Read Online The Rake's Handbook by Sally Orr - Free Book Online

grass-colored shawl, straw bonnet, and buff kid gloves. “Mr. Deane is well, and you will be delighted to hear he has improved since yesterday. He ate a significant breakfast and is now sleeping. I understand from Mr. Thornbury that Dr. Potts is expected here sometime this morning.”
    â€œOh, I don’t wish to disturb him, but I must take a peek though. Is that all right?”
    Rowbottom nodded, a smile of approval crossing his once handsome, aquiline face. He led her upstairs and opened the sickroom door.
    Berdy was indeed asleep, and even from across the room, she could see a healthy blush upon his cheeks. Now with Berdy safe and her anxieties lessened, she resolved to find Mr. Thornbury. Yesterday, she lacked the presence of mind to adequately thank him for Berdy’s rescue, so today she must give him proper thanks. He saved a young man, fetched the surgeon, then opened his home to strangers. One expected no less from an English gentleman, so she doubted he would repeat his forward behavior again.
    Maybe Henry and society had misjudged him? In the excitement of believing the man to be a scoundrel, they failed to give him appropriate credit for his actions that revealed a heroic character. All this famous rake business might be an exaggeration arising from his inherently droll conversation and outrageous charm. Two of her friends had expressed doubts about the mistress rumors, as well. So if the right moment arose—she did not want to offend him—she would ask about the foundry rumor. She even took precautions and wore the snake bracelet today, though she probably would not need its painful pinch. “Is Mr. Thornbury at home, Rowbottom?”
    Rowbottom indicated his employer was engaged in pistol practice on the lawn. Walking in the measured slowness appropriate in a good butler, he led her to Blackwell’s vast library and swung open the double doors.
    Elinor stepped out onto a stone terrace with a commanding view of the Cheshire countryside on a sunny summer’s day. White cotton clouds marched overhead in unison with their dark shadows rolling across undulating emerald fields. The faint sounds of cowbells rang in the distance. Her spirits lightened from the stunning prospect before her.
    Rowbottom announced her, nodded respectfully, and returned to the house.
    Mr. Thornbury held a pistol up, aimed in the direction of a straw target, and turned his head upon her approach. His wine-colored coat, gray wool trousers, and a shirt the color of the richest cream gave him a casual air.
    By now she knew him well enough to realize the dark forelock covering one eye was habitual. He probably had no idea that—for some unexplained reason—the sight made her throat dry. “Good day,” she called. “I understand Berdy had a good night?”
    He grinned broadly. “Welcome, Mrs. Colton. Yes, you will be pleased with your nephew’s improvement. Dr. Potts is expected here sometime soon, so we’ll get a report on his condition.”
    â€œI’m delighted to hear that. I also wish to thank you for—”
    He fired the pistol.
    She leaned sideways to get a clear view but saw no evidence of a hit. “If you had taken the time to aim, you might have hit the target.”
    â€œI think you’ll find that shot satisfactory,” he countered in the barely perceptible tone of an affronted male.
    Was he boasting? She marched toward the target placed a hundred feet away, and he followed. Once she drew near, she discovered his shot had hit dead center. “Why, you did aim.” She turned to face him. “You have an excellent eye.”
    For a brief second his radiant smile appeared. “Yes, and not only for targets.”
    The all-too-familiar heat from his rakish innuendo began to simmer on her cheeks. She gulped and found her throat dry. Heavens. She told herself she was safe from his palpable charms, because she wore her snake bracelet. Not the best of