Rules for Reforming a Rake (30 page)

“We’ll speak later,” he said with a wink.

***

Daisy didn’t want to believe the latest bits of news, but it had to be true. Napoleon had escaped Elba and was on the run. Was it possible? Lord Malinor had let slip that Gabriel spoke the language fluently and knew the countryside. Was he needed to plan a defense? Why? He was known as a wastrel, not a military man.

And who was this countess?

She shook her head and sighed. Obviously an affair that ended years ago. She’d ask Graelem about it later.

As for Gabriel, she recalled the recent stories she’d heard about him, all of them possibly false. He’d been accused of drinking to excess, but he’d always been sober during their encounters. He was known as a womanizing scoundrel... well, he’d admired Lady Westhaven’s enormous breasts this afternoon, but ogling was something all men did, even her sainted uncle, George, a pillar of respectability.

Gabriel was known to disappear for weeks at a time, yet his business affairs were in good order, or so Laurel had insisted during their afternoon discussion. Indeed, Laurel had been certain of it, for Graelem had confided in her about his cousin’s estates, which meant those seemingly impulsive disappearances were well thought out.

Several months ago, he’d been shot by a cuckolded husband somewhere in the north of England. That was the rumor spread around town and his own grandmother had believed it. Daisy had held Eloise’s hand and cried, for Gabriel had returned in such terrible shape few expected him to survive.

What if he hadn’t been shot by a jealous husband, but had received those wounds secretly fighting Napoleon? His long absences could have been secret missions to France.

And his injuries coincided with Napoleon’s capture and exile.

Daisy groaned inwardly.

Of course, it had to be.

The hunting lodge, the bachelor friends... his terrible reputation... all a carefully crafted sham. But not everything fit. There was the matter of that ugly little man.

What was his connection to Gabriel?

Or to the attempt on Lord Malinor’s life?

Drat, she wasn’t even certain there had been an attempt on his life.

“Daisy,” her mother said, tapping her shoulder only moments later. “You’re talking to yourself.”

She shook out of her thoughts, saw Julia and Lord Malinor drifting into the music room together, and turned to her mother with an apologetic smile. “I was thinking aloud.”

“As we Farthingales are known to do from time to time.” Her mother cast her a sympathetic smile in return. “But try not to do that when in company, it looks a bit... well, odd.”

She wondered just how she and her mother had turned out so alike in looks and, it appeared, in temperament as well. Sophie Farthingale was still a beautiful woman, retaining much of her youthful figure and lush dark hair, though now salted with white. Her gentle blue eyes were wrinkled at the corners, but those were laugh lines, a result of a joyful household filled with mirth and affection.

Daisy had always hoped to age as gracefully as her mother. However, at times her mother was a dizzy, disorganized creature who’d forget her own head if it weren’t attached. She was a scatterbrain and often talked to herself.

Oh, dear! Was she becoming as scatterbrained as her mother?

“... and keep away from Lord Dayne. I won’t have the Farthingale name associated with that coward.”

He isn’t a coward!
She wanted to scream the truth aloud, but knew it was hopeless. Neither her mother, nor anyone else, believed he had any good in him.

A small cluster of lords and ladies paused on their way to the music room, where the harp recital was about to commence. “Sophie,” said Lady Beaverton, a dear friend of hers, “have you seen him yet? Lord Dayne, of course.”

Her mother shuddered. “No, Miranda, and I certainly don’t wish to.”

Auguste Malinor was just behind them and had obviously overheard. He uttered a crude jest about Gabriel.

Daisy cast him an icy glare. What had he ever sacrificed? Or was he too insignificant for the Prince Regent’s notice? She desperately wished to come to Gabriel’s defense, but wasn’t about to ruin the scandal that he and the Prince Regent had concocted. Had Wellington been involved in the planning as well?

She stood with her hands curled into fists at her sides, silent and unresponsive while all around her spoke of Gabriel with unmasked derision. Finally, she could take no more. “Who are we to condescend? Has the Prince Regent ever taken notice of any of you? Have you done anything worth his notice?”

Her mother’s eyes rounded in horror. “Daisy!”

“My father and I,” Auguste said with a disquieting sense of menace, “are well acquainted with the entire royal family and you would be wise never to forget it.”

