A Lady's Guide to Rakes (16 page)

Meredith’s breathing slowed as another possibility occurred to her. Was this simply part of his rakish genius? Was Lansing so clever in his seduction that he could convince his lady that he was the innocent and she the party at fault?

Perdition!
She was such a fool.

Of course this was his strategy—and she’d allowed it to work brilliantly. Well, no more.

Meredith grinned inwardly. What a fantastic chapter this was going to make for her guidebook.

Now that she was aware of this ploy, the rake would be forced to ply other methods of trickery and seduction, creating great fodder for additional chapters. She just had to remember to keep her head about her.

Pressing the pencil hard to the page, she wrote down a reminder: Baiting him, permissible. Flirting with him, necessary. Wasn’t it? But breathily accepting his advances: Wrong, wrong, wrong. She circled the reminder and drew three arrows pointing to it, lest she forget.

That was a line she must never step across again. She must remain focused and on task—to draw out the rake, to record his methods of seduction without falling victim to them, as she had with Pomeroy.

The door crashed open then, startling Meredith so that she dropped her book of notes on the floor.

“ ‘Ere we are, Miss Meredith,” said Annie, her rather earthy lady’s maid. “Brought some tea to tide you over till dinner. Oh, will you look at that? I see you’ve already taken out the claret gown. That one’s so lovely. Shows off your curves, it does. Why his lordship won’t be able to take his blinkers off you.”

“Do you really think so?” Annie’s comment warmed Meredith from within, and sent a little dart of excitement through her too. Well, she did have a mission, after all, and looking fetching was key to her success.

“I thought to bring along the garnet pendant and ear-bobs. Their tones match perfectly, they do, and will bring out the darker strands of red in your hair.”

“Why, thank you, Annie.” True, her maid might be a bit coarse around the edges, but she knew her fashion. Or
appeared
to, at the very least.

Meredith wasn’t sure why, perhaps it was the phrasing Annie used when speaking of gowns or the colors she selected for her, but sometimes she got the distinct impression that her maid’s keen sense of style arrived as a missive in the post each week from her former maid, Jenny Penny.

It was no secret that Jenny Penny… or rather, the Countess Argyll, since her marriage, was Annie’s closest friend and the party completely responsible for her being employed by the Featherton sisters after her own departure.

“What’s this?”

Meredith looked up and gasped as she saw Annie whisk her book of notes from the floor and start thumbing through it. She stared in shock as she saw Annie reading it.
Oh no.

Racing forward, she grabbed the book from the abigail’s hands, a little more roughly than she ought, for Annie lurched backward in alarm.

“I do apologize, Miss Meredith. I had no way of knowin’ that the book was private-like. Thought it might have belonged to his lordship and had fallen off the table when I set the tea tray down.”

“Oh, Annie, I am sorry for grabbing it the way I did. ‘Tis only my… um… thoughts.”

“Like a diary?”

“Y-yes. Like that. ‘Tis nothing, really.” Meredith exhaled through her nostrils as slowly as she could. There, she appeared perfectly calm.

A saucy grin erupted on Annie’s lips. “Whatever you say, miss.” She bobbed a heavy curtsy and made to leave the bedchamber when Meredith heard her mutter under her breath, “That’s the cheekiest
nothin’
I’ve ever read.”

Meredith scolded herself for not taking her usual care in concealing her book of notes. Now it was too late. Annie had seen too much. Still, there was no possible way she could have read more than a few lines. But which lines? That’s what mattered.

There was no way she could allow Annie to leave the room now, not with her grand penchant for gossip and exaggeration.

She had to give the abigail a good explanation, else within minutes everyone below stairs would get a very warped version of the contents of her book.

Why, she could not even imagine what sort of fantastic stories Annie’s gossip could spawn. Which, of course, the earl and Alexander would hear in due course, and… and—her breath was coming fast—then her reputation would be in the chamber pot.
Again.

“Annie?” Meredith sucked in a breath.

The lady’s maid stopped mid-stride and turned around. “Yes, miss? Would you be wantin’ somethin’ else? Biscuits, perhaps?”

“No, no. Nothing. I just wanted to… get your opinion.” Meredith gestured to the caned beech wood chair across from hers.

