His Wicked Smile

Book 3: Redcakes

by Heather Hiestand

Genres: Historical Fiction; Victorian Romance

Synopsis

Some temptations are impossible to resist, even for a bakery heir. . . Ann Haldene is the most beautiful woman Gawain Redcake has ever seen. A gifted healer who soothes his battle-scarred body like never before, the widow's touch has a powerful effect on him. It's no wonder the rugged Redcake heir forgets his quest for a society bride during one passionate night in Ann's arms. But once he learns she is pregnant with his child, he searches for her, intent on giving her his name, if not his heart. . .. Ann is shocked by Gawain's proposal, mostly because he has not uttered a word of love. For the sake of their baby, she accepts, even knowing that Gawain dreamed of marrying to secure a title and all she has is a severed royal Indian bloodline. Now the new bride faces her greatest challenge: showing her husband that their union is more powerful than pedigree—and love is the ultimate reward. . .. "A delightful, sexy glimpse into Victorian life and loving with two wonderfully non-traditional lovers." --Jessa Slade, author of Dark Prince's Desire and the Steel Born series 89,300 Words

Release date: May 1, 2014

Publisher: eOriginals

Print pages: 276

Sample

March 16, 1888

When a man’s best friend marries, it is time for his own thoughts to turn to matrimony. The tables at Redcake’s Tea Shop and Emporium were filled with wedding breakfast guests, the families of shop manager Lord Judah Shield and Magdalene Cross. Gawain Redcake wanted to add to the splendid moment with a marriage-minded request of his own. His friend might have just married the niece of an earl, but Gawain had even higher hopes for himself.

“Might I have a word, Hatbrook?” Gawain leaned over from his seat to the main table.

The Marquess of Hatbrook, his brother-in-law, glanced at Gawain, then spared an anxious glance for his wife, due to give birth to his heir in a month. Gawain held his ground. Alys was fine and would likely approve of his offer, for all that their father was a recently knighted tradesman, rather than a blue-blooded aristocrat.

“Yes, of course. The private dining room should be available.” Hatbrook led him out of the main tearoom and down the hall.

The intimate room had been recently converted to electricity and seated four. Gawain was finding it difficult to adjust to the increasingly common bright lights in interior spaces. He was nearly blind in his right eye, thanks to the bloodthirsty Pathan tribesmen of India, who had cost him his military career some four years ago.

Hatbrook cast himself into one of the ornate dining chairs and stared up at him. “What is on your mind?”

Gawain leaned against the carved wooden mantelpiece. “My personal importing revenues were so great last quarter that I was able to give my father notice of my resignation from the Redcake factories. It is time to consider my future.”

“Ah,” Hatbrook smiled. “Whom do you have under consideration?”

“Your sister, Lady Elizabeth.” Gawain rubbed his palms together, feeling the tingle of nerves and sweat there. His future was ripe for the taking, independence and a place in the fashionable world. He had the funds. Now all he needed was the right wife.

“My sister?” Hatbrook frowned and ran his hand over the back of his neck.

Gawain could see the calluses from farm labor on the marquess’s palms. For a high-ranking aristocrat, he knew the benefit of hard work. “Yes. I would like to ask for your permission to court her formally, with the idea of proposing marriage in the near future.”

“She’s a decade younger than you are,” Hatbrook commented.

“Having lost her parents and weathered all the dramas of Lord Judah’s life, in addition to tending my sisters through illnesses and expectations, she has proven herself ready to manage an establishment of her own,” he countered.

“You have a mistress.” Hatbrook’s tone was flat. Gawain remembered Hatbrook had not kept a demirep of his own before his marriage. But that was because he hadn’t been able to afford it at the time, or so Gawain thought, not because he had a constitutional dislike of the practice.

“I will sever the connection instantly.”

“Comtesse Valery will not like that. Even an old married man like me knows her reputation for rages and revenge.”

The famed actress was descended from poverty-stricken survivors of the French Revolution. The most famous courtesan of the last decade, Gawain had won her away from a duke only a few months before, which had catapulted him to the cream of London bachelor society.

“She knows I must marry.”

“Why?” Hatbrook asked, with a quizzical tilt of his head. “You do not have a title to secure.”

Gawain felt the stab acutely. “I wish for one, however, and the Queen is not likely to grant knighthood or other offices to a young bachelor.”

Hatbrook chuckled. “What do you plan to be knighted for?”

“Medicine, most likely, or my tea business, in the same way my father was knighted for his famous desserts. If I have to, I’ll go into politics in the end.”

“Medicine? You are not a doctor.”

