Bargaining With a Rake (A Whisper of Scandal Novel) (33 page)

Somehow, she would become a proper lady, though the idea of spending the
rest of her life only concerned with sketching, embroidering, and the
pianoforte made her clench her teeth. Thank God she had today to do as she
pleased. It might be her last ever.

“Come on.” She stood and brushed her skirts off. “I want to eat sticky
treats, look at scandalous art, and wander over to that group shooting arrows.”

“The gypsies?” Abby’s voice hitched.

“They’re not going to rob us. It’s broad daylight for goodness sake.”

Abby stood and shielded her eyes. “We can do as you wish for
one hour
.
I won’t have us coming in after your father. There’d be the devil to pay if he
found out we disobeyed him.” That was an understatement. “You might be leaving
for Court tomorrow,” Abby continued. “But I have to go back to your father’s
house and live as his servant. I can’t afford his wrath.”

“Neither can I,” Madelaine muttered. The last fight she’d had with her
mother was ever present in her mind. Fresh regret pierced her heart and made
her rub at her chest as they walked toward the smell of gooey rolls.

“THIS TRIP HAS BEEN A bloody waste,” Grey growled as they made their way
out of Marie Vallendri’s townhome and into the bright sunshine of Golden
Square. “Who am I going to shock my father with at dinner tonight since Miss
Vallendri already has a lover?”

“How about that chit right there.” Gravenhurst pointed toward a band of
gypsies who’d set up a shooting booth.

“I said I wanted to shock my father, not give him a death fit.”

Gravenhurst chuckled at Grey’s side. “Look closer. See the tall, pretty
brunette? From my experience women with curly hair have rousing personalities
to match, and the chit may be dressed as a proper lady, but she wouldn’t be in
the art district if she was. She’s ripe for adventure. I say go pluck her.”

“I like your thinking.” Grey studied the woman. “She’s pretty enough but
see how her mouth is puckered in disapproval. She’s not here of her choosing.
Likely she’d faint if I propositioned her.”

“You may be right. Perhaps you should select a new mistress from Madame
Landry’s women.”

“I think not,” Grey said, distracted by the sudden shouting from the
group of gypsies. As he moved across the square and closer to the group he
could hear wagers being bantered back and forth between the men and women
alike. The excited buzz of the crowd was like a drug. He stopped by a
sleek-haired gypsy with keen black eyes who struggled to take the money shoved
at him while scribbling wagers in a little book.

“What’s the wager?”

The gypsy acknowledged Grey with an upward flick of his eyebrows and a
sardonic smile. Grey instantly liked him. “The lady claims she can split the
arrow lodged in the target over there.” The man pointed to a target so far away
Grey had to squint to see it.

“Impossible. Unless the lady is built like a man. Which lady?” He glanced
at the women gathered around the group. A few of them were thick in arm and
might be able to do it if they’d been shooting all their lives.

“There. That fair
ghel
with the sun on her head.”

“The fair what with what on her head?” Grey reached into his coat and
brought out a bag of coin.

“Come, I’ll show you.” The gypsy eyed Grey’s coin and then wound through
the throng of people. “You going to wager?”

Was he ever. No need to go showing his excitement and get taken advantage
of. “Yes, but I’ll see the lady before I decide for or against.”

“And your friend?”

Gravenhurst shook his head. “I’ll keep my funds in my pocket where they
belong.”

Leave it to Gravenhurst to try to spoil the fun. Nothing could spoil this
novelty though. Grey shrugged. “Sorry―?”

“Romany.” The gypsy stuck out his hand. Grey shook the man’s hand with
enthusiasm. His wasted trip was just about to become profitable and
entertaining. Toward the inner circle the man stopped behind a woman whose
waves of flaxen hair tumbled invitingly down her back and marked her as the
woman with the sun on her head. He chortled at the description. What a
preposterous idea to imagine the petite creature standing in front of him had
the strength to wield the bow and shoot the arrow true enough to split the one
already lodged in the target.

She had a right lovely round backside, he’d give her that, but he’d not
give her his confidence. He jingled the bag of money with a grin and held it
toward Romany who’d begun taking bets again from the people around him. “I’ll
put the whole lot on the lady’s failure.”

With a gasp, the woman whirled around and speared him with a dark look as
well as nearly stabbing him with her arrow. “You’re mistaken to wager against
me, sir.”

There was something invitingly erotic about the pale-skinned, bronze-eyed
beauty wrapped in delicate, lilac silk. She looked dainty and helpless yet she
wielded a weapon that could kill and boasted of skills no proper lady would
dream of admitting. His lust awoke in a heartbeat. This was the woman he needed
to prickle his father and push him toward agreeing to secure a commission.
“I’ll be happy if you prove me wrong, yet your stature does make me question
your abilities, Lady…?”

“Miss Prattle,” she responded with a conspiratorial look at the
curly-headed brunette.

“What an unusual name.” He winked to prod her and was rewarded when her
eyes rounded.

“Yes, well, Lord…?”

“Drivel.” He could barely contain his amusement.

She burst out laughing, the merry sound making him smile. “Your laugh is
lovely,” he said. Instantly, she sobered, eyed him warily and turned her
attention downward on her arrow. She was right to be guarded. His blood hummed
in his ears with his desire. Forget his parent’s boring dinner. By tonight he’d
have this chit in his bed. The contradiction she presented was irresistible.
“I’ll put my money on you
and
give you all my winnings to make up for
offending you, but if you lose, you must accompany me to my townhouse.”

