50 Ways to Ruin a Rake (21 page)

“A walk in the city?” Eleanor huffed, though her tone was a great deal softer than before. “Don't be daft, Melinda. There are dangerous footpads everywhere.”

“But we came across none of them. I am fine.” Then she made a mistake. She shrugged off her cloak, revealing her badly pinned hair, her dress without feathers, and the lumps caused by her badly tied corset. To anyone with eyes—especially someone as smart as Eleanor—she was exposed as a woman who had been ravaged.

“You fool!” hissed Eleanor, rounding on Trevor. “You damned—”

“She can still marry,” he said, though even to him his words sounded like a weak excuse. The kind of thing said by immoral men who used women without conscience.

“My God, Trevor!” Eleanor cried, but again Mellie interrupted.

“I am still a virgin, Eleanor. Calm yourself.”

Mellie didn't know it, but no one ever told Eleanor to calm herself. The woman was made of ice, her aristocratic heritage demanding nothing more than total nonchalance of the titled elite. To tell her to calm herself was akin to a slap across the face, and Eleanor reacted according to her training: with any icy fury that could destroy all of Mellie's chances.

She pulled up to her full height, she drew in her breath, and she…did nothing. Trevor was about to leap into the breach, to take all the blame onto himself—which is where it rightly belonged—but Eleanor simply stared, long and quiet. Then she spoke two words in an eerie kind of tonelessness.

“What happened?”

“We went for a walk—” Mellie began, but Trevor took over. It was best if Eleanor's rage was directed at him.

“I broke with my grandfather.”

Eleanor sighed. “I know that, Trevor.
Everyone
knows that.”

“We did go for a walk, and then…” He shook his head. He would not be made to report like a small boy confessing to an angry parent. “Eleanor, she is still a virgin. She can still marry whomever she wants. She is still totally and completely herself. Nothing untoward has occurred.”

Eleanor spent a moment staring hard at him. Inside, he squirmed with guilt, but he kept his expression impassive. And then she turned her icy glare onto Mellie who looked equally impassive. Though she did break enough to give her confirmation.

“He has not lied, Eleanor.”

The woman snorted. “You will learn, Melinda, that there is the truth, and then there is a
gentleman's
truth. Something momentous has occurred, and I should like to stand as your friend. Rest assured, whatever has happened, I will still sponsor you as I promised. I lay all ill things at his feet.”

It took a moment for Trevor to understand exactly what she'd said. First, he realized that she was taking Mellie's part and would not abandon her. That was wonderful news, but the rest was rather painful to hear. What she said, in fact, was that she would take Mellie's part
against
Trevor, and as much as he deserved every word, it was still hard to hear. So when his words came out, they were more tart than he intended.

“So you won't abandon her
now
? What about this evening when she was all alone?”

Eleanor rounded on him, her eyes narrowed. “Whatever does that mean? She was never alone. Good God, do you know how many people were about her every moment—”

“You left her alone to Mr. Rausch and his friends. When I found her, she was dancing with him.”

“What is wrong with Mr. Rausch?” asked Mellie.

Eleanor nodded complete agreement. “Of course I left her to dance with him. Apart from being Prussian, he is the perfect man for her. I hope they will make a match!”

“A match? Have you lost your mind?”

“He is not the sort for me, but they are of the same class. He has made his fortune and found way into society. They are perfect together. And now that she must cry off from you, I am sure he will come courting.”

“Cry off?” breathed Trevor, shocked to his core.

To the side, he saw Mellie's eyes widen in surprise as well.

“Yes, cry off. That was the plan from the beginning. I had hoped to have more time, but you had that argument with your grandfather. And now everyone knows that he paid you to find a bride.”

Trevor's gaze was on Mellie. She paled at those words, but the information wasn't anything surprising. Or even news.

“I told him that I intended to marry Mellie, and there was nothing he could do to stop me.”

“You did a great deal more,” Eleanor said, and he realized that the gossips had worked especially hard tonight. There had been a scant few hours since his disagreement with the duke, but clearly, some version of the story was already winging its way about London.

Meanwhile, Mellie spoke, her voice the cool bite of reason that was needed. “Exactly what is being said?”

“That the duke forced him to take a bride, so he selected you out of spite.” Then she touched Mellie on the arm. “But don't worry. I have already let it about that you have been horribly used by Trevor. That you are an innocent in all this, and that I will continue to sponsor you.”