“My opinion. My, you’ve never asked what I thought before.” Annie smiled proudly and wedged her ample bottom into the chair. “If I can help in any way, miss, you know I will.”

Meredith sighed resignedly. There was no other choice but to tell Annie the truth.

“What I am about to share with you is very confidential. It must not be shared with anyone. Do you understand?”

Annie’s eyes went wide. She swiped a cross over her heart. “I swear your secret is safe with me, Miss Meredith. Just one question, first.”

“Anything.”

Annie leaned close and whispered across the table, “Will you be wantin’ your aunts to hear this too?” She held up her left palm and poked it with her right index finger. “Because they’re hidin just outside on the balcony.”

Meredith rolled her eyes and turned around in. her chair. “You might as well come inside, Aunties. I was about to explain my plan to Annie.”

———

As the door to the expansive dining room slid open and the gentlemen emerged into the drawing room, Lady Letitia elbowed Viola. “I say we do it,” she whispered. “Meredith said she’d do
anything
. La, we all heard her, and I vow she meant it.”

“Not
that,
Sister. It’s too extreme, even for us, Sister.” Lady Viola watched the earl and the handsome Lord Lansing join her grandniece at the card table. She did not miss the interest in the young lord’s eyes as he gazed upon Meredith, though her grandniece seemed oblivious. She was evidently too enthralled by what the old earl was saying as he gestured to the largest of the many large gilt-framed Italian paintings hanging against the soaring red walls.

“Do you want to see our gel attach herself to that… that Chillton fellow?”

“He is her choice, Letitia. We must respect that.”

“Bah! She only thinks she wants the buttoned-up sort.” Lady Letitia snorted. “He’ll crush her, I tell you. He’ll grind her spirit right into the earth.”

Viola shivered and tightened her shawl around her shoulders. “No, Sister, he is a kind man. A good man. The only fault I see in Mr. Chillton is his rather frugal ways.”

“Frugal? He’s a miser, if I ever met one.” Lady Letitia raised her finger and pointed it most impolitely in her sister’s face. “Mark my words, Viola. If he marries our Meredith, he will control her in the same manner he controls his guineas—with a tight fist.”

Tears began to catch in Viola’s lashes as she began to see Meredith’s future through her sister’s eyes. “Do you really think so? If you are right…”

“I am always right. And don’t get all sniffley, Viola. You’ll just call attention to us. Besides, dear, we have a chance,
tonight
, to help Meredith set her life on the correct course again.”

From across the wide, luxuriously appointed parlor, Lord Lansing beckoned the ladies to join them. With nods and identical make-do smiles, Letitia and Viola silently accepted his invitation.

Like a moon glade on the blackest sea, the candlelight from the chandelier above the card table gilded every wave of the young buck’s ebony hair. Even Viola could not deny that Lansing was probably the most striking gentleman she’d ever laid eyes upon. Yet, there was some question in her mind about his character. Was he still the wicked rake as Meredith claimed, or had he indeed reformed and become the gentleman she now saw before her?

“Letitia… are you sure he is the one for our gel?” Viola whispered from behind her lavender lace fan as she and her sister slowly caned their way across the brightly patterned parlor carpet.

“How can you question it? They are kindred spirits meant for one another. Those two lovebirds just don’t realize it yet. And yet, they will… come morn,” Lady Letitia whispered. “I vow it.”

———

By eleven in the eve, Meredith noted that the Earl of Harford was already quite foxed. For some unknown reason, he was aided into inebriation by her own aunts, who seemed to be ever-present at his side, waiting with a full -bottle of spirits each time he drained his glass.

Meredith narrowed her gaze at her Aunt Viola, who seemed agitated and skittish the entire evening. Aunt Leti-tia, on the other hand, remained her own jovial self without having taken one glass of wine all evening. This is what disturbed Meredith most. Her aunts adored cordial—enjoyed it every night without fail. So why were they sipping naught but tea?

Something was afoot.

The earl looked up from his cards and, through his bleary eyes, studied Meredith carefully. “You are abonny lass. Intelligent too,” he slurred. “I see why Alexander brought you to Harford Fell.” He lifted his gaze from her and turned to Alexander. “It heartens me to see you’ve taken my advice, son.”

