Once a Rake, Suddenly a Suitor by Christi Caldwell

Author:Christi Caldwell
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Romance, Regency
Publisher: Christi Caldwell
Published: 2023-08-30T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 8

That morn, Phineas had arrived at the Kearsley residence, earlier than usual. He’d anticipated taking breakfast with Anwen, and then escorting her on a curricle ride—all because of his earlier pledge to do so.

He’d not, however, foreseen Wakefield, the bloody paragon, to have beat him to the bloody punch.

Though, Phineas should have. Given the fellow’s brazen showing at Lord and Lady Cyr’s ball the evening prior, and the two waltzes the earl had then gone on to snatch from Anwen, Phineas should have anticipated the high-minded chap would have called on Anwen, bright and early.

A young maid chose that moment to return with the artful display of flowers. By the young maid’s vast, sunny smile she’d not detected the thick tension blanketing the room.

Once the girl had set the urn down near the window, Lord Wakefield turned his attention back to Anwen.

“Miss Kearsley,” he murmured, bowing his head. “It was a true pleasure speaking with you this morning.”

While the couple exchanged partings, Phineas stood, a silent interloper off to the side.

“Likewise, Lord Wakefield.”

Likewise, she’d say?

Phineas gritted his teeth. A spirited lady like Anwen, enjoying time with the starchy Earl of Wakefield? Not fucking likely.

When still the uppish earl lingered, Phineas interjected. “Yes, so good to see you,” he said, and the feigned joviality he packed into that lie, stretched six syllables into twelve.

Wakefield’s face tensed.

Alas, the fellow was too proper, too respectable to ever dare meet Phineas’ mordacity with mockery of his own. As silently predicted, the earl turned on his heel and left.

Phineas drew himself up onto the back of the large fan sofa. “Well, that was fun,” Phineas said.

Anwen frowned. “Alice? Would you be so good as to fetch refreshments for His Lordship and I.”

“What?” he asked after the young maid scurried from the room and Anwen turned a scathing glare upon him.

Anwen folded her arms at her chest, luring his rake’s gaze to the entrancing heart-shaped bodice of her silk brocade gown. And like the callow youth of old, he’d been, lust bolted through him.

“Really, Phineas?”

Really, indeed. He couldn’t have taken his eyes from her if mankind’s existence had hinged upon his doing so.

“You were being rude.”

He gave his head a shake. Wait. She’d been talking about his exchange with Wakefield.

Phineas touched a hand to his chest. “I was being rude?”

“You were both being rude.” Anwen paused. “That may be who Lord Wakefield is, but it isn’t who you are, Phineas.”

That would be an actual first; a bet not a single soul would have placed at the White’s betting book—someone believing Phineas was a better person than a bloke like Wakefield.

“He’s a fine man,” he grudgingly allowed.

“Not so fine as to show you a deserved respect,” she said, with far more loyalty than Phineas deserved or merited. “I’m sorry he was rude to you.”

He shrugged.

“He’d make you a fine husband,” Phineas conceded in an admission that, given he’d rather bury Wakefield than see him in the same room as Anwen, let alone married to her, proved Phineas was more selfless than he’d credited himself capable of.

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