“No, but I import medicines from India. Only real, proven remedies with explanatory pamphlets written in native tongues and translated by former soldiers here at home. I could even be knighted for the employment I have created.”

“You are working every angle, I see,” Hatbrook said, rubbing at his neck as if the subject pained him. “But no, I am afraid I must decline your request to court my sister. The family has been aware you admire her, but famous bachelors do not make good husbands for young girls. You are not for my Beth, Gawain.”

Gawain stiffened. His pulse beat so loudly in his ears that for a moment he felt quite deaf. How could Hatbrook not see things his way? “I have only been connected to the comtesse for a few short months. I hardly think that is a problem.”

“You are not the one making the decision,” Hatbrook said smoothly. “I have to think of my sister. She is simply too young, too countrified, and too untried for a tested man of the world like yourself.”

That tone reminded Gawain so well of his father’s. How he hated having to ask for anything. He’d joined the army at sixteen to escape his family’s dictates, never expecting he would become the heir when his older brother died. Even then, he stayed in the army until he was cast out because of his injuries. Now that he’d finally escaped from under his father’s thumb, he had no expectation of any man ever telling him what to do again.

“What can I do to change your mind? I will write to the comtesse tonight. Give me a week or two to weather her anger and find her a new protector. I will cease going out in Town. Everyone will forget me inside a month.”

“No, Gawain,” Hatbrook said. “I am sorry.” The marquess stood.

Gawain clenched his hands into fists. Farm labor or no, this aristocrat had never been a soldier, probably never fought in his life. If only Lord Judah had been the head of the Shield family. He knew Gawain’s worth. But the next step in his plan occurred easily to him. After cutting ties with his mistress, he could apply to his friend to soften Hatbrook.

This was a much better solution than punching his pregnant sister’s husband in the nose. “I will make you regret your decision, my lord.”

“Now, Gawain, no need to be so formal. You must see you are unsuitable for Beth.”

“I do not.”

Hatbrook smiled. “Stubborn, stubborn, just like your twin. Come now, can we be friends again?” He held out his hand.

Gawain shook it reluctantly, knowing he had no choice. He could not make family drama at the end of Alys’s pregnancy when his sister Matilda had nearly died during hers. Alys needed calm. “We are always friends, Hatbrook.”

“Good. Now let us get back to staring at that magnificent cake. I wonder if my brother realizes he married a woman so like my wife? Yet another Shield bride who insisted on decorating her own wedding cake.”

“If they have the skills, they might as well show them off,” Gawain said, leading the way out of the room. He gritted his teeth at the thought of making merry for the next couple of hours, but Lord Judah was now the best weapon in his arsenal, and Hatbrook couldn’t stop him from chatting with his sister at a wedding breakfast. He might as well take what time with her he could. She would be returning to Hatbrook Farm tomorrow until after Easter, when the Season would be in full swing. This was her first year on the marriage market, and he resolved that it would be her last.

Lady Elizabeth Shield might not be an erotic seductress like the comtesse, but he knew passion lurked underneath those virginal debutante gowns. Her enthusiastic manner and tempestuous piano playing told him there was much the right man could flare to life, given the opportunity.

Gawain and his inventor cousin, Lewis Noble, were enjoying a cigar on Easter Sunday evening at their club, the Euphonious Commerce Society, when a door slammed against the wall behind them. Gawain looked up to see Lord Judah all but galloping in his direction.

He hadn’t seen his friend so fired up since he’d led his men against the Pathans the day the bloodthirsty mountain villagers sent a bullet into Gawain’s hip and ripped open a quarter of his face with a dirty dagger. Lord Judah had not sustained a scratch, even though, unlike many officers, he had actually fought in battles. Gawain had been an enlisted man, not an officer, but since he’d been in charge of the Officer’s Mess stores, he hadn’t expected to be wounded in a battle either. But on that unlucky day, the Pathans had brought the battle right into the village where Gawain was stationed.

Gawain fingered the long scar running down his cheek and wondered what today’s fuss was about. His friend was of measured temperament.

“She’s gone,” Lord Judah cried.

Gawain could see the anguish in his friend’s face. “Who, your wife?” He held back any gibes about it being only two weeks since the wedding.

“No, my sister.”

Gawain stood, galvanized into action. “Beth? Has she been kidnapped? I saw her just this morning at the Easter service.”

“And at Hatbrook House after,” Lewis said, standing as well. “Who saw her last? What was she wearing?”

“It isn’t like that. Well, not exactly,” Lord Judah said, wiping street dust from the corners of his eyes.

“Explain,” Gawain demanded.

