A Lady's Guide to Rakes (2 page)

The young lady turned her frantic blue eyes from the pilot to Alexander.

“I… I…
Oh dear.
“ She brought a hand to her cheek, where three tiny beads of blood oozed up from the scarlet scrape; then her eyes turned back in her head and she crumpled back down atop him.

Forgetting his own pain, Alexander cradled her limp body in his arms. He looked from her wan features, rouged with that smear of blood upon one cheek, then gazed up to the pilot. “Do you know her name? Where she lives?”

“ ‘Er name’s Miss Merriweather,” the pilot offered. “Hails from Hanover Square or somewhere thereabouts.”

“
Mon Dieu,
is she going to die?”

Alexander looked up at the Frenchwoman as she collected, then handed over, what he took to be the miss’s belongings. “No, my dear. But I fear she requires assistance without delay.” Digging into his coat pocket, he fingered a cool coin and flipped it to his lovely new acquaintance. “This should see you home. I am sorry that I cannot help you with the stone in your boot, as you requested.”

“
Merci,
monsieur.
“ The dark-eyed mademoiselle caught the coin and, with a grin, stuffed it into her bounteous cleavage. “And do not worry yourself about my boot. The stone will dislodge itself.” She flashed a coquettish smile his way. “But then, perhaps it won’t. Maybe you will be so kind as to come to ten Portman Square later this eve and check for me,
oui?
“

Alexander grinned, but kept to his task and lifted the pale young lady into his arms. Stepping over the clutter of broken limbs and leaf-sprigged branches, he started down the footpath.

“
Monsieur,
where are you taking her?” the Frenchwoman called out, a tinge of worry licking her thickly accented words.

“Home,” Alexander shouted back over his shoulder. “I’m taking her home.”

———

Home,
he’d said.

Sweet heavens, Meredith only hoped he meant her
home
—and not his own beastly lair. Lud, what a pickle she’d be in then.

As he strode quickly forward, his muscled arm excruciatingly tight around her sore back, Meredith held her eyes tightly closed and continued feigning unconsciousness.

Yes, it was deceitful, but there was no help for it. Only, she wished she had been brave enough to fling herself onto her bruised back, instead of straight onto Lord Lansing’s middle again.

But the balloon pilot was about to expose her experiment, wasn’t he? She had to do
something
to stop him, and, well, fainting was the first method that came to her mind. Viola, her great-aunt, a kindred spirit if ever there was one, used this method whenever necessary and with great success. So why shouldn’t she?

Of course, Meredith hadn’t taken the time to think what events her faulting episode might set into motion. And now here she was in the arms of the most dangerous man in London, being…
Oh no
. She sniffed the air and cringed inwardly.
Anything but that.

Horses.
She smelled horses. She heard the grants and scuffles of the beasts. Her heart began to pound a terrified tattoo inside her chest.

He’d taken her to a
stable,
of all places! Well, this little folly of hers had gone on long enough. She must end it this very instant!

In a most calculated manner, she allowed her head to loll lazily forward, until it struck a heavy button.

Time for a murmur.

Add a little sigh. Lovely, lovely.

Eyelids flicker and… open.

Ohhellfire.

As she lifted her lids, Meredith found herself staring into dark mossy green eyes, ringed with a tea-hued band. The combination was not unique. Meredith was sure that she had seen it before. But somehow the welcoming warmth of these particular eyes made her want to plunge into their depths and wade there a while longer.

“I see you’ve come back to me.” Lord Lansing’s lips lifted and he leveled her with a smile that made her blood fizz and her body go all jellylike.

A jolt of nervous realization skated through her limbs. Heavens! It was happening. She was being taken in by a rake—
again!

Well, this time she wasn’t about to give herself over so easily. The humiliation and heartache had nearly killed her before.
But it shan ‘t again!

Meredith glared up at him through narrowed eyes. “Sir, I implore you. Return me to my feet at once.” She snapped her fingers twice, as she’d seen her great-aunt do when the servants were dawdling, but this only earned her an amused grin.

“ ‘Ere ye are, my lord. Brushed him down for ye, just how ye like.”

