Free How To Tame a Rake by Maggi Andersen

he emerged from the pile of fur lying on the ground. “There,” Willy said surveying her handiwork. She had trimmed a fringe above his eyes and cut the fur close along his back, leaving it thick and curly around his legs and sides for warmth. His tail had a stylish bobble on the end. “He looks quite exotic, don’t you think?”
    Ernest could only nod. He was laughing so hard tears were streaming down his cheeks.
    “As a treat, you shall come for a ride in the landau today,” she told the dog as it danced about.
    “I think he’s relieved he still has his skin intact,” Ernest said.
    Their drive around the park almost brought the traffic to a standstill. Frederick stood like a ship’s figurehead, his face into the breeze, his nose seeking new scents. Every now and then he would bark at passing vehicles. A carriage pulled up beside them. A man and woman and their two children hung out the window, calling to Frederick. “Is he a rare breed?” the woman asked Willy.
    “He’s the only one of his kind in the country,” Willy answered, “Are you looking for a dog?”
    The children both cried yes, but their father shook his head. The carriage and the landau parted at the corner.
    “A white lie, but it might have found him a good home,” Willy said to Agnes.
    “I’m sure it’s true.” Agnes agreed. “There could only be one Frederick.”
    * * * *
    On his way into the country, Blake did not go directly to Hawkeswood. He stopped to visit Ben Nye at the police station in High Wycombe.
    “Gore and his cohorts have since robbed a coach and a farmer on his way to market,” Ben said. “But we aren’t any closer to finding him, your lordship.”
    Blake rode on to Hawkeswood. He consulted his bailiff, visited his tenants, and discussed the planting with his head gardener and the stocking of the woods with his gamekeeper. He checked on the progress of work being done about the estate. The floors of the big house echoed under his heels, gloomy and far too quiet. He rode miles each day, threw himself into his work and retired exhausted at night. He did not send for Sarah. On the third night, a full moon shone silvery light through the gap in the curtains. Blake lay wide awake debating whether to rise to close it. The door opened and a figure slipped in. Sarah lifted the blanket and climbed into the bed beside him.
    It was too much to resist the soft body lying beside him. Afterwards, he felt shabby because his mind remained elsewhere. He was determined it would not happen again.
    After a week of hard labor working alongside his men, Blake was making plans to return to London when a clerk from the police station brought him a note from Ben Nye. Joe Gore had been sited, shots had been fired. A policeman killed. Would he care to join the chase?
    * * * *
    Aunt Elizabeth had a suitor and Willy was thrilled for her. Henry was a widower with greying hair, new to London from Kent. He escorted them to concerts, recitals and soirées. Willy watched them dance together—it was so romantic. She missed Blake and longed to be with him, even though he was more often displeased with her than lover-like.
    At a reception for the visiting ambassador from France, the blond man she had met at the theatre, Vincent Loudon, came to her side and swept her a bow. “You look most charming this evening, Miss Corbet. Would you grant me the next dance?”
    As he swung Willy around the floor, Vincent said, “Blake gave me permission to attend you while he is rusticating. I planned to call on you in a few days time. Have you asked Lady Elizabeth about a day at the races?”
    Willy hadn’t given it another thought. She knew that Blake didn’t like the idea and he was already annoyed with her about Frederick. “Perhaps I’ll wait until Blake returns to London.”
    “A pity, my horses are to be spelled after the next meeting.”
    “Next season, then, Mr Loudon.”
    “Call me Vincent, please. I feel we are already friends.”
    “Please call me