A/N: Hello all! You might know me from my Clandestine story that I've been writing for the past 3 years. This story has nothing to do with Clandestine but is another Tangled AU thingy. This story is more of a passion project and blend of a few of my favorite plays and literary themes; romantic era, Shakespeare, the classic rake trope, and of course the fairytale. It will be much more condensed than my other writing (and hopefully not too long!). But thank you all for giving it a shot! Your reviews would mean the world to me! (Also, I began this months ago, before starting my new job and before life got particularly crazy. If this gets a response I plan to continue with it. Thank you all!)
The Taming of the Ruffian
i. If I be waspish, best beware my sting
Corona County. 1812.
"She walks in beauty, like the night…"
Rapunzel smiled to the handsome man's words as she sat beside him in a flourishing garden. He had a perfectly tailored coat and a vest of robin's blue that matched his light eyes. And, when he smiled, he looked to her with the clearest intent, boyish and without fault. He was tall, but not too tall, broad, but not to described as wide. He had an amiably shaped face. Square and free from side-burns or roguish scruff. He was only good and pure. Like a cup of tea before three cubes of sugar. Like a sunny day before the clouds on the horizon. And, what made him even more splendid to her, was the fact that he could recite poetry from memory.
He turned to her and regarded her with an impish smile before taking her gloved hand.
"Of cloudless climes and starry skies… And all that's best of dark and bright, meet in her aspect and her eyes."
Rapunzel blushed to his words as she was captured by his unwaveringly loving stare. "Byron," she noted of the poem, "you know his work?"
The man looked to her in confusion. "Byron? No, my lady. I only spoke such words from my heart. No man has written or said them before. And, if he has, the object of his desire could not be any more bewitching or as beguiling as yourself."
He was the perfect man. And, as he sat there, his golden hair reflecting in the light of the sun, and his tanned face looking to her as if she were the only woman he had ever seen…
Rapunzel opened her eyes and ceased the daydream.
Instead of a garden, she sat at her vanity, observing the pale mousy girl with heaps of blonde hair who peered back to her. She had, once again, tripped into a fantasy involving the sort of man that did not exist; one who noticed her.
"Byron!"she gasped, talking to her own reflection. "Surely you know all his work!"She then pouted her lips and narrowed her brow to appear more masculine and tortured. "No. I insist, my lady. You alone inspire such words! You alone are my muse… perhaps I am a poet, after all! For, I am inspired by your beauty and bewitched by your soul and taken by the lure of your large dowry-"
"Rapunzel!" gasped an older portly maid entering the young woman's bedchamber. It was her mother's servant, old Mrs. Bradshaw. "Your aunt is waiting for you in the carriage. She insists you must leave at once. Here. I have your shawl."
Rapunzel stood from her vanity and frowned to the sight of the long light-pink satin. She quickly tossed it about her shoulders as the maid evened out her appearance. As usual, Rapunzel found herself lost in a frock of muslin with the intention of attending the event of the season; The Alby Ball held at the Alby household. Nothing out of the ordinary. She had been anticipating the event for days, both with a hint of excitement and deep sense of dread. On one hand, she knew her controlling aunt would punish her if she caught her socializing. On the other hand, she secretly hoped for the courage to break from her hawk-like glare and be carried away by a man she was not related to.
However, such musings were as fantastical as a young man in Corona County who could recite Byron from memory.
She was Rapunzel Ravenwood. Orphaned at the age of five and sent far away to live with her aunt; a serious and belittling woman of high society who insisted Rapunzel call her Dame Gothel. Fortunately, Rapunzel's parents had left her a large fortune as their name was regarded as one of the wealthiest in the Corona county. And yet, this only presented Rapunzel with an array of problems. For one, Dame Gothel was a recluse and demanded Rapunzel never leave her side. Together, they were bound to a lonely large estate the aunt could hardly afford. And, if Rapunzel was to marry, Gothel intended to carry on leeching off the girl. How could she keep up the arrangement? It turned out she was as crafty as she was greedy and she had arranged Rapunzel to meet her only son; Cousin Nathaniel Gothel. A boorish man who drank to excess and ate himself to ailing health.
