Free The Dutiful Rake by Elizabeth Rolls Page A

beside the bath and shook Meg’s shoulder. ‘Come along, dearie. ‘Tis time to get you dry, afore you gets all wrinkly!’
    Marcus felt his heart turn over at the gruff tenderness in her voice. Was this the only kindness Meg had known in the last ten years? And she had been lucky. He shuddered to think what might have been her fate in a more fashionable household where the servants took their tone from their employers. At least here she had been in the care of the Barlows, dour, independent country folk who thought for themselves and formed their own opinions on the evidence before them.
    Agnes turned to him. ‘I’ll get her out now, me lord. If so be you’ll remove yourself! Which I’ll take leave to say you should have done in the first place! A bath might be just what Miss Meg needed, but you had nocall to strip her!’ Her voice echoed with indignation at his lack of propriety.
    ‘Her…her things are all wet,’ said Marcus awkwardly. It was a measure of his embarrassment that he felt no annoyance at having his actions called to account by one of his servants. ‘You can put these on her.’ He held out his peculiar collection. ‘If her bed is still made up, put her in there. Otherwise she can have my bed and another bed can be made up for me.’
    He paused at the door. ‘Tell Miss Meg that I will see her in the morning to discuss her situation. I will tell Barlow to send up some dinner.’
    ‘Aye. You do that, me lord,’ said Agnes absently as she helped Meg out and wrapped a blanket around her.
    ‘You’ll stay with her tonight?’ Marcus asked hesitantly. The damage was already done, but he was damned if he wanted to make things worse for the child. As it was, he could only see one solution to Meg’s problems. In any case he didn’t want her to wake up alone and scared during the night.
    The glare which sizzled from Agnes Barlow’s eyes suggested that he would have received short shrift had he attempted to make any other disposition. She softened the glare by saying, ‘She’ll do well enough, me lord. An’ I’m sure I beg pardon if I spoke out of turn, but I’m that worritted about the lassie…an’ what’s to become of her now?’
    She finished softly, as though speaking to herself, but Marcus found his thoughts echoing her question. What, indeed? He went down to his own dinner in thoughtful contemplation of the way in which the fates had arranged his future.
    Over a meal consisting of a raised rabbit pie, a baked trout and a duckling served with a platter of vegetablesand removed with an apple pie, he considered the options before him carefully.
    He could settle money on Meg as he had originally planned and trust to his sister’s influence to establish the girl creditably. Or he could ask Di to find her a new position if she were steadfast in refusing to accept money from him. The only problem was that if Mrs Garsby could turn Meg away, then so could others. No doubt the tale was all over Yorkshire by now that he had seduced the daughter of Robert and Caroline Fellowes. And it would travel, no doubt about that. If she had been anyone else, they might have been able to carry it off. Unfortunately her background, not to mention his reputation, made that impossible.
    Which left marriage. To himself. Looked at dispassionately, the idea did not disturb him in the slightest. From the social viewpoint he had no qualms. He was Rutherford. His pre-eminence in the fashionable world of the ton would be sufficient to protect Meg. And as far as her background was concerned, he couldn’t have cared less. People had ridden out worse scandals. And he would derive immense, if cynical, satisfaction in forcing the fashionable world to accept his choice. Especially Sir Delian Fellowes and his top-lofty wife.
    On a personal level he was as happy to marry Meg as any other female. He actually respected her. Liked her gallant determination to stand alone. Liked the outrageous way she had tried to circumvent his