The Rake to Reveal Her. Julia Justiss

here he was, the day after meeting Miss Branwell, ready to encounter her again. If he felt like visiting, he ought to first return the Squire’s call.

      He pictured his bluff neighbour and frowned. Stopping there didn’t appeal in the least.

      Seeing Miss Branwell again did.

      Perhaps it was because she didn’t expect anything of him but to be her landlord. Unlike every other resident in the county, she didn’t know his reputation, had no connections to hunting or its enthusiasts—she didn’t even recognise the name of the great Meynell! And, praise heaven, she wasn’t evaluating his worth on the Marriage Mart.

      Indeed, Miss Branwell, self-confessedly ignorant of English customs, might not even be aware that, with his wealth and connections, he was still a prime matrimonial prospect.

      No, all she had seen was a dishevelled one-armed soldier walking down a lane—and decided to offer him employment. He laughed out loud.

      Direct, plain-spoken and completely focused on her objectives, she worked and thought like a soldier. Only she was much better to look at.

      Picturing her immediately revived the strong attraction she’d inspired yesterday. His mind explored the idea of dalliance and liked it, his body adding its enthusiastic approval. However, Miss Branwell was still a miss, a gently born virgin. As strongly as he was attracted to her character and her person, he’d never debauched an innocent, and he wasn’t about to start.

      With a disappointed sigh, he allowed himself to regret she wasn’t the widowed Mrs Branwell. They couldn’t, alas, be lovers. But perhaps they could be friends. A friend who knew him only as the man he was now.

      There was freedom in that: no preconceived notions to meet, no pressure to perform up to the standard of what he’d once been.

      Besides, he had to admit he was curious to see this assortment of orphans she’d collected. He tried, and failed, to imagine the problems one must overcome in order to follow the army with a troop of children in tow, then to transport them to England.

      He shook his head and laughed again. What a remarkable girl!

      Without doubt, calling on her would be much more interesting and enjoyable than perusing the London papers to determine the current value of hunters.

      * * *

      An hour later, at Thornfield Place, Theo was sipping a second cup of coffee while her aunt finished breakfast when Franklin informed them that Mr Ransleigh had called.

      Surprise—and a delight far greater than it should have been—sent a thrill through her. After instructing the butler to inform the visitor that the ladies would receive him directly, she turned to her aunt.

      ‘Thank goodness I had Mrs Reeves straighten the parlour first thing this morning,’ she said, trying to pass off her enthusiasm as approval of prudent housekeeping. ‘It appears my new landlord is paying us a visit.’

      Her aunt opened her lips to reply, then froze, her eyes opening wide. ‘Did Franklin say a Mr Ransleigh had called?’ she asked at last.

      ‘Yes. Mr Dominic Ransleigh. The building I want to turn into the children’s school sits on his land. I told you I planned to call on the landlord yesterday, remember?’

      ‘Of course I remember. But why didn’t you tell me your landlord was a Ransleigh?’

      ‘The owner of that much land would doubtless be a member of a prominent family. I didn’t think it mattered which one.’

      ‘Not matter? Good heavens, child, don’t be ridiculous! One must always be aware of the social position of the individuals with whom one associates—as you army folk want to know the rank of a military acquaintance.’

      ‘I suppose you’re right,’ Theo conceded. ‘Enlighten me, then.’

      ‘Do you know anything of his background?’

      ‘Only that he was in the army for the duration of the war.’

      ‘So he was—he and his three cousins. The ‘Ransleigh Rogues,’ the boys have been called since their Eton days. They grew up inseparable, and when Alastair Ransleigh ran off to the army after being jilted by his fiancée—quite a scandal that was!—the other three joined up to watch over him. The eldest, Max—younger son of the Earl of Swynford, who practically runs the House of Lords!—was involved in a scandal of his own, something about an affair with a Frenchwoman at the Congress of Vienna and an assassination attempt on Wellington. The youngest, Will, the illegitimate son of the Earl’s brother, spent his first decade on the streets of St Giles before being recovered by the family.’

      ‘My, that is an assortment!’ Theo said with a laugh.

      ‘Your landlord, Dominic, was known as “Dandy Dom”, the handsomest man in the regiment, able to ride anything with four legs and drive anything with four wheels.’ I don’t know about the former, but I’ve seen him in Hyde Park, impeccably dressed, navigating a coach and four through the crowd as easily as if it were a pony cart on an empty country lane. He is—was—absolutely fearless on the hunting field, I’m told. His late father moved the family to Quorn country so long ago, I’d forgotten their primary estate was in Suffolk.’

      The details about his family drifted into the background of her mind like dust settling on a window-sill. All that struck Theo was the image of a runaway horse and a one-armed man shuffling down the lane, his garments spattered with mud and leaves, his face strained and angry. Able to ride anything with four legs...

      Her heart contracted with a sympathetic pain. How much more bitter it must be to bear his injuries, knowing he’d been renowned throughout the polite world for those skills!

      ‘Does he seem...recovered?’ her aunt asked, pulling her from her thoughts. At Theo’s questioning look, she continued. ‘I only wonder because he was engaged to a duke’s daughter, and broke with her as soon as he returned from Belgium. It was quite the on dit before I left London, the young lady making it known that it was Mr Ransleigh who wished to cry off, not her.’

      ‘I had no idea,’ Theo said. She ran through her observations of his behaviour before continuing, ‘He didn’t seem to be brooding over a lost love, but then a man would hardly wear his heart on his sleeve, especially before a stranger. Certainly he’s not yet fully recovered physically.’

      ‘Retired to the country to finish healing,’ her aunt said, nodding. ‘Here, rather than in Leicestershire, where the memories of his hunting days would be sure to torment him.’ Lady Amelia shook her head wonderingly. ‘Dominic Ransleigh, living practically at your doorstep! Thank heaven you wore something at least moderately attractive when you called on him yesterday!’

      Then she realised what she’d just said, and gasped. ‘Oh, Theo, you called on him? You took Constancia with you, I hope?’

      ‘I’m afraid not. Really, Aunt, I had no idea my landlord was a bachelor. I was expecting a doddering old man with an ear trumpet, rather than a most attractive young man.’

      ‘He is—still attractive? I’d heard he was grievously wounded.’

      ‘He lost an arm and an eye, and his face is scarred. But he’s still a very handsome man.’ A heated awareness shivered through her as she remembered just how arresting he was. ‘Perhaps even more compelling now, given the grace with which he bears his injuries.’

      Her aunt’s expression brightened. ‘And he’s once again unattached!’

      ‘Don’t look at me with that light in your eye!’ Theo warned. ‘For one, if Mr Ransleigh has just broken an engagement, he’s unlikely to start angling after some other female. Nor, having rejected a duke’s daughter, is he apt to consider anyone less lofty. I expect he came to the country to find space and time...especially if his circumstances have changed so drastically. So promise me, no hints from you about how superior my lineage and prospects are, despite my current situation.’

      The very