Page 13 of Teach a Rogue New Tricks
Hughes peeked over the top of the letter, trying to read it. “I only left for the purest of reasons. Love.”
“I didn’t know you were married. And how is Mrs. Hughes?”
“It didn’t work out,” his valet mumbled.
Cass clapped his hand on his valet’s shoulder. “Sorry, old chap. But I consider it a happy circumstance. What’s a rake without an almost-vicar valet?”
“Lost to eternal damnation. And without a proper knot for his cravat. You know I approve of your reformation, my lord, but must we forgo the more complicated knots?”
“Vanity is a sin. But why amItellingyouthat? We must forgo it.” His brother never tied complicated knots, and theyweresigns of vanity and of time wasted on trivial pursuits. If he wished to impress Bax, he’d have to stick to simple knots. “Where did you get this note?”
“A maid in the kitchen brought it to me. Said another maid—a lady’s maid—brought it to her. Wouldn’t say who it was from, just that it needed to get to you.”
“And so you thought it belonged to a former mistress?”
“Who else?”
He knew who else. But he couldn’t give the note the concentration it deserved with the valet reading over his shoulder. “I’d like to be alone, Hughes.”
Hughes scowled at Cass’s hair. “But your hair is so… blowsy. It will just take a moment to fix it.” Hughes approached with a comb in one hand and pomade in another.
Cass waved him off and shrank away from his advances. “It’s fine, truly. I’ll live. No one will see me. Aren’t you supposed to obey me or something like?”
“That’s not how the lord-and-valet relationship works, my lord.” He dropped his weapons to his side with a sulky sigh.
“I was of the misconception it was.”
“Egregious misconception,” Hughes grumbled, disappearing into a small dressing room.
Once alone, Cass sat at a writing desk near the window and read the letter.
Dear Lord A,
What did you think of my wink? I admit, in the moment, I thought myself rather grand. Bold. But now I waver.
I confess I could not sleep, thinking of that wink. So I popped out of bed and set pen to paper instead. But now that I watch these words appear beneath my hand, I waver yet again. The wink was not so bad. Just bold enough. Hmm. Yes. I refuse to ask pardon for it.
There. Done with the wink. Moving on.
You are a great villain, are you? I suppose my own experience with you, short as it has been, gives truth to that. Or hints of it. Or what have you.
I’ve only ever educated children, those who do not yet know better. But you should know better, so I’m a bit unsure my perspective will prove useful. How does one educate a man who chooses to do bad? Can you hear me pondering? Likely no. Your ears are probably more attuned to more… carnal sounds.
But we must start your reformation somewhere, yes?
(Not with carnal sounds. I suggest you remove your mind from the chamber pot, sir!)
I shall illustrate your first lesson for you. Lesson one: truthfulness is all in all. In illustration of this lesson, I’ll admit something to you—I get something out of our acquaintance, too. At season’s end I’ll return to the country, and I want to enjoy myself while I’m in London, run a little wild, flirt with impropriety before that day comes. Our letters will provide such flirtations.
We are a pair, are we not? You want sorely to learn how to behave, and I wish only to misbehave for a small space of time.
How shall we go about this? Do you have questions? You may ask them, and I’ll answer. Perhaps I should draw up a plan of study that we will abide by. I must admit, though I am the teacher in this unlikely scenario, my lessons are often of the impromptu variety with my charges. I leave the planning to the real governesses.
Please do respond in a timely manner. It’s only polite.
Sincerely,
AC
