A Rake's Redemption Read online

  A Rake’s Redemption

  By

  G. L. Snodgrass

  Copyright 2020 G.L. Snodgrass

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof in any form. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system or transmitted, in any form or by any means. This is a work of fiction. Names and characters are the product of the author's imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

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  Other Books by G. L. Snodgrass

  Regency Romance

  The Reluctant Duke (Love’s Pride 1)

  The Viscount's Bride (Love’s Pride 2)

  The Earl's Regret (Love’s Pride 3)

  Marrying the Marquess (Love’s Pride 4)

  Confronting A Rake (A Rake’s Redemption 1)

  Charming A Rake (A Rake’s Redemption 2)

  Catching A Rake (A Rake’s Redemption 3_

  Challenging A Rake (A Rake’s Redemption 4)

  Duke In Disguise (The Stafford Sisters 1)

  The American Duke (The Stafford Sisters 2)

  A Very British Lord (The Stafford Sisters 3)

  A Duke's Desire (The Duke’s Club 1)

  A Duke's Duty (The Duke's Club 2)

  Western Romance

  Lonely Valley Bride (High Sierra 1)

  High Desert Cowboy (High Sierra 2)

  Sweetwater Ridge (High Sierra 3)

  Young Adult Romance

  Certain Rules

  Unwritten Rules

  Unbreakable Rules

  My Favorite Love (Lakeland Boys 1)

  One Night (Lakeland Boys 2)

  My Brother’s Best Friend (Lakeland Boys 3)

  Worlds Apart (Lakeland Boys 4)

  My Brother's Bodyguard (Hometown Heroes 1)

  My Hidden Hero (Hometown Heroes 2)

  My Best Friend’s Brother (Hometown Heroes 3)

  My Sister’s Best Friend

  Confronting a Rake

  Chapter One

  It was to be another good night. Whiskey, trouble, and women. Devlin smiled to himself. Who could ask for more?

  Turning, he addressed his friend. “Tell me again, why do we start our nights here? Why not at your humble home?”

  “Because my good man,” the Earl of Claremont said as he leaned against the mantle, “your rooms are more comfortable.”

  Devlin scoffed, “More comfortable than the biggest house in Mayfair. You have a dozen on staff. I have three cramped rooms, and have to pour my own whiskey.”

  The Earl smiled. “It is not because of what your home has, but what it lacks, that makes it more comfortable.”

  “Oh, what might that be?” Devlin asked. The Earl had been his friend for almost twenty years. Ever since Devlin had rescued him from the unwanted attention of the headmaster’s son.

  It had been simple for him to step in and save the young boy from a beating. Benny had looked at it as the actions of a true hero, and attached himself to Devlin as if he were a rock in a raging sea.

  “Dev,” the Earl said, “your home is eminently more comfortable because it lacks one key ingredient. My mother.”

  Devlin laughed, as he took another drink of whiskey. Benjamin Montfort feared many things in this life. But, none more than his mother.

  His friend tried to stand a little taller. A difficult task for someone a half foot short of six feet. The pudginess around the middle made him seem even shorter.

  At nine inches taller, and a good four stone heavier, Devlin still felt a protectiveness towards the Earl.

  “I am serious Dev. You don’t know what it is like. You are not cursed with either a title or great wealth. I do believe you are one of the most fortunate men I know.”

  Shaking his head, Devlin poured another drink for himself and one for his friend.

  “Benjamin, you are one of the richest men in England. You couldn’t waste your inheritance in three lifetimes. I do believe most people would consider you extremely well placed.”

  “To spend my money. That is why I need a wife. At least, according to my mother, and her friends. You do not know how lucky you are. Living here alone. No one depending on you. No responsibilities except to your own happiness. It must be bliss.”

  Dev shook his head again. “Where is Tony?” he asked, changing the subject before it became too maudlin.

  “I am here,” said Anthony Sharp as he stepped into Devlin’s parlor. The Baron of Sudbury, the third leg of the stool. An acquaintance of Benny’s when they arrived at Cliff Side Academy. He too had fallen under Devlin’s protection. By association at first, and then because he made Devlin laugh.

  The man was of average height and passable appearance. He wore a black frock coat and buff pants. With few lands, and a less than remarkable living, Devlin knew that he was often overlooked in social functions. But, he knew that his friend was one of the most intelligent and kindest men in London.

  Of course, that didn’t seem to matter to most women.

  Passing him a whiskey, Devlin clinked his glass, then asked, “What for the night? Whites? Madam De Paul’s, the gambling dens?” He paused for a moment and gave Tony a conspiratory wink. “Or, we could always attend Lady Sinclair’s ball. Help Benny find a wife.”

  “You, sir, are not a true friend,” the Earl said as he threw back the last of his drink.

  Tony laughed. “I think not. If we attended a ball, poor Benny would be instantly surrounded by simpering marriageable misses, and you would be pursued by all of the widows and half the married ladies, while I stood in the corner and held your coat.”

  Devlin chuckled. Tony wasn’t far wrong.

