Miss Hillary Schools a Scoundrel (4 page)

Hell’s teeth.
What care did Drew have for the Hillarys’ affairs? He tipped his hat and tried to pass, but the gentleman blocked his way.

“I suggest
you
stay in London and away from my sister, if you know what’s good for you.”

Hillary was dicked in the nob. All this fuss over a skinny redhead made no sense.
Skinny
redhead.

Drew pictured Miss Hillary as she had been that evening hanging from the tree with her skirts bunched around her waist. A more accurate description might be to call her a ginger-haired beauty with long legs and an arse out of Botticelli’s
Primavera
.

He met Hillary’s fierce glare without blinking. Maybe he
should
go to Northumberland, if for no other reason than to defy this prig doling out unsolicited advice. The travel, however, was grueling and the activities mind numbing. Good Lord, what was he thinking? He wouldn’t punish
himself
to spite the bugger.

Drew offered a sardonic grin. “I have no intentions of traveling north when everything I could want is here.” He stepped around Hillary and left for Rendell’s.

The next morning Drew sat down to a plate of baked eggs with chives, toast, and a cup of hot tea moments before the butler entered the breakfast room. The Talliah House residents had departed for Irvine Castle two days ago, leaving Drew as the only occupant of his father’s town house. As the duke’s living quarters were more comfortable than Drew’s rented rooms, he was certain his father would not mind.

Wesley held out a calling card. “My lord, you have a visitor.”

Drew squinted at the scrolling black letters. What the devil possessed Norwick to call this early? A mere five hours ago, they had spoken at Rendell’s. Drew couldn’t fathom that his friend had anything of importance to convey that couldn’t wait until later.

The earl had been heavily into playing the dice most of the night, but when Drew left at dawn, it seemed Norwick dominated the table. Perhaps his friend’s luck had soured.

Drew pressed his lips together and settled against the seatback. “Send him in.”

A moment later Norwick bound into the breakfast room with a wide smile. “Forest, here you are. You missed the annihilation at the table.”

Norwick wasn’t here to borrow funds after all, much to Drew’s delight. “Congratulations. Would you care for something to eat?”

“No, no.” Norwick waved his hand as he dropped onto the mahogany carved dining chair. “Well, perhaps just some eggs. And a piece of toast.”

Drew nodded at the footman.

The servant set a plate in front of the Earl of Norwick. “Make it two pieces of toast, my good man.” Norwick patted his belly and grinned. “I didn’t acquire
this
body from turning down food. Hard as a boulder. And almost as large.”

Drew chuckled. “Indeed. You possess a remarkable frame, my good friend. So, will you be back at the gaming tables this evening?”

Norwick bit into his toast and pocketed the food in his cheek. “I leave for Northumberland in an hour. It’s a dreadfully long journey, but I was pleased to receive the duchess’s invitation. Perhaps we can get the dice rolling at Irvine Castle. When do you depart?”

Drew gave a distasteful look. “I’m afraid you must proceed without me.”

“You’re not going? What fun will that be?”

“It’s not, which is the reason I stay in London.”

Norwick’s shoulders slumped forward. “Bloody hell. I suppose it is too late to back out. I’ve already accepted the invitation.” An instant later, his jovial mood returned. “On the bright side, a country party has its rewards. A few of the ladies attending are quite fond of doling out favors, I’m told.”

Drew’s eyebrows shot upward. This soiree didn’t sound anything like the typical gathering at his family’s northern estate, all hunting and no fun. Had Mother finally wrestled control from Father?

Norwick waved over the footman, requested more eggs, then returned his attention to Drew. “Rumor has it Hillary almost drew your cork at Brook’s last night.”

“Untrue. The damned bugger was fortunate he didn’t receive a facer himself when he blocked my path. I found his dire warnings to stay away from his sister irritating.”

Norwick speared another bite of eggs. “Then I suppose what happened to Hillary last night left you in high spirits.”

Drew looked expectantly at his friend.

“You didn’t hear? Hillary was deep in his cups and took a tumble leaving Brook’s, though Lord knows how a man trips over his own two feet. Broke his leg. He’ll be laid up for weeks.”

