It Takes a Rake by Anna Bennett (Excerpt)
Chapter 1
Forty-eight months and seventeen days away from Bellehaven Bay should have cured Leo of his infatuation with Miss Kitty Beckett—the beautiful, talented heiress who considered him her nemesis. Leo’s head for numbers meant he grasped the staggering improbability of a match between Kitty and him with brutal clarity, so he’d done what any logical man in his position would do. He’d set about ridding himself of his inconvenient feelings, using the normally prescribed methods.
Working grueling hours at his new architectural practice.
Flirting with other pretty young women.
Drinking copious amounts of brandy.
Unfortunately, none of those remedies had made him forget the devilish dimple in Kitty’s cheek or the irrepressible gleam in her eyes. Hell, Leo could scarcely go an hour without being haunted by memories of them sparring in his grandfather’s office and reluctantly declaring a truce as they shared a sandwich on the beach.
It didn’t matter that he was a far different man than he’d been back then. More confident, more worldly, more jaded. The truth was that he was still, one hundred percent, smitten with Miss Kitty Beckett.
And she was quite oblivious to the fact.
Now he was getting his first glimpse of her in four years, and he drank in the sight like parched earth soaking up a drought-ending rain. She stood in Lady Rufflebum’s opulent ballroom chatting with her close friend, the Duchess of Hawking, seemingly unaware of the moonstruck expressions of the young bucks orbiting her. Kitty was the sun, and they were mere mortals content to bask in her warmth. To admire her from afar.
It wasn’t difficult to see why. Her gold-spun hair glistened in the candlelight; her incandescent smile banished the shadows. Her beauty had, no doubt, brought many a man to his knees, and Leo supposed he was no exception.
But what had captivated him, making it impossible for him to move on, was the way she challenged everything he thought he knew. About architecture, competition, and the fairer sex.
Years ago, when they’d both worked as apprentices in his grandfather’s shop, Leo would squint at his straightedge and pretend to take measurements while stealing glances at Kitty as she drew at the desk across from him.
He could still picture the sure, graceful sweeps of her hand. The nimble, steady movements of her fingers. The fire that sparked in her eyes as she transformed a blank page in her sketchbook into a design so lifelike, so inspired, so ingenious that it took his breath away.
Naturally, when she’d held up her creation and asked for his opinion, his cocky seventeen-year-old self had shrugged and said, “Congratulations. You’ve created the perfect dwelling for a gargoyle and his fairy bride.”
Despite being two years his junior, Kitty wasn’t cowed in the slightest. “If anyone is familiar with the preferences of gargoyles, I daresay it’s you. Never fear, I shall include plenty of bedchambers for you and your gargoyle-fairy children. Let us hope they will resemble their mother, poor unfortunate soul.”
He brushed off the barb as if he hadn’t felt its sting. “There’s nothing objectively wrong with your drawing. It’s actually quite good,” he admitted, making him the reigning king of understatement. “But in case you hadn’t noticed, golden spires and stained-glass windows aren’t exactly commonplace here in Bellehaven. A building like yours wouldn’t fit in at all.”
She’d tossed a curl over her shoulder. It was a habit of hers that he absolutely adored—mostly because it was a telltale sign that he’d touched a nerve. But, true to form, Kitty quickly regained her composure. “That’s the difference between you and me,” she said icily. “I am not content to blend in.”
He’d scoffed, pretending that barb hadn’t also met its mark. “No?” he countered. “You wouldn’t walk through the doors of the Salty Mermaid wearing a ball gown.”
“Wouldn’t I?” She narrowed her eyes and held his gaze in a silent challenge. He didn’t look away. Not when his cheeks grew hot. Not when desire punched him in the gut and traveled south.
After an interminable amount of time, she clucked her tongue and smiled serenely. “It’s as though you don’t know me at all, Leo Lockland.”
The way she’d said his name—as if it were part curse, part incantation—delighted him. Of all her quirks, it was a favorite, second only to the hair flip.
The next day she’d glided into the shop wearing a ball gown and stood directly beside his desk, waiting for him to acknowledge her.
He took his time finishing his calculation, which, incidentally, hadn’t a chance in hell of being correct, then glanced up at her. If there was one bone in his body that was. “Nice gown. But this isn’t the Salty Mermaid,” he said with a smug smile.