Upon their first meeting, Nathaniel had shown no interest in Rapunzel, as there was a hog feast before them and he was far too preoccupied with inhaling as much of the food as he could. And, in meetings since, the brutish man made it clear he was as cold and unfeeling as his mother.
Much to the young woman's dismay, one night after supper - when his lips were still greasy from the pork - he offered a proposal of marriage. He clumsily bent on his knee and produced a ring she was recognized from his mother's hand. Rapunzel could only stare to him and then to Gothel before quickly running from room. In a fit, she collected herself in the hallway. That was when Dame Gothel found her. A claw of hers roughly snatched the young woman's wrist.
"What has gotten into you, Rapunzel? Why, I've never seen a haughtier exit!"
"I can't do it!" Rapunzel gasped in tears. "Please, don't make me! I'm not ready! I can't do it!"
"You will marry my son! Don't you see? He will be the only man to ever want you – such a skinny thing you are. What? Do you think you're like that Bechamp girl? The kind that gets asked to dance?"
"No!" Rapunzel meekly responded. "But… what if there is another boy? I only want to know, before I make a certain decision!"
"How brainless! This is because you fill your head with all those worthless romance books and poems! Grow up from your childish fancies!" Her Aunt moved closer to her, her wild black hair making her appear more of a witch than a socialite. "Do you want me to be alone? Is that it? Do you want me to die penniless?"
Rapunzel said nothing as she looked emotionlessly to the bitter woman.
With that, Gothel's brow contorted to anger, and the back of her hand came down hard across Rapunzel's face. And, though the incident was nearly a month ago, Rapunzel still felt the sting as she joined her aunt in the carriage.
To please her aunt and cease her abuse, she confessed she was only overwhelmed by the shock of the proposal and needed a decent amount of time to process it all. Gothel permitted her niece, yet, Rapunzel knew her days of childish fancy were officially numbered.
The young woman beheld her fanciful aunt in the velvet upholstered carriage. She was dressed in bright red with black trimmings around her waist. Her hair was done neatly on the top of her head accompanied by a long black feather. She always dressed far wealthier than she was. A social tactic she had learned years earlier. Rapunzel, however, was done much more demurely. She was aware her aunt had her dressed in innocent colors and timid accessories as to not catch the eye of suitors. It almost made Rapunzel laugh. She was so bashful and simple, men hardly looked her way, and she doubted a tighter corset and feather would help much.
Mercifully, she was not the only awkward girl to attend these gatherings. She was assured she would be at the side of her good friend; Kitty Baker, daughter of Bill Baker who partially owned a popular Gentleman's club named The Snuggly Duckling. He did well with the business, even though the true owner of the establishment was a notorious young libertine, too consumed by the eccentric lifestyle of a womanizer to pay his own business much mind.
"What is on your mind?" asked Gothel staring across to Rapunzel who realized she had been smiling out the window. "You have a smile. That can only mean you are thinking up one of your intolerable fantasies." Rapunzel almost laughed, amused at her how tight the woman's jar became when she spoke angrily, the words barely squeaking out.
"Sorry to disappoint you, Dame Gothel," she began, "but I am not. I was merely thinking of the joy of speaking to Kitty tonight."
"Good, because as you are aware, there will be great consequences if I catch you with a bachelor. Is that understood?"
Rapunzel laughed a bit at the idea. "Can you even picture me approaching a bachelor, aunt?"
"Yes…" she said slowly. "Actually, I do recall you observing one man in particular. And, by the way your eyes just widened, I can tell you know whom I'm speaking of."
Rapunzel looked to her submissively and a tad embarrassed. She shook her head. "There is no one I admire. No one."
"My, you are a liar, dear. You've gotten that from your father, no doubt. My sister would never have been so deceiving."
Rapunzel had become numb to Gothel bringing up her the subject of her parents. Her heart yearned to know more about them, though, the only way she seemed to learn were through her snide remarks. Gothel hated Rapunzel's father and she often compared her to him.