Damn, Mellie had gone whiter than a sheet. She was withdrawing, and if they were alone, he would wrap her in his arms and kiss her until she stopped hiding inside herself. But they weren't alone, so he stood apart and tried to soften the blow.

“No one will turn from you, Mellie. Not with Eleanor's continued support.”

“Exactly. Which is why you must now cry off. I have already hinted as much with Trevor's mother. We will make it public before her tea—”

Damnation! He'd completely forgotten the tea.

“But there is no reason to panic,” continued Eleanor.

“I'm not panicking,” Mellie said, her voice tight with irritation.

Eleanor just continued as if she hadn't spoken. “I shall tell you exactly how it will go. First, you will cry off tomorrow. I will cut Trevor and call him the most terrible cad, coming out firmly in your corner.”

“Good,” he said, though inside he was reeling. He wasn't ready for the engagement to end. His approval was because Mellie could have no better advocate than Eleanor.

“Lady Hurst will still throw her tea to show that there are no hard feelings. She has already begun, you know, decrying the manipulations of men. This whole thing truly is their fault anyway. Imagine paying your heir to court a woman and then disowning him because he'd gone and done what you instructed. It's madness.”

Trevor heartily approved of anything that put the blame squarely at his grandfather's feet, but neither woman appeared to care.

“We will go to the tea to show that we are fast friends, and you are a perfectly eligible young woman. I believe I can convince Lady Hurst to invite some scientific young men. And then, between her and me, you will be launched most spectacularly.”

Mellie frowned. “But what of Trevor?”

“Hmm? Oh, don't worry. Eventually, I will invite him to a ball or something, publicly forgiving him for being a man. That's what balls are for, you know. To show society that whatever their idiocies, we women will forgive them and still marry them. The men attend because it is the only way back into our good graces. And then we throw girls at them so they can marry and give birth to the next generation.”

Good God, was that truly what happened? Was that…? It was ludicrous, and yet there was a certain twisted logic in it. He shuddered, but then refocused on the subject at hand. “I told my grandfather that I will not give her up.”

Eleanor rolled her eyes. “Of course you did. That's the gentleman's way. But as soon as poor Melinda heard that you only courted her to thwart your grandfather, her tender heart was crushed. She throws you over and declares to marry only for true love.”

“What?” Mellie asked.

“Well, that's what we shall say. Society adores a true love story. Privately, you and I shall weigh the merits of each of your suitors closely, but once you have selected, the two of you shall fall madly in love. The wedding will be soon afterward because it must. People grow bored quickly, and so we shall keep them talking with the wedding. And then probably a month after you return from your wedding trip, you shall visit me, begging me to forgive Trevor. Everything will have worked out for the best, and then I will throw my ball, and everyone will see that he is back in my good graces.”

She slapped her hands together to show how easy it would be. And truth be told, it would be that easy. She was a master at this type of manipulation. Add his mother to the mix, and everything would happen just as they said. Mellie's suitors and eventual marriage, the forgiveness ball, and mostly probably, his engagement to some woman of their choosing. In their minds, it was all a
fait
accompli
.

He shook his head, feeling the pound of a headache beginning.

“What is it now?” Eleanor said with an annoyed clip to her words. “This is exactly what you wanted. You told me so at the beginning.”

Had he? Perhaps. Well, yes. And yet, now that he was here, everything felt so very wrong. “I told my grandfather I would not give her up.”

“Well, of course you
said
that—”

“I meant it.” He looked directly at Mellie. “I will not give you up.”

Mellie looked at him, her gaze steady, her body composed. Then she asked her question. “Why?”

Why? Damnation, he wasn't exactly sure why he was so determined. His thoughts were so muddled. So he said the easiest words to leap to his lips. “It's what I told my grandfather. A gentleman doesn't go back on his word.”

“I know,” she said, and he thought for a moment that she understood. If she would just give him some time, he was sure they could work things out with clarity. He just needed to think things through, preferably with her. But she simply lifted her chin and spoke. “That is exactly why I will cry off.”

“No!”

“Yes. That was the plan, after all. Eleanor, how do I do this?”