She silently reached into the delicate reticule dangling from her wrist, withdrew a shot glass, and clunked it on his desk. The scent of brandy tickled his nose.
“Nathan Gutridge sends his regards,” she said smoothly, referring to the pub’s burly barkeep. “He hopes he can count on you for the annual cricket match.” With that, she took her seat across from him, withdrew her sketchbook from the desk drawer, and began working.
Damn distracting, that. How was he supposed to concentrate on measurements and scale while she was draped in silk and lace? “You’re not going to wear that all day, are you?”
She blinked slowly, as if his question were more absurd than her gown. Then she laughed. Not a dainty titter or delicate giggle, but a genuine, full-bellied laugh that made him feel like he could fly. Her laugh edged the hair flip out of first place.
“Of course I’m wearing this gown all day,” she said blithely. “In fact, I might wear it all bloody week.”
His and Kitty’s relationship had always been based on an odd combination of fierce competition and grudging respect. But beneath the barbs and the banter—on his side, at least—was a constant longing. It had burned for so many years and was such a part of him that he could almost forget it was there.
Until he’d come face-to-face with her again.
In the years he’d been away she’d grown even more beautiful—something he didn’t think possible. One look at her obliterated every defense he’d carefully erected around his heart.
He’d left behind a burgeoning architectural practice in London so that he could be close to his recently widowed mother in Bellehaven. On his first night home, his mother mentioned that despite Kitty Beckett’s many suitors, she was still single. Leo had snorted at that out of pure habit. He couldn’t let his mother know that he had a decade-old crush on Kitty. But hope sprouted in his chest.
He prided himself in being a practical sort. He dealt in measurements and calculations, nails and mortar, timber and stone. He believed in physical labor and standing by his word. But despite his protestations, Kitty had always had a knack for bringing out the dreamer in him.
Surely, by now they’d outgrown their silly rivalry. Maybe, finally, she could see him in a different light. Not as a competitor, but as a warm-blooded man. Improbable as it seemed, tonight she had him wondering if a beautiful, ridiculously talented heiress could fall for a decent, hard-working bloke like him.
There was only one way to find out.
He strode across the ballroom toward her, sliding a palm over his chest in hopes of quieting the thumping of his heart. When he was a mere ten yards away, a gentleman approached her, lifted her gloved hand, and pressed a kiss to the back.
It was all quite within the bounds of proper behavior, but the man’s lazy grin and possessive grasp rubbed Leo the wrong way. He bristled as the bloody rogue whisked Kitty in the opposite direction, toward the dance floor.
“Leo Lockland. Is that really you?” He recognized the feminine voice behind him. It belonged to Kitty’s friend.
He dragged his gaze away from Kitty, mustered a smile for the young duchess, and closed the distance between them. “Good evening, Your Grace.”
“Come now,” she protested with a graceful wave of her hand. “You must call me Poppy. After all, it wasn’t so long ago that we were building sandcastles together.”
“You’re looking very well,” he said, relieved to see that despite recently becoming a duchess, she was the same freckle-faced, down-to-earth girl he’d grown up with. He’d been closer in age to her older brother, but Dane had spent more time eating sand than trying to build with it. Poppy had been Leo’s ally and a fierce defender of sandcastles.
“I owe you belated congratulations on both your marriage and the birth of your daughter. I’m happy for you, Poppy.”
“Thank you.” She gave his hand an affectionate squeeze. “It’s nice to have you back in Bellehaven. It’s been ages, hasn’t it? I thought I might see you when—”
She stopped before completing the thought, but Leo knew what she’d been about to say. She’d expected him to come home last year. For his father’s funeral. But Leo hadn’t.
Poppy pasted on a smile. “In any event, I’m glad you’re here now. Will you be staying long?”
Leo nodded. “I sold my apartment in London. I’m moving back permanently,” he explained. “To be closer to my mother and to take over my grandfather’s practice.”
“That’s wonderful,” Poppy said brightly. “I wish I could introduce you to my husband, but he’s in London at the moment. Our daughter, Alexa, and I will be joining him tomorrow and will stay for several weeks while we attend to some business matters.”
