A Lady's Guide to Rakes (13 page)

“Well, Chillton, my man,” the rake’s voice called out from behind her, “you’ve gone and blown the surprise all to pieces.”

Meredith snapped her head around to see Alexander striding quickly toward them across the yard.

His gaze searched her face for but a blink of a moment as he pried her from Chillton’s angered grip and moved her to the left behind him. Though their eyes had met for only the briefest of seconds, somehow she knew that Alexander had already assessed the nature of her predicament.

She had no choice but to trust him utterly and pray that he could right this odious mess.

For in that moment, her fate… and her future had been passed into his rakish hands.

“Why, Lord Lansing.” Chillton seemed startled by Alexander’s sudden appearance. “Why are you here… together with Miss Merriweather? I—I do not understand, but I must, so one of you had better serve up a suitable explanation for this”—he raised his hand and traced his nicked walking stick from Meredith’s beaver hat to the toe of her Hessians—”this abomination.”

A nervous whimper squeaked through her lips. Alexander turned and drew Meredith up beside him, then laid a gloved hand on her. “Miss Merriweather, you need not try to salvage the situation. Your surprise is mined. We best tell Chillton, here, the truth.”

“The… t-trath?” She jerked her chin upward and stared at Alexander, frantically searching his eyes for any hint to his meaning. To her surprise, she saw nothing there but a look of supreme confidence.

“Yes, for I fear we have no choice,” he said resignedly. “Wouldn’t want Chillton to get the wrong impression.”

Meredith leveled a confused gaze at the rake. “Of course, you are right, Lord Lansing.” She swallowed hard. “I give you leave to tell Mr. Chillton… the… um… truth.”

Alexander hooked his left arm around Chillton’s shoulder and his right around Meredith’s and began to guide them across the yard. “Perhaps we best take our discussion away from the ears of the other gentlemen, eh?”

“Absolutely.” Chillton nodded his head and gave a wary glance at the gathering of the bobbing mass of beaver top hats behind them as they walked.

Alexander did not stop when he reached the edge of the yard, however. Instead, he led them through the gates and outside of the establishment altogether.

He stopped when they reached the packed road, and with a whistle to his driver—who looked… Well, she’d be snookered if it wasn’t the cranky old valet who wanted to tie her neckcloth earlier—summoned his carriage forward.

When the conveyance barreled before them and Alexander’s hand shot out to wrench open the door, Chillton became noticeably agitated. He pressed forward, using his lean form to block anyone from boarding the town carriage. “Now, see here! Neither of you will leave this spot until I have had an explanation.”

“And you shall have it, sir, once I have set Miss Merriweather on her way, beyond the reach of any eyes that might still recognize her—after
your
outburst.” Alexander nudged Chillton back away from the door, then caught Meredith’s arm, pushed her up the steps and handed her into the carriage. “For I would not wish to see
your
indiscretion cast doubt on Miss Merriweather’s character.”

“My indiscretion?” Gradations of scarlet rose into Chillton’s face like the sky above a setting sun. “
She
is the one wearing a coat and breeches, for God’s sake.”

There was a definite spike of fury in his words and Chillton suddenly lurched forward and reached into the carriage as if to pull her from it.

Meredith slid back into the darkest, farthest corner of the carriage and cowered against the folded bundle of her walking gown.

Alexander caught Chillton’s arm and held him back. “Yes, she donned a gentleman’s suit of clothes, but she did it for you, dear sir.”

Dumbstruck, Chillton swung around to face Alexander. “For me? I do not—”

“ ‘Tis true. She risked all, in a completely selfless act, to please you.”

Meredith leaned forward over her knees and cocked her ear toward the still-ajar carriage door so she’d not miss Alexander’s revelation.

“Don’t you see, man?” Alexander began. “She wanted to gift you with a horse—”

“For your new phaeton,” Meredith called out helpfully from the belly of the carriage.

Alexander really was telling the truth, as he understood it, anyway. They were at Tattersalls so that she might compare the pedigree and merits of the horses in order to better choose which sort to give Chillton. Actually, it was quite clever of him to be honest in this way. She should have thought of it herself.

“Yes, a horse for your new phaeton,” Alexander echoed, casting a secret wink in Meredith’s direction. “Naturally, only the best would do for her betrothed—I mean for you, sir.”

