Bargaining With a Rake (A Whisper of Scandal Novel) (2 page)

He possessed a rugged beauty with his
bronze skin, untamed curls, and coat cut expertly to mold across the broad
expanse of his shoulders. Her pulse hummed in remembrance of the muscles hidden
beneath the coat.

He faced her, his eyes crinkling with
amusement. Raising his champagne in the air, he saluted her and then downed the
drink. He bowed in her direction, his gaze never wavering from her face. When
he smiled, her lips pulled into a reluctant grin at his show.

No doubt, he’d practiced that smile
on at least a hundred debutantes. He cocked his head to the side, as if he knew
her thoughts, before starting across the room.

Was he going to find the woman he had
been intending to meet behind a curtain? She glanced around the ballroom. There
were at least a dozen windows with similar treatments. Good luck to him and the
poor woman whose heart he would undoubtedly break.

Gillian turned to make her way around
the edge of the ballroom to the terrace, but her gaze traveled back to him. He
had stopped in the center of the room and stood speaking with a flame-haired
woman who gripped his arm. Was she the woman he’d been searching for? She did
have short hair. She was pretty in a cold sort of way, like a lovely bauble that
was good for nothing but admiring for its beauty. Gillian gave herself a mental
shake. It wouldn’t do to be petty and judgmental.

The man’s beautiful face became dark
and fierce. He reached for the woman’s hand, his irritation evident in the way he
pried her fingers away. A reticent smile touched his lips as he executed a
perfect bow to the red-haired woman, winked at Gillian and turned on his heel,
making his way quickly through the crowd and disappearing through the terrace
doors.

Well, she certainly could not search
the terrace now. The stranger seemed just pompous enough to think she really
was following him. She had wasted enough time standing here watching him like a
fool. Time she had no right to waste.

She wove among guests, smiling as if
she hadn’t a care in the world. No one stopped her to introduce themselves, but
then she hadn’t been under any false assumption she, her sister, or her father
would be warmly welcomed back into the bosom of the
ton
.

They may have lived as recluses for
eleven years, but it had taken less than a minute to realize the
ton
had
not forgotten the scandal or the speculation that Gillian’s father had killed
her mother. The four looks of disdain had been her first clue. And the two direct
cuts and two silly debutantes who had stared in wide-eyed fear at her and her
family had confirmed her suspicion. Whoever had sent the note threatening to
expose her sister’s role in their mother’s death was not the only one who clearly
remembered the past. Hopefully, the villain would be the only one trying to use
it to keep them out of Society.

That was what he or she―after
all the villain could be a villainess―wanted. The note had said so.
Don’t
return to Society or I will expose your sister
. The villain had to be
someone who knew them―or Father, to be more precise, since he had
surprised everyone by announcing two weeks ago he planned for them to return to
Society. Or the villain could be one of the staff.

She ground her teeth. She’d been
through all this already. Whoever the villain was, and whatever the reason the
fiend wanted her family to stay recluses in the country, the person was a
complete dolt. She had no control over her father. She had begged, pleaded,
even conjured up tears, but Father had been resolute in his decision to drag
them all back into the
ton
. Not even the threatening letter had swayed
him. For a moment, she thought she’d convinced him, but then he’d gone and
shocked her.

Father and his counterattack plans
. Her head ached just thinking about
his plan to marry her and Whitney off as quickly as possible, so if a new
scandal did break they would already be wed.

Gillian neared the edge of the
ballroom and paused when she spotted her sister standing to the left of the
door in a row of forlorn-looking young women. Father was a bigger dolt than
whoever was threatening them. No Englishman was going to offer for her or
Whitney. Let alone dance with them. She crumpled her empty dance card into a
small wad. The starchy lot of Englishmen would be far too worried marriage to
the daughters of a man suspected of murder would taint their bloodlines with
some unseen insanity. And if the men weren’t worried, their mothers would certainly
be concerned enough to not allow any such match.