“My mother mentioned that you’ve been helping the local fishermen expand their operations,” Leo said. “She says that, thanks to you, Bellehaven will soon be the fishing capital of England.”
“Initially, I simply wanted our fisheries to be able to compete with the new ships off the coast,” Poppy said with a smile. “But I confess I like the sound of your mother’s idea.”
The duchess’s gaze flicked to the dance floor where Kitty waltzed with a tall, dark-haired toff, and her smile faded a notch—as if she didn’t much care for the man. But that might have been wishful thinking on Leo’s part.
He lifted his chin in Kitty’s direction. “I see some things haven’t changed. She still has legions of admirers.”
“Indeed.” Faint lines marred the duchess’s forehead, confirming his earlier impression. “The problem isn’t so much with quantity as it is quality,” she added vaguely.
Leo arched a brow. “You don’t approve of her dance partner?”
Poppy’s color rose. “I didn’t mean to disparage the marquess. I’m sure the matchmaking mamas consider him a good match.”
“But you don’t?”
Poppy leaned closer and whispered, “Lord Hadenwood is handsome, charming, and wealthy,” she began, as if these were strikes against him. “Accustomed to having beautiful young ladies falling at his feet. He flits between balls and soirees, leaving a trail of romantic conquests in his wake.”
Leo grunted, indicating she needn’t elaborate further.“He’s a rake.”
She shrugged helplessly. “Many young women are drawn to his type.”
“Including Kitty?” he asked, fully aware that he was dancing close to a line.
The duchess hesitated. “I know your relationship with her has always been a bit . . .”
“Adversarial?” he offered.
She shot him a grateful smile. “Right. But you know her better than most. She is not easily manipulated, and yet, she’s never been able to resist a challenge. I fear she’ll be so engaged in idle flirtations, so knee-deep in battles of wits that she won’t notice when a genuinely good and kind man tries to capture her affections.”
Leo mustered a sympathetic chuckle. “So you’re saying nice blokes don’t stand a chance against rakes?”
“I would not go that far,” Poppy said. “But I must admit that when it comes to winning a woman’s heart, a man with a silver tongue, a wicked grin, and a dangerous air has something of an unfair advantage.”
The duchess’s words were still echoing in his head as Kitty twirled past him in a blur of golden curls and seagreen silk, tugging a piece of his heart along behind her.
Maybe it was a good thing that he hadn’t been able to pull her aside and tell her that he’d thought of her every day and dreamt of her every night.
Because if being nice was a curse, he was doomed.
He didn’t stand a chance in hell with Kitty Beckett.
Kitty prided herself on being able to spot a rake at one hundred paces, and her current dance partner, Lord Hadenwood, was a prime example from his tousled hair to his polished Hessian boots. The question was whether he was the right sort of rake for her.
Namely the sort who was practical enough to marry, kind enough to be a good father, and enlightened enough to support her career goals. She needed a man who was decent but who wouldn’t demand all of her heart. Because she couldn’t give it.
Some evenings Kitty felt as though she was on the hunt for a unicorn—and destined to find nothing but donkeys.
“Tonight’s ball rivals any that I have attended in London,” the marquess said loftily. “I confess I am surprised.”
“Bellehaven isn’t so very far from civilization,” Kitty teased. “I like to think that what we lack in culture we make up for with charm.”
“Any deficits this town may have are more than made up for by your charms,” he said with a predictably wicked grin. But he was mistaken if he thought she’d be swept off her feet with a pretty compliment. After all, courtship was a perilous game for an heiress with ambition, and she refused to engage feelings or allow herself to be backed into a corner. Her plans and dreams were too precious to risk.
“Perhaps one day I shall design a maritime museum for Bellehaven,” she said as they glided across the dance floor. “A building to celebrate our rich history and vibrant culture.”
The marquess missed a step, but quickly recovered. “You? Design a building?” he asked, clearly perplexed.
She pasted on a smile. “I worked as an apprentice for several years and plan to start my own architectural practice soon.”
He shook his head as if he must have heard her incorrectly. “I was under the impression that you . . . that is, I thought you were . . .”
“Wealthy?” she provided, issuing a challenge with her direct gaze.