“Forgive my daughter, my lord. You see, Lord Dayne recently did us a great favor, and my daughter now believes we owe him something in return.”

He arched an eyebrow. “Ah, I see. Loyalty, Miss Farthingale, is an honorable trait, but misplaced loyalty is a dangerous thing. Please excuse my earlier crude jest, but do be wary of Lord Dayne. He cannot be trusted.”

“Thank you for the warning, my lord.” A warning he insisted on droning into her skull each time they met. Gabriel had also expressed little fondness for Auguste. Why did the pair particularly detest each other?

“I hope we are friends again.” He cast her a smile that did not reach into his cold, dark eyes.

She managed a small smile in return. “Yes, of course.”

“Excellent.” He let out the breath he’d been holding, a response which Daisy thought quite odd, for Auguste had never seemed to care whether or not she held a good opinion of him. “May I be so bold as to escort you to dinner after the recital?”

“Of course you may,” her mother interjected before she could decline. “My daughter is honored by your notice.”

He bowed to her mother and then to her. “Until later, Miss Farthingale.”

She managed another smile, this time more sincere. “I look forward to it, my lord.”

Her mother turned toward her once Auguste Malinor, Lady Beaverton, and their companions had walked away. “Goodness, you gave me quite a scare! Daisy, you almost ruined your chances with young Malinor. Possibly ruined Julia’s chances with his father. I know we taught you girls to be honest, but sometimes it is best to keep such thoughts to yourself.”

“Sorry, Mother. I don’t support what Lord Dayne has done, but who are we to cast blame? Do we have the right to question his sacrifice when we’ve sacrificed nothing ourselves?”

“Oh, Daisy,” her mother moaned, uttering a string of woes which included phrases such as “sad creature, doomed to spinsterhood” and “determined to drive me to an early grave.” “No man wants a woman without the sense to keep her radical thoughts to herself.”

“I’m sorry. It’s just that—”

She held up her hand. “I don’t wish to hear your excuses. Indeed, I blame myself for failing to train you properly. But I won’t make the same mistake with your younger sisters. I’ll thrash them soundly if they dare to utter an independent thought!”

“Mother! You’ve never raised a hand to any of us.”

“And I never will,” she admitted, her shoulders sagging as she let out a sigh, “but you worry me, darling. At times you make it so difficult for anyone to see just how special you are.”

“I’ll be an angel to the entire Malinor family if it will help set matters right.”

“Ah, well. Nothing to be done about it now. Come along, child. The music has started.”

“You go in, Mother. I’ll follow shortly.” She mumbled something about misplacing her fan, then hurried off in search of Gabriel.

Though the Baldridge home was large, she managed a quick search of the residence—the card room, dining room, and private nooks. She’d just about given up hope of finding him when she spotted him on the terrace. “There you are.”

Gabriel glanced in the direction of several guests who were also on the terrace, staring at him quite coldly. “Daisy, you shouldn’t be out here.”

She paid the scowling guests no notice. “I know, but I must speak to you.”

“You’ve just done so. Now, go away before tongues start wagging, this time against you.”

“Are you suggesting that you care?”

He frowned. “About your reputation? I do care. Don’t come any closer.”

She had to meet him somewhere private, find some place far from the music room or terrace, far from prying eyes and disapproving gazes. “How’s your arm?”

His lips curled in a mirthless smile. “It’s fine. Nothing more than a scratch. I’ve been injured worse.”

Her heart tightened. “The news of your row with the Prince Regent and Wellington is all anyone is talking about tonight. Do the London gossips pay you to set the town afire with scandal, or is it a natural talent of yours?”

He glanced over her shoulder as another group of gentlemen and ladies passed by and began to whisper furiously while casting him furtive glances.

“A natural talent,” he replied. “Now, go away.”

“Follow me.” She wasn’t certain whether to poke him in the nose or go after the next person who glowered at Gabriel. She was angry with everyone tonight, particularly him. He was arrogant, insufferable, and thickheaded.

“No.”

She folded her arms over her chest and scowled at him. “You must.”

To her surprise, his gaze turned tender. “And allow you to be tarred with the same brush as me? I don’t think so.”