Eleanor clapped her hands together, her expression both happy and relieved. “Well, as to that, there are a number of options. But we needn't have him here to discuss them. Good night, Trevor. Do understand that when I give you the cut direct tomorrow I shall eventually forgive you.”

“What?” He reached for Mellie, but she had already moved toward the stairs, and he found he'd grabbed Eleanor's elbow instead. “This is not what I want.”

“Yes,” Eleanor said firmly, “it is.” And then she handed him his hat, the damned cloak, and shoved him toward the door. Yes, she actually shoved him out, and he was too much of a gentleman to fight her. Especially as Mellie started climbing the stairs offering him a halfhearted wave as she turned her back.

“Good-bye, Trevor. Thank you for everything.”

He waited a moment, blocking the open door as he tried to think. But damn it, she just kept walking away. And Eleanor repeated the one thing he'd been thinking this whole time.

“This was the plan, Trevor. This is what you both want.”

Well, given Mellie's last words, she was half right. It was clearly exactly what Mellie wanted. So he had to agree. He had to put his hat onto his head and step out into the darkness. It was what she wanted. And he had abused her too much to take that away.

Rakes expect grand emotional displays. Ruin him with regal disdain.

Mellie heard the front door close as if it had shut something away inside her. The numbness didn't creep in as usual. It simply consumed her. One moment he was here, and she was alive. The next, everything in her was frozen, and he was gone.

She knew things were happening around her. Eleanor kept talking for one. Her feet were moving for another, and eventually, she found herself at her bedroom door. But nothing truly registered.

“Go to sleep, Melinda. Everything will feel better in the morning.”

Would it? She nodded because Eleanor seemed to expect her to respond. Then her sleepy maid joined them, helping her to strip out of her gown. Eleanor shut the door and sought her own bed, leaving Mellie to random stray thoughts.

She'd lost all the feathers on her gown.

Trevor.

Her cricket ring felt heavy, but when she took it off, she felt its absence.

Her hair was knotted.

Trevor.

There was a spot of dirt on the wall by her dressing table.

Trevor.

She had danced a great deal tonight. Her feet should hurt. Her feet did hurt.

The sheets were cold.

Trevor.

Trevor.

Trevor.

* * *

The morning was not better, which was why she rolled over and went back to sleep.

The afternoon was not better, but she had to face it as Eleanor was standing in her bedroom and waving a cup of hot chocolate at her.

She didn't want chocolate, but she thought it would be rude to refuse. Then she did want the chocolate because if she couldn't have Trevor, she could have chocolate.

And then Eleanor began to speak. An endless stream of words and plans and possibilities, none of which fully entered her mind, but some of it helped drown out his name. So she encouraged Eleanor to keep talking, to keep planning, and eventually, she began to focus.

The afternoon callers would be here soon. She had to dress and be charming. Eleanor suggested she not say much. After all, she was supposed to be a heartbroken former fiancée, though the official break would happen at the ball that evening. Their hostess was a friend of Eleanor's and beyond thrilled to provide the location for the dramatic scene-to-be.

Mellie agreed that she could manage a stoic look of dignified misery.

It all went off exactly as Eleanor planned. The steady stream of afternoon callers talked around her, often patting her hand in sympathy. The gentlemen were especially gentle as they kissed her hand once upon arrival and again on departure.

It was as if she were Eleanor's doll. She ate when Eleanor said, she dressed as Eleanor bid, and she even memorized a cluster of phrases to say. It was the easiest thing in the world to bring them out at random, speaking only when someone expected an answer. She had no idea if she made sense or not, but every time she caught Eleanor's eye, the woman was smiling encouragingly at her. And several times, she even whispered, “You're doing splendidly. Hold out just a little bit longer.”

So she did. She held out. She dressed in her most sedate ball gown: dark blue velvet with gold trim. It settled on her shoulders like a shroud and cut off what little breath she had. Except, she still managed to move to the carriage and smile blankly at the milling crowd. She accepted dance requests with a smile then mutely held out her dance card.

And then he was here. She felt every cell in her body jolt painfully awake. He had just been announced, and her gaze found his figure before her ears registered why she'd turned to the ballroom entrance. He looked regal, she thought. His hat had casually crushed his hair, but the curls about his eyes were as charming as ever. His shoulders were pulled back, and his movements were slow. In truth, she'd never seen him with so little animation. But rather than making him appear wooden, it made him seem refined. Arrogant.

