Once Upon a Rake (9 page)

Oh Lord. Eleanor fought the
desire to sink to the floor. Her mother was plotting, and for some strange
reason, she appeared to be plotting an illicit liaison between her daughter and
the man she once thought so dangerous to her innocence that she had her married
off to an old earl.

An Unlucky Hand

Lucian lifted his gaze from his cards and peered at the
new arrivals for a moment. Then he dropped his gaze to the cards and concluded
he had little chance of winning with such a poor hand. And therefore it was
definitely not worth sitting around and waiting for the Earl of Banridge to
spot him.

What was the man doing in
the Eights anyway? No one but poor travellers stopped at the dilapidated inn,
which was exactly why he chose it as his hide out. On the rare occasion he took
a break from his duties, he headed to The Eight Bells.

He lowered his head as
Banridge headed to the bar. Throwing in his hand, he made to leave while the
earl had his back turned, but his movement must have drawn Banridge’s
attention.

“Rushbourne?”

Lucian rotated slowly, and
tried to keep his unmarred side towards him. “Banridge,” he said, dropping his
head in acknowledgment.

However, the earl did not
let him on his way and stepped back from the bar to stand in front of him. “Good
Lord it is you. Why, I haven’t seen you in, well, over a year, surely? I knew
you had a seat in the country nearby but did not think you would be at home or
else I would have called upon you. Someone said you were in France or
something, recovering from...” He paused and smiled. “Well, it is good to see
you.”

“And you, Banridge.”

“Shall you be coming to
London next summer?”

“I doubt it.”

He hardly wanted to come and
be centre of attention, and for all the wrong reasons. Once he might have
relished it—his escapades were often talked of—but this was different. Now they
would be speaking of his scars and how grotesque he was.

“Too much on your hands,
eh?”

“Something like that.”

“Well, I shall be sure to
tell my sister where you are. Kitty was terribly fond of you. She married
recently, you know?”

His sister, Lady Catherine,
had been terribly fond of him indeed. Fond enough to let him share her bed on
frequent occasions after her first husband passed. Banridge clearly had no idea
or else he would be calling him out, but that did not surprise Lucian. He was
not the brightest of men.

“I had not heard. Please
pass on my congratulations. Forgive me, I must hurry, I’m late for an
appointment.”

The well-dressed man nodded genially.
“Absolutely, Good to see you, Rushbourne.”

“Likewise.”

Lucian noted how Bainridge’s
gaze fell upon his scar briefly as he turned, and the look of astonishment that
came across his face made Lucian curl a fist. He strode briskly out of the inn
and squinted in the bright daylight. Being early afternoon, the sun had split
the thick clouds and cast the hills in golden sunlight. For the end of summer,
it was still surprisingly warm but no doubt rain would be upon them soon, as it
often was in England.

He retrieved his cabriolet
from the side of the inn and set off at as fast a pace as possible.
Apprehension drummed through him, making him drive more recklessly than
usual—and that was saying a lot. There had been times after the fire when he
had longed to meet a quick ending. For the vehicle to tip and spill him from
it, breaking his neck or cracking his skull. Then the pain would be gone and he
would not have to deal with the shame of his appearance. The pain had since
vanished, with the exception of the occasional morning of agony, but the shame
had not.

By the time he reached
Balmead, the horses had worked up quite the sweat as had he. His butler,
Fairfax greeted him with his usual warmth, which was the equivalent to none.
But that mattered little to Lucian. He had served his father well and continued
to serve him with quiet efficiency. He had enough people worrying for him with
his housekeeper taking on the role of his mother as best as she could.

“A letter arrived for you,
my lord,” Fairfax told him as he held out a silver platter. “From Broadstone
Hall.”

Those three words made him
stiffen. He felt like a rabbit about to be hunted down. Muscles tense, senses
alert. He took the letter off the platter and tore it open. Grimacing, he flung
the letter onto the console table.

A ball. She was holding a
bloody ball. Dancing, music...
people.
He snorted. His worst nightmare.
The last thing he would do is go to Broadstone and take part in a
ball
.
He would rather gouge out his eyes with spoons.

Drawing off his jacket and
hat, and handing it to Fairfax, he requested some tea and strode in the
direction of the study. First, he would turn his attention to some
correspondence he needed to catch up on and then he would send his humblest
apologies to Ellie. A damn ball. Not even the hounds of hell could drag him to
a ball, regardless of how enticing the hostess’s lips were, or how he could not
seem to stop thinking of her.

***

The air in the double room was stifling. Eleanor
struggled to catch her breath as she finished up her dance with a gentleman
whose name she could not remember. She had not been lacking for dance partners
for the first time in her life, but she knew her wealth and status was the only
thing attracting the multitude of partners.

Thankfully, she had danced
well, though dancing had never been much of a problem for her. She’d always
enjoyed it. It was things like walking and eating and drinking that posed a
problem. Even now, as she walked off the dance floor on her partner’s arm, she
had to concentrate on not catching the hem of her gown.

She did a quick sweep of the
room with her gaze and failed to find Lucian again. He had confirmed the
invitation yet he had not been there when she had been greeting her guests. He
could have been late, she supposed, many people were. Bodies filled the room,
their elegant dresses and dark evening suits complimenting the gilded
furniture. The mirrors on all walls created the effect of there being even more
people in attendance.

Eleanor thanked her nameless
partner and muttered something about needing to speak with the butler, though
her words were lost to the orchestra anyway. He nodded as if he had understood
her but she doubted he had. She watched him walk away and slip into a crowd of
other gentleman. Well-dressed, and cutting a fine figure, she had to wonder why
he did not interest her one bit. In fact, why had none of the men that night
appealed?

Was it simply a need to be
alone or was it something else?