Gillian gazed across the faces of the
women who composed the line of wallflowers. The proof of her belief was in the
line of beautiful women. Nothing was wrong with their looks. One of them had a
drunkard for a father. One had a brother with a gambling problem. One had a
sister who had lowered herself by marrying outside of the
ton
. And Lady
Emma’s father was a merchant.
The horror
! Her heart twisted when she got
to Whitney.

She raised her hand and waved to get Whitney’s
attention. Her face lit up when her eyes met Gillian’s. She rushed away from
the other women with a backward glance. Gillian braced herself against
displaying her worries or concerns. Whitney was blissfully unaware of the
threatening note, and if Gillian could help it, her sister would remain
unharmed by the foolish notions of the
ton
.

Whitney reached Gillian within
seconds and clutched her arm. “Have you been dancing?”

Gillian fingered the crumpled dance
card in her hand. “No. More importantly, have you?”

“Not yet.” Whitney bit her lip. “Do
you think it’s this dress?”

She eyed her sister’s white lacy
confection. She looked perfect, like innocence on the verge of allure.
Not
the dress, for certain
. It was their name, and it always would be. “You look
lovely.”

“If I look lovely, why not one
request for a dance?”

“Because you are so breathtaking they
are afraid to approach you,” she assured Whitney. Finding their aunt was a
priority. Surely she had enough sway to get at least one gentleman to dance with
Whitney. Gillian wanted to skin all Englishmen. If she’d had any doubts about
meeting and seducing Mr. Sutherland, they evaporated as Whitney’s eyes filled
with tears.

“Don’t cry like a goose. I had no
idea you pined to dance so.”

Whitney sniffed and dried her eyes.
“Don’t you?”

The only thing she pined for was a one-way
ticket out of England for herself and Whitney. If a dance could reduce her
sister to tears, what would social ruination and the ugly truth do to her? She
smiled indulgently. “Of course, I pine to dance,” she lied.

“Gillie, there’s an angry-looking
woman headed towards us.”

Gillian quickly turned and faced the
crowd behind her. The redhead who’d been talking to the pompous Englishman
stalked toward her. By the twisted look on the woman’s face, her temper matched
the color of her hair.

Gillian
gave
Whitney a little shove toward the refreshment table. “I’m feeling faint. Will
you get me some lemonade?”

“I knew you were acting odd. I’ll be
right back.” At least Whitney would be safe from the taint of a scene if it
came to that. Surely the woman didn’t think Gillian had set her cap on the
Englishman.

The woman stopped directly in front
of Gillian, spearing her with a slanted green gaze. “I thought I recognized you.
You can’t imagine the gossip your family’s reappearance into Society has caused.”

She could imagine quite a lot of
things at this moment, but none of them were very ladylike. She pasted a smile
on her face, though she doubted she looked friendly. “I’m afraid you have me at
a disadvantage, as you know me, but I do not know you.”

“I’m Lady Staunton. You no doubt
recognize my name.”

“I’m afraid not. But I haven’t been
in Society in a very long time. I am surprised, though, that the
ton
so
lacks for entertainment they are reduced to speculating about age-old rumors regarding
my family.” That she professed the lie without so much as a quiver in her voice
was an immense relief.

Lady Staunton smiled falsely. “But
the mystery was never solved, now, was it? So the rumors are still delicious,
and I hear you’ve the exact look of your mother. I’ve seen for myself you have
her wandering eye.”

So this was about the man. Blast him
. She should have known he would
cause her trouble. “I’m not sure what you mean,” she said while she cursed
Lord
Pain in the Neck
in her mind.

Lady Staunton gave Gillian a look that
said they both knew Gillian was lying. “You should not stare at every handsome
man you see, my dear.”

“I only return the stares I receive,
Lady Staunton. Now, if you will pardon me. I think I see my father beckoning
me.”

“I can see you’re in need of some
friendly advice,” Lady Staunton said as she gripped Gillian’s arm.