After sitting in silence through the remainder of the bumpy ride, they came to the Alby townhouse and were escorted inside to behold the ornate beauty of the hall. The music that wafted from the piano grasped Rapunzel's senses and she became elated by the soft whispers of men and giggles of women. Every young man was dressed finely in dark velvet, white cravats, and elegant waistcoats. The women sauntered by, long flowing fabric tracing behind them, with ribbons around their necks and flowers in their hair. Soon, Rapunzel met the eye of a young woman seated alone on the side of the ballroom. Once her aunt was preoccupied in conversation, Rapunzel darted to the side of her friend.
Kitty rose to greet her and the two shared a kiss on the cheek. Kitty was equally as mousy as Rapunzel, however, her shyness was a prison of her own design rather than a guardian's. The brown-haired girl was a thin as a rail, with frizzed hair, a long nose, and a stutter that would arise in the presence of handsome young suitors. The two women connected over the fact that they sat out every dance while the other belles of society were quick to be asked to the floor. Yet, Rapunzel did not mind sitting and chatting with the girl. After their very first conversation, she knew Kitty was a kindred spirit. She too adored current writers who spoke of nature as if she were a lover. Due to Kitty's far more reasonable upbringing, she was allowed a certain amount of freedom and could travel to the town's bookstore, if accompanied by an escort, of course. Rapunzel was embarrassed of her aunt's tight grip on her social life but Kitty was ever kind and understanding. She would always allow Rapunzel to borrow her books when she was done.
Lately, Kitty had found pleasure in scandalizing her innocent friend. This included her purchasing a book with the premise of a girl fallen prisoner of a rich French Marquis. It included shocking scenes such as; the seduction. Where in, the Marquis approaches the young woman and speaks of her performing wifely duties without the promise of marriage. The book had the unexpected title of; The French Marquis, and Rapunzel read it without hardly blinking. And, though the phrasing of some passages made her blush feverishly, it was nothing compared to the gossip they would often share of popular members of high society.
"Did you hear of Lady Caroline Lamb and her publication in the Childe Harold this week?" asked Kitty keeping her voice low.
"No!" gasped Rapunzel. "Do tell. What has that wild woman done now?"
Kitty smiled playfully, "Wait until I lend you my issue. She speaks of her first encounter with Lord Byron."
Rapunzel's largely expressive eyes doubled in size at the name. The man's personal life was not her favorite topic to speak of. "Kitty, you know I enjoy his writing, but the man himself is-"
"Mad? Bad? Dangerous to know?"
"Actually. Yes… all three."
"That is just what Caroline has stated! She said at once, with only a single glance of his wild appearance, she knew he was mad, bad, and dangerous to know. Could you imagine having such an innate opinion of person? You know, they say he's so handsome, women faint at the look of him!"
"Sounds unholy to me," Rapunzel sighed, "could be he has the devil in his eyes."
"Oh, my… The devil in his eyes. When shall you start writing of wicked romances?"
"Wicked? Never. If I ever do tell a story, it will be my own. And one of good decent love with a respectable man who has no animal spirits – or whatever they say that Byron possesses."
"But dearest, all men have animal spirits," Kitty explained. "My brother says it's in their nature and cannot be helped."
Rapunzel looked to her friend with a renewed interest. "Your own brother says that?"
"Yes, but that's not to say he's a savage enslaved by his own… virility."
"Hush!"Rapunzel exclaimed before looking around to make certain no one heard. "Really, you know we are in public?" Kitty laughed but Rapunzel went on, explaining herself. "True love is far more becoming than passionate love. I only hope my husband is… wholesome… but keen. Wickedness can be appealing but gluttony of the flesh is not. Women would be appalled by a man who did nothing but lounge around and eat sweets. He'd be stout and boring! So why are women so interested in men who do nothing but... well." She did not let her thoughts linger on the depravities of such men.
"A man who does nothing but eat? And who are you describing, I wonder?"
Rapunzel smiled at the unintentional insult. "I did not mean to describe my dear fiancé to be…"
"But, you did. Tell me, is he still being so awful and forward?"
Rapunzel looked away, straightening the folds of her dress. "He has relented, for the time being, yet I know it won't be long. And I fear the consequences of turning him down again."
