Scoundrel (3 page)

He wasn’t even polite enough to lie.

In her mind, she’d made him into a man so perfect that it hurt just to look at him. For three long years she’d admired a man unworthy of three minutes of her regard. The news of his engagement to Margaret Granger paled in comparison to the pain that now gripped her heart. It wasn’t Remmington’s fault that he wasn’t the man she thought he would be, but she still felt cheated.

“Do you see the elderly gentelman standing near the punch bowls?” she asked, with a nod toward Lord Porter. She waited until Remmington caught sight of the eighty-year-old gentleman. “Aside from my father, you and Lord Porter are the only two men who seem capable of speaking exclusively to my face this evening, and not to other parts of my person.”

Remmington looked startled by her boldness, but at that moment Lily didn’t care what he thought of her. She was caught off guard when his face broke into a smile and he laughed out loud. The deep sound drew the attention of other couples on the dance floor.

“Oh, that was a nice touch,” she murmured. “Everyone will believe we’ve just shared an intimate secret. I believe Lady Margaret’s imagination just moved on to sharp objects.”

He returned her smile, a warm expression that conveyed his pleasure. Why wouldn’t he be pleased that she cooperated so willingly with his scheme? Lily gritted her teeth and felt her smile turn brittle.

“You are taking this rather gracefully, Lady Lillian. Most women would surely slap my face and create quite a scene if they’d guessed my intent.”

If only she had the nerve to create a scene! She would very much like to scream. Instead she kept her voice soft and pretended she couldn’t care less that he was using and humiliating her. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing how easily she fell into his trap. “Perhaps I find it refreshing to dance with a man who doesn’t ogle me throughout a dance.”

The warmth of his gaze took on the cooler cast of suspicion. “You don’t appreciate the fact that men find you attractive?”

Lily took offense at the question. He didn’t find her attractive. Remmington didn’t appreciate her looks beyond the fact that they would make Margaret jealous. He had no idea what hid behind them, probably wouldn’t care if he did. It was almost comical how they’d both misjudged the other. At least she’d discovered his true character before she made a complete fool of herself, though his actions said he thought her that still. She was tempted to give him the setdown he deserved, to prove how wrong he was about her.

“Do
you
appreciate it, Your Grace?”

He gave her a quizzical look. “Pardon me?”

She caught her breath as they made a daring sweep of the dance floor, and then blurted out her explanation before she could change her mind. “I asked if you appreciate being pursued for what you appear to be, rather than for what you are.”

He stared at her in silence, then avoided her gaze entirely. Although he held her just as closely, she could feel the distance grow between them by the moment. “You are proving entirely too insightful, Lady Lillian.”

He looked as if he meant to say more, but Lily didn’t give him a chance to elaborate. She didn’t want to hear any more of his cutting remarks. She wanted to be away from him as soon as possible, before she did something truly foolish. Tears would be the final humiliation, and she could feel them sting her eyes already. “And you, my lord, are surely aware that Lady Margaret holds me responsible for swaying Lord Osgoode’s affections from her court. If there is any doubt in your mind, let me assure you that it is extremely unpleasant to be the subject of your fiancée’s gossip.”

“Lady Lillian, I—”

“Please spare me the explanations.” She refused to look at him, wished she would never again have to see that handsome face. Instead she fixed her attention on a very small, loose thread on the lapel of his jacket. “Explanations are entirely unnecessary, Your Grace. Whatever games you play with your fiancée, I do not wish to be a part of them.”

The music faded away and Remmington brought their dance to a sweeping halt, but he didn’t release her. She glanced up at him, then she quickly looked away.

The odd light in his eyes made her nervous. It was as though he’d looked into her very soul. She didn’t want him there. She especially didn’t want his pity. “Your Grace, the dance is over. You mustn’t ruin your plan at this late date by looking so displeased with me.”

They also looked conspicuous on the nearly empty dance floor. Lily could almost feel people stare at her as they whispered more gossip behind her back. Why did he do this to her? What had she done to deserve such treatment? So she’d fancied herself half in love with him. This was more than ample payment for that folly.