Ducal.

This, she thought, was the man who would become a duke, and truthfully, she didn't like him at all. There was no life in him. Not compared to the man who had kissed her so deeply. Not when she thought of how he'd looked as he stroked her or teased her or…anything.

And then he saw her.

She watched as he swallowed and nodded. A slow dip of his chin, which could have been for anyone, but she knew it was aimed at her. And then a slight curve to the right side of his mouth as he headed in her direction. It was a quick movement—that lift of his lips—but he might as well as written it on a sign above his head.
Let's get this over with.
She didn't need Eleanor's quick rasp in her ear to know what to do.

“Do it fast. That's the easiest way.”

The crowd parted. The chatter died away. Or perhaps she simply couldn't hear over the noise in her head. It didn't matter. He was standing in front of her and bowing before she found the strength to draw breath.

“Lady Eleanor, Miss Smithson. Good evening.”

Beside her, Eleanor was elegant perfection. She arched a sculpted brow, lifted her chin, and then turned her back on Trevor. It was all done in a single fluid move, and her words carried easily through the quiet ballroom.

“What a strange noise I've just heard,” she said to the nearest person. “I think it's the sound of cruelty.”

Trevor winced at that, but his gaze didn't waver. He'd been focused on her from the moment he'd entered the ballroom.

And now it was her turn. A simple shift of her body, a pivot on her toes, a twist of her head. Anything.
Move!
She stood frozen in place.

Trevor's eyes widened, and he seemed to lean slightly forward. Toward her. She should back away, but she didn't. From the side, Eleanor touched her elbow, tugging slightly.

“Melinda, I'm feeling parched. Would you join me in a stroll?”

She was supposed to nod. She was supposed to go with Eleanor, but she couldn't force herself.

“Mellie,” Trevor said, but it wasn't a word. It was more of a rasp, or even a shaping of her name with his lips, spoken as a groan.

Suddenly, she remembered all the other times he'd said her name, and all the other ways. With desire, with hunger, with laughter, with any of a thousand emotions. And none were this near-silent anguish.

“Do you remember what I told you when all this started?” Was that her voice? Her words? Apparently so, because she saw his skin pale.

“I remember everything,” he said.

So did she, and yet she kept speaking, the words flowing without restraint. “I said I wanted love.” How pathetic, she thought, to admit that out loud. She sounded like a schoolgirl in the midst of her first childish fantasy.

Trevor's lips compressed, and she watched his expression flash through torment before it settled into a bland frown. “My set doesn't look for love, Mellie. Not in their wives.”

“I didn't think I was affianced to your set.” She tried to stop talking, but it was like she was bleeding words. “I thought I was engaged to you.”

He didn't respond, and for a moment she couldn't understand why. And then she realized he was waiting for her to turn around. It was time for the cut direct, but she couldn't move.

And when the moment stretched, he prompted her. “Was engaged?” he pressed. “So we are done then?”

She tried to say yes. She tried to nod or turn around or something, but her chest had frozen solid. No more words bled out of her. But inside, she was screaming.

Trevor!

He understood. She could see it in his eyes. He knew what she was thinking, knew that inside she was screaming.

Trevor!

“Everything will be all right,” he said softly. “Trust me.”

Fury—white and hot—blazed through her. She didn't even know if he'd said that on purpose just to make her angry, or if he really was that stupid. He had to know that she was done trusting him, done trusting any man to know anything about what was best. Because they were all cow-dung stupid.

“I hate you all,” she said, and she truly, absolutely meant it. So she spun around, giving him her back. Then she focused on the one person closest to her, the one man who would most wound Trevor and best represented her disgust of his set. “Mr. Rausch, you were saying something about…about…”

Hell, she had no idea what the man had been talking about. Fortunately, he raised his arm and smiled as if she was the smartest girl on Earth.

“About bleaching creams. I understand you've been exploring their uses. But the air is foul in here, I think. Shall we step outside? The garden is quite lovely in moonlight.”

She didn't bother answering. She remained unresisting as he took her fingers and set them on his arm. Then they strolled together to the French doors, stepping out to the night air. It was indeed cooler out there. And cooler inside her heart as well, as every step away from Trevor brought back the numbness. By the time they made it to the side of a sickly looking tree, her entire body was gone. A wooden doll again, though without the pat phrases from Eleanor. Her mind was filled with screams. First his name, then her anger, then a raw note that throbbed with every passing second.

