Redeeming The Rake (Delicate Hearts Book 3) Page 5

  An image of his handsome face—the one he wore before his lengthy incarceration—came to mind, and she remembered his warm smile, a smile that made her wish to smile, as well. She knew he could be many things, but a monster was not one of them, not when she truly gave it some thought.

  “It is time,” Doctor Brown said sadly. “My carriage awaits. Lord Hudson shall acquire the property in three weeks. Until then, please give my regards to the ton during the party I am certain you will host.”

  Caroline hurried to the doctor and flung her arms around him. She was filled with gratitude and love and so many other emotions, she could not have named them if she had tried.

  “Now, now,” Doctor Brown said in her ear as he patted her back. “You must write to me. Do not become a stranger.”

  “I will write,” Caroline promised as she kissed the man on his wrinkled cheek. “For everything you have done for me, I can never repay nor find the words to say how grateful I am.”

  “You have become a woman of strength and knowledge. You have a beauty that can heal others. That is not found just in your hands, but rather it is within your heart. Consider opening that beauty to share with someone special. Don’t allow yourself to remain alone for too long. Trust me, life can be mighty lonely if you let it.”

  “I will,” Caroline replied. “Thank you, Doctor. For everything.”

  She followed him outside and waited as he entered the carriage. A few moments later, he pulled back the drapes and peered out.

  “Goodbye, young lady,” he said as he held out a hand to her.

  “Goodbye,” Caroline replied as she took his hand in hers and squeezed it. “And Godspeed to you.”

  As the carriage moved, her hand slipped from his, and she waved as she followed a few steps. Doctor Brown returned the wave before pulling up the window and closing the drapes. It was not long before the nondescript carriage mingled with the others in the busy London Street.

  Sighing, Caroline returned inside the office and closed the door. The echo that resounded caused her heart to contract. She would miss the good doctor very much. He was a decent man with a willing heart, a man who gave everything to everyone around him. If she could be even half as good as he, she would be wonderful, indeed.

  As she glanced around the quiet room, the only sounds the movement of people outside, she thought about his words. ‘Consider opening that beauty to share with someone special,’ he had said. Would it be possible? Could she find someone who would see beyond the spinster she had become? Someone who would love her even if she was a doctor’s assistant?

  The emptiness of the office moved in on her, and for the first time in a long time, Caroline understood that, once again, she was alone, and the chances of her finding someone with whom she could share her life was highly unlikely.

  Chapter Eight

  A time once existed when William wore clothing made by the most skilled of hands and feasted upon the most succulent cuts of meat in order to keep his stomach full. However, the morning he walked out of Walnut Lane Prison, his clothing was in tatters and his pockets. He had risen with the sun, eager to leave. Yet, not before receiving his ration of porridge. As horrid as the mush was, at least he was not hungry upon his release, leaving one less meal for which he would be forced to pay.

  Besides the rags that hung from his body—he was much thinner now than when he was sentenced—when he stepped past the prison gates, he owned nothing more than memories. Memories of the first day entering this wretched place and the crime that had brought him here. Besides Ezra, nothing in the prison was worthy of recollection. That is, nothing except the visits from Caroline. At his weakest moment, she had appeared, a light in a dark time, to heal the wounds on his body. And though the woman would never know, she had given him something beautiful. Forgiveness.

  Four years earlier, he would have scoffed at such thoughts. However, having not a single farthing to his name changed many of his worldly views and made her gift priceless. Though there were more things to account for in his life, her forgiveness was the first step of many he would take to see wrongs righted.

  The iron gates closed behind him, and the guard let out a laugh. “Go and join the other commoners,” he taunted.

  William ignored him. What the man said had no impact on him, not anymore. If he grew angry, he would only chance his swift return to the hell he had endured the past four years, and that he most certainly did not want. He would do whatever he could to assure it never happened again.

  He looked left and then right, unsure where to go from here. He would eventually need to make his way to Cornwall in order to search for the treasure Ezra had hidden, but that was many days away by horse, which he did not have, and at least two weeks walking. Yet, though his side had healed and his bruises on his face were barely visible, he had no money for food nor shelter. Even if he found places along the road to camp, he could not feed himself. He did not even have a knife to skin a rabbit—if he was lucky enough to figure out how to catch one.

  With a final glance around, he turned right onto a busy street. A variety of carriages moved through the traffic, the occupants of the finer vehicles hidden behind curtains. Men and women walked down the footpath, ignoring most people around them, though they gave a wide berth when they laid eyes upon him.

  Then his eyes fell on a tailor’s shop, one of the finest in London. William never realized how close it was to the prison, but he had never had cause to wonder before. Now it was almost comical.

  He hurried to the window and peered inside. Several aids attended men in the finest suits, and William was pleased when his eyes fell on George Tabling, the owner. They were not necessarily friends, but William had given the man a good portion of his business over the years, so perhaps he would be willing to lend some aid.

