Free Redeeming a Rake by Cari Hislop Page A

his duchess. Her head throbbing, she took to her bed and
stayed there the rest of the day while the servants gossiped in
hushed whispers about the odd effect the repulsive man had on their
mistress.

    ***

    Days passed into weeks. Tolerance resumed
her social rounds to take her mind off the one friend she couldn’t
see, but she’d changed and the gossiping hoards were in no doubt of
the cause. Everyone knew the Duke of Lyndhurst had called on the
widow twice. What he’d managed to do the lady to cause the strange
sadness in her eyes wasn’t hard to guess. Obviously he’d had his
evil way and she was waiting to see if she’d suffer the pox or
worse a pregnancy.

    Tolerance was still at the centre of every
large gathering, but she couldn’t be relied upon to know the topic
of conversation. Her thoughts were far away searching for her new
friend. After four silent weeks reality was threatening to become a
dream. Had the interview really happened? Why would the Duke of
Lyndhurst seek out her company or help? She was starting to think
she’d soon wake up to find that Geoffrey Grayson was no more than a
figment of her imagination.

    After another morning spent dwelling on the
memory of eyes like aquamarine gemstones, she sat down to read her
morning post with the intention of banishing the man from her
thoughts. The suffocating dark cloud in her head suddenly
dissipated as she found what she’d been waiting for. With shaking
hands she carefully broke the wax seal with her letter knife and
unfolded the paper. Wiping away a blinding mist from her eyes, it
was several minutes before she could make out the words.

    My dear tolerant friend,

    Forgive me for taking so long to send you
word. I’ve wanted to write you every day but I forced myself to
wait until I had completed my first search. I pray this finds you
well? I was waiting in a coffee shop for news from one of my men
the other week when I overheard two scoundrels speaking of you. I
confess I eavesdropped. They were apparently concerned with your
recent ill looking pallor and your lack of interest in their suits.
I almost turned around to demand a full report; alas I held my
tongue and sat in agony envisioning my beautiful friend suffering
from countless unknown malaises. I was tempted to loiter on your
street that night to watch you going out to see for myself if you
looked unwell. You will be relieved to hear that I decided skulking
under a gaslight would have frightened your neighbours and
doubtless led to lengthening my list of sins. Pray relieve my mind
and let me know if you are suffering or not? As for me, you’re
advice has had great effect. I am finally sleeping through the
night and eating enough for five men. It’s amazing how less surly I
feel, fully refreshed with a satisfied stomach. My servants must
think they’ve died and gone, if not to heaven (that will be enjoyed
during my many absences), than to someplace better than hell.

    If only I could feel the same. I finally
located my first widow from the list. Her husband, Lord Harlow, was
one of the men who gambled away their livelihoods and then killed
themselves so they could avoid facing their families and ruin my
life with guilt. Lady Harlow has been living off the charity of a
cousin, if you can call it charity. She was blackening the grate
when I was shown into the breakfast room. She looked at me with
such hatred I nearly lost my nerve, but I’m relieved to report that
I stood my ground. She watched me set down all the property deeds
of ownership in her name and a leather packet holding the
equivalent of the property’s yearly income without even a hiss. I
told her that I was returning to her what her husband had lost to
me, but she was silent. That was the easy part. I wanted to turn
and run, but I thought of how disappointed you’d be if I didn’t ask
her forgiveness. I went down on one knee; I’ll have you know that I
once swore I’d never kneel to anyone other than the King. I said
with