Beads of sweat dripped down Gillian’s
back. She eyed the gaggle of men and women who had stopped talking to gape at her
and Lady Staunton. She could make a scene, but that would serve no purpose and
would undoubtedly make matters worse for her family. “I’m all ears, Lady
Staunton. I never turn down advice from my elders.” Gillian smiled sweetly as
she delivered the pointed barb.

Lady Staunton’s lip curled back most
unbecomingly. “Stay away from Alex.”

“Who?”

“Don’t play innocent with me,” Lady
Staunton snapped. “I saw him raise his champagne glass to you. Bow to you.”

Gillian ground her teeth on a growl
of frustration. It was just like a man to cause trouble and disappear. A black
head flashed up ahead just as a man slipped through the wide doors that led to
the entrance hall. That thick, wavy black hair was unmistakable. “Lady Staunton,”
Gillian said, struck with inspiration, “I have no interest in the man you are
referring to, but if you wish to pursue him, I believe I just saw him rushing
out of the ballroom toward the entrance hall.”

“Really?”

Lady Staunton turned and fled before Gillian
could answer her question. Gillian breathed out a shaky sigh of relief.
Finally, she could search for Mr. Sutherland. She turned on her heel and nearly
toppled into her fiercely frowning father.

Alex strode through the
milling throng of guests, not bothering to slow to speak to those who signaled
him. If he didn’t know Lady Staunton so well he’d think his mind was playing
tricks on him, but unfortunately he knew her very well. Or he once had. That
was definitely her voice calling behind him. She had always been the sort to
believe no man could resist her, and it still smarted to think he had once
given credence to her belief. He pretended not to hear her and lengthened his
stride. The last thing he wanted was another encounter with her tonight.

He slowed his steps
only when he reached the door to freedom. He
signaled to the somber-faced servants
standing ready near the door, and they scrambled to open it for him, their dark
green and gold liveried coattails flying out behind them in their haste.

The heavy, dark doors swung open with
a creak to reveal the black night beyond the mansion. Not even Lady Staunton
was brazen enough to run after a man into the night. For a moment, he
reconsidered when he recalled just how brazen she could be, but her husband was
inside. Surely that would cause her to be more delicate in her pursuit.

His shoes tapped a descent against
the marble staircase as the music of the waltz faded behind him. A sense of
release seized him the moment the false twitters of the ballroom ceased. Before
he reached the beginning of the pea-gravel drive, his coachman pulled to a halt
directly in front of him.

“Was the evening good, my lord?”

“It was a ball,” Alex replied,
looking up at Jenkins.

“Ye need say no more. I know what ye
think of those.”

Alex bloody hated them, but his
mother had begged his help in watching over Lissie, and he could not very well
let his favorite sister down. And when he made the date to meet the willing and
luscious Lady Beth behind the curtain, the ball hadn’t seemed so tiresome,
until he’d picked the wrong curtain.

A reluctant smile of admiration
pulled at his lips. Whoever the black-haired beauty was who had emerged looking
as innocent as a child from behind the curtain certainly had spunk. And a grand
ability to verbally spar. Too bad she appeared to be a debutante. He drew the
line of wickedness at innocent virgins.

He jumped into his carriage and
rapped on the ceiling. “Take me to the docks, Jenkins.”

Jenkins’ ruddy face appeared upside
down in the window, his brown hair hanging in a comical pointed fashion. “Do ye
mean yer office or the Devil’s Tavern?”

“The Devil’s Tavern, good man. Sutherland’s
just in from America.”

“Delayed, was he, my lord?”

“Three full nights. No doubt he’s
livid.”

“Yer partner stayin’ awhile this
time?”

“I suspect so. We’re buying another
ship.”

Jenkins smiled; then his face
vanished, but his loud whistle drifted down to Alex’s ears. “A celebration,
then, is it?”

“Certainly,” Alex said and stretched
his legs out in front of him.

