The Art of Ruining a Rake (14 page)

Precisely what she meant to do.

“Won’t you give Trestin a chance?” Delilah prodded her.

Lucy scowled. It wasn’t Delilah’s fault her loyalties were divided. Marriage did that to a person. She’d seen it happen to Mother. Why, if she did condescend to marry Roman, she might find herself defending his philandering, simply because he was her husband.

She stiffened. If he so much as tried to find a mistress, she’d stab him.

“Delilah! Come quickly!” Charlotte, Mr. Conley’s youngest sister, grasped her side and fell against the doorframe as if she’d run the entire length of the hall. “There’s a gentleman here! He’s asked for Aunt Lucy.”

Lucy tossed down her laundry as Delilah’s eyes widened.

Roman.

Chapter 6

TRESTIN STOOD IN the parlor. Not Roman.
Not
Roman. A bottle green greatcoat hugged her brother’s shoulders. His perfectly blacked Hessians gleamed with snowmelt, and his hair curled up under his beaver hat. He looked every inch the gentleman, even after his long journey.

His golden eyes searched hers with the impatient concern she’d learned to expect from him. “Why didn’t you write me?” He stepped forward and embraced her just long enough to throw her completely off guard.

She grasped the backs of his arms and tried not to topple over. Trestin, hugging? Celeste certainly must have
affected him.

Her brother’s wool coat was cold and wet. Lucy stepped out of his embrace and tugged his gloved hand toward the hearth. “If you wish to lecture me, at least you might do it by the fire.”

He stood dutifully before the crackling logs, but didn’t bother to reach for the warmth. He searched her face as if he feared she’d disappear if he didn’t keep her in his sights. But he didn’t raise his voice, and he wasn’t glowering at her. “Why didn’t you come straight to me?”

Lucy wasn’t sure she recognized this calmer version of her brother. Roman had to have told him she was in disgrace; he wouldn’t have come otherwise. He was taking it rather well.

“I wanted to see my sister,” she said, keeping her voice light. “It’s a very feminine matter, being ruined.”

He turned crimson, much to her delight. “You could have spoken to Celeste. I believe she knows a thing or two about…that.”

Lucy laughed. She couldn’t help herself. Her brother, who had always been so concerned with propriety, would send her to a
courtesan
for advice. It was too much.

“I do rely on her counsel,” Lucy said lightly, “but Delilah knows me better. Do you mean to stay long?”

A peculiar expression crossed his face. “No. The roads are passable now, but we may see another storm by the end of the week. We shouldn’t delay and risk being caught in it.”

She steeled herself, keeping her smile fixed firmly on her lips. “Oh, I don’t think I
will
go with you, though. I have my own plans.”

He frowned. “Where are you going?”

She smiled breezily. “Somewhere wonderful, I think.”

The trenches between his brows deepened. His patience was wearing thin. “I’m not one for games, Lucy.”

“I’d rather keep the surprise to myself,” she said lightly, like a schoolgirl teasing her brother for the fun of it. Truly, she didn’t want to tell him. What if he stopped her from going to London?

“Lucy,” he warned. “If we are to have a great big row, let’s get on with it. I have a surprise of my own to share.”

Her mouth dropped open. “Celeste is increasing, too?”

His face contorted comically. “No! Why?” Then he gaped at her. “Are you?”

“No!”

“I am,” Delilah said, entering the room. Her fingers draped loosely together, interlaced under her unborn child.

Trestin’s heel squeaked on the wooden floor as he spun to see her. “Good God! Why didn’t you tell me?”

At least he didn’t appear irritated. In actuality, he looked overjoyed. A demeanor Lucy wasn’t at all used to associating with her disapproving brother.

He’d altered in a way she’d thought impossible just a year ago. It gave her hope he could accept her proposal. Even if it did push the boundaries of what even she considered acceptable.

“It’s not the sort of thing one writes in a letter,” Delilah said, waddling up to buss his cheek. “Now, if you have some good news of your own to share, it might make Lucy’s go down easier. What have you come to tell us?”

He pulled a face. It seemed his “good” news wasn’t as palatable as he’d like. “I’ve come for Lucy.” He took a deep breath, then turned to face both women. “As soon as it can be arranged, we must depart for—”

“I
won’t
live at Worston,” Lucy interrupted. She didn’t care if her pique ruined his mood. She simply couldn’t keep the words in any longer.

He winced as if her admission physically affected him. “Good,” he said, more placating than she’d seen him in years. “We’re not going to Worston.”

“We’re not?” She was instantly bemused. “Where, then? You never go anywhere else.”

His lips turned up at one corner. “With good reason. But this time, Lucy, I can’t take you home. No. We’re going to London.”

“London!” both girls said at once.

“London.” He smiled fully then, a smile so rare it could brighten the night. “And we leave at first light.”

LUCY’S PLAN FOR London had been to collect her disbursement salary, take lodgings suitable for a not-quite respectable spinster, and closet herself away while she penned a profitable novel. Trestin’s extraordinary offer to escort her to the city changed none of that.

It simply made it easier.