“She’ll not!” her friend exclaimed before the lady herself could reply.
When the lady gave her friend a cool look, Grey had to work not to show his
satisfaction. She was just as interested in him as he was in her. Today was
turning out to be splendid, indeed.

“I’ll take your offer.”

“Excellent.” He ignored her friend’s outraged huff and Gravenhurst’s
indiscreet snickering into his hands. “There’s much I want to show you.” Grey
imagined her excited expression when she saw his collection of archery sets.
Her mouth dropped open. By God, the chit thought he was referring to something
sexual. Her expression of barely contained outrage was priceless and intrigued
him all the more.

“What precisely do you think to show me? Are you a collector of art?”

Her tone was brittle as glass. The challenge of making her pliable in his
hands was going to be quite enjoyable. For now, it might do her good to wonder
what he was about. “I only have one piece of art that’s worth your seeing.”

At that, Gravenhurst started guffawing but stopped promptly when the
brunette lady glared him into ashes. The woman’s obvious protective instinct
over her friend was admirable, even if he didn’t like her interference.

“I won’t be seeing your art, but I will take your money,” the
blond-haired chit replied before turning away, raising her arrow and saying in
a loud, confident voice, “I’m ready.”

Romany and his cronies immediately called for last wagers, collected the
money, and then a hush fell over the crowd.

Grey moved so he could see the woman’s face. He was rewarded for his
effort. An adorable crease appeared on her forehead as she pulled the bow back
with a creak. Her teeth bit down on her lower lip in concentration, and he
could see her doing all the same small calculations he did every time he
practiced his archery. She tested the tautness of her bow, the weight of her
arrow, and the direction of the wind. Her knowledge impressed him. Her weight
subtly shifted, but her skirt swished around her ankles and alerted him to her
change in stance.

Fascination stilled him. He might lose, but the loss of his money didn’t
worry him. Her fingers lifted off the bow and the arrow buzzed through the air
true and straight. He’d underestimated her. Her arrow sliced down the middle of
the other arrow and a collective gasp, followed by cheers and groans filled the
air. He wanted to cheer too, but jaded lords didn’t cheer.

She whooped, her arms flying above her head in victory and her feet
leaving the ground with her enthusiasm. He grinned as he watched her. She had
real spirit. He no longer gave a damn about needling his father. He wanted to
get to know this chit for her sake alone.

She faced him with a grin that lit her whole face. The sight was
breathtaking. “I thank you kindly for your money,” she said. He grabbed her arm
before she disappeared into the swell of people wanting to congratulate her and
those who wanted a chance to earn their money back.

“I’d still love for you to come to my town home.”

“To see your one piece of art?” She tilted her head challengingly to the
side.

“No. To see my archery collection.”

“Oh!” The smile on her face filled her eyes and made them shine like
polished bronze.

“By God, you’re lovely.” He’d not been so taken with a woman’s beauty
since he’d been old enough to understand women used their appearance to scheme
and manipulate.

Her light eyebrows tilted into two twin arches as she gently pulled her
arm from his grasp. “Thank you.”

“Miss Prattle,” her friend said through clenched teeth. “Our hour is
over.

“Tell me your name,” Grey insisted as his intriguing, blonde beauty
started backing away from him. He didn’t want her to go. Not yet.

“You already know it.”

“Your real name,” he amended, advancing toward her so she couldn’t simply
vanish into the thickening crowd. “I could call on you. Take you to the theatre.
Show you things you’ve probably only imagined.”

A lovely pink blush stained her cheeks. “I’ve a great imagination.”

“Then let’s explore it together.” He didn’t give a damn how forward he
sounded.

“Enough!” her annoying companion said. “We must go now. It’s been two
hours.”

“Two hours!” his beauty gasped. “Dear me. I really must go, but thank you
for the offer.”

He sidestepped in front of her and looked down into her upturned face.
“Meet me here tomorrow,” he said, desperate to ensure he would see her again.
Her indecisiveness showed as she bit on her lip. “I won’t let you leave unless
you agree.”

“That’s coercion.”

“Whatever it takes.” He loved the word “whatever”. It left so many
intriguing possibilities open to explore.

“Please remember that tomorrow.” She sidestepped around him.

A sense of satisfaction filled him. “I’ll see you at the fountain at
ten.”

Already a few steps away, she looked over her shoulder. A frown marred
her beautiful face. “Goodbye, Lord Drivel.”

He loved that she was willing to play the game. “Fair well, Miss
Prattle.”

He watched her depart, her hips rocking enticingly with each step, until
he could see her no more. If he was any other sort of man, he would have
followed her all the way to her carriage just for a few more minutes in her
company. Gravenhurst nudged him in the side. “Do you really think that piece
will meet you here?”

“Of course I do. I’d not have let her leave, otherwise.”

Other
titles available from Julie Johnstone

Conspiring
With A Rogue (A Whisper of Scandal Novel)

The
Redemption of A Dissolute Earl (A Novella)

ANTHOLOGIES

A
Summons From Yorkshire (Regency Christmas Summons Collection 1)

All
books are available as e-books from all major e-book retailers.