“Well, that is all fine and dandy,” Chillton snapped, “but that does not explain her egregious actions.”

“Does it not?” Alexander looked down his nose at the slightly shorter man, and Chillton shifted uncomfortably within the confines of his too tight coat. “Only the best would do, which meant purchasing the beast from Tattersalls— an establishment where women are not allowed.”

“So she dressed as a gentleman to gain admittance.” Chillton peered dubiously inside the carriage at her.

“Exactly.” Alexander straightened his spine.

Meredith saw it then, a slight finger-tog at the line of his neckcloth, the only hint that Alexander was not quite at ease with the confrontation as he let on.

“Of course,” Alexander added, “the idea of dressing Miss Merriweather in a coat and breeches was entirely mine.”

Chillton’s gaze shot inside the dark interior of the carriage for Meredith’s confirmation.

“It was indeed,” she was compelled to mutter, though she felt like a goose for allowing Lansing to take the blame.

Though, in truth, it
was
his idea. Entirely.

Still, she had agreed to his wild scheme, for her own purposes, of course—her own
entirely
noble
purposes, she amended. And for that, Meredith supposed she really did share in the blame. At least, a little bit.

So, being the upright gentlewoman that she was, she added, “I engaged Lord Lansing to locate the perfect horse for you. When the search led us to Tattersalls, he was perfectly willing to act as my agent in the purchase. I, however, wished to compare the horses myself. I could not be dissuaded. So, Lord Lansing came up with the only possible way for me to enter Tattersalls, without disrupting the auction—for me to dress in a gentleman’s clothing.”

The crimson had all but drained from Chillton’s face when he finally spoke again. “I appreciate your desire to gift me with a fine horse, Miss Merriweather, though your methods for obtaining such a beast are beyond bounds. I… I had thought you had matured and put your impulsive nature, which left you at odds with Society, behind you.”

A tremor shook Meredith’s innards. “I have, sir, I assure you.”

Alexander’s eyes grew impossibly dark and he grasped Chillton’s arm. “Sir, she is not to blame.”

Mr. Chillton turned his head and leveled a stem gaze up at Alexander. “Of course, she is not, for she is but a woman.”

Meredith felt the pinch of Chillton’s statement.

“But you, Lord Lansing,” Chillton continued, “are a gentleman, bom and bred, and should have realized the jeopardy such an outrageous act would place Miss Merri-weather’s reputation in.”

Alexander cocked a brow and a slow grin spread his lips. “Sir, sullying a reputation was the last thing on my mind. My only thought was to assist Miss Merriweather in any way possible. Never could resist a pretty face.”

Chillton’s eyes rounded and his jaw set hard. Meredith was sure the conversation would end in fisticuffs, but then a bell in a distant tower sounded. A scattering of gentlemen fimneled out of Tattersalls like cattle through a stile, defusing Chillton’s fury.

At once, Alexander grabbed the carriage door and slipped his head inside for the briefest moment. “You owe me, Miss Merriweather.”

“I know.”

“And I always collect what I am owed.” Alexander winked at her; then before she could respond, he slammed the door shut. Through the window, Meredith saw Alexander give a quick nod to the driver on the perch and in an instant the carriage jerked and started off down the bumpy road. Meredith scooted forward and pressed her nose against the glass window to peer out.

Both men’s gazes were fixed on the rolling carriage. Alexander whisked off his hat and, with a flourish, honored her with a stylish bow.

Chillton merely remained as still and erect as one of the columns at Tattersalls, the look in his eyes as cold as stone.

Heavens.
Had her adventure destroyed Chillton’s interest in her as a wife? Her skin prickled at the horrid thought.

The carriage rolled onward, transforming Alexander and Chillton into two specks in the distance. Meredith flopped back against the leather squabs and exhaled.

Chillton at Tattersalls. Fancy that.

She began to remove the toe-squeezing Hessians while mulling over their accidental meeting.

Despite Chillton’s reasonable explanation for being there, something about the whole incident smelled a little off.

———

Before Meredith knew it, the carriage turned into Hanover Square and stopped before her aunts’ fashionable home.

She’d been distracted by far too many disquieting thoughts. For by the time the frosty-haired driver opened the carriage door, Meredith had done no more to transform herself into a lady than remove her clumsy Hessians.