Oddly, Drew did feel pleased by the report of Hillary’s bad fortune, not that he would have wished it on the gent. But since he hadn’t caused Hillary’s injury, he could take a bit of satisfaction in the result.

“Which brother will accompany the little sister to Shafer Hall?”

“Do you refer to Miss Hillary? I imagine her mother will chaperone alone.”

“Indeed? I’m surprised she would wish to travel so soon after returning from Sussex.” He frowned. “Miss Hillary has three other brothers, yet none of them may be relied upon to lend their protection?”

Norwick shrugged. “The elder Hillarys aren’t residing in Town at the moment. They’re engaged in their own pursuits, I suppose.”

“Debauchery, drunkenness, and excessive gambling, no doubt.”

“That sums up the Hillary men.” Norwick shoveled another bite of eggs past his lips. “A brood of Corinthians, similar to you and me, chap.”

Drew bristled at being included in the same category. He might enjoy his vices, but he wouldn’t neglect his family to pursue them, at least not intentionally.

“The injured Hillary excluded, of course,” Norwick said with a scowl. “He seems rather protective and uncommonly aligned with his sister’s wishes. Refused to convince her to dance with me once.”

Drew leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms with a wry smile twisting his lips. “You don’t attend balls.”

“I did last year, one or two. Thought I might select a wife. Miss Hillary seemed an acceptable candidate, but the bloody gent blocked my way.”

Drew bit back a grin. Miss Hillary hardly needed her brother’s protection against Norwick, not when the chit scaled trees.

***

Her mother’s harping to find a suitable husband in the country vexed Lana. She was well aware of the urgency without her mother’s constant reminders. Mama had lectured most of the way from London, and Lana thought if she had to endure much more, she would have Jake’s other leg broken when they returned to Town.

Mama seemed quite committed to the task of brokering a marriage on Lana’s behalf, which might be appreciated if Mama behaved with any decorum. Lana dreaded the coming days of her mother hounding young men to pay court to Lana. It was mortifying.

“We’ll get one up to scratch,” Mama said with a slightly wild gleam in her eyes. “A baron at least. Just you wait and see.”

Lana’s gut tightened. Despite her father’s reassurances all was well with her mother, Lana wasn’t certain. If Mama suffered another one of her spells, would she know what to do?

Blast
it.
Papa should have accompanied them in Jake’s place. Lana had never comprehended the underlying animosity between her parents.

Her mother fluffed her skirts before folding her hands in her lap and frowning. “Good heavens, your hair is a mess. I do hope Lady Phoebe’s maid is as skilled as she boasts. You’ll need all the help you can get if you are to attract suitors.”

Lana’s moment of wondering why her father had declined to travel with them evaporated. “Are you listening, Alana? If a third season arrives, you’re as good as on the shelf. No gentleman desires a lady others have passed over. By the grace of God, we have received one last chance to secure a match this year. How industrious of you to have cultivated a friendship with Lady Phoebe.”

Lana sighed and resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “I
like
Lady Phoebe, Mama. I had no design in mind.”

“I know, darling. You would never befriend anyone to earn an advantage.” She winked. “It’s simply
fortunate
the friendship bloomed as it did.”

Forget breaking his leg, Lana would strangle Jake when she next saw him. Traveling alone with her mother was torture.

Arriving at Shafer Hall at last, a footman assisted them from the carriage as Phoebe’s butler came forward.

“Lady Phoebe regrets she is unable to greet you upon your arrival, but sends her warm welcome. Please, come inside.”

The butler charged a footman with showing them to separate bedchambers and ordered their trunks taken upstairs. Despite being assigned individual quarters, her mother trailed into Lana’s chambers. She strolled around the room inspecting every vase and figurine. Holding a crystal glass up to the light, she apparently found no spots and replaced it on the sideboard.

“You’re an attractive young lady,” her mother said, “and Jake assures me many gentlemen hold you in high esteem. Still, no one calls at home. Young men these days… I fear there is something very wrong with them.”

Finally, they had discovered common ground.

A stout maid gathered up the wrinkled dresses and left the room.

“Take Lord Paddock, for example,” her mother continued.

Lana flopped on the bed belly first. “Mama,
please.
I wish to forget all things Paddock related.”