She studied his profile as their carriage slowed. His furrowed brow hadn’t smoothed since he’d first turned up in Delilah’s parlor. Yet if he worried about Lucy, or if he was cross, he kept it to himself. He didn’t so much as issue a reproving sigh.

She didn’t know this man at all.

With the gloved heel of her hand, she rubbed a circle of fog from the window and peered through the pane. The carriage had stopped before a row of terraced houses. “Where are we?”

He tossed the heavy blanket from his legs. The door opened and a blast of cold air rushed in as the coachman set down the steps. Trestin climbed swiftly from the carriage, then turned to help Lucy descend. “Not at Celeste’s terraced house, if that’s what you mean. Did you think I’d keep my sister in a neighborhood of ill repute?”

She glanced at the unfamiliar brick façade with a hint of uncertainty as she stepped down from the carriage. “I merely assumed we would stay in a house you owned, rather than take rooms.”

Trestin arched his shoulders in an elegant stretch. “Ah, but I
do
own this property. Not the other, I’m afraid. Celeste sold the terraced house shortly after we wed.”

Lucy looked keenly at the plain brick building before her. It was more her brother’s taste than his wife’s. While it did make perfect sense Celeste wouldn’t keep her lover’s nest in London, Lucy couldn’t help feeling saddened to learn the house that had been so uniquely
her
was gone.

“I didn’t know you’d disposed of the place,” Lucy said, huddling into her coat, “but even had I guessed, I wouldn’t have expected you to purchase another property. I more thought you’d be glad to be rid of London. You disdain it.”

He chuckled, then closed her hand around his elbow, leading her toward an arched entrance secured by a low iron fence. A second carriage pulled behind their first. Lucy’s hired hack, burdened by her many trunks.

He opened the gate and led her to the door. “I do disdain London. I bought this house for you, Lucy. Not for me.” He reached for the lion’s head knocker, then paused. She could scarcely credit her sight, but there he was, waiting for her reaction. “Do you like it?”

A house of her very own? Her mouth opened but no words came out. Who
was
this man? “I-I’m speechless. Is it truly mine?”

He nodded.

“Why?” She could almost cry with happiness. She clapped her hands together. “Why would you do this for me?”

He thumped the knocker smartly, turning away from her.
“It seemed right,” he answered gruffly. “Of course, there
will
be terms.”

She grinned, then wiped away a tear. Of course there would be terms. Devil take him.

A twinkle in his eye betrayed his amusement at her outpouring of emotion. “My poor sister,” he teased, “brought to tears by a house. Have a look about, then tell me what you think. It’s no Mayfair neighborhood, but I think it genteel enough for a youngish bluestocking like yourself.”

She gaped at him. “You mean I may remain here unmarried?”
 

“Haven’t I said so?” He grinned as she continued to gawp at him incredulously. “I can admit when I’m wrong.”

She chortled with unabashed glee. “Then you’re not my brother at all!”

The door opened, halting any other jubilant exclamations she might have made. In the foyer stood a brawny manservant Lucy recognized instantly. Mr. Gordo, Celeste’s former butler, of sorts.

A vein bulged in his neck just above his snow white cravat. Such handsome livery ought to have lent him a sense of respectability.

It didn’t.

“Mr. Gordo,” Trestin said, tugging Lucy up the steps when she seemed to have forgotten herself, “you’ll remember Miss Lancester. She is clearly overjoyed to learn she will be in your very capable care.”

The fierce look on Mr. Gordo’s face was just as welcoming as it had been the first time Lucy had met him. He grunted at her brother’s reintroduction.

Trestin led her past the hulking man and toward a narrow stair. The house was small inside, cozy and warm, nothing like her brother’s estate in Devon.

Lucy instantly fell in love with it.
That
room would be her drawing room. This one seemed to have good light. And the servants! Two maids crisscrossed the hallway as they darted from room to room. Lucy had overseen the staff in her brother’s house, but these were no elderly retainers who fondly recalled her days in pinafores. The maids were smiling. Mr. Gordo wasn’t even
proper
.

“You kept Mr. Gordo on,” Lucy noted, giddy with delight.

“There’s no one better to guard your door,” Trestin said.

She paused on the bottom step and turned to look at him. “You’ve done all this for me?” she asked again.

He nodded scantly.

“Oh, Trestin,” she breathed. “I can’t fathom it.”

He stood rigidly, as if made awkward by her appreciation. “I see no point in withholding your dowry any longer. If this is what will make you happy, then… I want you to be happy.”

Gratitude welled within her. “Trestin, I never expected you to…”

“Relent?” His smile quirked. “Let’s say I was…persuaded by certain events.”

Heat crept up her neck. If only he didn’t know what intimacies she’d succumbed to with Roman, it would be easier to face him!

“I
am
sorry I disappointed you. But is it true? My dowry can afford this? It seems rather grand.”

“Not the mortgage itself, no,” he answered, appearing relieved by the change of subject. “You’ve enough to cover two maids, a cook and Mr. Gordo’s services, with a small sum left for daily expenses. I will provide this house.”

“I’m completely overwhelmed,” she said, bringing her hand to her heart. She meant it. “In all my life, I never expected you to come around.”