“Might I remind you, my lord, last
time ye two gents bought a ship, the celebration got a mite too rowdy.”

Alex grinned up at the roof of his
carriage. “You’re entirely too familiar for a driver.”

“Aye, my lord. That’s why you like
me.”

That was true, but he’d not admit it
to Jenkins.

“How many ships does this make, my
lord?”

“Twelve.”

“I’ll be getting a raise, then?”

“I suppose,” Alex said with a
chuckle, and then settled back against the cushion and closed his eyes while
breathing deeply of the cool night air. He needed to clear his mind and
concentrate on business, but the scent of magnolias drifted around him from the
Devons’ enormous garden, and the fragrance had him smiling.

The cheeky chit from the curtains had
smelled flowery. Why in the devil would a debutante be hiding behind a curtain
waiting to meet a man? Didn’t she know she was courting ruin? Maybe she wanted
to be ruined.
Likely
, given how a woman’s mind worked. The notion of the
tart-tongued woman as a schemer didn’t fit. Maybe she’d been convinced by some
scoundrel to meet him behind the curtain? Alex sat up with the insane impulse
to go back, find the woman and make sure she was fine. He paused with his hand
on the door.

He was a scoundrel. What was he
thinking? She would doubtfully take any advice from him, however well intended.
He sat back with a growl. What had come over him? He knew better than to
involve himself with debutantes. They wanted husbands, not rakes to introduce them
to the pleasures of the body. “Jenkins, what the bloody hell, man?
Go
.”

The door to the carriage flew open. His
younger brother Cameron bounded through the entrance and snatched the door
closed behind him, looking like a hunted bandit with his mussed hair and a
darting gaze. Cameron tapped the carriage ceiling with his cane. “Go, Jenkins. Before
the women run out to catch a rare glimpse of Lord Lionhurst. They’ll tear me to
pieces just to get at him.”

“Amusing as always, I see,” Alex
growled as the carriage jerked to a start.

Cameron grinned in
return. “I do try. Now tell me what induced you to break your vow.”

“My what?”

“I seem to recall
you swearing you would never attend another ball under your own devices again,”
Cameron said, clutching at the seat as Jenkins took them around an especially
sharp curve.

“Mother,” Alex said
simply. Really he need say no more. Cameron was her son too, after all.

“Ah.” Cameron nodded.
“That explains everything. So this is a one-time favor?”

“Unfortunately, no,”
Alex replied, something black and sharp curling in his gut when he considered
the possibility that he would have to encounter Lady Staunton again. “Mother
has asked me to keep an eye on Lissie as she enters Society.”

Cameron’s eyebrows
came together. “Why didn’t she ask me? She knows you hate Society, and I love
it.”

“I suppose Mother
doesn’t trust that your attention will stay on Lissie and off whatever pretty
face happens by you.”

“You offend me.”

Alex laughed.
“Really? Why? You know it’s true.”

“I can be just as
focused as you.”

Alex considered the
fact that he had told Lady Beth he’d meet her behind the curtain tonight. But
he had only agreed to the secret encounter once he’d known Lissie was safely ensconced
in their parents’ carriage and on her way home. “I’ve more control,” he said
with a smile. “You would have been behind the curtain with some lady embraced
in your arms while Lissie was still at the ball.”

“Beg pardon?”
Cameron said, looking like a bobbling head as the carriage bounced and jerked.

“Never mind,” Alex
replied testily as the carriage swayed down the road. Jenkins had clearly
imbibed in some drink while waiting for Alex to leave the ball. Not that he
blamed the man. It was a damned cold night. But Alex didn’t want to end up
overturned because his driver had drunk too much. A gentle reminder should do.

“I don’t see how
it’s absolutely necessary you attend every ball Lissie goes to this season,”
Cameron said.

Alex studied his
brother’s frowning face. “Exactly how does my attending a few balls cause
you
any distress?”

“Five out of ten
women who stopped to talk to me tonight wanted to talk to me about
you
.”