Meredith turned her head to see a stable hand leading forth the most gargantuan horse she’d ever seen. Its black hide gleamed almost blue, and even Meredith, who possessed an unnatural wariness—in truth, a horrible
fear
— of the beasts, had to admit this one was… well, rather spectacular.

In the next instant, Lord Lansing raised her up, as if she were no more than a feather (which, with her heavy thighs and plump bottom, Meredith knew was far from reality) and settled her upon the great equine’s back.

“N-no!” Her hands shot outward and her fingers frantically clawed Lord Lansing’s sleeves. Her lips were quivering now.

“There, there, miss. You shan’t ride alone.” With that, he cuffed his foot in the stirrup, swung a well-shaped leg over the horse’s back and came down on the saddle behind her. Then the rake scooted close and pulled her tightly against him.

Against
him
. Yes, that part of him. Why, against her thigh she could feel every heated…
curve
through those tight deerskin breeches men favored these days.

Heat washed across Meredith’s face, and given the milky whiteness of her countenance, she knew her cheeks probably glowed like hot embers in a hearth.

As he nudged the horse into a trot, Meredith reluctantly leaned her shoulder against his broad chest, and, resting one hand on his thigh for balance, she clutched his coat with the other.

He smiled down at her and sat up straighter in the saddle. It was at this moment that Meredith noticed his hair. Judging from the bit she could see beneath his hat, it was every bit as black as the horse’s swishing tail.

“Hanover Square, is that correct?”

The deep tone of his voice rumbled inside Meredith’s chest, sending a vibration clear through to her… Well, never mind.

“I am quite capable of walking, sir. So if you’ll just let me—”

“Wouldn’t think of it, Miss Merriweather. I’ve made it a practice. Whenever a woman tumbles out of the sky into my lap, I always see her home to the safety of her family.”

He turned his mesmerizing gaze upon her. “And the name is Lord Lansing.”

“I know who you are.” Meredith cocked her head and met his gaze. “All of London—those of the gentler sex, anyway, know you. You, Lord Lansing, are London’s most notorious rogue.”

He laughed at that. “I fear you have me confused with another.”

“I daresay, I do not.”

“Ah, but you do. The Lord Lansing you refer to no longer exists. For you see, Miss Merriweather, I have reformed.”

Meredith snickered at his gall. “Well, nevertheless, given your
former
reputation, and my gentle status as an unmarried woman, it would be imprudent of me to remain in your company. So if you will just stop and let me down—”

“I do apologize, Miss Merriweather, but I
will
see you to your home. Remember, women falling from the sky?” He poked a single finger into the air. “It is a rule with me. I cannot divert.”

There was laughter in his voice, and in any other circumstance—and were he any other man—she might have smiled. But here she was, intimately pressed against London’s worst rake, riding toward Mayfair. And there was nothing she could do about it!

“When you were in the balloon, I could hear you urging the pilot into the trees. What were you doing up there?”

“W-what?” As Meredith searched her mind for a plausible excuse, the rake reached beneath his coat and withdrew something brass. The minute the sun glinted on the lens, the blood inside her veins stopped flowing and, for an instant, she was sure she really would faint.

“This telescope was beside you. Were you perhaps
spying?
“

“C-certainly not!” As the horse trotted along, the pain in Meredith’s back intensified, along with her anxiety. “I was… bird-watching. Yes, and I thought I saw a very rare species in the trees.”

His lip twitched upward. “Really? I have done a bit of
bird-watching
in my day. What species do you mean?”

Heat pulsed in Meredith’s earlobes. “The… um… the scarlet rogue… finch.” Hesitantly she glanced up at him and caught the last remnants of a grin.

“I can’t say that I am familiar with the
rogue finch
.”

“Well, as I said, it is quite rare.” Meredith turned her gaze and began to study, with utmost fascination, the narrow row house they were passing.

Heavens!
Did she just see Lady Ashton peering through her parlor window at them? The last thing she needed was to be seen with the rake. Her reputation was already in the dustbin from her last encounter with such a beast. It was only her aunts’ lofty standing in society that had prevented every drawing-room door from being closed in her face—even though the event that had led to her downfall was not even the least bit her own fault.

Lord Lansing passed a handkerchief to Meredith. “For your cheek.”

Meredith nodded and silently pressed the linen to her face, dabbing away the blood.