  “How are you for funds this month?” Tony asked. “Do you need to make an appearance at the dens?”

  Devlin’s father had been a rather successful banker and left his son a small inheritance. His friends well knew that Devlin supplemented this inheritance with his gambling winnings.

  “No, that is not necessary. I had a rather good evening last night. It seems that Lord Lumley is determined to make a fool of himself at the tables. I swear the man is set to be penniless before the end of the year.”

  “And you intend to help him achieve his goal,” Benny said.

  “Someone must,” Devlin said as he finished his drink.

  “Well then,” Tony said, “since I can’t abide the snobs at Whites. And, any and all parties in this town will leave me alone and bored out of my mind. Let it be Madam De Paul’s. At least I will be guaranteed a companion for the evening.”

  “Fine,” Devlin said, “however, it will be an early night for me. Gentleman Jim has offered to spar with me tomorrow afternoon.”

  “Really,” Benny said. “I heard he was rather selective who he fought.”

  “It is not a fight, just a sparring match. I hope to learn a few things.”

  Tony laughed. “I doubt even Gentleman Jim could teach you anything about fighting.”

  “That is the difference between us,” Devlin said. “Some of us prefer to constantly improve ourselves.

  Now it was Benny’s turn to laugh. “You forget who you are talking to. We know you too well. You just like boxing.”

  Devlin nodded as he escorted his friends to the street. Benjamin was correct. There was something about testing himself in the ring that he found
exciting. One of the few things in this world he was good at. That and cards. And seducing willing women of course. He could not forget that.

  Donning his hat, he ensured it was tipped at its normal rakish angle. Just enough to be unusual. As they stepped outside a gust of wind tugged at their long coats. A shiver ran up his spine.

  “Winds in the east, mist coming in,” he said. “Something is about to begin.”

  “What?” Tony asked with a frown.

  Devlin laughed as he tried to suppress the sudden feeling of worry that coursed through him.

  “Nothing,” he said with a shrug. “Just something my Nanny used to say.”

  “My Nanny was an old bat who used to steal my breakfast,” Benjamin said as he climbed into the carriage.

  “Mine was a saint,” Tony said. “She had to be, to work in my father’s house.”

  Devlin paused and looked to the west. Something was going to change. His Nanny had always been right.

  .o0o.

  Sighing to himself, Devlin took another sip of Madam De Paul’s whiskey. Speaking of the devil, he watched as the proprietress approached.

  “Good evening mon ami,” she said with a heavy French accent.

  Devlin smiled to himself. The woman had been born only a few miles down the road in Coventry and had probably never been to France in her life.

  “Good evening Madam,” he said indicating she should join him at the table.

  “You are alone. This is not good for a man such as yourself. Surely, one of the girls will be of interest.”

  “Not tonight my dear,” he said with a sad shake of his head. He had never needed to purchase companionship. There were more than enough women willing to share his bed.

  No, he wouldn’t partake of her offer. Not tonight.

  The words of his Nanny echoed in his mind. Things were about to change. Benny’s words about marriage bothered him. Scared him in fact. Why would any man ever marry? Tied to one woman. Every action judged. Every expense tallied. The thought sent a bolt of fear through him. No, never. Poor Benny.

  Suddenly, the evening felt useless. He felt useless. As if he were marching in place. Not getting anywhere.

  Where did that come from? he wondered as he looked at the woman next to him? She was handsome for someone her age. A former actress, she had established a well-respected house.

  She looked at him with a curious tilt of her head.

  “You are troubled,” she said. It wasn’t a question.

  He returned her look. Maybe he should take her up on her offer. Lose himself in beauty.

  Instead, he finished his drink and stood. “Please tell my friends that I have left for the evening. I have a rather busy day tomorrow.”

  Her brow knitted in a frown. She obviously hated losing business, but she quickly recovered and smiled as she ran a hand down his sleeve.

  “If you should change your mind. And of course, if you should not find what you are looking for. I am always available.”

  Devlin studied her for a moment and was tempted. He thought, that like Gentleman Jim in the boxing ring, this woman would be a new and exciting experience.

  He smiled at her. “Not tonight, perhaps another time.” The tone of regret in his voice reduced her concerns, and she rose to join him as he gathered his hat and cane.

  “Another night, my dear,” he said as he bowed over her hand for a quick kiss.

  She actually blushed like a school girl.

  There was something about making a Madam blush that could make a man feel invincible, he thought, as he stepped onto the street.

  The normal smells of London greeted him. The unique combination of horse manure, coal smoke, and too many people.

  The east wind had been replaced by a misty fog that crawled along the road. The words of Nanny flashed into his mind once again.

  Shaking them off, he tipped his hat to one side and began for home. Three small rooms in a middling part of town.

  The mist seemed to swallow the sounds of the night. Even the tap of his cane and the slap of his heel were lost in the darkness.

  His mind drifted to possible problems. It could not be money. He had enough to live comfortably. Besides, he could always tap unlucky Lords for more.