Kitty took Rapunzel's hand in hers and the girls offered each other a look of caring and unbreakable friendship. "It is not right. They can't force you into a marriage you do not want."
"Auntie says it's a marriage of connivance and marrying for love is only for the middleclass."
"Your auntie should read The French Marquis."
Rapunzel scoffed at the thought, "Yes, just after the world freezes over."
Kitty laughed, and, as she did, she caught the eye of someone across the room, her smile widened. The male face looked back cheerfully to her. It belonged to a man who had been in the middle of a dance with one of his many acquaintances. Rapunzel followed her friend's gaze and suddenly felt frozen with nerves at the sight of the young man. In the next moment, the dance ended. Rapunzel watched with envy as the young man took the hand of his dancing partner and gently kissed her knuckles. But then, she panicked once more, realizing he was headed straight toward the pair.
"Brother!" greeted Kitty standing to meet the man. Rapunzel shyly did the same. "I thought you said you had business to attend to tonight?"
"Ah," said the man with a dismissive shake of his head, "The Snuggly Duckling will still be standing in the morning. Father allowed me the pleasure of the Alby Ball tonight and I was hardly in the position to dismiss a bit of fun." As he carried on, he looked to Rapunzel who nervously glanced to the floor. The sight of the flushed girl with a heap of blonde hair atop her head made him smile like a playful boy. Perhaps he only saw her as a second little sister, but to Rapunzel, each pleasant glance of his eye was a secret confession of undying love.
"Miss Ravenwood. A pleasure to see you, again."
Rapunzel offered him a small curtsy as his head dipped in a slight bow.
"You as well, Mister Baker," she said, her voice just over a whisper.
The young mister Baker - better referred to as Johnny - had met Rapunzel on a few occasions. However, little did he know, they met far more often in her romantic daydreams. Her eyes fell over his appearance and she was taken back to see he wore a blue vest, as vivid as a robin's breast. Much to her shock, the color matched his eyes, and it was just as she had pictured it in her imagination. She tightly clenched her jar as he offered her his arm.
"Might we see what delights await in the banquet hall? I'm feeling a bit peckish after my exertion on the dance floor."
Rapunzel laughed awkwardly before glancing around for her aunt. Fortunately, she appeared to be nowhere in sight. So, Rapunzel took the man's arm, and Kitty happily took his other, and they walked to the less crowded hall.
There, they stood and spoke before the hearth, each with a small cup of raspberry cordial. Kitty and Johnny did most the talking, but Rapunzel would occasionally chime in with agreement to the man. She was careful to observe every inch of him. From his modestly tied cravat to his smart but worn clothes. He possessed the humble appearance of an honest working man. To her, he was as perfect as any love interest in a novel. Though, he was not as aloof as most of them were depicted. He was straightforward and always stated things as plainly as he could.
"Father has an unbelievable workload this month with the club," said Johnny scratching his bare cheek. "You won't believe the effort that needs to be done."
"And that brutish man refuses to help?" asked Kitty.
Johnny smirked at her cutting words. "I'll remind you that brutish man is my good friend."
"I don't know how that can be," she went on. "After what he did to Lydia Bechamp. How can anyone regard him with even the slightest amount of tolerance?"
Rapunzel was lost to her friend's meaning and only had a faint idea of who they were speaking of. And, though she did not care much for talk of business, she did enjoy the handsome look of pain it brought to Johnny's face. She imagined being the one to make him happy after a long day of work at the club.
"Everyone knows how his father's money is dwindling. And, though the club is the most popular in the county, I'm afraid father cannot keep it afloat himself. He hardly listens to a word I say. But I know the changes that need to be made to make it as glorious as it once was! If only I could find the owner when he was not… undisposed." He chuckled at the word as if it held a double meaning to him.
Johnny then suddenly seemed distracted. His eyes were drawn past the women to a figure from the opposite corner of the room. He looked away and laughed dryly to himself before finishing his drink with a swig.
"What is it, Johnny?" Kitty asked. He smiled and nodded in the direction of the sight. Both women followed his suggestion and were met with the appearance of a tall man regarding a group of three women.