He shot her an apologetic smile. “Fortune aside, why would a woman with your beauty choose to dabble in trade?”
Dabble? She opened her mouth to issue a scathing retort but decided to save her breath.
Lord Hadenwood was not her sort of rake, but no matter. There were plenty more rogues in England. Surely one of them would meet her criteria.
They danced the rest of the set in icy silence, and when the music finally ended, Kitty lifted her chin. “You needn’t worry about returning me to the duchess’s side. I shall find my own way.”
“Very good,” he said, mumbling apologies as he slunk away.
Free at last, Kitty turned and located Poppy on the perimeter of the dance floor. The fiery-haired duchess was a dear friend. She, Kitty, and Hazel, who had been her teacher and friend even before she’d married Kitty’s uncle, had formed a close-knit trio called the Belles. Initially they’d bonded over their grief, as all three young women had lost their mothers far too soon. But they’d found strength in each other and now shared everything from gowns, to books, to secrets. Kitty was the youngest of the three and the only one who was unmarried. She was also, unfortunately, the most likely to find trouble, despite her recent attempts to get her life in order.
Eager to tell Poppy about her disappointing dance partner, Kitty glided toward the duchess, only to find her deep in conversation with a strange man.
He was a buttoned-up sort, with hair so closely cropped that it revealed an inch of tanned skin at the back of his neck. He wore a nondescript blue jacket, buckskin trousers, and plain polished boots. She couldn’t see his face, and yet, there was something familiar about the way he stood, arms crossed, feet shoulder-distance apart, weight on his heels. Almost as if he were scouting a potential property or overseeing a construction site. In fact, he looked rather like—
Bloody hell.
But no. Leo Lockland didn’t possess shoulders that broad. He certainly didn’t have those muscular thighs or that chiseled jaw. His hair was lighter—the bright yellow of pineapple pulp, not the dusky-brown of driftwood. It couldn’t be him, and yet, it seemed fitting that Leo would barge his way into her thoughts, unbidden.
She found herself thinking of him at the oddest times. Last week, when she’d finished designing a new addition for the cottage where Poppy’s father lived, she wondered if Leo would have teased her about the mermaid carved into the peak of the roof, which lent it the look of a great ship’s prow. And whenever she smelled freshly baked strawberry tarts, she couldn’t help but recall his annoying habit of shoving a whole tart into his mouth at once. If she didn’t know better, she’d think he’d been raised by heathens.
In truth, Leo was not so different from the blasted blister on her heel. Irritating. Maddening. Distracting.
To make matters infinitely worse, he was a brilliant architect. He had a gift for numbers, measurements, and calculations. Give him a drawing, a pencil, and a quarter of an hour, and he could compute the precise length of the beams needed for a ceiling, the number of planks needed for the walls, and the number of stones needed for the chimney. Then he’d go a step further and figure the price of the building materials down to the halfpenny.
Numbers had never been her strong suit, blast it all.
Determined to put him out of her mind, she crossed the room to join Poppy and ask for an introduction to the stranger.
“Kitty,” her friend said brightly, “look who’s returned to Bellehaven!”
The man turned, met her gaze, and held it. Though she’d never participated in a duel, she imagined this was how it must feel the moment after taking one’s paces and facing one’s opponent. On guard. Ready to do battle. Oddly exhilarated.
“Leo Lockland,” she said, with the sort of enthusiasm normally reserved for tooth extractions and undertakers.
“You’ve returned.”
“It’s good to see you, Kitty.” His voice was deeper, richer than she remembered.
“It’s Kat now,” she said coolly.
Leo’s brows rose a fraction of an inch. “I was standing here, one second ago, when the duchess called you Kitty.”
She counted to three in her head. “Poppy is like a sister to me. The same rules don’t apply,” she replied slowly, as if she were speaking to a child.
“I’ve known you since you wore braids.”
“That’s why I did not insist that you address me as Miss Beckett,” she retorted. “A decision which I am now regretting.”
Leo cocked his head, conceding the point. “Then I guess I’ll count myself lucky.”
“It’s been an age since we’ve seen you here,” Kitty said, keeping her tone neutral lest he think she’d missed him. “I am sorry about your father.”
His jaw twitched. “Thank you.”