“And who could blame you?” Her mother stomped her slipper-encased foot. “Poor Miss Bettis. What type of degenerate deflowers a girl barely out of leading strings? Paddock is lucky he escaped castration, in my opinion.”

“Mama.”

She flicked her hand. “Oh, please, Lana. You’ve lived in a house with five men. Don’t pretend I have offended your sensibilities.”

Lana pulled a pillow over her head to cover her ears. If she never heard her former fiancé’s name again, she would be forever grateful. Fresh waves of humiliation and anger washed over her.

When Lana had confronted Leo and realized the truth of the allegations against him, she’d broken their betrothal on the spot. While she had been prepared for an argument, his attack on her person caught her off guard. Paddock had not been the Quality she had thought him to be. Nevertheless, Lana managed to deflect his blows with a book long enough for Jake and Daniel to storm the room and subdue him.

Subdue
him.
Such a mild word to use in connection with Lord Paddock’s injuries.

Her mother’s weight barely dented the bed as she sat down beside her and hauled the pillow from Lana’s head. “My dear, you’ll find better than the likes of that scoundrel.”

“And what if I don’t?” Lana’s eyes filled with tears, but she blinked them away.

“Heavens. How can you think such a thing? You are a beautiful young woman.”

Lana rolled to her back to confront her mother. “Come, Mama. You’ve said more than once that I would be prettier if only I would cover my face.”

Her mother laughed. “Lana, I’ve said
no
such thing. You make me sound like a monster. Asking you to wear a hat in the sun does not indicate I find you the least bit lacking in beauty.”

“You hate my freckles, Mama. You call them an abomination.”

“
Your
freckles are adorable, you foolish girl. Never once have I spoken a bad word against them. If you haven’t noticed, we share similar coloring.” Her mother’s hands fluttered to adjust her hat. “I realize I’ve complained of my own spots in front of you, but I never meant to give the impression I thought you were anything less than perfect the way you are.”

“I know for a fact I am imperfect. Paddock was kind enough to catalogue my flaws in excruciating details when I cried off.”

Red spread up her mother’s neck and face like wildfire. “That no-good devil’s spawn. What did he say?”

Lana refused to meet her eyes. Repeating his insults was too mortifying. “It was nothing.”

“Well, regardless of whatever misguided thing that blackguard said, he was wrong. A lead ball is too good for him.”

Lana covered her face. She hadn’t wanted anyone to know of her additional humiliation. Everything else had been bad enough.

Her mother pulled Lana’s hands from her face and urged her to sit up. “My sweet daughter.” She gathered Lana into her arms and cradled her against her bosom. “Don’t listen to the ramblings of a madman.”

She felt like a small child again. A lump formed in her chest as she fought back her sadness.

“You must put your sentiments aside and make an advantageous match while you still have time. The good Lord knows I made the mistake of listening to my heart, and you can see what a lonely existence I enjoy.”

Drew leaned forward and urged the black stallion his father had presented for his expert opinion into a gallop. The Thoroughbred was descended from the Godolphin Arabian and bred for swiftness and agility. His father would be pleased the animal possessed a perfect blending of both qualities to render him a superior foxhunter.

The magnificent beast’s strong flanks propelled them forward at impressive speeds, and the wind whipped through Drew’s hair. He laughed aloud. How easy to forget pleasures afforded by the country when residing year-round in Town.

He spied Shafer Hall in the distance and reined in the horse to allow him a cool-down before reaching the mews.

As he rode up the circular drive, he spotted Phoebe in the gardens with his nephew. His sister-in-law leaned down to examine something the boy cradled in his palm. Drew’s heart warmed. Rich had a family and it was a lovely one.

He dismounted, left the horse in the care of the footman, and jogged toward the gardens.

“Phoebe. Stephan,” he called.

Both of their heads popped up. Stephan’s fist closed to entrap whatever he held. “Uncle Drew, come see what I found.”

He grinned, pleased with the way the boy accepted his presence at his home without question as if it were an everyday occurrence.

Drew knelt on one knee beside his nephew. “Let’s take a look.” Stephan opened his hand to reveal a black beetle. “My, he’s a big one. Will you keep him in a jar?”

“Mama says he’ll miss his family, so I have to let him go. It’s terrible to miss family. Do you not agree, Uncle Drew?” Stephan wandered off with his bug secured in his hand without waiting for a response.