Rapunzel's jaw became unhinged by the sight. It reminded her of an illustration straight from an illustrious paperback. The man, dressed as boldly as a foreign prince, held one arm around a young woman while the other two seemed to fawn over his every word. It appeared he had coerced them away from their chaperons and more respectful dance partners. And, though his appearance was regal, his still wore a tall hat that was cocked to the side. It gave the sense that he thought little of the dance and did not even think to remove his outerwear. Or, perhaps, it was indicative of the fact that he planned on making hasty exit.
"Blazes! Speak of the devil and the devil shall appear," mused Kitty, turning away from the sight. "You think he would have the decency to at least try to appear gentile."
"A man of his upbringing never had to appear to be anything," said Johnny. "But, my word! He has outdone himself with that suit. Look at that sharp collar!" Johnny placed his empty glass on a passing tray and turned to Rapunzel with a disarming grin. "It's been a pleasure speaking with you ladies, but alas, business calls." With that, he dashed to meet the man. Rapunzel practically reached out to him with all the yearning of a wife leaving her soldier husband.
Never one to notice her friend's interest in her older brother, Kitty groaned, and sneered at the sight of Johnny approaching the mysterious man.
"Won't you tell me who that is?" asked Rapunzel, angered Johnny had left them for someone apparently more important. "Or, am I to believe the dreadful Lord Byron himself has made an appearance?"
"Ha! That man there makes Lord Bryon sound like an innocent church boy." Rapunzel practically felt faint at the thought. She glared to the tall stranger in disbelief. "No. Unfortunately, that is my father's business partner. You would not have met him, he does not usually attend such good-natured events. No… he'd rather lurk in the gutters and mope around his sprawling estate."
As Rapunzel stared to him, he turned to address Johnny, and she was able to get a better look at his appearance. He possessed a long face with a sharp nose that made for an elegantly striking profile. Brown eyes glinted in the soft light and seemed to whisper of promises and lies before she even glanced lower to his attractive lips. He certainly was handsome. Too handsome for his own good. His chestnut colored hair was abundant and stylishly disheveled and he possessed fashionably large sideburns with a bit of scruff at his chin that added to his sense of roguish appeal. From the top if his head, to the toe of his pointed boot, he was undeniably the perfect image of a fanciful, foppish, man-about-town, only interested in affairs reeking of hedonism and whisky.
"But Johnny said he was a good friend of his. Certainly, your brother does not entertain horrible men?" asked Rapunzel taking Kitty's arm as if to steady herself from the sight of the man.
"Certainly. But, unfortunately, they were good friends in their younger years at boarding school. And you know how men are with the chums they bonded with during the wilds of their youth."
Rapunzel watched as Johnny pleasantly dismissed the women from the man's presence. She could tell he wished to begin a serious conversation, one the taller man did not want to be a part of.
"And… his name is?"
Kitty raised a brow, "Sir Eugene Ryder. Though, I find it humorous and uncivilized to call him only by his first name; Flynn."
Sir Eugene Ryder smiled to Johnny and greeted him as if he had been just the man he was waiting the entire evening for. It was an enchanting quality he had; the ability to make everyone feel like the most important person in the room. And, much to his own dismay, Johnny had always been moldable in the ever-persuasive hands of his old schoolmate.
"Damn me!" Flynn declared. "All the delectable women here and you're set on my company? Surely, I am not the most interesting person in the room at this moment."
"Oh, don't do yourself such a disservice, my friend. It appears you've spent more time prettying yourself than any lady I see."
Flynn smiled as if it were a great compliment. He adored extravagance and every part of him eluded an air of showmanship. From his clothing, to the manner in which he flourished every word he spoke, he was something like a character one might see in an opera. Unflinching and never revealing what hid behind the charade.
"Do you really think?" Flynn smirked, tugging at his whimsically knotted cravat. "My tailor is out of town and I've had a devil of a time with his replacement. Curse me, he had my sleeves looking as admirable as dish rags. And, If only you caught glimpse of my vests… damn me, I can hardly bear the sight."
"Understandably distressing," said Johnny, not even slightly sure what the man was speaking of.
"I see you were quick to dismiss my company," began Flynn, turning the subject, "but what of those women you were just speaking to? Bad form, my friend. You don't see me saving every damsel from your clutches."