An awkward silence ensued, and Poppy cleared her throat. “How long have you been away, Leo?”
“Four years,” he said, his voice laced with something akin to regret.
Poppy clucked her tongue as if she couldn’t imagine being away from her beloved sea for so great a time. “You must have missed the salty spray of the ocean, the soothing rumble of the waves.”
“Indeed.” Leo’s gaze flicked to Kitty and back to the duchess. “I have missed much about Bellehaven.”
Kitty barely refrained from rolling her eyes. After working with her in his grandfather’s office for three years and being a constant thorn in her side for the entire duration, he’d left without a word.
She supposed she shouldn’t have been surprised, for that was the way of the world. People came into her life, stayed for a bit, then vanished, like bottles drifting out to sea. But each person who left took a piece of her with them, leaving her a bit more hollow, a bit more brittle on the inside.
Sometimes death stole people away, as it had her parents when she was just a girl. Other times happier circumstances—perhaps marriage or a new family— pulled her closest friends in different directions. No one was to blame, really. But the least a person could do was say goodbye, and Leo had not. She’d been more wounded by his sudden departure than she cared to admit, even to herself. Perhaps especially to herself.
Now he was back, acting as though he expected to pick up where they’d left off. But time had not stood still for Kitty. She’d continued her apprenticeship under Leo’s kindly grandfather, Mr. Sandford. She’d honed her skills and begun to make a name for herself. Now she was counting the days until she officially came into her inheritance and could strike out on her own.
“Kitty, er, Kat,” Leo said. “I wondered if I might have a word.”
She inclined her head. “Go on.”
“In private,” he amended.
“I shall leave you alone,” Poppy said, her shrewd eyes narrowing slightly. To Leo, she added, “I hope you will pay a visit when my husband and I return to Bellehaven in the fall. In the meantime, please look after Kitty.”
“I don’t require looking after,” Kitty huffed, indignant, as her friend glided away. “And, in case you hadn’t noticed, he’s hardly a suitable governess!”
“She knows how to ruffle your feathers,” Leo said with a wink.
In all the hours they’d spent working directly across from each other, he’d never winked at her like that. As if he knew all her secrets. Suddenly warm, she withdrew her fan from her reticule.
She shot him a too-sweet smile, hoping to get back on familiar footing. “What did you wish to discuss?”
He hesitated a beat, so she continued. “Allow me to guess. You’re upset because your favorite drafting pencil has gone missing, and you think I’ve hidden it.” She’d certainly been guilty of that a time or two.
His eyes crinkled at the corners. The lines there were deeper than she recalled, but in a way that suited him, dash it all. “No,” he said. “Try again.”
“You’ve discovered that your accounts ledger is off by three pennies, and you’re so distraught you need me to prevent you from hurling yourself off Brigand’s Bluff.”
He’d always been a bit of a perfectionist.
“That’s not it, either,” he said, gazing at her as if she should be able to read his mind.
To be fair, she’d once been quite good at ascertaining the direction of his thoughts. But a great deal of time had passed since he’d left, and she hadn’t received so much as a single letter. Perhaps she’d been foolish to expect to receive correspondence from a boy with whom she’d quarreled almost daily. Indeed, they’d once traded insults with the same ease that civil people exchanged pleasantries.
But then he’d trotted off to London, and the loss of their rivalry left a gaping void. Her life had felt much like a parlor where the sofa had been suddenly removed. Even a threadbare, wobbly, tea-stained sofa was preferable to no sofa at all. A parlor without any sofa was simply awkward and empty and . . . sad.
So Kitty had done what she needed to do. What she’d done before when people left. She’d rearranged the other parts of her life in an attempt to fill the space.
But now Leo was back, and she wasn’t at all certain she knew him anymore.
At last he said, “Could we go someplace quieter to sit and talk? Perhaps the terrace?”
The unexpected seriousness in his expression rattled her, and she suddenly regretted teasing him. What if his grandfather or mother was unwell? Or if he was in some sort of trouble? “Of course,” she said, despite the full dance card dangling from her wrist. “Let’s go.”
They were halfway to the French doors when Mayor Martin hopped onto the dais where the orchestra sat, bows resting on their laps. “Ladies and gentlemen,” the mayor boomed across the ballroom, “may I have your attention, please?”
