The Rake's Proposal. Sarah Barnwell Elliott

knock.

      “Robert, you’re a bastard if you don’t let me in…I know you’re in there—your light’s on…I need to borrow a bed for the evening.” Knock, knock.

      Kate made up her mind then and there. Her nervousness was ridiculous. She should really go rouse Robert’s butler, as it wasn’t entirely proper for her to open the door so late at night, particularly whilst wearing her dressing gown. But the butler would have gone to bed hours ago, and her dressing gown was so demure it was nunnish; her everyday dresses were more revealing, and that didn’t say much considering she was determinedly unfashionable. Besides, the man on the other side of the door was clearly just some friend of her brother’s, in search of nothing more than a place to rest his probably inebriated head for the rest of the night. Who but a friend would speak about him so disparagingly?

      Still slightly uneasy, but convinced that she was being ridiculous, Kate walked into the hall. She squared her shoulders, pulled her thick dressing gown tightly around her body and opened the door.

      Lord Benjamin Sinclair, eldest son of Viscount Sinclair, was nine-and-twenty, wealthy and handsome enough to make most women temporarily mute the first time they laid eyes on him. It was a rather odd experience, then, to have the tables turned: for a moment, it was he who forgot how to speak.

      Hand upraised to pound on Robert’s godforsaken door one last time, he merely stared at the vision before him—one of the most stunning girls he’d ever seen. She was quite tall, reaching just past his shoulders, but despite her height she appeared almost delicate—slim frame, fair skin and full, slightly parted lips. Her eyes were indigo, and so surprised…crowning all this was glorious hair, cascading around her shoulders. Maybe it was merely brown in the light of day, but by candlelight her hair was the richest auburn, highlighted with strands of red and gold.

      All this he digested slowly, indicating his interest through nothing more than a slightly raised eyebrow.

      “Hello.”

      Kate stared back. Shouldn’t she be the one speaking? Right now she wasn’t sure she knew what to say. The dark shadow she had seen from the window had done no justice to the man standing in front of her—tall, broad-shouldered…light brown hair streaked with gold, sun-burnished skin over chiseled jaw, accented by a snowy cravat and velvet coat…she realized she was gaping and closed her mouth. Speak, you ninny, speak.

      “Hello.” Well, that was pathetic, she thought scornfully. Pull yourself together. “Are you a friend of Robert’s?”

      Ben grinned, not missing a second of her reaction and frankly pleased that he had this effect on women. Who was this girl answering his friend’s door so late at night? Robert was engaged to be married and Ben had yet to meet his bride-to-be…he supposed this girl could be she, but it seemed unlikely. The wedding was still a few months off, and the bride-to-be would hardly be spending the night. It was also improbable that Robert would keep a mistress in his own home, if indeed he’d keep one at all given his upcoming nuptials. This girl’s innocent blush and cultured voice refuted such a possibility, anyway. Ben always liked a mystery, however, and as she didn’t appear ready to speak, he stepped through the door, brushing past her lightly on his way in.

      “Are you?” he countered with seeming nonchalance, although his amber eyes were piercing as he turned to face her.

      “What?”

      “Friend or foe. You must be one or the other.”

      Kate’s head began to clear as she realized that her own question had been turned around on her. “I suppose I’m a friend—when I’m not an enemy, that is. I’m Robert’s sister. And you are…?”

      Understanding slowly clicked in Ben’s mind. “Friend. Benjamin Sinclair. Sorry to disturb you so late.” He let his gaze wander over her body, not really sorry at all. When she blushed, he continued. “You see, I’ve been at sea for the past several months…arrived only this evening. I didn’t want to spend another night aboard ship, and was going to go rouse my housekeeper…but then I saw the light on at ol’ Robert’s…has he retired for the evening?”

      The man’s familiar name should have put Kate at ease. Benjamin Sinclair was one of Robert’s best friends, and she had actually met him many years ago when her brother had brought him home from school. Now that she knew his name, in fact, she couldn’t believe that she hadn’t recognized him right away….

      Oh, no. She was suddenly and distinctly ill at ease—was, in fact, ready to groan aloud as she recalled the one and only time she’d met Benjamin Sinclair. She’d been eleven and she’d dumped a glass of water on his head for teasing her. He’d disparaged her looks, an easy enough feat when she was a scrawny girl. He was so handsome, and she’d been so ugly then, so clumsy and unfeminine…she’d quite hated him for it. Thank goodness he didn’t seem to remember her.

      Benjamin Sinclair was a scoundrel; his name was the stuff of legend. Stories of his misconduct had even made it as far as Little Brookings, and instead of relaxing, Kate was immediately on her guard. Perhaps it was the strange color of his eyes, neither a simple brown nor gold, but the way he looked at her made her exceedingly uncomfortable…uncomfortable and something else. A less familiar but equally disturbing sensation. She became suddenly and painfully aware of her inappropriate dress, her loose hair and her slippered feet peeking out from beneath her robe.

      “He is asleep. I’m sorry. But please come in. I’ll wake Mr. Perch and he can prepare a room for you. Do you have any baggage?”

      “Nothing that can’t remain in my carriage for the night. My driver can fetch it in the morning.” He motioned to his driver from the doorway and then closed the door behind him. “And please don’t bother about Perch. I’ll settle myself in somewhere. I usually take the green room…” At her blush, he grinned again, “…or is that where you sleep…Katherine?”

      She blinked in surprise. “I haven’t given you leave to use my Christian name…I haven’t even told you my name. How do you know it, sir?”

      “We’ve met before. I’m wounded that you don’t remember.”

      “I do remember. I’d rather hoped you didn’t.” Kate practically squeaked this admission, thinking about how annoyed he’d been by the water…goodness, he’d even threatened retribution!

      She had to ask. She just couldn’t help herself. “You don’t still plan to thrash me, do you?”

      He looked utterly bewildered by her cheekiness. “Surely I didn’t say that.”

      “You surely did,” Kate retorted.

      “Then, yes, I suppose I must keep my word,” he rejoined, his lopsided smile belying his words.

      Kate felt her face go up in flames and could have kicked herself for being so cheeky. Why could she never behave like the proper young lady she was? She was certainly no match for Robert’s rakish friend, and he seemed to know it. He didn’t bother to wait for her to respond, guessing—correctly—that she was speechless. Instead, he turned and entered the study. She heard the sound of a drawer being opened and the thud of a glass being placed on the table. He was pouring himself a drink.

      What bloody nerve.

      Kate closed her eyes and counted to ten.

      “So, why are you up so late, Miss Sutcliff?” he called from within, forcing her to follow him to the study in order to answer his question. She didn’t fully enter the room, however, not wanting to commit to any more of his banter. She merely hovered by the door, mouth open, ready to tell him that she had only come down for a book and was now returning to bed.

      But before she could formulate these words, he noted the half-empty glass of brandy perched on the desk. He raised an eyebrow. “Been drinking by yourself, have you?”

      She cringed. “I was having trouble sleeping.”

      “It’s a rather unhealthy habit, you know. Care for some company?”

      Kate