Johnny looked to the man in confusion, "I assure you, no woman has ever needed saving from my presence. And those women there are my sister and her friend."
"Damn me! Your sister and her friend?" asked Flynn, dismissing the women but teasing Johnny with a nudge. "I'll have you know I engaged in a similar affair last spring in Paris. They have a charming phrase for it which, of course, escapes me now. Oh, well. But you know the French. Much more open minded. When we say taboo, they say; please and thank you! Haha!"
"Ryder-" Johnny responded unnerved, hoping to cease the man's off-color humor. "I think you know full well I do not wish to speak of your latest exploits… or your fashion drama, for that matter."
"No, sir? What else is there to speak of? I do hope you don't intend to drag work into such a frivolous affair?"
"I do intend to speak to you of the club. But not here. That urgent matter is better left for another day. One where I can require your full attention." As he spoke, he noticed Flynn's eye wander to a different lady across the room. A young woman who seemed eager and unknowing of the illicit reputation the man bore. "Or…" concluded Johnny with a sigh, "as much attention as you're willing to spare."
"Johnny!" snapped Flynn as he placed an arm around his friend's shoulder and guided him toward the woman. "What say you to making merriment with that lovely cherry? I'm afraid every moment you're in my presence your status grows in further peril. You don't want my immorality to rub off on you, do you?" Johnny groaned and removed himself from Flynn's arm, swiftly dodging his attempt at distraction. Flynn became slightly nervous by this. "Don't tell me you've come to chastise me like the rest…?" he asked. Yet, with a look of seriousness, Flynn instantly knew that was exactly what his friend intended. "Damn me! I've seen that look on every other face I've greeted tonight. I know I'm devilishly handsome with a wardrobe to match but I don't think it's entirely-"
"Please, you know I care little for your rumors. And, I'm sure people are only a bit… bemused by your presence. I just want to know - what makes this event grand enough to warrant your attendance?"
Flynn laughed to himself before theatrically revealing a folded letter from inside his vest. He raised his brows suggestively and swaggered closer to Johnny with a pompous grin.
"I was invited for a midnight brush in the library. Does it shock you? That ladies with well enough station to attend the Alby Ball would be interested in… a brush? Or, forgive me, what is it you insist on calling it? An amorous congress?" Johnny went to grab the note but Flynn pulled it away and tucked it neatly into a layer of silk. "For shame, Johnny! Sharing a lady's private letter to her strange lover would be the height of bad manners, don't you agree?"
Rapunzel watched as Flynn and Johnny found their way to the ballroom. She stayed with Kitty as they settled on a chaise lounge by the fireplace.
"And what makes him so… terrible?" Rapunzel asked, her mind still lingering on the tall dark man.
"Rumors," shrugged Kitty. "I wouldn't dare repeat what I've heard. I can only say the man is drawn to debauchery like a moth to the flame. Well… not quite. Because, you see, the moth is dim-witted and does not know what harm the flame could cause. Flynn, however, he wants the harm and danger. And what's worse is that he seeks it himself! I know him so well because he comes around often due to his business with my father. Of course, he's never once given me more than a glance... I'm not exactly his type. But then again, I avoid him like the plague."
"You must elaborate on his reputation or I'll go mad wondering," said Rapunzel turning to Kitty. She found it as exhilarating as gossip of faraway socialites.
"His father recently died and he inherited his estate," Kitty began, in a lower voice. "He's been blowing straight through the money without regard for where he might end up. No doubt, he's searching for a wealthy heiress of his own. But he's tactless and refuses to abide by the rules of courtship. After all, he ruined sweet Lydia."
"As you've said… but what do you mean?" asked Rapunzel innocently. Kitty looked to her as if she were joking.
"You must know."
"I don't."
"He… ruined her," Kitty sighed, not certain how to explain the event in gentile words. "So, no other man will see her... to ever be a proper bride. Sort of like The French Marquis but not at all romantic. They were found together… in a compromising position. Her father was so irate he challenged him to a duel! Flynn was nearly killed. He claims the bullet grazed past his left ear and whispered to him like a… promiscuous lady in a… house of ill repute."