Remmington executed another practiced bow, then tucked her hand beneath his arm to escort her from the floor. His pace slowed as they neared Sophie and the doors that led to the gardens. It was then Lily noticed the small crowd that had formed around Sophie. Its members varied in age, but all were male. Her heart sank. She would be forced to accept their invitations to dance or risk even more gossip about the reasons she’d danced with Remmington.

George Allen inclined his head toward Remmington as he approached the couple. Lily felt herself shrink away from the barely concealed note of triumph in his voice. “I believe Lady Lillian promised the next dance to me.”

“Lady Lillian has taken ill,” Remmington said in a clipped voice. “You will have to claim your dance another time.”

Lord Allen’s smile disappeared.

“Tell me it isn’t true,” he demanded of Lily. He reached out to take her arm, and glanced up at Remmington at the same time. Whatever he saw there made him take a hesitant step backward.

Lily didn’t take time to wonder why Remmington had provided the excuse. She took advantage of the opportunity and held one limp hand to her forehead. “Quite true. I’m afraid it’s the headache.”

“Good evening, Allen.” Remmington dismissed the young lord with a curt nod. He glared at Lord Allen until he bowed and backed away. None of the other rakes dared approach after that cool dismissal.

Sophie pushed through the crowd to join them. “What’s this about not feeling well?” She looked from Lily’s forced smile to Remmington’s dark expression, and her mouth drew to a thin line. “A good dose of fresh air always clears my headaches. If you will excuse us, Your Grace, I promised Lily that I would show her the new fountains in the
Ashland
gardens. Lord Poundstone assures me that they are most impressive.”

“Of course,” he replied, his tone stilted. “Thank you for the dance, Lady Lillian. I hope…”

His voice trailed off. Lily wondered if he contemplated some sort of apology for his awful behavior, but she didn’t give him time to think up anything less insulting than his reasons for insulting her in the first place. She didn’t want to hear one more word from him.

“Good evening, Your Grace.”

Lily turned on her heel and pulled Sophie along by the elbow as she walked briskly toward the gardens. They crossed the wide terrace that ran the length of the house, and then descended the steps into the gardens before Sophie pulled her to a halt.

“Are you
mad
?” Sophie demanded. “You just gave the Duke of Remmington the cut direct. The Duke of
Remmington
,” she repeated, as if the name alone could bring Lily to her senses. “He can ruin you!”

Sophie clapped her hand over her mouth, then looked around them. She pulled Lily away from the steps and into the lilac bushes near the terrace where she lowered her voice to a whisper. “He can make certain you never receive another invitation to anything important, Lily. What were you thinking?”

“That it was an excellent time for a walk in the gardens.” Lily pulled her arm from Sophie’s grip. “Don’t fret so much, Sophie. I don’t think any real harm was done.”

“No harm? You insulted him in front of four hundred people!”

“I suppose I did.”

“A month ago you declared yourself in love with him!” Sophie shook her head. “What happened?”

Lily felt a blush stain her cheeks. “The only reason he danced with me was to make Margaret Granger jealous.”

“The bounder,” Sophie whispered. “Are you certain?”

“He admitted as much. Can you believe his nerve?” Lily shook her head, a silent answer to her own question. “I wasted years pining for a man who is rude, arrogant, and insensitive beyond belief.”

“You did the right thing by giving him the cut. The man deserved much worse.”

Lily sighed and discovered she really did have a headache. She rubbed her temples. “Unfortunately, I doubt anyone will ever give him the setdown he really deserves.”

“We can always hope.” Sophie linked her arm through Lily’s and smiled brightly. “There is no reason to let him ruin our evening. Why don’t we walk through the gardens? I wasn’t lying about the Ashlands’ fountains. They really are wonderful. Shall we find them?”

It was a blatant attempt to change the subject, but Lily didn’t mind. She’d had enough of the Duke of Remmington for one night. She turned toward the gardens, but the sound of a woman’s voice from the terrace above them froze both women in midstep.