  His stomach grumbled. It was much too soon to be hungry yet, but it had been some time since he had walked further than the distance from his cell to The Pub. The walk must have used up what little sustenance the gruel had given him.

  A tiny bell jingled above the door when William opened it, and all eyes fell upon him. Mr. Tabling rushed to him, his eyes narrowed in anger.

  “I must ask you to leave immediately,” the man hissed, his eyes moving around frantically.

  “Mr. Tabling, it is I, William Lymington.” He offered the man a smile. “Do you not remember me?”

  The tailor glanced around the room. “This shop is for those who are civilized,” he whispered. “Not those recently released from prison, and a murderer to boot. Now, off with you, or I shall have you physically removed from this establishment.”

  William’s heart sank. For years, the man took his money with a wide smile and heaps of praise. Now, he peered up at William through his tiny spectacles as if William were a rat carrying the plague.

  William could not truly blame Mr. Tabling. He should have known word would have reached the man at some point, so he gave the tailor a nod and hurried from the shop. Where would he go now? He needed help, especially food and enough money to get him to Cornwall, but any friends he might have had would turn their noses on him as quickly as Mr. Tabling had.

  There had been one woman he courted—well perhaps courted was a loose term for their relationship. No, Annabel would not appreciate him showing up on her doorstep dressed as a beggar, especially after the manner in which he had treated her.

  “Move away from the window,” a man from the tailor’s shop shouted. “We have dignified people who do not wish to see the likes of you while they are requisitioning new clothing.”

  Anger coursed through William. How could this man be so unmerciful? However, as he stalked away, he understood, for if he—William—had been a current client of Mr. Tabling, there would have been no question as to his reaction to the same situation.

  With his head hanging low, William walked the streets of London, wondering where to go. The fact was he had nowhere to lay his head, and that alone scared him.

  “Alms?” a man said.
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  William stopped and looked at an old man sitting beside the entrance to one of the narrow alleyways. “Anything you can give is appreciated.”

  “I’m sorry, my friend,” William sighed. “I have nothing.”

  The old man looked him up and down and nodded before training his attention to other passersby.

  William continued his walk, his future looming dark before him, and he swore that he would never beg. Anything but that.

  ***

  Two days later, as hunger pangs made him weak, William found himself on St. Williams Street. The sun hung just over the horizon, what he could see of it with the buildings around him, and he recognized the notorious pub, The Blind Beggar. A meeting place of men of title as well as those of the Gentry, William remembered it as a place to engage in illicit deals and prostitutes. Beside the rear entrance, a man stood with a mug of ale and a dirty apron over his body.

  “Sir,” William said, unable to keep his voice from shaking, “do you have any food to spare?” The man raised an eyebrow and then took a drink from his mug. “Crumbs?” William continued. “A bit of bread? I have not eaten in two days.”

  “This ain’t no charity,” the man growled. “Starve fer all I care.” He spat at William’s feet, and then turned and went inside the pub.

  William pulled his coat in tighter and moved down the alleyway. With each step, his body grew weaker, and when he came upon St. Mary’s Road, he stopped and gazed through watery eyes. Some of the finest homes were found here, including one belonging to Annabel and another to William’s parents. He had hoped to avoid this area of London until he could make himself once more presentable, but he was desperate, so he hurried across the street in hope that, like Caroline, Annabel would forgive him his transgressions and take pity on him.

  He stopped in front of the large house just as the last rays of the sun cast a glow on the white painted structure. He hobbled up the steps, gave a fervent brush at his coat—which did little to make it presentable—and reached up to knock on the door.

  His heart jumped into his throat when the door opened, and an older gentleman he recognized as Lord Donald Crandall, Annabel's father gasped. “You startled me,” the man said as he clutched at his chest. Then he peered at William through narrowed eyes. “We do not need any servants, nor do we give charity.” The man was as pretentious as William remembered him to be.

  “I am not looking for work, my Lord,” William said. “I wish to speak to Lady Annabel.”

  If the man’s eyes were narrow before, now they were barely slits. “How do you know my daughter?” he demanded.

  “I knew the lady several years ago,” William said, unsure if he should share the truth as to his identity. “May I speak with her? Please. It is important.”

  The man studied William for a moment before his eyes widened in shock. “It’s you!” he shouted. “I did not recognize you at first with that beard and those clothes.”

  William nodded, hoping the man would take pity on him. However, his hopes were dashed when the man said, “We do not allow your type in our home. Good day to you.”

  Desperate for help, William cried, “Please, I need not enter your home, my Lord. I only wish to speak to Annabel. For one minute and no longer.”

  The man’s face turned a deep puce. “And why would you want to do that?”

  “To apologize for any pain I caused her,” William replied. Though his need for food and money were much more important, he knew that he would not receive either if he did not request forgiveness. Even so, he found the need for forgiveness burdened him more.

  The man drew in a deep breath and released it slowly. “You attended a few parties with her, did you not?”

  William nodded. “I did.”

  “Do you realize that you broke her heart?” Lord Crandall asked.