A scowling vision of a man with
a scar on his cheek and an insolent expression flashed in front of her.
Whatever it was, it was not Lucian she needed, she told herself. Certainly not
Lucian.

Eleanor pressed a hand to
her waist and tried to draw a breath past her corset, but it was no good. She
would have to get some air. Escaping from her own ball was perhaps not the
proper thing to do but the crowd was growing thicker, with elegant ladies and
gentleman jostling against each other. Conversation was difficult and Eleanor
had found it hard enough to think of topics to talk of with the other ladies.
How many had shared her experiences of life?

With the exception of aged
husbands that was. There were a few young ladies with ancient men in tow
tonight and from what she could tell, none of those matches were happy. And
there she differed too. Theirs might not have been much of a traditional
marriage—one in which husband and wife shared their bodies as well as their
lives—but they had been well matched in many respects and she could never claim
to be miserable. So, even on the matter of old, crotchety husbands she had
little to say.

Eleanor released a long
breath and began to make her way through the crowd. She smiled and paused to
speak with a few people who spoke of the grandeur and how successful the ball
was. She had little idea. Most of the balls she’d attended had been small
country ones. Being married before she had really entered society had always
frustrated her but now she wondered if she should not be grateful for missing
out on such things. It seemed she took little pleasure in balls. The golden
glistening light of the room, the huge crystal chandeliers in their splendour,
the way the deep red wallpaper finally came to life and how the polished floor
squeaked happily with footsteps—none of it brought her much pleasure, even
though she felt at least the house was finally being used properly.

When she reached the door to
the courtyard, she took her heavy silk skirts in hand and stepped out. Air
filled her lungs and a breeze immediately cooled her skin. She shivered as the
air tickled her bare shoulders but it was appreciated. Her skin had already
grown damp from the heat in the Double Cube Room.

She tipped her head back and
strode across the courtyard with the intention of slipping through the rear of
the house and out onto the back terrace. It was likely a few lovers might have
snuck out there but there were many dark corners and the ornamental garden
would allow her to get lost.

A dark figure slipped out of
the corner shadows and her heart thudded against her rib cage. “Lucian.”

He peered at her with a
tilted smile. “Escaping?”

“No. Yes,” she admitted.

“Little Ellie Browning’s
first ball and she cannot wait to escape...”

“I am not little Ellie
Browning anymore, Lucian,” she reminded him, feeling her hackles rise.

He insisted on seeing her as
that young, awkward child. Likely in his eyes she would always be that girl.
Bumbling, silly, frivolous. Even a hugely expensive gown in heavy purple silk
could not make him see her as anything else.

His gaze travelled over her,
making her aware of every inch and even forcing her nipples to press against
her bodice. Of course, he was beautiful. The light from the rooms cast a glow
across the courtyard allowing her to admire the fine cut of his evening suit
and the way it emphasised his broad shoulders. His hair was slightly ruffled as
though he had been running his hands through it. Or perhaps a lady had been.
Jealousy struck strong and sharp but when she glanced around, she saw no one
hiding in the shadows or trying to slip away.

A second time, his gaze
raked up and down, lingering on where she knew her breasts made an admirable
attempt at cleavage. With the cut of the gown, they looked relatively plump. It
seemed Lucian had noticed but did he appreciate them or was he comparing her to
other more endowed women?

“You certainly are not.”

“Pardon?”

“You are not little Ellie
Browning anymore,” he replied, his grin turning almost wicked.

Eleanor swallowed. Was
he...flirting? Surely not. “Why are you skulking about around here? There are
many fine ladies looking for dance partners.”

“Are you lecturing me on my
duties as an eligible gentleman?”

She laughed. “I hardly think
I am one to lecture on duties when I am slipping away from my own ball, but I
know many ladies were asking after you.”

He let out a huff. “No doubt
wanting to see how I fared after the fire. Well, I won’t give them the
satisfaction.” Eleanor scowled and was about to correct him, knowing full well
they simply wanted a chance with the gorgeous rake, but he held out his arm.
“Can I escort you to wherever it is you wish to escape to?”

She had taken his arm before
she’d even thought about it. He held her quite close so the skin above her long
gloves brushed the fabric of his jacket. If she closed her eyes, she might
imagine she was a beautiful, elegant lady, arriving on the arm of her handsome
beau. But if she closed her eyes, she would likely trip, so that was out of the
question.

“I was planning to sit in
the gardens.”

“Come then, let us make our
escape.”

Lucian was being
surprisingly agreeable. She felt herself warming to him—a dangerous thing
indeed. Had she not witnessed Lucian’s raw male power already? That kiss would
haunt her forever and now she was agreeing to spend time alone with him out in
the gardens. Thank goodness she was a widow. No one cared what a widow got up
to and there would certainly be no family members discovering her and sending
her off to marry an old earl this time.

“I have not heard from you
in several weeks. Is all well? I was hoping you might give me the chance to
look over those records soon.”

“I heard your mother was
here and did not wish to get in the way. The majority of the records you
requested are at Balmead now.”

“I would have liked to have
known. May I see them soon?”

“Of course, I said you
could, did I not?”

They stepped through the
house and out of the back onto the terrace. Sure enough a young couple darted
around the corner upon spotting them and Eleanor had to suppress a giggle.

“Looks as though some people
are having a very fine time indeed,” Lucian commented. “Secret assignations and
much to gossip about. I think you can consider your ball a success, my lady.”

“I suppose I can.”

She lifted her skirt as they
took the steps to the gardens. Laid out in a square with paths cutting it in
four, the box trees provided ample hiding places and Eleanor was grateful not
to come across any other lovers. Lanterns lit the way and the scent of roses
filled the night air. Though the evening was cloudy, stars made a good attempt
at breaking through, leaving the night sky speckled with them in certain
places.