“There, now I can see your pretty face.” His smoldering gaze made Meredith feel rather warm. “Looks like the bleeding has stopped.”

“I am not surprised. The scratches are quite minor.” Meredith raised her finger. “Turn here.”

Lord Lansing tugged gently at the right rein and his massive horse trotted into Hanover Square. Meredith at last felt a modicum of relief, which heightened the moment the rake stopped before number 17 and leaped from the horse.

That is, until she realized she’d been left atop the great beast,
alone
. Horrible memories of her five-year-old self, lying in bed for months, her broken leg painfully bound, filled her mind.

Her fingers scrabbled for the saddle’s pommel and there she sat, trembling even as Lord Lansing raised his broad hands to help her down.

“Allow me to assist, Miss Merriweather. Just let go of the saddle.”

Her eyes went wide in her head. “I—I… cannot,” she stammered. The horse was going to bolt, she just knew it.

Suddenly she felt his warm hands encircle her waist.

“I’ve got you now. Just relax your fingers.”

But Meredith could not reply. She was shaking so badly that her teeth were chattering inside her head.

Just then, the front door opened and her two great-aunts, the ladies Letitia and Viola Featherton, stepped outside.

“Gracious, gel,” Letitia, her turnip-shaped aunt, quipped. “What are you doing atop that huge horse, Meredith? Come down at once!”

Still, Meredith could not manage a single word in reply. Instead, she stared mutely back at her aunts and clacked her teeth at them.

“Sister, look at her fingers. They’re as white as frost. The poor child is frozen with fear.”

“I can see that, Viola. Which is why I wish for her to dismount.” Then her Aunt Letitia caught the rake in her sights. “You, sir. You’re a big fellow. Will you pull her from the saddle? Just give her a good hard yank. We’ve seen her like this before. I fear there will be no talking her down.”

Lord Lansing gave her aunt a curt nod, then looked at Meredith. “Are you prepared?”

Meredith’s teeth played castanets in response.
Lud, how mortifying!

“Very well then, off you go.” His fingers tightened around her waist and, with one clean jerk, Meredith’s grip on the saddle broke.

An instant later, she was standing on her own two feet on the flagstone way before her aunts’ fashionable Mayfair town house.

In perfect rakish form, Lord Lansing offered Meredith his arm, which she had no desire, but little choice, to take. Then, as if he were the most well-mannered of gentlemen, he escorted her up the few steps to her aunts.

Not wishing her aunts to fret, Meredith turned her face toward Lord Lansing, hoping to hide her injured cheek from the old ladies.

“Though I reside not far from here,” the rake spoke to Letitia and Viola as they reached the top of the steps, “I daresay, we have not traveled in the same circles. My ladies, allow me please to introduce myself. I am Alexander Lamont… Lord Lansing.” He bowed before the two old ladies, and they each bobbed a quick curtsy in response. “I believe you are acquainted with my father, the Earl of Harford.”

“But of course. I vow, it’s been several years since our paths have crossed, since he moved to the country.” Aunt Letitia turned to her sister. “Viola, of course you remember young Lord Lansing here.”

“I do indeed. And I own, you are the mirror image of your father in his youth. Quite remarkable, really.” Viola smiled brightly, even as Meredith noticed the briefest look of horror on Lansing’s handsome face and surmised that her aunt’s well-meant compliment had not been taken as such. “How do you do, Lord Lansing?”

“Quite well, actually. Though I fear that my visit this day is not a pleasant one. Your—” He nodded toward Meredith then.

“Our
grandniece
,” the snowy-haired pair replied together.

“Your
grandniece
suffered a tremendous fall less than thirty minutes past, and I am not convinced she did not sustain some degree of injury.” With great boldness, he reached out a hand and laid it, comfortingly, upon Viola’s bony arm. “You see, she fell from a hot-air balloon, through an oak tree.”

Both aunts snapped their heads around to Meredith.

“Are you injured, dear?” Aunt Viola asked, reaching out and drawing Meredith away from Lord Lansing and to her side.

Meredith opened her lips and, to her great relief, her teeth were no longer marching. “No, Auntie. I merely scraped my cheek a bit, and my back is a little sore. Otherwise, I am perfectly well, I assure you.”