  “I am sorry,” William muttered, and then reared back from the force of the man’s next words.

  “Sorry?” the man shouted. “You nearly destroyed her. So, she went and found another man no better than you.” Lord Crandall took a step forward, his breath hot on William’s face. “I know what men like you did to her. Bragging about the number of women you have bedded. She was a beautiful creature, one who never hurt another soul.” He grabbed William by the lapels of his coat. “She took her own life three years this month! Your apologies are as worthless as you. May you rot in Hell with Lucifer as your constant companion for eternity for the part you played in her death.”

  Then the man drew back his fist and crashed it into William’s jaw, sending him flying off the steps to land on his back, his jaw aflame and his vision swimming.

  “Donald!” a woman screamed from behind the baron, a voice William somehow recognized as Annabel’s mother. “No! Stop this at once!”

  Lord Crandall shook his head. “Do not let me see your face ever again! Do you hear me?”

  Stumbling away, his jaw throbbing, William hurried down the street. It was a few minutes later when he sneaked behind a bush to peer inside another home. His father’s brother and the man’s wife were in the parlor, his aunt in a yellow dress and his uncle in a fine suit. Each wore a smile, clearly not discussing where their nephew might be at this moment. William never considered that his parents would be at Applefield Estates for the summer. They often allowed other family members to use the house when those relatives were on business in London and the house was otherwise empty.

  William sighed. It would do no good to knock on that door. His father had disowned him, and his uncle had never had any love for him, even if he were cold and hungry.

  So, with a sigh, William turned away from the window and continued his journey down the street and into the night, wondering if he would survive another week. Or another night for that matter.

  Chapter Nine

  Caroline smiled as she looked over the place she had called home for the past few years. In four days, she would leave it behind and move on to another. She recalled the first night Doctor Brown had brought her here. She had been so terrified he would take advantage of her, she came close to running away. However, he was a doctor, a trusted man, and she was in great need of shelter. In the end, the doctor had been much more a gentleman than her former employer, and they became fast friends.

  Now, not only had Caroline been in touch with a man about a new flat, she had found a new place of employment. She had an appointment scheduled this evening to meet the man for whom she would work in order to discuss the terms of her position. She had to admit that it was a bit disconcerting to be moving on with her life, for she had been content working with Doctor Brown, but she had no choice. Life did indeed move on.

  Only a few furnishings remained in the flat, not that there had been that many in the first place. In one particular piece behind a sliding panel she found by accident, Caroline had hidden any money that came her way. Her meager savings combined with what Doctor Brown had given her would allow her enough on which to live for the next few months if needed. The good doctor had been gone a few weeks now, but it felt a lifetime to Caroline, and she found she missed him dearly.

  Many nights they sat with a glass of wine, each sharing one story or another or discussing the cases on which they had worked. Caroline loved Doctor Brown—not as a man loves a woman, but as a daughter loves a father. She never knew her father, and her mother passed away when Caroline was only eleven. With no other family, she was taken into service, which was a better life than most orphans received. Yet, she had never loved anyone since her mother died; no one except her dear friend Doctor Brown.

  She sat on the edge of the bed and recalled the last words he spoke to her before he left. She was to open her heart and share the beauty inside. It was a silly notion, of course, the words of poets. Plus, it was something she had sworn to never do. Now, at the age of four and twenty, perhaps she had left it too late. Were not all men rakes, anyway?

  No, Doctor Brown was a true gentleman, so if he existed, she could only consider that others did, as well. A m
onth earlier, the idea of a romantic relationship would never have crossed her mind. Now, however, she could not help but wonder if a man did exist, a man meant for her. Yet, only one man had held her attention in that way, and that man was the one to whom she attended in the prison.

  Closing her eyes, Caroline recalled her first week at Applefield Estates, a position she had accepted when her previous employer had gone bankrupt and the house had to be closed. She was returning fresh linens to the bedrooms when she paused outside what she had been told was the office and “absolutely off-limits” according to Mrs. Champs, the housekeeper.

  Perhaps it had been that warning that had piqued her curiosity, but she had stopped and peeked through the door. William—Lord William at the time—had been in a conversation with a local charity, and she was surprised to hear him pledge a rather large sum of money to the man.

  The charity representative shot up from his chair, grabbed William’s hand and shook it with great vigor. “Well now, my Lord,” he had stammered, “that is a generous amount, indeed!”

  How Caroline’s heart had soared that day! The man was handsome, educated, and very kind, just the type of man Caroline would not mind getting to know better. If she were not a servant, that is. He would never look her way, or so she thought. Until he did.

  Shaking her head, she decided not to dwell on the past any longer. It would never change no matter how often it was recalled and doing so would be a waste of time. Instead, she would focus on the future that lay ahead.

  Her stomach gave an embarrassing grumble, and she reached into her purse and removed a few coins. She would treat herself to a meal at the pub before going to her new home. However, before she got to the bottom of the stairs, a knock came to the door.

  The head of the charity for which she would be employed, stood staring down at her when she opened the door.