Date with a Regency Rake: The Wicked Lord Rasenby / The Rake's Rebellious Lady

‘Devil take you, Lieutenant, what are you implying?’

‘You know very well, Lord Rasenby. You are carrying contraband and this time nothing will prevent me from discovering it.’

‘I’m afraid you’re going to be disappointed all the same, Lieutenant.’ Clarrie’s husky tones, as she stepped boldly on to deck, startled the men into silence. John, standing behind Kit, looked on slack-jawed.

‘Lord, Kit, I thought we’d never get back to England. I’ve missed you, darling, it’s no fun below decks on my own.’ Laying a proprietorial arm on Kit’s, Clarrie pouted. Her hair was loosened to curl freely down her back, and her dress unbuttoned sufficiently to add to her air of abandon. There could be no mistaking that she had this moment arisen from a night of passion.

Lieutenant Smith’s jaw dropped in imitation of John’s at this lush display, but Kit, quick to take advantage, merely pressed Clarissa’s hand in acknowledgment of the ruse, and smiled tauntingly at the Riding Officer. ‘My cargo, Lieutenant Smith, as you see.’ Taking Clarissa’s hand in his, he raised it to his mouth and planted a lingering kiss on her palm. ‘Good morning, my love. I’m afraid this gentleman was rather intent on searching your quarters.’

‘Oh, please, Lieutenant, let me preserve some modicum of dignity. The cabin is—how can I put it delicately—a little untidy.’ There could be no mistaking her meaning. Lieutenant Smith blushed as scarlet as his uniform.

‘You can see now, Lieutenant, why I had no time for fishing last night. I was rather more agreeably occupied with this particular little piece of bait.’ A rather unnecessary pat on her bottom made Clarrie start.

‘Please, Kit, not in front of the gentleman. You can see he’s embarrassed.’ Indeed, the Lieutenant was playing with the collar of his coat as if suddenly finding it too tight. ‘I’m so sorry, Lieutenant—as you can see, I’m having a little difficulty in taming his lordship here. What he needs is his bed.’ This accompanied by a wink, which made even Kit raise an eyebrow.

‘I—well, I—yes. Excuse me, Lord Rasenby, it would seem that once again I was misinformed. Please accept my apologies, ma’am, for disturbing you—I mean, for disturbing your …’

‘My rest, I think you mean,’ Clarrie said with a saucy smile.

‘Yes. Your rest, ma’am. Of course.’

‘Lieutenant?’

‘My lord?’

‘A word, if you please, before you go. I would ask you to keep this encounter to yourself for all of our sakes. The lady, you understand, belongs to another, and it would grieve him greatly should he find out about this night’s fishing trip.’

Realisation dawned in the officer’s eyes, and they widened at the temerity of the man standing shameless in front of him. Lord Rasenby’s reputation was well known to those hereabouts, of course, but never before had Lieutenant Smith been faced with such blatant evidence of his raking. And she so young and pretty too! Nodding wisely in an attempt to pass off the encounter as he was sure a man of the world would do, Lieutenant Smith thrust the proffered note away in confusion. ‘My discretion does not need to be bought, Lord Rasenby. I am a man of honour. You can accept my word that I will not discuss this encounter.’

Kit’s brows rose in surprise. ‘You are a credit to your uniform, sir, and I honour you for it. And in return, I’ll tell you something to your advantage.’

‘Sir?’

‘It will perhaps relieve you to know that my night-fishing trips are at an end. You may wish to share that knowledge with the Marquis of Alchester, your informant.’ Raising his hand to forestall the confused denial, Kit continued. ‘I have been aware for some time that he has been keeping you apprised of my movements. Rest assured, I will be taking the matter up with Alchester personally. But for now, I trust, you take my meaning? The Sea Wolf will not be going fishing again.’

‘I thank you, sir. I take your meaning well. Now I must bid you good morning.” A blushing nod to Clarissa, and the lieutenant was gone, over the side to the waiting dinghy, and back to his cutter.

He was barely back on board before Clarrie turned, exultant and bursting with excitement, towards Kit. ‘Oh, Kit, I can’t tell you, my heart was thumping fit to burst. Just for a moment there I thought he—’

Kit cut short her excited torrent of words with an imperious wave of his hand. ‘You were told to remain below. Can I not trust you to follow even the simplest of instructions? I would have found a way to deal with Lieutenant Smith. John, make haste for the quay. We are long overdue. Clarissa, go below and make sure the Renauds are prepared to disembark.’

Curtly dismissed, Clarissa stumbled below, blinking back the tears. Kit turned to take the wheel, confused at his own sudden temper.

‘Don’t you think you’re being a mite hard on the girl, my lord?’ John asked gravely. ‘She got us out of a pretty pickle there and no mistake.’

‘I know, John, I know. Your point is well made.’ She had saved them all from a perilous situation with her quick thinking, cool head and bravery. So why, then, was he so angry with her?

Chapter Seven

‘Can you finish up here on your own, John? This way, Clarissa, we have unfinished business to attend to.’ Kit, his expression impassive, ushered Clarissa towards the awaiting chaise. His tightly reigned temper had been in evidence ever since the Sea Wolf docked. Monsieur and Mademoiselle Renaud were disembarked and dispatched in a separate post chaise with uncommon haste, allowing Clarissa time for only the briefest of farewells. John was kept busy amid a flurry of barked orders from Kit, unloading the remaining cargo, securing the yacht, and then finally the boathouse.

Aside from pointing Clarissa towards the chaise, Kit had said nothing to her. Deducing correctly that she was the source of his anger, although having no clue as to how she might have provoked it, Clarrie felt her own temper starting to rise, fuelled by a sense of injustice. She wheeled to confront him.

‘What have I done to incur your displeasure this time, my lord? At least have the decency to tell me to my face. I thought you would be impressed by my actions when we were boarded by the Revenue. My motives were of the purest, I did it only to protect all of us—you, me, John and the Renauds. Would you have me in the wrong for that, would you have me apologise for trying to save you? For it worked, didn’t it?’ She added proudly, ‘The look on poor Lieutenant Smith’s face was priceless!’

‘Yes, it worked. But you were lucky and, more to the point, extremely reckless, for things might easily have gone awry after your impulsive behaviour. This is not merely a game, some sport for your entertainment, Clarissa. Innocent people’s lives are at stake. Lives that you put at risk.’

‘I thought you cared naught for these people yourself. Did you not make me a pretty speech that it was all sport to you and you were indifferent to their fate?’

‘Well, I care for John, at any rate,’ was his lame response. Confound the woman, Kit thought, looking distinctly uncomfortable now. First she knows my thoughts, and now she seems able to look into my very soul and read what lies hidden within.

Clarissa pressed on, warming to the task, recognising that for once she held the upper hand. ‘As usual, my lord, you would be better served aiming your words at a more deserving target—yourself! Putting innocent lives at risk for sport and pleasure! For shame, sir, is that not exactly the fate you intended for Amelia Warrington?’

‘Her again,’ Kit exploded. ‘What is your obsession with that girl? As I’ve said before, I pride myself on amply rewarding those with whom I play such games.’

‘Indeed you do, Lord Rasenby. But have you ever considered that what you proudly call generosity is, in fact, conscience and guilt?’

Kit stepped towards Clarissa, grasping her by both elbows, looming over her threateningly. ‘That may be so, Clarissa, but we are embroiled in a game of our own, remember. One we both chose to play willingly and in which neither of us could be called innocent. A game that is about to resume.’