And so, in her gentleman’s garb and shod only in her silk stockings, Meredith gathered up her bundled gown, glossy leather boots and reticule, and raced on her toes up the walk and through the front door of number 17.

She had just pressed the heavy lock closed with a barely audible click, when she turned and came face-to-face with her aunt Letitia.

“Well, now, this is a new look for you, isn’t it, dear?” Letitia’s snowy brows raised so high that they almost were lost under the folds of her lavender turban.

Drat.
Meredith exhaled slowly. “I had hoped to avoid the necessity of explanation.”

“Working on your guidebook, were you, gel?”

Meredith nodded resignedly, knowing her aunts would wish to hear the entire story—then help set her to rights again with Mr. Chillton.

Aunt Letitia shook her head slowly, back and forth, as she took in the sight. “Sister will want to see this,” she said at last. “Do not leave this spot.” With that, she turned and walked down the passage a few steps. Her head disappeared through the doorway of the library and the hiss of excited whispers met Meredith’s ears.

Then Aunt Letitia’s head reappeared. “Dear, come and have a sit with us in the library.”

“Of course, Auntie, just as soon as I remove these clothes and…” Meredith started down the passage at hi-speed. She’d only just decided to pass her aunt by and sequester herself in her chamber, when a cane shot out before her, blocking her way.

“
Now
, if you please.” The expression in the old woman’s eyes was bright with amusement. “Come inside, gel.”

Meredith slowly set her bundle on the table in the passage. Removing her beaver hat, she let her curls fall about her shoulders as she lowered her head and begradgingly followed her aunt into the library.

The two old ladies settled themselves in two matching chairs positioned on either side of a cold hearth, leaving Meredith to stand before them, hat in hands, and eyes downcast.

“Odd,” her aunt Viola began, “when you left the house earlier this afternoon, I could have sworn you were wearing… a very flattering walking gown.” She flicked her lorgnette, snapping it into place, and peered through it, studying Meredith closely.

“You are correct, Auntie.” Meredith gulped. “I donned my coat and breeches on the way to Tattersalls. Lord Lansing’s valet supplied everything.”

“So you were at Tattersalls with Lord Lansing. Did you hear that, Letitia?”

“I did indeed, Viola.” She flicked her eyebrow, almost as though she were amused. “Most interesting.”

Not another word was spoken as the two old ladies studied Meredith with some interest for several moments. It was almost as if they’d never seen men’s clothing before.

By degrees, the two old dears’ expressions seemed to evolve from amused to… curious.

“How do they wear, dear?”

Meredith glanced up and saw Aunt Letitia eyeing her fawn breeches.

Aunt Letitia cleared her throat. “I daresay, I always imagined that breeches would be restrictive, uncomfortable, you know… especially for men.”

“I agree, Sister.” Aunt Viola nodded. “I always thought the Scots had the right of it. Kilts, you know. Makes more sense for a man.”

“Oh, I adore men in kilts, for I do so enjoy the sight of well-shaped calves.” Aunt Letitia tittered and clapped her hand to her bounteous chest. “Makes my heart pitter-patter just to think of it.”

Aunt Viola’s eyes went as wide and round as tea saucers. “Oh, Sister, we should visit Scotland. How exciting it would be!” Her knees bounced with enthusiasm.

“Heavens.” Aunt Letitia chuckled. “I don’t know if my poor heart could endure it. All those Scots in their kilts—”

“Aunties,” Meredith interrupted. She could endure this prattle no more. If she was to be reprimanded, she wished her aunts would speak their minds and be done with it. “Aren’t you the least bit upset with me?”

“Upset, dear?” Aunt Viola’s eyes blinked in confusion at first; then a smile crept across her thin lips. “Of course not, silly child. Though, for your sake, I do hope no one recognized you in your… costume. For if they did, it cannot help your case with Mr. Chillton, now can it?”

Classic Aunt Viola.
Daintily getting straight to the crux of the matter.

Meredith glanced down at her stocking feet and distractedly dug her toes into the carpet. “Sadly, the only person who recognized me was Chillton himself.”

Her aunts exchanged meaningful glances.
“Oh dear,”
they replied in tandem.

“So he did catch up with you,” Aunt Letitia muttered so softly that Meredith wasn’t quite sure she heard her right. “Chillton didn’t do anything rash, did he?”