"My word! He sounds like some sort of villain in a penny dreadful!"
"Yes. And, that poor Lydia. She had to settle for a penniless boy in town. Of course, she's not the only one he's ruined. But she was only seventeen and far too naive to understand the ramifications of the act. Flynn on the other hand, as you can see, is a man well into his early thirties."
Rapunzel felt a chill at the thought. She herself was twenty and two and could not imagine speaking to a man as notorious as Sir Eugene Ryder. Still, questions lingered in her mind. She had known Lydia and the girl was as straight as they came. Surely, a girl so level-headed would not allow Sir Eugene Ryder to take her away to a life of shame? And Ryder himself, did he not have any better offers? It appeared he could have any woman he wanted.
No. She knew then something was not correct.
"I'm surprised he's even here," Kitty went on. "Everyone knows how Lady Alby despises him. But... that's the thing, I suppose. People may despise him but no one truly hates him. It seems he gets away with as much as the dickens."
"Auntie has a word for men like that…" mentioned Rapunzel, smiling to herself. "It's what she calls the men I read about; ruffians!"
As the night went on, Flynn found himself alone in the library of the Alby manner. There was a reason he did not share the note with Johnny. On any other occasion, he would have declared the love note, word for titillating word, for anyone to hear. He reveled in the whispers people shared of his illicit escapades and hardly cared for manners. In fact, he was surprised Johnny was not suspicious of him when he did not jump to brag of the supposed love note. But, that was just the problem, it was not a love note. In fact, it was the furthest thing from a love note. It was an inquiry of business. A business Sir Eugene Ryder kept well hidden from anyone in his circle of associates, as he kept many things well hidden.
It was moments - like the one he presently found himself in - that he allowed his carefully crafted mask to lower. When he was alone, he did not have to put on the character of the careless dandy; Sir Eugene Ryder. He did not have to hold his chin high and speak like the rich socialites in the city. He was only Flynn, a soon to be poor man, grasping for a sense of importance in a world that only valued ridiculous people and extravagant trivialities.
He smiled to the note as he stood in the dimly lit room. The request could not have come at a better time. Much to his poor judgment, he had recently lost a great sum of money on a bet. It was a cutting loss to his already shriveling funds.
And then, as he stood leaning on the mantle, he began to hear the door slowly creek close. He glanced up to see Dame Gothel pushing the door shut as she had been standing in the shadows entire time. He was instantly taken by her intense gaze and alluring presence. He had always appreciated a dramatic entrance and he cursed himself for not thinking of an equally staged reveal. Oh well, the rogue languidly leaning on the mantle would have to do. He placed a hand on the high waist of his tight breeches and smiled easily to the older woman. Instantly, he was back in the outlandish character of Sir Eugene Ryder.
She crossed her arms and elegantly strode to meet him. "Sir Ryder. How kind of you to surrender to my wish."
"Your note was both vague and indirect," he raised a brow. "Two qualities I look for in secret meetings."
She smiled and gracefully took a seat, crossing one long leg over the other. Flynn cocked his head to the side, admiring how her figure sank into the velvet armchair. As she cattily smirked to him, a shadow from the fire cast over her face, making her appear villainously mysterious. "I hear whispers of your repute… How money changes hands and suddenly a girl's good name is ruined."
Flynn creased his brow before shrugging indifferently.
"I'm flattered such a reputation proceeds me. However, I must warn you, I am very busy of late. My tailor, or, my tailor's replacement I should say, has ordered the entirely wrong fabric and I've had a hell of a time getting the silk of my vests to lay flat. Damn me, it takes up the better part of my day, fastening the cursed thing."
"That sounds inconvenient. But I'm sure your manservant can arrange a schedule to fit in a job involving a pretty blonde."
A frown tugged at Flynn's lips. He recognized long ago that he somewhat differed from the average man. He seemed to find greater pleasure in women than most he knew. And, the constant thought to conquer another often penetrated his daily thoughts. While he fancied himself as a gentleman boulevardier, he was instinctually consumed by a hunger that was utterly insatiable. Of course, it did not stop him from trying to tame his appetite, time and time and time again.