“She left a note.”

“What did it say?” Lewis asked.

“That she was eloping to Scotland.”

The bottle of port that Gawain had just finished stirred menacingly in his stomach. His innocent debutante had eloped? Who had stirred her hidden fires to life?

“With whom? Some fortune-hunter?” Lewis asked.

“Not exactly.” Lord Judah’s stance shifted uneasily. He folded his arms over his chest.

“Explain,” Gawain said again.

Lord Judah huffed. “She is eloping with Manfred, my brother-in-law.”

“He is poor, correct?” Lewis said.

“He is nephew to Earl Gerrick,” Gawain added. His family had an uneasy relationship with that connection, given that Gerrick’s daughter had been blamed for a family disaster.

“Your wife must be beside herself, unless she colluded,” Lewis said to Lord Judah.

“Magdalene is as shocked as anyone. We thought Manfred to be in thrall to Lady Mews. I scarcely realized Beth and Manfred noticed each other’s existence.”

“She is quite a dissembler,” Gawain said, his vision of purity destroyed in an instant. “Will you allow the connection?”

“I’m going after her. It is not as if they can elope to Gretna Green as in the early part of the century. They have to establish residency in Scotland first.”

“Why not simply hide in London?” Lewis asked. “Call the banns at some small church?”

“They are less likely to be recognized in Scotland.”

“They are young,” Gawain said. “I’m sure this seems the height of romance to them.”

Lord Judah looked at him, his gaze full of sympathy. Gawain sneered back, furious that he’d shared his own hopes with his friend. He hated pity.

“I’m going after them,” said the dutiful brother. “I feel responsible, given that I am the conduit between Beth and Manfred. He’s only twenty. They are both too young for this elopement.”

“What about Redcake’s? You cannot abandon your position. And Alys . . .” Lewis trailed off.

Lewis had offered for Alys once, and still bore the scars of unrequited love. Gawain hoped his wounds from Beth’s betrayal healed better.

“Hatbrook has refused utterly to have her help, given she is so close to confinement,” Lord Judah confirmed. “But Alys has deputized Magdalene to work with my secretary, and it should be enough for a few days. At least she knows part of the business, having worked in the Fancy.”

“Since Alys is staying in London, I’m sure she can take questions by mail.”

“Or telephone,” Lord Judah said. “Hatbrook had one installed since the doctor has one at his office now. They will manage.”

“I’ll come with you,” Gawain said. “Are we going to take the train straight to Scotland? If we check the timetable, we might only be a few hours behind them.”

“It is too late in the day,” Lord Judah said. “I do not know how to get ahead of them.”

“My steam buggy is at your disposal,” Lewis said. “I will even act as boiler man. It can go up to thirty miles an hour on good road.”

“You’ve made improvements,” Gawain said.

Lewis grinned. “Always. I’ve sold seven of them this year already, which allows me money to continue upgrading.”

“That could get us to Scotland by morning,” Lord Judah said, rubbing his hands together.

Gawain rubbed his bad hip instinctively. He didn’t travel well, and Lewis’s contraption was not the most comfortable. Still, he was not quite ready to give up on his dreams of marrying a marquess’s sister. “A word?” he called to a footman standing at the door.

The man walked toward them and bowed. “Yes, sir?”

“We need a hamper, plus rugs and cushions for the three of us. As quickly as you can, please.” Gawain fished for a guinea and flipped it at the man.

He nodded.

“And coal,” Lewis called, rushing after the footman. “I need to fill the stores.”

“We should be able to leave in half an hour,” Gawain said, seeing the worry lines on Lord Judah’s face. At twenty-six, he was too young for such marks. They had never appeared during those stressful years in India. But Gawain knew the man had been through a lot with his mother’s death and a busy employment he had not been trained for. Gawain had helped when he could, but managing his father’s factories and his own businesses had taken a great deal of time. “You know, it is amazing I ever have time to be in London at all.”

“Redcake’s is one of your biggest customers, plus you test your blends at the tea shop,” Lord Judah pointed out.

“True.”

“And the best women reside in London.” Lord Judah’s strangely striated brown and amber eyes glinted with momentary humor.

“Not anymore, with your sister flown,” he said. “Gor blimey. How can Beth prefer Manfred Cross to me?”

“Did she know you wanted her?” Judah asked.

“A woman should sense these things, but your brother wouldn’t hear of me telling her how I felt. I never directly approached her, except to converse at family gatherings.”

“Obviously Manfred used a more direct approach.”