Yes, missing family was a terrible condition, and missing out was even worse. Drew glanced up at Phoebe, her abdomen rounded from the baby growing inside, another tiny nephew or niece. “You look amazing, Pheebs.”

Her hand moved to caress her midsection as her arched brows pulled together. “Yes, well, thank you and good heavens. What are you doing here?”

He laughed and got up from his knee. “That’s a better welcome than I received from Mother. I believe her words were along the lines of ‘you
cannot
be here.’ There is no room for me at Irvine Castle. So, here I am.”

She tipped her head to the side, her brow furrowed in confusion. “That explains why you are at Shafer Hall, I suppose. But what brings you to Northumberland? You haven’t been here in years from what I’ve gathered.”

He shrugged. How could he explain the yearnings he had been experiencing? He’d grown restless in Town, and had been for weeks. It seemed there should be something more, although hang him if he knew what it could be. He thought the ennui would pass after a time, but it hadn’t. Not yet, though he didn’t want to voice any of this to his sister-in-law.

“All of London is
here
, my lady. I’ve no one to entertain me.”

“Poor Drew,” she said with a touch of playful sarcasm. “No one to love him in Town. I suppose we can find room for you.”

“How gracious of you, my lady.” Before they turned to approach the house, Drew caught sight of a willowy figure in the distance. “Who comes this way?” he murmured.

His heart skipped a beat.
Miss
Hillary.

He couldn’t mistake the fiery hair bouncing around her shoulders. Her hat swung carefree in her left hand while she grasped a fat bouquet of colorful flowers in her right. Her steps slowed when she seemed to realize Phoebe had a visitor.

A close-up view revealed cheeks flushed pink from the fresh air and exercise. Why did women make themselves up with powders and perilously balanced hairstyles when their natural state proved so beautiful?

Phoebe stepped forward. “Drew, I’m sure you remember Miss Hillary.”

He nodded. “It is a pleasure to see you again.”

Miss Hillary’s eyes narrowed on Phoebe. “Lord Andrew, how
unexpected
to see you again. Did you by chance arrive on an elephant?”

“I can’t say I did, Miss Hillary.” He winked at Phoebe, a wide grin stretching across his face. “And I thought people in the country were friendly. I’m beginning to feel unwanted.”

A corner of Miss Hillary’s mouth lifted.

“Oh, Drew,” Phoebe cried. “Of course, you are welcome. Please, come inside and we’ll find a room for you.”

He didn’t miss the roll of Miss Hillary’s eyes. “Perhaps if you had sent word, Lord Andrew, we would have formed a parade to greet you.”

“I’ll keep that in mind for the future, Miss Hillary. Thank you for the suggestion.” He gestured to the bouquet in her hand. “Are those for me?”

“Oh,” she said, remembering the flowers. “I hope you don’t mind if I bring them inside, Phoebe. I’m a fool for wildflowers, and these were too beautiful to resist.”

“Hmm.” Drew lifted an eyebrow. “I believe I’ve used that excuse myself a time or two.”

His sister-in-law frowned, but a chuckle slipped from Miss Hillary before she forced a chastising look. At least someone had a sense of humor, even if she were loath to admit it.

Stephan raced past as the three of them walked toward the house side by side. Drew glanced sideways at Miss Hillary. She looked quite radiant, even more appealing than the last time he had seen her.

“The fresh air agrees with you, Miss Hillary.”

She missed a step and stumbled, but Drew reached out in time to steady her. Her green eyes met his. “Th-thank you, it seems to agree with you as well.”

***

Drew sipped a brandy as his brother paced the length of the study at Shafer Hall. Rich had summoned him minutes after his arrival and seemed intent upon stomping holes into a perfectly good floor.

His brother skidded to a stop and scowled. “I don’t know why you chose
this
year to make an appearance.”

Drew crossed his ankle over his knee. “Last year you were on the continent.”

Rich glared. “Phoebe’s friend is
off
limits
, Drew. Allow me to lay down the rules for you. You cannot, under
any
circumstances, be anywhere within a hundred feet of Miss Hillary at any time. Do I make myself clear?”

