Caskie, Kathryn - A Lady's Guide to Rakes.html by A Lady's Guide to Rakes (v1.0)

Author:A Lady's Guide to Rakes (v1.0)
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 2012-06-04T22:41:02+00:00

Imperative Ten

A wise woman never allows herself to be lured into a rake's home.

There she is certain to be compromised.

Two days later, Meredith found herself at ancient Harford Fell, a sweeping stone structure regally perched atop a mountain. Before their arrival, she'd heard her aunts prattle on about the enormity of Lansing's ancestral home. Therefore, she hadn't expected anything less than a veritable castle, but still, her first glimpse of Harford Fell left her quite speechless.

Plump turrets—the sort fairy-tale damsels were always being imprisoned within—bookended either end of the main portion of the house. But, it was the high arches, vaults, slender vertical piers and counterbalanced buttresses that convinced Meredith of its true Gothic origins. Had an addition not been made in the home's more recent past, of French windows and a balcony stretching the entire front length of the house, Harford Fell might have been drawn straight from one of those gothic tales of horror Hannah so enjoyed reading.

Within no more than twenty minutes of their carriage's arrival, Meredith found herself ensconced in an exquisitely appointed, dark-paneled bedchamber.

Here she found herself completely in awe too. Not that all the rooms she had toured weren't tastefully decorated—because they were, of course. Though this chamber in particular was ... well, special in a way the others were not.

Meredith laid the claret-hued gown she thought to wear to dinner upon the bedstead and crossed to the hearth. It bothered her a little that she could not determine the reason for the room's appeal.

Maybe it was the delightful collection of Sevres figurines arranged upon the mantel. She lifted a small porcelain shepherd girl and examined its obvious quality for several moments before a bowl of fruit on the hearthside table caught her notice. Plunking the shepherdess down, she grabbed a shiny red apple and bit into it.

Dropping into the wingchair, Meredith gazed upward at five small paintings hanging over the mantel.

Odd, in every other room she'd been privileged to see, a grand portrait of some sort graced that prime spot. But not here. Here was a collection of boldly rendered landscapes—not unlike her own sister Eliza's paintings of Dunley Parish, where Meredith and her sisters were raised.

As she crunched into the sweet apple, remembering fondly how she and her older sisters used to swing on the scarred tree branches in her family's orchard, she realized that it made her happy just to sit here and gaze upon the paintings.

Maybe that was it. Meredith lowered the apple from her lips. The chamber was welcoming.

Just then, the door swung open and Alexander strolled into the center of the room.

"Damn me!" Alexander blinked in astonishment. "I beg your forgiveness. I hadn't heard you'd been settled in here."

Meredith came to her feet. "Have I been placed in the wrong chamber?"

"Not at all. Came in here out of habit, I reckon." At once, Alexander's eye fixed on the little shepherdess on the table beside the fruit bowl.

He swaggered across the room, in that rakish way of his, carefully picked up the Sevres in his hands and replaced it on the mantel.

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