knitted above his intense blue eyes as he looked over the children and her. Then his broad mouth quirked in a crooked grin.

Though the children quieted, staring at the stranger, Hercules did not. With a ferocious growl and spate of fierce barking, the dog jumped at the man.

Shocked, the man backed through the open doorway, stomping on the filthy, muddy backyard behind Elysium, mud slurping under his shiny boots. Hercules jumped through the puddles and the mud and kept advancing on the man as he backed away.

Jane ran after Hercules. “Stop! Sit, Hercules!”

But Hercules was much too riled up to listen to her.

Instead, he backed the beautiful man against the wall, his muddy paws leaving black smudges all over the man’s white shirt and light breeches.

Hercules growled and barked right into the man’s face. To his credit, the man threw his arms up, calmly saying something soothing to the dog, however futile. Jane ran to Hercules and pulled him by his collar.

“Sit, Hercules!” she cried. “Sit!”

Hercules, the little protector that he was, finally listened. He sat down, whimpering, growling, but his tail still wriggled as he ached to keep tormenting the stranger who may have come to threaten his mistress.

Jane stared at the man. She breathed hard, inhaling his intoxicating, masculine scent—expensive cologne and brandy—mixed with the whiff of the stables, the alehouse, and the chicken pen that always hung over Elysium’s backyard.

“Well, it seems that dog doesn’t like me much,” the stranger said, his voice deep and smooth.

She suddenly became very aware of his proximity. His warm blue eyes were on her, and she was sinking in their beautiful—if slightly bloodshot—depths. No doubt he was a lord, not just a solicitor or a bank clerk from somewhere in Cheapside. In a ballroom, a man like him would never notice someone like her. She belonged with books, hiding behind the rims of her spectacles. She would never gain the attention of a gorgeous, charming, and no doubt rich man like him.

But she would notice him anywhere.

She wished she wore better clothes than the mousy gray frock Ruby had made for her three years ago, and she wished she had a more fashionable hairstyle than the simple bun. He was all saturated, bright colors, while she was gray and washed-out. For the first time in five years, she felt a longing to match him and an acute awareness that she did not.

He looked somewhere behind her. “Forgive me,” he said, “aren’t those your children?”

She turned around and groaned as she watched her pupils scatter out of the school, run across the backyard, and disappear through the door in the carriage gates.

Anger roared in her. What was she thinking? This man, clearly one of Elysium’s frequent members—dressed like he hadn’t been home all night, reeking like a distillery—had barged into her school and disrupted her lesson, and now, because of him, everyone had left!

“Sir, I beg you to refrain from entering the backyard of Elysium!” she said, her voice stronger than she felt. “Was it not clear that only the front door is for visitors?”

He chuckled, eyeing her softly. She did not like that amused glint in his eyes at all. Nor the warmth in her whole body as she found herself the object of his unwavering gaze. She reminded herself to not let his charm sway her. “I find myself wishing to become a bad boy as long as I have a governess such as you to teach me manners.”

She felt heat rush to her cheeks at his words. She was not used to such forwardness. But she had to stay focused. “What, heavens help me, did you want with me, then?”

“As much as I begin to regret this, I did not come for you, miss. I was looking for Thorne Blackmore. No one is answering the front door of Elysium.”

“And so, being a frequent visitor, you felt entitled to find your own way in,” she declared.

His eyes narrowed into a smoldering glare. “Not all is as it seems,” he spat out, a tempest brewing in his voice. “But surely, someone as sanctimonious as yourself has the wisdom to discern right from wrong, isn’t that so?”

She stood tall, the pulsing beat in her ears echoing the heightened tension in her whole body. “As a matter of fact, I do. Clearly, your modus operandi is to disrupt, rebel, and incite chaos. And then someone like me is left to pick up the pieces in your wake.”

His expression twisted into a snarl. “So, you’ve got it all figured out, have you?” he spat, his voice rough with anger. “You stand there, on your high ground, casting judgments. How bland and boring your perfect life must be then. Remember, miss, those that sit on high horses do so alone.”

The blow was like a punch to her gut. The tears she’d fought down earlier prickled again at the backs of her eyes. She had no words to contradict his. They rang too true.

“If you wish to see Thorne Blackmore,” she said, her voice low and trembling, “the servants’ entrance is behind you. Please, do not come near me or my school again.”

She watched his large, broad-shouldered back as he walked away, her heart still racing.

She turned and walked into her school. She had a purpose, a goal. And she would see it through, no matter what. Regardless of unkind, handsome strangers or painful memories.

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