The Rake and the Rose
by Eva Devon

Copyright © 2023 by Eva Devon. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.

Chapter One

“I could marry your sister…”

Despite their earnestness and the depth of the secret longing in his soul, the moment the words left his lips, Alexander Markby, sixth Earl of Derby, knew he had made an error. And it wasn’t simply because the lady in question was from a class that almost never married into his own. That? Oh, it gave him pause, but not enough to stop the secret wish of his soul.

No, it was the fact his friend, Harry Digby, who had been his friend since childhood as they had scampered over the hills of Yorkshire, hauled back his fist and let fly. The blow was made with such intensity and zeal that it cracked into Alexander’s jaw, driving his head back, causing his teeth to clack. He let out a harsh breath, staggered a few feet, brought his hands back up, and made certain to weave away quickly, bouncing on the balls of his toes lest the man knock his block off entirely. “You hit far too hard for a vicar in training,” Alexander said.

Harry shrugged. “God or no God, vicar or no vicar, my fists are hammers, and you knew that when you said that nonsense.”

It was true, but he had hoped with his father’s death that now he could truly change things. It seemed not all things. His father’s determination that he never, ever marry Rose Digby had been taken up by her brother. And as his oldest friend, he could not defy his friend, not when his friend had suffered so much at Alexander’s family’s hands.

Alex had been dancing in the ring with Harry for years, and before that they’d had many an opportunity to exchange friendly blows without Queensberry Rules. As it was now, here in Oxford, they had come to their boxing club to get in a round before exams came in.

The hallowed, ancient halls of Oxford were a place of teeming nerves at present. All of the young men knew their futures were dependent upon the events of the next few weeks.

Well, not all of them.

Men like Alexander? They had fortunes and titles and power they were given merely because of the chance of birth. Now, he did all he could to help people and bestow many patronages. He’d even helped Harry and his sister, though they did not know it, for he’d been certain they wouldn’t accept his assistance, not after the way his father had thrown them off his land all those years ago. But almost the moment after his father died, he had set things in motion with a solicitor. Money for Harry to attend school and a sum to pull his dear Rose out of poverty and give her some independence after the tragic deaths of both of her parents.

Yes, he was born to greatness by sheer chance. Though some insisted it was God’s ordination. He had no desire to discuss the theology of it. Harry, on the other hand, would have to strive mightily to make certain he attained his degree. After all, he wouldn’t be able to achieve a family living without it. And the truth was Alex desperately wanted his friend to succeed. He wanted his friend to find that living, to be the vicar he longed to be, even if it meant that they were completely and totally different, in both class and attitudes to life.

Countering Alex’s movements, swinging around the ring, Harry firmly declared, “My sister will never marry you.”

He didn’t say anything clever in reply. It was tempting to make some sort of salvo about his sister, Rose, but he adored Rose. Rose had been just like them until, of course, she was no longer allowed to be. She’d acted as much of a boy as any of the lads who had come across the estates. They had ridden horses, crossed streams, climbed trees, played at swords and dragons, determined to slay, as St. George had done, the nefarious beast who was a mayhem to all maids and castles around. But inevitably things had changed, and Rose had had to take on the raiment of a young lady.

Her intellect was sharper than both Harry’s and his own combined. There was no discussion about that. She was not allowed to go to Eton or Harrow. University wasn’t a possibility. And then there was the fact that Rose and her brother were nowhere near the same as him in social status. Years ago, they’d lived on his father’s, now his, land. They had been given a house at his father’s pleasure until his father no longer felt that pleasure…because of Mr. Digby and his descent into debauchery. It had been a year of deep regrets. He could still remember them being cast out of the house, sent off the land with nowhere to go.

It had been the most painful night in his life. It had been the night when his father had first told him to never see Rose Digby again, lest he crush the Digby family further. The bitter pain of that shame laced through his mind. Even now, he could not forget the image of Rose’s mother begging his father to let them stay, to not cast them out and condemn them to despair and the dangers of life without income or home.

