A Reformed Rake Read Online Free

Fred.” The words were said grudgingly and the sentence was finished with a sniff, denoting the English valet’s opinion of all things foreign.
    “You may put up a trundle bed in the dressing room if you prefer. I won’t mind.”
    “No, Sir Fred. Not in this establishment, Sir Fred.”
    “Ah. You approve.”
    “It is quite a proper establishment.” Again the words were grudging. Those following were more hopeful. “Will we be staying, Sir Fred?”
    “For a few days, I think.”
    Cob eyed the master he’d served since, as a lad, the future baronet had first needed a valet. His voice was tinged with a question when he spoke again. “The young miss looks a proper chit.”
    “Hold your tongue, Cob.” Frederick moved restlessly, sloshing water onto the hand-painted tiles fronting the fireplace. “I am a reformed character these days.”
    “Hurrah, hurrah.” There was sarcasm and skepticism in the tone.
    “Don’t mumble. And don’t look down your long nose either, my old friend.” Sir Frederick’s eyes warmed and a wry smile curved his lips. “You might come down off your high horse and stop ‘Sir Fred-ing’ me while you’re at it,” he teased.
    “Yes, Sir Fred.”
    Frederick’s chest rose and fell. “Cob, you know why we’ve come to the continent. Why I travel.”
    “For so many months, Sir Fred? I do wish we might get back to a civilized world. I don’t much like foreigners.”
    “I can send you home.”
    “And then who would do for you?” A huge paw crumpled the towel, relaxed and smoothed it. “No. If you must travel, I must, too.”
    “Paris was enjoyable, was it not?” coaxed the master. “And I know you liked Florence.” Their eyes met, both with a vision of a pert little maid in their minds. Cob actually blushed. “Now,” added Frederick quickly, looking away from Cob’s embarrassment, “we are in the most scenic portion of the entire world and—”
    “Oh, scenery.” Cob sniffed. “Scotland has scenery if ’tis scenery you want.”
    “The last time we were in Scotland you sulked the whole of our visit.”
    Cob sniffed again. “Would you like more hot water, Sir Fred?”
    Frederick shifted, the water lapping against his chest. He decided he’d soaked more than enough and reached for the pine scented soap. Anticipating the move, Cob reached it first, laying it in his master’s hand. The man tested the water in the remaining cans, lifted the first preparatory to rinsing off the soap and poured part of it over Frederick’s head when his master indicated he wished it. The rest Cob sloshed over his back, down long well-muscled flanks and, setting the last can aside, he lifted the towel. Frederick stepped out of the hip bath and took the long piece of soft linen, drying himself.
    Yes, decided Frederick, they would remain a few days in this well-managed chateau if for no other reason than the hope that Cob’s temper might improve!
    Harriet found the days crawling from one slow moment to the next treacle slow moment. She could not be satisfied. If Sir Frederick and his friend were within sight and sound, she feared for Françoise. If they were gone out with their host, Gerard Vaudray, it was worse. She hated the rampaging emotions roused by her bête noire and even more the jealousy she felt for petite dark-haired Françoise. It was wrong to feel either attraction to the rakish Frederick or jealousy for the charming child—but how did one control one’s feelings? How did one hide from the one that he made her heart beat faster and from the other ones stupidity in wishing one were other that one was?
    Harriet stared out the chateau’s window toward the snow-covered peaks and told herself she could do no better than to remain cool toward Sir Frederick and calm and watchful where her charge was concerned. Surely it was a case where familiarity bred contempt. After all, wasn’t that all one should feel for a man such as Sir Frederick?
    “Miss Cole, there you are. We have been