Drew chuckled. “Is the dining room table long enough, or am I to take my meals with the hounds?”

His brother crossed his arms over his chest. “You know my meaning. And don’t tempt me.”

“Yes, yes,” he said on a sigh. “No seducing the delicious redhead. I understand.”

“Drew, you have to take this seriously. I forbid you to risk Phoebe’s or the baby’s health by upsetting her.”

Rich could be quite fierce, especially in protecting his family, but his brother didn’t intimidate him. Drew was fond of his sister-in-law and loved his older brother. He would never do anything to bring them harm. He could easily submit to their demands, since he had no designs on Miss Hillary. Still, this entire hullabaloo over the forbidden female piqued his interest.

“I have no intention of luring an innocent to my bed, Rich. Too many strings attached.”

“And we all know how you like being unattached.”

Drew frowned at the censorship in his brother’s tone. “As did you once upon a time, as I remember.” Once upon a time, before his brother met Phoebe.

Rich seemed happy with being leg-shackled, but marriage was not for Drew. It seemed a man should love a woman if he married her, and love apparently wasn’t in his cards. He had sampled some of the finest women in England and many across the continent while on his grand tour. None of them left him with stars in his eyes or inspired him to write poetry, not that anything would inspire him to write a poem, silly dribble that it was. Nevertheless, Drew had felt nothing beyond a stirring in his loins, and he’d accepted the truth long ago. He wasn’t made for love, not from the heart anyway.

He would keep his promise and stay away from that little vixen during her extended visit. But he wouldn’t pledge to remain celibate. There were plenty of other attractive, not-so-virtuous guests staying at Irvine Castle to whet his appetite.

He downed his drink and set the glass on the side table with a thump. “Consider your duty dispatched. Reassure your wife I’ll be as good as I know how.”

“That. Is. Not. Good. Enough.” Rich bit out each word.

“Very well.” Drew threw his arms wide. “I’ll aim for sainthood. Just don’t be angry if I miss the mark.”

Rich stared in silence for a minute before a knowing smile stretched his lips. “Just watch where you shoot your arrows.”

Drew tossed his head back in laughter. His brother wasn’t destined for sainthood any more than Drew was, no matter how much Rich pretended.

***

Lana took a slow, deep breath before leaving her bedchamber to join the rest of the inhabitants of Shafer Hall. Her stomach tied itself in knots as she fretted over the carriage ride to Irvine Castle where everyone would dine for the evening.

What was Lord Andrew doing in Northumberland?

She reached for the door handle, changed her mind, and hurried to view herself in the oval looking glass. Her cornflower blue dress had no wrinkles, and every strand of hair stayed in place.

Thank
goodness
.

She hoped her appearance made up for the disheveled mess she had been earlier when Lord Andrew had arrived. Her embarrassment over being found so out of sorts lingered.

Of course, neatness was all she had going for her. She couldn’t boast great beauty like Phoebe. Nor was she petite and plump in all the right places. Yet, Lord Andrew
had
complimented her earlier.

Don’t be a ninny.
Lana scrunched her nose and stuck her tongue out at her image.

She had asked after Lord Andrew following their encounter at the ball and learned more about his peccadilloes than she cared to know. She couldn’t allow his empty words to flatter her. Everyone knew for Lord Andrew flirtation came as naturally as breathing. His reputation rivaled Paddock’s when it came to charming ladies out of their drawers. Lana’s cheeks burned at the thought.

Unlike Paddock, however, Lord Andrew was reportedly direct about what he desired. He didn’t pretend to be anything other than what he was—a rogue with no intentions of marriage. In fact, Lord Andrew’s forthrightness made him seem safe given Lana knew his game and wasn’t foolish enough to play with him.

With a renewed sense of optimism, she left her room with a spring in her step. The Forests and her mother waited for her in the drawing room.

“Everyone is accounted for,” Lord Richard announced. “Shall we go, ladies?”

Lana scanned the room. “And Lord Andrew?”

“He left about an hour ago,” Phoebe replied.

“To London?” Her voice held a note of alarm, which she immediately regretted.

“No.” Phoebe spoke slowly as if Lana had lost her mind. “He departed for Irvine Castle.”

“Of course.”
Drat!
Maybe she was a fool after all.