It burned through him. For he could still see Rose’s pale face, a face that had transformed from the bright young woman who had been his companion in mischief and conversation about the nature of the world to one of fear. And worse as she had realized that even Alex could not make his father stop.

Alex shoved the memory away. He could not bear to think of that year of pain when he had not only lost his friend, but Rose, too, for they had all been in each other’s pockets, but it had become clear to his father and his grandmother that they could no longer tolerate a man like Rose’s father, Mr. Digby, on the land. It was a damned coil because Alex’s own father was a rake. Alex was a rake, and he would be one until he married. And in the face of so much pain, he had found that the endless laughter and parties of a rake had dulled the sudden emptiness of having been cut off from his dearest friends. And in that world of rakes, he’d also found his purpose as a patron. A patron of musicians, artists, writers. And so many powerful men had mistresses and gambled, but men like Rose’s father, an artist in the keep of a great man? Well, he had had to be a great deal more careful with his behavior. He had not been careful. And it had all fallen apart.

The devastation left by Mr. Digby resulted in his son and daughter choosing the paths of reformers. But the only reason Harry could attend Oxford was the funds that Alexander had provided, for Mr. Digby had lost it all and worse. Regret and guilt traced their friendship. They never spoke of Harry’s father. He was a specter over them. After all, his friend’s father was in the Lock Asylum and would be until he died. It was a possibility for all rakes. He was aware of it, but the truth was most rakes could behave as a rake without having to worry about serious consequences, especially when one was an earl with undeniable amounts of money coming toward one.

Still, the comment that Rose would never marry him sat ill. Of course, he simply couldn’t marry Rose. The comment had been one of idle jest. From a purely practical point, Rose was far beneath him in status. Even if he admired her, his grandmother would never approve. Society would never approve of Rose, and yet he could still see Rose’s fiery eyes and hear the cut of her clever tongue as she made witty comeback after witty comeback as they practiced their orations together.

She could read Greek and translate it back into English without any difficulty while he and her brother had scrambled along, tossing the pages of their books back and forth, desperately trying to translate Ovid. She had laughed. She always laughed at them and made merry, and how he had adored it.

“Do you think so little of me?” Alex suddenly blurted. He lowered his guard for a moment, which allowed his friend again to get in another blow. It was a foolish action on his part, and he whipped around.

“What do you mean, do I think little of you?” Harry asked, twisting left.

Alex darted in and jabbed Harry’s nose. “You’ve just said your sister would never marry me.”

Harry winced and danced away. “Well, you’re a rake. She loathes rakes.”

He swallowed. It was true. She had become a fierce and mighty advocate of good living. So had her brother. It was why Harry was pursuing the life of a vicar. In response to their own papa who had descended into madness and debauchery, they were symbols of perfect and upright living, never missing a step, and suddenly Alex felt like he was being tolerated.

Most would’ve thought it was the other way around. He was an earl, after all. He had all the power, the money, the influence. Surely, it was he who was tolerating them. He winced at that thought. No, he realized. Rose didn’t even tolerate him anymore. They never saw each other. She was in London working, writing. It was her great passion, doing all she could to change the world while he and her brother were at university. If she had been allowed to attend, she would have changed the world. There was no doubt in his mind about that, but she could not, so she had to change it in other ways.

“I think we should go,” he said, blowing out a breath.

“Ah, have I hurt your feelings?” Harry asked, lowering his fists.

He shook his head. “Think nothing of it.”

Harry grimaced, knowing such pleasantries were code for how hurt he was. “Look, you know Rose. She will have nothing to do with you. She might spend a bit of time in your company, but until you pull yourself together and get on the straight and narrow, she’s never going to want to entertain you. And the fact is, it’s true. She’d never marry a man like you.”

A man like him. A man of power, a man of money, a man who helped others with that money, who swept up artists and ensured that those artists could live and work and be fed?

But he didn’t want to go into a defense of himself and his actions. No. If all they saw was a man who enjoyed wine, women, and song… But something rattled through him, and he longed to protest. “Rose is—”

Harry gave him a hard look. “Cease such jesting.”

