Once A Rake. Rona Sharon

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was pleased when they joined the table between the oxtail stew and the pork and apple pie. “I’m very happy you finally came to your senses, Izzy,” Hyacinth declared.

      Izzy’s smile was small but triumphant. “Ashby offered to adopt my dog. He’ll take Hector with him to Spain.”

      “Hector?” Will snickered softly. “I fear you’re in danger of growing a halo, my friend.”

      Ashby met Isabel’s smiling eyes. He had his reward right here and now.

      “Do you really intend to take the whelp with you?” Stilgoe asked after dinner, when only the men remained at the table to drink whiskey and smoke cigars.

      “I gave Izzy my word,” Ashby replied. “I can’t renege now.”

      “You could leave it with Phipps.” Will eyed him with a raised eyebrow.

      “Phipps doesn’t know the first thing about dogs.” Ashby tossed his entire drink back and felt his throat catching fire. He also felt like an idiot, not because he’d offered to care for the pup, but because of the reason he’d done it. “And I can’t very well leave the dog with Olivia.”

      “Olivia, right…” Will murmured, his eyes frosting with disdain. “No doubt she’d boil the poor thing and feed it to the servants.”

      “It would hurt Izzy’s feelings,” Ashby clarified.

      “Really? How would it hurt my sister’s feelings?”

      Ashby met Will’s suspicious, angry gaze. “I made up my mind to ask Olivia to marry me.”

      “And when did this epiphany occur?”

      “Today.” Why the devil did he feel like he needed to apologize? Ashby swore.

      Will glanced at his older brother. “Charlie, would you mind leaving us alone for a few minutes?”

      “Not at all.” Stilgoe stood. “I’ve a card game waiting for me at Boodle’s.” He circled the table and patted Ashby’s shoulder. “Take care, old chap. I’ll see you tomorrow, Will.”

      As soon as they were alone, Will attacked. “Olivia? Have you completely and thoroughly lost your mind? I thought the crazy heroic thing on the Bussaco Ridge was a moment of insanity, to help push for the new rank, not an advanced stage of a fully developed mental illness.”

      Ashby poured himself another glass of whiskey. “That’s a fine thing coming from you.”

      “Explain.”

      He whirled the whiskey in his glass. “Do you know why you consider my maneuver on the Bussaco an insanity, Will? Because you have this! This home, with its laughter and mayhem and life to come back to. I have a very large, luxurious, empty manor.”

      “And you believe that Lady Olivia Hanson will fill it with laughter and mayhem and life? Think again, old chap. Olivia is nothing like Isabel! She’s a cold, manipulative, grasping bitch!”

      “I’ve known Olivia since childhood. I know what she’s like.”

      Will was virtually shaking with fury and disbelief. “And?”

      “She’s in love with me.”

      Will sagged in his chair, shaking his head and groaning. “My God, Ash. I understand why Wellington singled you out immediately, why he considers you some kind of prodigy, and why he pushes your advancement, but by Jove, you can be one stupid ass sometimes!”

      Ashby considered the amber liquid in his glass and decided to pass. “I should go.” Pushing away from the table, he got to his feet. “You’re drunk. I’m drunk. I’ll see you in three days.” He lifted the small, padded picnic basket Izzy had left on a chair for him and ambled out the door. Flipping the lid open, he smiled at the black ball of fur sleeping on the cushion inside. “I hope you kissed your old mistress goodbye, because you might not see her for a very long time.”

      His army horse was saddled and waiting for him on the front drive. “Thank you, Jimmy.” He took the reins and dismissed the groom. He was about to swing onto the saddle when the front door opened and closed. He glanced beyond his shoulder and saw Izzy running toward him.

      “Ashby…” She panted, wildness in her eyes.

      He froze. “What’s wrong, Isabel? Anything happened to Will?”

      She shook her head, out of breath. She swallowed. “He went to bed.”

      He set the basket on the ground and flipped the reins around the handle. His thoughts raced in several directions. One suggested she’d overheard his argument with Will. He didn’t want to hurt Izzy’s feelings, but he was a twenty-eight-year-old man. She had to expect that sooner or later he’d take a wife. “Come, let’s sit on the bench.” He took her elbow, stirring her toward it.

      They sat down quietly, an adequate distance between them. “Lord Ashby,” she began, shifting sideways to face him. “I have another special favor to ask of you.”

      “Your wish is my command.”

      She gripped her hands tightly, twining and untwining her fingers. Her eyes were very large, dark, and anxious. “I know you and Will are soldiers, fighting a terrible war against a dangerous, despotic madman who wants to subjugate England and make us all eat frogs, but—”

      Ashby smiled perceptively. “Your brother is like a brother to me, Isabel, and I don’t have siblings to spare. You may rest assured I will protect Will with my life, if necessary, because if anything happened to him…Well, let’s just say I’d rather die than fail. However,” he exhaled deeply, “having said that, you are mature enough to understand that in war as in peace our fates are not entirely in our hands, if at all. You have to be brave. You mustn’t—”

      She edged closer, whispering, “I know you’ll protect Will. It’s you I worry about.”

      “Will protects me. It’s a bargain.”

      “Will is short and scrawny.” She wrinkled her pert nose.

      His smile quickened for a heartbeat. “Look at me. Am I short and scrawny?”

      She took him in from head to toe. “No. You are tall and strong.”

      He swallowed, wishing he’d had that last shot of whiskey after all. “I appreciate your concern, Izzy. I’ll be fine. Go to bed.”

      Crystalline tears trembled in her eyes. “Promise?”

      “I promise.”

      “Because I’d die if anything happened to you.” She wrapped her dainty white hands around his neck and pressed her lips to his. His mind went numb. Isabel Aubrey had a temptress’s lips—soft, pink, full, and enticingly sweet—and for a fleeting moment his mouth responded.

      He gripped her shoulders and tore his mouth away. “Oh, God.” His head wilted; his heart thundered in his chest. Bloody hell. He forced himself to meet her gaze. Isabel’s wide eyes mirrored his shock. He opened his mouth to apologize, but she got up and dashed

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