  Could it be the war? Should he purchase a commission and run off to follow the drum?

  He laughed at himself. The idea of Devlin Beaumont volunteering to go to war would have half the town laughing. It was hard imagining himself following some buffoon’s orders.

  No, there was no guilt there, that wasn’t it, he realized.

  He continued to examine his life as he walked. His mind lost in reviewing the people he knew. His friends and his enemies.

  He had gone but a short way when a movement down a side alley caught his attention.

  He spun to face a possible threat. A rather large man, dressed in rough workman’s clothes approached. Next to him, a short man emerged from the mist

  A flash of silver in their hands let him know this was not some random passing. These men were armed and coming for him.

  Devlin’s hairs rose on the back of his neck. It was his own damn fault. He’d allowed his attention to wander. A dangerous mistake in this part of town.

  Nanny’s words echoed in his head. Was this the change? he wondered.

  He was cornered like a rat.

  Twisting, he placed his back against a brick wall to keep the two men in front of him. The sudden surprise in their eyes sent a warm thrill through him. They had not expected it. They’d expected him to run. It would have been so much easier to take him from behind.

  The smaller man halted, falling a step behind his companion. The larger man looked back at his friend.

  “Do you know who that is?” the small one asked with a high pitched voice. “That’s Devlin Beaumont, John told me he killed a Lord last week in a duel.”

  “I don’t care if it’s the Prince, I want his purse,” the large one hissed. “Hand it over,” he said to Devlin.

  “I didn’t kill him,” Devlin said. “I embarrassed him, and believe me, that can be much worse.”

  The two men moved in closer. The smaller one’s eyes darted from his friend to Devlin. As if he was approaching a cornered bear.

  The larger one shifted his knife to his other hand, then back again. All the time he had been watching Devlin’s eyes trying to judge his adversary.

  Devlin’s stomach dropped. He was well and truly trapped. Their beady eyes let him know how nervous they were. This could go so wrong in so many ways. Unfortunately, it could not be avoided.

  The idea of having to deal with magistrates was too much to consider.

  “So tell me, which one dies first? I do prefer to keep things in order,” he said as he pulled the sword from his cane.

  Both of the men’s eyes grew three times bigger.

  “John didn’t say nothing about a sword,” the little one said. “He doesn’t pay us enough.”

  “I don’t care,” the big one said as he lunged.

  Devlin, dodged to the side and parried the thrust. The stupid man wasn’t even smart enough to know that he had left himself completely open. Devlin could end it right there and then.

  But the thought of a night answering questions from the authorities stayed his hand.

  Instead he brought his free fist up to strike the man just below the left eye. It was like hitting a brick wall.

  The attacker stepped back. A look of stunned shock in his eyes. The little one saw his friend falter and acted swiftly before Devlin could follow up.

  A sharp pain just under his ribs brought him back to Devlin’s awareness. This was the problem with fighting two at the same time, Devlin thought. It was always the other guy that got you.

  Stepping back, Devlin assessed the wound. His jacket had taken most of it. A burning slice had cut him, but hadn’t opened him up like a butchered pig.

  That was something at least.

  Sighing, Devlin reevaluated the situation. It appeared he wa
s going to have to finish these two off quickly before they did any more damage. He’d have to deal with the authorities after all.

  Shifting to his right, he spun and kicked out to catch the big one in the knee. Devlin heard a sharp crack. Yes! One down.

  Twisting again, he caught the little one coming in for a repeat attack, obviously hoping to catch him from behind.

  Devlin turned his hand and slammed the hilt of his sword into the man’s forehead.

  Two down.

  He stepped back and examined his work. Good, he wouldn’t have to involve the authorities after all.

  The little one was out cold. It’d be some time before he woke. The big man was laying in the street, just a few yards from his friend. Both hands grasping his knee as if he were trying to put things back together.

  Devlin smiled down at him, adjusted his hat to make sure it was still at the correct angle, then turned and left.

  He’d have to get a new coat. This one might very well be beyond repair. But overall, not a bad night. At least something had changed. He wouldn’t have Nanny’s words running through his mind.

  Now he could put it behind him and return to living his life.

  Chapter Two

  It was a cloudy, drizzly day. Appropriate for a funeral, she thought. The slight rain was just enough to make everything damp.

  The wind pulled at her somber gray dress. There had been no time to obtain something in black. A wave of guilt flowed through her. Not wearing black was almost disrespectful.

  The pungent smell of freshly turned earth rose from the new grave to scratch at the back of her throat, making her want to cough. Swallowing hard, she simply refused to submit.

  Miss Rebecca Jones, governess to a Duke’s children, sighed internally. The future is unknown she reminded herself. You cannot control everything.

  The graveyard was silent. No sniffles, no weeping. What a shame. No family except for the girls. No friends. Just the servants and a few people from the village.

  For some reason, she had expected more for a Duke.

  The vicar, dressed in his vestments, stood at the head of the grave and mumbled something about “Ashes to ashes and dust to dust.”