“And if…I truly admired Rose?”

A muscle tightened in Harry’s jaw. “Look, you are my dearest friend, but she is not for you. You are too different. Her entire life is dedicated to writing about the indulgences of your class. You are everything she despises. Leave her alone.”

“Should I wear a hair shirt?” he teased, though the effort tore like barbs in his throat.

Harry sighed. “You? I cannot imagine it.”

“There are other ways to do good than through austerity. There are other sacrifices,” he argued.

Harry’s eyes narrowed. “I will not see her unhappy. And marriage into your family?” Harry shook his head as if the very idea was appalling.

How could he go against his friend? After all his family had done to Harry? And his remaining family would fight him every step of the way if he pursued Rose. For the truth was, Rose and Harry were from a different world. And wishing, longing, would not change that. It would be bitter and hard if Harry fought him, too.

Alex jumped out of the ring, followed closely by his friend. “Are you coming out tonight then?” he asked, grabbing a folded piece of linen.

Harry laughed jovially, clearly relieved Alex was dropping the subject of Rose. “Not if I plan on being a vicar. I don’t let ladies sit on my lap like you do. No, I’ll be at my books instead.”

The comment was not meant to be derogatory, but Alex felt it in his bones. He should be more serious. He should study more. He should do the things that his friend was doing. He should be sober. He should go for long walks. He should eschew cake and spend most of his time doing good for all people.

And yet he felt certain there was a point to joy and celebration, too, to revelry, and passion, and prose and poetry. There was a positivity to what he did, and he refused to be ashamed for it. He was not his friend’s father. He was not going to end up in The Locke, and he wasn’t going to ruin his family, but he refused to say such a thing because he wouldn’t hurt his friend, not for anything.

“Well, I’m off with the other lords,” Alex said with a salute. “I wish you excellent studies.”

“Alex,” his friend suddenly said, his face growing serious.

“Yes?”

“I need you to promise me you’ll stay away from Rose.”

The words socked him in the gut. Far worse than any blow could have done, for the look in Harry’s gaze was grim. “What?”

Harry squared his shoulders, clearly daring to make his point to a friend but also a man far above his station. “Stay away from her because if you go near her, if you corrupt her in any way, if you drag her into your circle, if you were to ruin her, I could never forgive you. I would hate you.”

A muscle tightened in Harry’s jaw as if all this pained him greatly. “You’re my friend, and I feel that that matters to you just as it does to me. So take my warning. I may be a lowly man who only hopes to be a vicar, but if you value me at all, know that Rose is not for you, and I don’t want you within ten feet of her. Understand?”

Alex forced a smile and gave him a wink. “Your sister’s not my type. She never has been, she never will be, and you’ve nothing to fear.” Lies. Every word a lie. But he couldn’t hurt his friend. He’d hurt himself instead. That was the right thing to do. After Harry had suffered so much and was only just beginning to feel joy again. Yes, Alex was ready to sacrifice his own longings. It was the only way to begin to make amends.

Even as his insides twisted and his thoughts began to churn around his head, he whipped around and strode out toward the halls out to the other lords who were ready to go gamble and make merry for the night. Alex forced a smile to his lips, but that smile, it felt horrid. For inside he felt hollow as if he had just had his guts ripped out and made into garters by his friend. For Harry was certain he would never be good enough for Rose, despite the fact he was an earl. But he would not cease helping his friends. Or protecting them. He had decided to take up their patronage, to shield them from as much of life’s pain as he could, even though he knew they’d never accept it from him.

So he would do all he could in secret. Though he would keep his vow to his friend to stay away from Rose, he would do everything he could to help all the people he could. He had to find a way to make amends for what his father had done abandoning tormented souls like Mr. Digby and his family. But he would never stop trying to help those artists and dreamers who had broken on the shores of sorrow.

Not for anything.

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Release Date: May 15, 2024 Page Count: Content Warning: Read Content Warning No content warning available for this book. ×

Release Date: May 15, 2024

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Release Date: May 15, 2024

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