“There you are.”

Lily exchanged a horrified glance with Sophie, then she stepped closer to the bushes and peered upward through the branches. From her vantage point, she saw that a man stood directly above them with his back to the terrace railing Remmington.

How long had he been there? Before Lily’s mind could form an answer, Margaret Granger appeared on the terrace, followed closely by Lord Allen. She could see them clearly in the moonlight. Margaret looked furious.

Lord Allen looked uncomfortable. He kept tugging on his cravat, looking anywhere but at Remmington.

“Lady Margaret was feeling a bit out of sorts. Said she simply must have a breath of fresh air.” With that explanation made, Lord Allen lowered his gaze and fell silent.

“I was certain I’d find you here,” Margaret purred. “I vow everyone saw you leave the ball just a few moments after Lady Lillian and Miss Stanhope.” Margaret looked around the terrace and out over the gardens, her expression innocent. “I do hope we’re not interrupting anything.”

Remmington leaned against the stone railing and withdrew a cheroot from his breast pocket. He took his time about lighting it, then he tilted his head back and released a puff of smoke that turned blue in the moonlit night air before it slowly drifted away. “Does it look as if you are interrupting anything, Margaret?”

“One never knows,” Margaret said. “Especially when a certain lady with a questionable reputation is involved.”

“I’m not certain I take your meaning. Would you care to explain?” His words were softly spoken, dangerously so. Margaret didn’t seem to notice.

“You may not be aware of this, Your Grace, but the lady is still in mourning. She shouldn’t be here tonight, much less enjoying herself in a frivolous dance.”

“As no one has died recently in your family, I take it we are speaking of Miss Stanhope or Lady Lillian Walters?”

“Of course it’s not me.” Margaret’s face twisted into a scowl. “My reputation is spotless, as well you know. It is Lady Lillian who behaves indecently. People are talking quite freely.”

“I hardly think one dance is cause for talk,” Remmington murmured.

“You’d be surprised.” Margaret snapped open her fan to beat a furious rhythm in the air. Her blond curls billowed out around her face. “I overheard quite a few interesting comments. Everyone noticed the looks exchanged when you danced with her. Many are saying she’s found herself a new lover.”

“Truly?” Remmington sounded amazed by the news. “Me, perchance?”

“I’m only telling you this so you will know what people are saying so shamelessly behind your back.” Margaret clicked her fan closed and began to tap it against her hand. She looked very much like an overset governess reprimanding her charge. “One person said they thought it very bad form for a man to dance with his mistress in the presence of the lady he’s courting.”

Margaret crossed her arms and waited for Remmington’s answer to the charge. Lord Allen studied one of the potted rosebushes with embarrassed intensity. The tip of Remmington’s cheroot glowed bright orange while everyone waited for his reply. His voice remained quiet when he finally answered, his words spoken very slowly, but Lily recognized the underlying menace.

“If I hear one word of the preposterous lie that Lily Walters is my mistress, I shall meet that liar at dawn in Regent’s Park. If the liar is a woman, I shall make certain she is never again received in decent society. Do I make myself clear, Margaret?”

Margaret took a step backward, as if she finally realized his anger. “Very clear, Your Grace.”

Remmington pushed away from the railing and stalked off. Lily watched the trio return to the ballroom. Margaret hurried to keep up with Remmington’s long stride; Lord Allen trailed behind.

“Oh, my,” Sophie whispered. She wore a look of fascinated horror as she gazed up at the terrace. “Do you think he overheard our conversation?”

Lily rolled her eyes. “Of course he did.” She smoothed her gown and tried to contain a wave of self-pity. This was the ultimate humiliation, an end to her infatuation with Remmington that would haunt her forever. She would never be able to face him again, or even remain at the same ball or party they both might happen to attend. Unfortunately, Remmington received an invitation to every noteworthy event. Her social life was at an end. “If you don’t mind, Sophie, I believe I’ll find Papa and see if he’s ready to leave. I don’t think I can handle much more excitement this evening.”