She waited for the sound to fade, but it never did. It was there, at the edge of her awareness, never fully suppressed, but perhaps not as loud.

And then Mr. Rausch lifted her hand, pressed a kiss to the back of it while stroking the curve of her palm. On and on, just a slow circular stroke, until she finally, inevitably, looked up at him.

“Sir?”

“Ah. Welcome back. Are you able to manage conversation now?”

She flushed slightly at his words, knowing she'd probably been rude, but he didn't seem insulted. Merely concerned. “You are very kind to help me like this.”

“No, Miss Smithson, I am not kind at all.” He paused a moment, clearly waiting to see if he had her attention. She mustered what she could and gave it to him. His lips curved in a slow smile, and he spoke a little slowly as if she were a dim-witted child. Apparently she was, because she had a great deal of difficulty following his words.

“Plain speaking is best, do you agree?” he asked.

“Uh, yes. Yes, of course.”

“I am not kind, Miss Smithson. I am greedy.”

She stared, replaying his words. This was the usual patter of social conversation. “I'm afraid I don't understand.”

He smiled at that, and it was an unusual smile. Neither cruel nor supportive, and not even lascivious, or not in the usual way. What she saw in the curve of his lips was…avarice. Polished, intelligent, and careful greed.

“I like to acquire things, Miss Smithson. Unusual things. And people.”

“I beg your pardon, sir?”

“You have perhaps noticed that my circle of friends is selective, have you not?”

She hadn't, but now that she thought of it, the people that he'd called his friends were all unusual in some way. The brilliant chemist had caught her attention early, of course, even if he did speak in rapid sentences and pull on his hair often. But there was also the limping man who had a way of talking that drew one in and encouraged confidences. She'd intended to sit beside him at the supper table last night, but Trevor had pulled her away.

The others had less obviously unique qualities, but she could absolutely believe that they were each outstanding in their own way. And they all treated Mr. Rausch with respect and even admiration.

“It is rare that I allow a woman into my circle, Miss Smithson. But then again, you are a rare creature.”

She tried to feel insulted by that. He'd as much as called her odd. But the way he said it had an intensity that startled her. “I don't know what to say.” Then she pressed her fingers to her lips. She hadn't intended to say anything, and yet here again, words were falling from her lips even if they were inconsequential words.

“Yes, you do,” he said. “Tell me you want to know more.”

“About what?”

“About me. About how I find you exquisitely unique. About—”

“That would give you more information about me. You are asking me to reveal what I find most fascinating about you. And you are pressing me at a moment when—” Her throat closed down as that distant scream in her thoughts grew louder.

“When you are raw and unprotected. Yes, Miss Smithson, you are correct. But now is the only time I can say this and not have you slap me.” He stroked a finger across her jaw. It was almost clinical in the way he touched her, and yet she didn't move away. “I want to have you,” he said. “Not just your body, but your mind as well. And I can make it worth your while.”

She stiffened and pulled back, her mouth separating on a gasp. He didn't react to her shock until he seemed to look over her shoulder. Someone was coming, and his next rushed words confirmed it.

“Money, pleasure, and freedom. You can buy these things from me.”

“Buy them? With what?”

His grin widened. “Your mind, my dear. And your body. If you are bold enough. You give them to me, and I shall give you the rest.”

She stared at him, her mind struggling to understand. “What—”

“Melinda, darling,” Eleanor said as she came up beside her. “I've been so worried about you.” Mellie gathered her wits and tried to look at her, but her gaze was caught by the quirk of Mr. Rausch's eyebrow. It seemed to taunt her—that lift of his brow—and she wondered if he could possibly deliver what he'd promised.

Money, certainly. Pleasure, without a doubt. But freedom? Now there was something to tempt her.

“Melinda?” Eleanor tried to pull her around, but when Mellie still looked at Mr. Rausch, she tugged sharply on Mellie's chin. “What has he said to you?”

When Mellie didn't answer, Eleanor rounded on the man. “I thought I liked you, sir. It turns out I do not. Pray excuse us.”

His lips curved in a mocking expression. “Really? I find my opinion of you has not changed in the least.”