“He does not care for the proprieties.” Gawain wondered if it was his own self-consciousness about his social position that had hampered him. He was as good as the earl’s nephew, and certainly wealthier, but didn’t have the free time the lad did to woo.

“The curtain has not yet come down on this particular drama. Are you prepared to marry her if she’s been abandoned?” his friend asked.

Gawain’s spirits perked. “Will Hatbrook acquiesce?”

“I have no intention of leaving Scotland until the matter is resolved,” Lord Judah stated.

“I’m not going to raise a Scandalous Cross bastard as my own,” Gawain declared. “If Beth has been compromised, she will have to settle in and wait for the result before I agree to marry her.”

Lord Judah frowned. “You’ll stay in Scotland until we know?”

“I will, with Manfred chained to a wall if necessary. But you need to return to London. I won’t see Redcake’s run into trouble because of the Cross boy.”

“I understand.”

“I do wonder,” said Gawain, “if your brother would have agreed to Manfred Cross’s suit if he’d presented it as I had.”

“Not a chance,” Lord Judah said promptly. “He was against me marrying Magdalene. From his perspective, Manfred is nothing but a fortune-hunter.”

Gawain was happy to hear this. “What does Beth see in him?”

Lord Judah shook his head in sad wonderment as the footman returned.

“The hamper and other items are being loaded into your conveyance, gentlemen,” he said. “Mr. Noble said you should be able to depart in ten minutes.”

Gawain whistled a ballad popular a decade before in the Royal Sussex Regiment. He had marched to it many a time as a recruit.

Lord Judah smiled wanly and clapped him on the shoulder. “Who would have thought we’d ever go on campaign again?”

“Not me,” Gawain said, pointing to his eye patch.

“You should stop wearing it,” Lord Judah pronounced. “You have some small amount of vision in the eye. I cannot help believing it would improve if you would not keep it covered.”

“It gives me headaches as it is, and people stare less at the eye patch than they do at the scar.” Gawain whistled again and strode through the room.

Outside, the night air felt more like February than April, though it wasn’t quite as coal-soaked as it had been. Gaslight winked against the gravel, catching bits of glass or mica. He heard a motor roar as Lewis cranked his steam buggy to life. Steam and smoke filled the sky, tainting the night.

“Gretna Green, gentlemen?” Lewis called.

A footman jumped down from the front seat. “Everything is aboard, Mr. Noble.”

“Who is going to steer?” Lord Judah asked.

“I will. I’ve done it before,” Gawain said.

“I can take over for periods of time,” Lewis shouted over the motor’s roar. “But we’ll get the best speed if I sit in the back and monitor the engine.”

“Then monitor you shall,” Gawain said, climbing onto the step and swinging his bad leg into the seat. “How do I turn on the lamps? I’ve never driven this bloody thing at night.”

After instructions from Lewis and a general settling of cushions and rugs, Gawain drove into the night. It quickly became obvious that it would be unsafe to drive at full speed in the dark.

Still, they made good time even while battling the occasional badger and rabbit crossing the road, and had ventured far into the north, when factory smells set the two men in front to coughing mightily.

The sky had scarcely begun to lighten. “What time is it?” Gawain asked, pulling his scarf over his nose.

Lord Judah pulled out his pocket watch and squinted at it. “About five, I believe.”

Gawain estimated their rate of travel versus their location. “I expect we’re coming onto Leeds.”

“That’s not bad. I was afraid we hadn’t made it to Sheffield yet.”

“No. Leeds is notorious for its smells and slums. I’m sure that’s where we are.”

“I can’t see the sky anymore.”

“That would be the smoke. Of course we’ve created our own miasma tonight.”

Lewis protested. “We are well on our way. At this rate, even though it is slower than expected, we might make it to Scotland by noon.”

“What about food?” They had demolished the contents of the hamper several hours before.

“We can stop at Harrogate,” Lord Judah said. “I know Lady Bricker is not your favorite person, Gawain, but we’ll get reprovisioned beautifully at her house. She loves her food.”

“And we are only about an hour away,” Lewis said. “I wouldn’t mind tucking into a solid breakfast.”

“I’ll brave the lady for breakfast,” Gawain allowed. “But we don’t want to waste time with idle gossip.”

They had passed hours during the night speculating about when Manfred and Beth might have reached the border. Late at night? What funds did they have? Where might they have stayed—somewhere respectable or shady? How compromised was the lady by now? Certainly she’d have to marry someone before her adventure ended.

At least she couldn’t be married by their arrival at noon, or, more likely, late in the afternoon, if they were going to stop in Harrogate.

“Your cousin will fill up our coal stores, right?” Lewis asked.