“Ah, I do apologize
for being the cause of your pride taking a blow.”

“As you should.”
Cameron let go of his seat cushion long enough to jerk his coat down and smooth
out a few wrinkles. “I know I’m devilishly handsome.” He flashed a perfect
smile. “But I was starting to wonder tonight whether my looks are fading.”

Alex struggled to
hold in his laughter. Sometimes reading Cameron was difficult. His brother
could be joking or he could be completely serious. He had been known to be
sensitive, relegated as he was to the slot of youngest brother.

“You’re not ugly
yet
,”
Alex said, deciding to reply with an answer that could be considered serious or
facetious. “But you may want to slow down. Too much wine and women is bound to
age any man.”

“I don’t think so,”
Cameron replied. “Look at you. Almost three and twenty, never married, and God
alone knows how many women you’ve bedded and how much whiskey you’ve drank.”

“I’m an exception to
the rule,” Alex replied, suddenly wishing to change the course of the
discussion. “Besides, I’m only bedding one woman right now.”

“Yes, the lovely
Bess. How is your mistress? Attached, are you?”

“I do not form attachments, and you
know it.” He hadn’t meant to snap the words, but each one resounded in the
carriage.

“Settle down, old man. I wasn’t
implying you had softened in your view of women.”

Alex scrubbed a hand across his face
to hide the scowl pulling at his lips. “Sorry. It’s been a long night.”

“Yes,” Cameron nodded. “I saw Lady
Staunton ensnare you briefly. And then I saw you streak out of the ball as if
the devil chased you.”

Alex did laugh then. “More like a
witch. Vile woman.”

“Listen,” Cameron said as he leaned
forward in his carriage seat. “You should know that Bess is saying the two of
you have a relationship with many strings.”

Alex studied the river as they passed
it. He’d have to talk to Bess. He’d thought she understood. Splendid. He did
not want to hurt her, but he couldn’t allow her to think there was more to
their understanding than simply pleasure.

Cameron propped his feet on the seat
next to Alex’s leg. “So you don’t care for Bess at all? I thought perhaps you
had thawed a bit when I heard the news.”

With a quick shake of his head, Alex
shoved Cameron’s feet away before leveling his brother with a narrow-eyed
warning. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

The carriage jerked to a stop, and
Alex glanced out the window to make sure they were at the Devil’s Tavern. No
telling where Jenkins might have taken them if he had drunk as much as it
seemed. The peeling red paint and the broken black shingles of the dock’s most
famous drinking establishment told Alex they’d arrived just where he intended. He
threw open the door and stepped onto the stairs. “Jenkins,” he bellowed.

His driver popped down to the ground.
“Sir?”

“Not so much whiskey next time, no
matter how bloody cold it is outside.”

“Aye.” Jenkins had the grace to look
properly humbled, though his coachman knew it would take a disaster for Alex to
fire him. He had a soft spot for his driver, the man being the only one who had
any inkling just how hard Alex’s older brother’s death had been.

Alex descended the carriage, Cameron
close behind him. Cameron didn’t speak, but the mumbling under his breath was
clear enough. The lights from the tavern illuminated his younger brother’s troubled
face. Alex sighed. “You’ve something else to say, I take it.”

Instead of answering, Cameron shifted
back and forth, making Alex uneasy. Cameron was normally blunt to a fault. A
ship’s bell rang from the river, signaling its entrance into the Thames,
followed by a raucous cheer erupting from within the belly of the tavern. “I
need a drink,” Cameron muttered.

“Then by all means let’s make haste,”
Alex said, taking that as a signal that Cameron was not going to say anything
after all.

Cameron shook his head. “My
confession’s best given out here in private.”

The muscles in Alex’s body tensed in
response to the word
confession
. “In my experience it’s best to keep
confessions to yourself. They rarely have the effect you desire.” They both
knew whom Alex was speaking of. They seldom mentioned their dead older brother,
though Robert occupied a place in Alex’s thoughts daily.