Page 8 of The Tantalizing of a Scandalous Rake

So why did she feel so defensive when he tried to charm her?

Maybe because he had not been lying. He was beautiful. And something in the way he faced adversity with a smile pulled at her. She recognized that for she used it herself. No matter what the inn flung at her, she put on a smile and continued on.

Shaking her head to herself, she rubbed her dry eyes, straightened her shoulders and headed downstairs. Conversation and laughter emanated from the taproom and the clatter of plates jangled through the air. She had bigger things to worry about than whether or not her patient was flirting with her.

Like, for example, how she would continue to nurse him better and run the inn efficiently. Even with aid, the increase in patronage was more than she could handle. Four days of doing as much preparation at night as possible combined with watching over Adam and praying he lived left her feeling significantly older than her six and twenty years.

At least he would live. Though she still did not want tales of his injury to become common knowledge. The inn thrived since that silly book released and so many livelihoods depended on that. From those she hired to her suppliers to the ale makers. Whilst the tales of her beauty continued, she needed to make the most of them and ensure the inn was set up to last even the leaner times.

She moved into the kitchen, checked the pies in the oven then set about brushing the tops of the uncooked ones with egg wash. She chewed on her bottom lip as she swept the brush over the pies with efficiency, scarcely noticing which she had brushed and which she had not. By the time she finished, she suspected there were a few that had been coated twice.

Would his brothers really come searching for him? That meant Adam lived somewhere locally. She should have agreed to write a letter, but she needed time for Adam to heal and time to persuade him the tale of his injury should remain a secret.

Of course, if she responded less coolly to his flirtations, he might be more willing, but Rosie could not recall a time she had ever flirted, and she was not going to start now, no matter how much something about him tugged at a tiny part inside of her.

She pressed fingers to her temples as an ache started up behind her eyes. First, she needed to finish feeding her hungry patrons. Then she would worry about—

“Rosie.” Harriet put her head around the doorframe. “Come. Quick.”

She bit back a groan. “What now?”

Harriet slipped into the kitchen and closed the distance between them quickly. The petite, dark-haired girl rung her hands together, emphasizing the boniness of her knuckles and long fingers. “Um...”

“Well?”

“They are here.”

Rosie frowned. “Who are here?”

“His brothers.”

Her heart gave a rapid thud against the inside of her rib cage. “No.” She shook her head. How could that be? She had only just learned of them. “How did you know he had brothers?”

“They have asked for him. Said he has been missing for four days and was intending to spend an evening here.” Harriet pressed her lips together. “It gets worse.”

“How can it possibly be worse? Once they see him and his injury, we shall be done for.”

“His brother is the Marquis of Kirbeck,” Harriet said in a rush and released her hands to eye Rosie expectantly.

Closing her eyes briefly, Rosie swallowed hard. Of course he would be brother to the marquis and the biggest landowner in the county. Naturally. Why would she expect anything different? She had seen the value of his clothes and belongings, and he acted with the self-assurance of a noble. Did she really think he would be some anonymous person passing through? Curse her wretched, wretched luck.

“They shall have me arrested for kidnapping a lord.”

Harriet’s cheeks paled. “No. You were only looking after him. They cannot suggest such a thing surely.”

Rosie gave herself a little shake. “Yes. Of course they cannot.”

She scowled. At least she hoped not. All she had been guilty of was nursing him better and was it her fault she did not know who he was or who to contact? Hardly, though she supposed she could have made more of an attempt at enquiring.

Now she had to try to charm this marquis and his brother and persuade them news of their brother’s fate should remain quiet. Perhaps her new reputation as the Beauty of Buttermere could come in handy. Perhaps she could persuade these rich, powerful men that she had not deliberately concealed their brother nor, as they perhaps might think, that she was somehow involved in his stabbing. Goodness knew, she had little idea who had done it and no resources or time to figure it out.

She swiped clammy hands down her apron, lifted her chin and motioned to the oven. “Keep an eye on the pies.” She forced a smile. “I shall deal with these men.”

Chapter Four

Adam only just pushed himself painfully and slowly up to what one might almost call sitting when Rosie slipped in through the door. Her cheeks were red as though she had dashed up the stairs at a pace.

“I beg of you—”

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