Page 3 of Her Notorious Rake
“Yes,” he muttered, pouring some water from the ewer. He splashed some on his face and hoped it would improve his reflection. But it did no such thing.
Mother couldn’t see him like this. She simply couldn’t. Dalton did everything in his power to conceal his flagrant life from her, to shield her from what he had become. It would hurt her too much, especially in her delicate condition, and he needed her to remain in high spirits. Two footmen entered the bedroom, carrying hot water to fill the tub for his bath.
Once the hot water had been poured in, Dalton was divested of his garments and climbed in, sinking into the delicious heat,letting it wash away the night before. He let out a heavy sigh, closing his eyes. For a few blissful moments he dozed before Wilson approached with a bucket to douse him in, and the water coursing on his head cleared away some of the fog in his mind. Not all of it, but enough.
When he had finished with his bath, Wilson handed him a disgusting concoction containing raw eggs, that nearly made Dalton gag. He’d mastered the technique of grinning and bearing through anything, however, as he did now, hoping the remedial effects of the revolting drink would set in soon enough.
“How is my mother, Wilson?” he murmured, handing the glass back to his valet.
“She is doing most well, my Lord. In fact, so well that she is to join you and your uncle at breakfast.”
“She is?” Dalton held out his arms as Wilson set about dressing him, first in his large cotton undershirt, and then his neckerchief. Wilson next slid on his waistcoat and handed him a pair of stockings and starched breeches.
“Indeed. Lady Blakemore’s physician has prescribed her a new tonic, I understand. It seems to have worked wonders on her spirits this morning.”
“A new tonic,” Dalton murmured, as Wilson set about buttoning up his waistcoat and dusting every particle of lint and dust from his overcoat. Finally, it was time for the nearly knee-high boots, which Wilson always ensured remained polished and spotless. He steeled himself for all the scents he’d face in the dining room, praying that his nausea didn’t overcome him.
And then he hurried downstairs, Wilson on his heels.
Chapter 2
“Dalton,” Lady Adelaide Blake, the Viscountess Blakemore and chronic invalid, rose from her seat at the table and rushed over to kiss her son on the cheek. She cupped his cheek in her thin hand, her blue eyes curving into a smile. He managed a feeble smile back. Wilson should really tell cook to abandon embroiling cabbage. “You seem tired, my dear.” She tilted her head, and for a moment, he caught a glimpse of melancholy lurking just beneath the surface.
He reached up and took her hand in his, trying to liven himself up. “A little,” he said lightly. “Nothing that won’t lift as the day continues.”
“My stalwart son,” she beamed, and kissed him on the cheek again.
“Look what the dog dragged in,” Uncle Ernest joked from his seat at the table, lifting his toddy glass in the air. He hardly looked pleased to see Dalton, and Dalton sometimes wondered if Uncle Ernest hoped he would asphyxiate in his sleep one day.
One less complication for him to worry about.
“Uncle Ernest,” Dalton shot him a tight smile and joined Mother at the table. His uncle waved a letter in the air.
“I was just telling your mother news I’ve received of Celeste. She has completed a year at Worthington, and she will be attending the upcoming season here in London. I daresay I will scarcely recognize her. Worthington is very good—they are adept at polishing the unpolished.”
“Celeste?” Dalton squinted, waiting as one of the footmen heaped some pie onto his plate.
“Celeste, my cousin’s daughter,” Uncle Ernest snapped.
“Ah, right. Your cousin’s daughter?”
“And your distant cousin,” Uncle Ernest added pointedly, his scowl deepening.
“Of course. My distant cousin.”
“I feel as if it has been so long that I’ve taken breakfast in here,” Mother spoke up just then. “I forgot how this room overlooks the gardens so well.”
“And here’s to many more breakfasts such as this one,” Uncle Ernest held up his toddy in a toast.
Mother laughed, and it was such a girlish sound, her eyes sparkling with a light that Dalton had missed.
“You saw your physician?”
“Yes—”
“It is miraculous, this new tonic her physician devised. Magnificent. She’s an entirely new person. You’ve not been in such good spirits since—”
“Mother, how often must you take this tonic?”