Kitty and Leo paused near the potted ferns. “What’s this about?” he asked, as the crowd around them gradually hushed.
“For weeks, the mayor’s been hinting he has big news to share at tonight’s ball,” Kitty whispered. “The town’s all a-twitter, but he’s been quite tight-lipped. Can our talk wait until after the announcement?”
“Of course,” he said with a self-deprecating shrug. “I’m nothing if not patient.”
A retort was on the tip of Kitty’s tongue, but she swallowed it when the mayor launched into his speech.
“Many thanks to Lady Rufflebum, our lovely hostess, for inviting us all to her annual summer ball. I can think of no better way to begin the busy tourist season. I am honored to inform you that plans are underway for all of Bellehaven’s usual events, including the locals versus outof-towners cricket match on the beach, our famous regatta at the docks, and the Regatta Ball in our beautiful assembly rooms.”
As cheers and applause erupted around the ballroom, Kitty glanced at Leo and said, “Some things don’t change.”
He nodded, thoughtful. “Maybe not. I’m hoping some things do.”
His words settled in her belly like a butterfly landing on a bloom. That uncharacteristically dreamy, faraway look in his eyes could mean only one thing: Leo Lockland fancied a woman in Bellehaven. Probably someone sweet and agreeable. Someone who wouldn’t dare look at him crosswise, much less contradict him. Maybe he’d even written to her while he was in London.
Kitty smiled to herself and mentally tucked that bit of speculation securely into her reticule, for it would surely be useful at some point. Of course she was curious as to the identity of the poor girl, but she would find out soon enough. And then she’d have a bit of ammunition to toss Leo’s way the next time he made the mistake of needling her.
The mayor cleared his throat, snapping Kitty’s attention back to long-awaited announcement.
“Thanks to the generosity of our benefactor, the countess, I am able to reveal a new, exciting opportunity for our town. As you are all aware, Bellehaven has been growing by leaps and bounds. We anticipate the construction of several new buildings in the next decade, and, to that end, we are sponsoring a design contest.”
A shiver of excitement skittered down Kitty’s spine, and she perked up her ears in order to hear over the excited murmurs of the guests around her and Leo.
“The rules of the contest are simple,” the mayor continued. “Each entry will consist of a building design for a structure of the participant’s choosing. The designs will be judged in three distinct areas: visual appeal, technical merit, and the potential benefit to our fair town.”
“Unbelievable,” Leo whispered in awe.
Kitty’s fingertips went numb. This was precisely the opportunity she needed to prove her skills before she moved to London. She had to win the contest, and she would—no matter what it took.
“Submissions are due the day before the regatta,” Mayor Martin continued, “and the winner will be announced at the Regatta Ball. The winning architect shall receive a monetary prize of one hundred pounds. More importantly, their building shall grace a prime location on Main Street, adjacent to the beach. Construction on the new project will begin in September.”
The words buzzed in Kitty’s ears like fireflies in a jar. This contest was her chance to be recognized as an architect. To show that she was capable of designing a structure that Bellehaven could be proud of. She swayed slightly, and a firm hand pressed against the small of her back.
“Are you all right?” Leo murmured. “You look a little flushed.”
“I’m fine,” she said, both irritated that he noticed and grateful for his concern. “But I could do with some fresh air.”
“Follow me.” He led the way around clusters of guests and the refreshment table to the French doors leading to the terrace. They crossed the flagstone patio and sat on a stone half-wall bathed in the moonlight. A chorus of insects serenaded them from the lush garden, but all Kitty could think of was the design contest. It was a chance to make a name for herself, to leave her mark, and create something beautiful for Bellehaven.
She was confident in her ability to bring a vision to life on paper—drawing was her forte and passion. Numbers, on the other hand, were a headache and necessary evil.
She’d been honing her technical skills in recent years, but the project she had in mind was going to push the limits of her knowledge, and she couldn’t risk losing the contest over a silly computation error.
Which led her to two stark, rather humbling conclusions.
First, Leo Lockland, her longtime nemesis, was likely to be her greatest rival in the contest.
Second, she was going to swallow her pride and ask him for a favor.
Sign up for the You Had Me at HEA newsletter!
