Read Online The Rake and The Rose (A Rake's Mistake) by Amelia Clearwater - Free Book Online
Authors: Amelia Clearwater
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He had a mind to dismiss her and keep her in the kitchens, if only he wasn’t so aware of her presence. Perhaps it was the soft touch she had when she handed him things, such as the badminton racket, or getting him a book to read aloud to a Lady who was bored to tears, but her attention rapt with awe in those big dark eyes.
He grew tired of the flitting eyelashes of the well-bred Ladies he entertained. He was no closer to picking out the one he liked most. Now, here she was again, entering his study, his mother's blue dress had been tailored to her now, simple but accentuating her small waist and curves. He gritted his teeth against the now familiar ache in his groin and chest.
“What?” he snapped, and felt regret when her expression showed her unease. He had been curt with her more frequently, hoping to stamp down the need that threatened to overtake him. She came in and hovered by the door.
“Well?” he growled at her. The dress she wore might have been simple and plain, but it didn’t make his brain any less imaginative.
“I-I wanted to know if you needed anything?”
“A cold plunge,” he muttered to himself.
“I beg pardon?” the dainty brows drew together.
“Nothing…” he muttered roughing his hair. She did not look convinced, but he knew he had to be wary of her.
“Look, I need you to leave me be. I’ll come find you when we can speak.” Charlotte’s face seemed to fall a bit and he hardened himself from rushing over to balm her feelings.
"Alright, well…I will send James when dinner is ready," and she left quickly. He had to stay away. That was the end of it. But he did feel bad for being so terse.
A few hours later, it was not Charlotte that came to get him, but Sophie. And she looked rather cross when he said that he did not have time. More than cross actually, she stood there and actually glared at him. "Begging your pardon, Cromwell."
Bollocks, he was in deep trouble when she called him by his last name, usually only Francesca did so.
"Why is this so important?" he grumbled.
"Because you ninny, Charlotte went and got your favorite dish to say thank you, and that girl has worked her fanny off cooking with me all day long and you will go downstairs and eat with us and like it! It's only for the staff and you. So I hope you don't mind eating in our dining area."
Sophie sighed and put her hands on her hips.
"That girl asked what you wanted because she wanted to say thank you. Despite the fact that you've been abominable to her, making her parade around with you and those cocky ladies is just sad." Sophie continued: "She even used her own pay! Wouldn't hear about me using the tab we have with the butcher."
He felt even more like sinking deeper into his chair but roughed his hair "She didn't have t-"
"But she did. Happily too. I'm actually amazed at how well she’s learned to cook. But nearly everyone fell head over heels for her at the market, especially this Whitmore fellow. Not that it matters…right?"
He felt like flames had punched down his throat and into his stomach "Whom?"
"Doesn't matter…" he was displeased and saw Sophie's grin. "You coming to dinner my Lord?" she emphasized Lord as if it were a poke.
"I'd be more than happy to come eat with you all." he smiled at her sheepishly.
"I thought so. I'll set a place, we're all dressing up, it's quite a feast." she looked exuberant as she left.
Alexander was sitting at his desk contemplating what had gone on. He had not really paid Charlotte any mind, if anything he had kept being sharp with her over the silliest of things. The guilt that he had been so desperately trying to avoid came back with a vengeance. Angrily, he got up and went to go dress.
The staff's area was off the kitchens, but Alexander had made it rather lovely, a large dining table and comfortable chairs. Alexander was startled though. No wonder she had
He grew tired of the flitting eyelashes of the well-bred Ladies he entertained. He was no closer to picking out the one he liked most. Now, here she was again, entering his study, his mother's blue dress had been tailored to her now, simple but accentuating her small waist and curves. He gritted his teeth against the now familiar ache in his groin and chest.
“What?” he snapped, and felt regret when her expression showed her unease. He had been curt with her more frequently, hoping to stamp down the need that threatened to overtake him. She came in and hovered by the door.
“Well?” he growled at her. The dress she wore might have been simple and plain, but it didn’t make his brain any less imaginative.
“I-I wanted to know if you needed anything?”
“A cold plunge,” he muttered to himself.
“I beg pardon?” the dainty brows drew together.
“Nothing…” he muttered roughing his hair. She did not look convinced, but he knew he had to be wary of her.
“Look, I need you to leave me be. I’ll come find you when we can speak.” Charlotte’s face seemed to fall a bit and he hardened himself from rushing over to balm her feelings.
"Alright, well…I will send James when dinner is ready," and she left quickly. He had to stay away. That was the end of it. But he did feel bad for being so terse.
A few hours later, it was not Charlotte that came to get him, but Sophie. And she looked rather cross when he said that he did not have time. More than cross actually, she stood there and actually glared at him. "Begging your pardon, Cromwell."
Bollocks, he was in deep trouble when she called him by his last name, usually only Francesca did so.
"Why is this so important?" he grumbled.
"Because you ninny, Charlotte went and got your favorite dish to say thank you, and that girl has worked her fanny off cooking with me all day long and you will go downstairs and eat with us and like it! It's only for the staff and you. So I hope you don't mind eating in our dining area."
Sophie sighed and put her hands on her hips.
"That girl asked what you wanted because she wanted to say thank you. Despite the fact that you've been abominable to her, making her parade around with you and those cocky ladies is just sad." Sophie continued: "She even used her own pay! Wouldn't hear about me using the tab we have with the butcher."
He felt even more like sinking deeper into his chair but roughed his hair "She didn't have t-"
"But she did. Happily too. I'm actually amazed at how well she’s learned to cook. But nearly everyone fell head over heels for her at the market, especially this Whitmore fellow. Not that it matters…right?"
He felt like flames had punched down his throat and into his stomach "Whom?"
"Doesn't matter…" he was displeased and saw Sophie's grin. "You coming to dinner my Lord?" she emphasized Lord as if it were a poke.
"I'd be more than happy to come eat with you all." he smiled at her sheepishly.
"I thought so. I'll set a place, we're all dressing up, it's quite a feast." she looked exuberant as she left.
Alexander was sitting at his desk contemplating what had gone on. He had not really paid Charlotte any mind, if anything he had kept being sharp with her over the silliest of things. The guilt that he had been so desperately trying to avoid came back with a vengeance. Angrily, he got up and went to go dress.
The staff's area was off the kitchens, but Alexander had made it rather lovely, a large dining table and comfortable chairs. Alexander was startled though. No wonder she had
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