The will to fight simply drained out of her and all she felt was a deep, abiding sorrow. “Please, Gabriel. I’m so frightened for you.”

He let out a soft groan. “Don’t be.”

She shook her head and sighed. “I can’t help it.”

“I know.” He cast her a mirthless grin. “You Farthingales like to meddle. But this is a dangerous business, Daisy. The only way to keep you safe is to keep you far away from me.”

“Are you ordering me to forget you? Am I supposed to return to the music room and pretend to listen to that insipid harp recital?” She shot him a frown. “There’s a small Grecian temple in the Baldridge’s garden.”

He pushed away from the balustrade. “Haven’t you learned your lesson about secret meetings and gardens? You could have been killed the other night... and again today in the park.” He ran a hand through his hair, obviously exasperated. “What will it take to make you go away?”

“Five minutes alone with you,” she said, glancing out into the garden. “I’ll go first. Don’t take too long.” She marched off before he had the chance to stop her.

A cool gust of wind caught Daisy’s curls, loosening several as she walked toward the Grecian temple next to a torch-lit pond. She ignored the stray wisps curling about her ears and neck, her thoughts in anguish over Gabriel as she walked on, hardly noticing the scent of lilac in the air.

A row of lilac trees swayed lightly along the high stone wall at the garden’s edge, and she barely heard the rush of cool water spurting from the fountain in the nearby fish pond. The tree-lined wall obscured much of the garden walk from view of the music room and would afford them the privacy she desired.

Of course, she didn’t know what she would say or do when he arrived...
if
he arrived, but she wasn’t worried. She’d let her heart guide her.

She ducked into the temple and waited for Gabriel, straining to hear the sound of his footsteps against the wind, but all she could make out was the lilt of the harp filling the air.

“Daisy,” he said with a rasp to his voice, stepping close and tucking a stray curl behind her ear in a casually affectionate gesture. However, Gabriel was not the casual sort. His every move was well thought out. He knew exactly what he was doing and had calculated precisely how to achieve his purpose with a smile, a touch, a soft word. He was much like any other rakehell, except he seemed genuinely worried about her.

His mere touch was crumbling her defenses, not that she ever wished to defend herself against him. She didn’t at all. He wasn’t a rogue... well, perhaps he was, but one with well-developed protective instincts. That’s what he was doing now, trying to protect her by pushing her away. “I won’t keep you long, Gabriel. I promise. I just had to tell you that I believe in you. No matter what happens, no matter what anyone says about you, I know the sort of man you truly are. I won’t defend you, because you’ve gone to great pains to make everyone loathe you and I won’t ruin your plans, but in my heart—”

“Daisy, don’t talk about hearts.” His words sounded pained. “I need you to forget me.”

That wasn’t quite what she longed to hear, but telling him what was in her heart mattered, even if only to herself. Somehow, she knew it was important to him as well, even though he was determined to make her think it wasn’t. “I love you.”

He grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her gently. “Don’t. You little fool, you can’t love me.”

“Why? Because it interferes with your carefully designed plans? I’m not a fool,” she insisted, lowering her voice to a whisper, although they were quite alone and she doubted anyone could hear them. “I know your Scottish hunting trip has nothing to do with shooting game or debauching or running away from war. I know that Napoleon has escaped and you’re needed for something dangerous.”

His fingers tightened on her shoulders as she continued. “You’re a hero, Gabriel. You don’t run from responsibility, no matter how tortured or overburdened your soul. Everyone thinks Alexander is the Dayne family hero, but it’s really you. That’s what you were doing throughout the war, running headlong into battle, volunteering for the most dangerous missions. Secret missions.”

She waited for the well-intentioned lie to spring from his lips, waited for the denials she knew were coming because he refused to admit he was brave or noble. He sighed and then released her, turning away to study the pond. He pretended to be fascinated by the amber torch flames reflected in the shimmering water, but she knew his thoughts were on her. “I’ll be away for quite some time, Daisy.”

He ran a hand raggedly through his hair. “You saw the glowers I received tonight. I’m no longer welcome in society. That’s how it needs to be.”

She nodded. “Will you be gone a week? A month? Years? How long do you mean to stay away?”