Free Redeeming a Rake by Cari Hislop Page B

genuine remorse, ‘Lady Harlow, I greatly regret that I’ve been
party to your suffering.’ I didn’t force her husband to wager his
livelihood so it isn’t my entire fault. My mouth went dry and I
thought I might not be able to finish but at last I said, ‘I beg
you forgive me.’ She slapped my face with force and demanded I
remove my revolting person from her sight which I was pleased to
do.

    Thanks to the hard work of my secretary and
legal agent I should soon have another humiliating encounter to
report. We’ve located the next widow living up North. I shall be
travelling often to and from London for the foreseeable future. If
you send your letters to the enclosed address they will reach me
more quickly than if you sent them to any of my homes. I can never
thank you enough for helping me. You truly are an angel!
    Sincerely your servant,
    Geoffrey Lindsey Grayson, the Duke of
Lyndhurst

    Tolerance choked out a sigh of relief and
longing. She hadn’t dreamed up the man after all. The pain that had
been sitting in her chest since she’d watched him leave finally
eased. Her impulsive letter finished it was soon being carried away
by her footman. The prospect of waiting another month to receive a
reply caused a new layer of anxiety. Unable to face socialising she
stayed home. Reading late into the night she fell asleep clutching
the first volume of Clarissa.

    The story faded as she swam through a mental
stream of meaningless images and then over the edge of nothingness.
She was aware of falling and then she opened her eyes to find
herself standing outside a waist high wooden gate held together
with wooden pegs long worn down from years of weather and passing
hands. There was no latch; she was free to enter. Looking up she
saw a bright blue sky alive with moving clouds. Looking down she
found she was wearing a white short sleeved linen gown. As she
pushed open the gate she wriggled her toes in the soft grass path.
The gate appeared to lead through a shaped yew tunnel that curved
off the the left. The cool green shadows of the yews were made
brilliant by the sky above and the sound of birds singing. The path
curved back to the right and then opened up. She stood there
blinking with pleasure in the warm sunshine as her eyes passed over
a rainbow of strange flowers and short clipped hedges arranged in
well tended beds surrounded by expanses of emerald grass cut short
as if a flock sheep had grazed the previous day and moved on. Off
to the right standing on its own was an ancient willow tree, its
slack limbs whispering a peaceful song in the light breeze.
Underneath the branches a wooden bench carved with foreign
lettering encircled the trunk. She sat down, stretched out her legs
in contentment and waited. Surely someone would be coming soon.
Hours passed as she sat on the bench waiting and dreaming of what
her friend would say on finding her there, but at some point she
closed her eyes and then opening them she found herself in her own
bed, the forgotten book poking into her ribs. The next night she
found herself back in the garden, but another night passed in
solitary waiting. The next night was the same. After exploring the
hidden corners of the garden and dangling her feet in the pond
occupied by orange and white spotted fish, she lay on her back in
the grass and watched the clouds float by hoping her friend would
join her.

Chapter 10

    The Duke of Lyndhurst spent the day in the
saddle riding forty miles to meet his secretary at an Inn that
hadn’t changed since the reign of good Queen Bess. He’d be lucky if
the food was more than bowl of stew with with chunks of chicken
formally known as rabbit, but the bedclothes and fresh straw
pallets on rope lashed trestles would smell fresh and clean.

    Geoffrey’s body was one large burning ache
as he dismounted. Forcing his spine into an upright position he
groaned as his back cracked in protest. Grabbing his saddlebags he
ducked low to enter the small door. He didn’t