"Pretty little blonde, you say? And her age? I don't think I can afford another innocent on my register."
"Innocent she may be, but, she is woman enough as to not cause another mob to be sent after you… And, I will offer quite a large sum. Half tonight and half after the deed is done. Enough to ensure you a hundred properly fitted silk vests."
"Hmm," said Flynn turning fully toward her. "Now you have my attention. But, I must know more about the girl. Why are you enlisting the likes of a degenerate like I?"
"She is my wretched niece; Rapunzel-"
"What a wildly exotic name!" Flynn interrupted. "Sounds rather like a spice… or a shoe designer…"
"She has her mind set on a love match marriage," Gothel carried on. "However, I want her to marry a man of my choosing. I need her reputation to be ruined so no man will have her except the one I want."
"Ah, yes…" Flynn lowly rumbled in excitement. "The classic scene of seduction. It will call for a candlelit hearth and a maid who knows too much. I'll come to her, with my gallant great-coat, complaining I am cold from the road-"
"No, Sir Ryder. I'm afraid this will not be as easy as plucking a blushing lady from a dance. The girl is unfavorably headstrong and unsociable. No one will believe she's gone off with a man like you. No. I will be needing something more… old-fashioned."
Flynn caught her meaning at once and his eyes sparkled with mischief.
"An abduction! Oh, yes. As classic and beautiful as the Rape of Persephone…" he exclaimed, with a flourishing roll of the R. "Rape, of course, from the Latin word rapere meaning; to seize, to carry off, to be whisked away by a bandit in the night."
"Do what you must," said Gothel coldly. "You'll hear no objection from me."
"Ah, but my skills - and the level of soiled reputation - depend solely upon what you pay. I know you said it would be a large sum. But I'll be needing it doubled."
"Greedy jackanapes! Why would you require so much money?"
"It will be a whole production! Then there's the added cost of the new cape I'll need. As I've said - quite a number of times tonight, actually -my tailor is indisposed. I'll need to go to this pricey bastard who cares for me as much as the devil cares for holy water. And then, damn me, we shall need to rehearse!"
"Rehearse?! Who? For what?"
"Well, me and my stagecoach driver, of course. Do you think these things are just thrown together as messily as a windstorm?"
"Oh, please! This occasion calls for no pomp and circumstance. You'll simply carry her away, kicking and screaming, and be certain the rumor extends far and near. She'll have no care for how you look or how you are dressed!"
Flynn glared to her as if she had done him the highest dishonor. "I'm sorry, Madam. But those are the standards of a self-respecting thief-for-hire. And all at regular union rates!"
"You drive a hard bargain. Especially for a useless fop who gets his coin from ruining young women and their reputations."
Flynn stiffened his jaw. A certain young belle came to mind and he cursed himself for agreeing to the arrangement. It left an awful streak on his already tattered status and a sour taste that constantly lurked in his mouth.
"People come to me to have all sorts of heiresses ruined," he began. "I don't care much for the reasoning why. However, I do care much for my end of the deal. I know what women want. I can see into their essence… where their most guarded fantasies run rampant. They confess to me what they've always desired, freed from the shackles of our strict society. And, together, we explore realms of hidden yearning impossible to explain with mortal speech." His voice was a deep ripple and Gothel could not help but smile at his confidence. "I can assure you, Madam, any woman who was ruined by the likes of I thoroughly enjoyed herself. And that's something I take pride in."
Gothel wondered if there was anything the vanity-centric man didn't take pride in.
"Come to her window at midnight next Thursday. I'll leave a ladder and send you correspondence with further details," said Gothel, getting up and tossing a coin purse to Flynn. He caught it and nodded, pleased at the hefty weight. "Oh," she added, just before heading to the door. "I meant to add; if you dispose of her altogether, I'll throw in an extra payment. Whatever price you see fit."
The statement sent a chill over Flynn. It was something he never encountered; a person more villainous than himself. Yet, an easy smile quickly masked his look of distaste. He reminded himself of his financial dire straits… and his miserable vests.
"Tempting. But, damn me, I don't think I have the constitution for prison life."