Her aunts’ heads whipped around and their eyes met. They stared, silently at one another for several seconds, before returning their gazes to their cards. Though they fought to conceal it, there was no stopping the pleased grins that appeared on their painted-on ruby lips.

Alexander cleared his throat. “Father, Miss Merri-weather has come to purchase a horse.” He pinned the earl with his gaze. “For no other reason.”

The earl chuckled. “I do not doubt that.” He winked broadly. “Let me know how you find the stallion in the last stable, will you, dear?”

Meredith felt the heated color rising in her cheeks and she hastily reached for her crystal goblet, only to find it empty.

“Dear, allow me to fetch you another.” Aunt Letitia looked to Alexander, whose face was set with the most uncomfortable expression Meredith had ever seen. “And a brandy for you, Lord Lansing.”

Alexander glanced about the room and, likely seeing no footman in attendance, came to his feet. “Please allow me.”

“No, no!” Aunt Viola shrieked. When all eyes fixed on her, she softened her tone. “Letitia does so like to be ‘mother’ when serving tea—or anything else.”

“Well, this eve I shall share the honor of pouring with you, my dear sister.” Aunt Letitia waggled her brows at Viola. “Come. Won’t you help me?”

“Uh… certainly.” Aunt Viola slid her reticule from the table beneath the notice of all… except Meredith.

As the two old women walked to fetch the libations, Meredith could hear them whispering fiercely. However, with their backs turned to the table, she could not make out a single word. But she knew—oh, she knew—that they were hashing over some sort of scheme.

For several minutes, Letitia and Viola stood on the far side of the drawing room, lifting crystal decanters and setting them back down again, without seeming to pay heed to what they were doing. Each time Meredith glanced in her aunts’ direction, they were immersed in their private discussion. Given their proclivity toward outrageous strategies, Meredith was left cold with dread.

At last, her aunts returned to the card table, bearing a salver of assorted drinks.

“Here we are!” Aunt Letitia had affixed a smile on her face as manufactured as the purple paste jewel sewn onto her matronly turban. She handed Meredith her glass of cordial.

“And
this one
is for you, Lord Lansing.” Aunt Viola held the brandy snifter out, but the earl, who was already
neck
, deep in his cups, snatched
it from her hand, instead.
“Oh dear! That one is not for you. It’s for
Alexander!
“

Alexander waved his hand and rose from the table. “Not a problem. Drink as you will, Father. I shall pour myself another.”

The portly earl mumbled something unintelligible, then lifted his drooping head from his chest and tossed the brandy down his throat in a single draft.

Aunt Viola’s eyes bulged in their sockets. “He’d had quite a lot of brandy already.” She looked helplessly to her sister, sputtering. “What s-shall we do, Letitia?”

“You need do nothing at all.” Alexander took up Viola’s hand and patted it. “He’ll nod off soon enough. The footmen will see to his needs.”

Lady Letitia edged closer and, pressing her hand to Alexander’s shoulder, guided him back into his chair. “Lord Lansing, please allow me.” She looked pointedly at Viola and jerked her head, beckoning her to join her again.

Meredith’s gaze met Alexander’s in silent communication as she took a sip of her cordial. Her lips tingled strangely for a moment.

Hmm
. She took another draft and dabbed her moist lips lightly together. My, she’d never had cordial like this. Must be from France.

Then she took another sip followed by another and yet another. Now her lips were… a little numb.
How peculiar.

Alexander must have noted the confused expression on her face. “Is there something wrong with the cordial?”

“Oh no. ‘Tis fine, really.” As she spoke, Meredith realized that now her cheeks were numb too.

“Father makes it a habit to acquire only the best.”

A low humming called Meredith’s attention to the earl, who was smacking his lips together… in his sleep. She looked to Alexander. “Well, I wasn’t going to comment, but the cordial is far sweeter than I’ve tasted before. And—”

Before another word left her lips, Alexander snatched up her glass and took a sip. He swirled the liquid around in his mouth, then paused and looked back at Meredith.

“You’re right. In fact, I can almost taste… almond, is it?” He drank again.

“Are your lips numb too?”

Alexander shook his head.

“Take another drink. You’ll see.”

And so Alexander did. In fact, so perplexed by the queer effects of the cordial was he, that the young lord swallowed down every last drop.