“She’s Magdalene’s cousin,” Lord Judah corrected. “I’m sure she will. As generous with her possessions as she is with her advice. She nearly married Magdalene off to a baronet up this way. If Manfred hadn’t taken ill with a serious fever, I’d have lost my bride to Yorkshire.”

“So you want to salvage Manfred’s reputation as well?” Gawain joked.

“Oh, he’s a rotter,” Lord Judah said, but not without affection. “The Crosses are just one scandal after another, the lot of them. Earl Gerrick had hoped I would become friends with his sons, but I much prefer the more serious pursuits of you lot.”

“We are superior,” Gawain said. He had just heard the sound of Lewis’s voice, most likely in agreement, when a loud pop came from the rear of their chariot, and the entire structure shook. Though they continued to roll on, Lewis swore creatively and began to search through their baggage for tools. Gawain smelled oil and very hot metal.

From the sounds Gawain heard momentarily, Lewis was banging on a pipe with a wrench. Within a couple of minutes, the carriage swaying as Lewis moved this way and that on the rear seat, he found the steering very hard going. Another minute after that, on a street full of tiny back-to-back houses, the steam carriage rattled to a stop, braking against a barely visible pile of foul refuse.

“Not here,” Lewis groaned.

Around them stretched a vast row of mean, two-story houses, with no lamps to be seen in any of the windows. The only reason Gawain could see anything was because of the lamps at the front of the carriage.

“Not now,” Lord Judah said, seeing the activity on the street was quite limited.

“Factory hours start at five,” Gawain commented. “Few people will be home.”

“No one here would have anything we need to assist us,” Lewis said. “We must have a blacksmith’s shop.”

Gawain pushed open the side door that had protected him from the worst of the elements, and kicked down the step. He got his good leg onto the metal plank and then swung his bad leg to the cobbles. “Should I turn off the headlamps?”

“We need to knock on doors until we can find someone to point us to a blacksmith’s shop,” Lewis said.

“You have that great bag of tools,” Gawain growled. “Don’t you have what you need?”

“A pipe exploded,” Lewis said, pointing to the offending metal as Gawain limped to him. “I need a new one.”

“That will take time,” Lord Judah said, as he joined them and stared at the engine.

“I’m sorry, old man. At least you’ll be able to catch a morning train from here.”

“That’s true.” Even as Lord Judah spoke, they could hear a train’s whistle off in the distance.

“I’m not going to bang on any doors in this street,” Gawain said. “It’s obviously deserted. Let’s push the carriage for a bit, until we find some sign of occupation.”

The other two agreed, though Lewis wanted to steer around the refuse pile, rather than power through it.

“No point in being fastidious in a slum,” Gawain said. “It won’t be the only mess we have to get through.”

It took them quite some time to push the heavy carriage through the bumpy street. They found nothing at the first turning and kept on to the next. An hour later, they found themselves on a street with some light industry. They walked along, puffing misty breath into the air, hunting for a blacksmith.

“Let’s stop there,” Lewis said, pointing to an inn.

“That isn’t a blacksmith’s,” Lord Judah wheezed.

“They’ll know where one is, and we can eat,” Lewis said.

“I’m in,” Gawain called from his position on the far side. “Do I need to turn the wheel?”

“To the left,” Lewis said.

They pushed, pulled, tugged and swore until the carriage was parked next to a stable that ran alongside the courtyard. The inn itself was a stained, three-story brick structure called The Old Hart, judging from a wind-beaten wood sign dangling over the door.

Gawain straightened when he noticed all three of them were pressing palms into their backs. “Are we all not hearty young men still in our twenties?”

“No,” Lewis said. “I turned thirty last October.”

“I had forgotten you were older than I,” Gawain said.

“And I’d forgotten you could limp that badly,” his cousin observed. “You walked like that when you first came home. I suspect you won’t be able to walk upon rising tomorrow.”

“That presumes I will have to stay up all day?” Gawain asked. “I can sleep on the train.”

Lewis shook his head. “Do not, Gawain. You’ll be crippled for a month. Let Lord Judah continue the hunt, and we’ll drive up as soon as I get my pipe. We’ll be just a day or so behind.”

Lord Judah’s mouth tightened at the mention of their mission, but he pushed the door of the inn open and they walked into the front hall together. Gawain could hear tableware clinking against dishes and the sound of voices from the paneled breakfast room off to the left. A wide staircase led upstairs. No one manned the table to the right, where a ledger rested.

“Food first,” Lewis said. “Then we’ll get Lord Judah on a train.”

The room was largely full and no one gave them a second glance as they. . .