The Perfect Rake (16 page)

Grace hesitated a moment, then capitulated. “The thing is, Great-uncle Oswald will only bring my other sisters out after Prudence is safely betrothed. And of course, she cannot tell him about being betrothed already, because she promised Phillip she wouldn’t, and Prue never breaks a promise, you know.”

Gideon silently filed that interesting little fact away in his mind.

Grace continued, “When Prue turns one and twenty—that’s next month—we can live with her, but unless one of us marries by then, we shall have no money to live on. And if Grandpapa finds us he will take us back and we shall never get away again. Grandpapa is a very terrible person, you see. We have run away from him.”

Gideon did not really see; it was a garbled tale at best, but he persisted. “Why does your uncle insist Prudence must be the one to be betrothed first? If he’s trying to fire them all off, why not bring them all out together?”

“Great-uncle Oswald says my sisters would ruin Prue’s chances of marriage. He is excessively fond of Prue, you know. But he says no man would want to marry Prudence once he’d seen my sisters. And it isn’t fair, because Prudence is the dearest, kindest, nicest, bravest person in the world!”

Dear little soul. Gideon patted her hand again. There must be something wrong with the other sisters, something peculiar that would put off Prudence’s suitors from wishing to marry her. No doubt that was the reason she’d rushed them into his landau, so he wouldn’t notice.

“So…Prudence needs a
fiancé
in order that her sisters may find husbands,” he said slowly. “Because if one of you doesn’t marry within the month, you will all be taken away by Grandpapa.”

“Yes.” Grace shivered and snuggled a little closer to him. “But Prue will fix things. She always does.”

Gideon was disturbed. The child was a little Viking. What would put that look on her face? He put a comforting arm around her. “It’s all right, I’ll—” He broke off in sudden shock. He’d been about to assure her he would look after them. What had got into him lately? “You have no parents?”

“No. They died when I was a baby,” Grace explained. “Grandpapa brought us all back from Italy after they died…But Prue takes care of us. She always promised us that when Phillip came back from India, she would take us all away from Grandpapa, only…”

There was that look again. Gideon was beginning to have serious misgivings about Grandpapa. “Only Phillip hasn’t come back,” prompted Gideon.

“I think he must be dead,” Grace confided. “India is very dangerous, you know. There are all sorts of things that can kill you. He could have been stung by a scorpion, or bitten by a cobra—that’s a snake. They keep cobras in baskets in India—they’re frightfully poisonous—and play music to them. Or he could have caught one of those terrible tropical diseases, where your nose falls off—or is that something else? But I think he has been eaten by a tiger or trampled by an elephant,” she ended with apparent relish. “There are hundreds, even thousands of tigers and elephants in India, and I think it very likely Phillip has perished at their—you can’t say hands, can you? What would you say—tusks? Fangs?”

Gideon was not prepared to speculate. He cut to the heart of her artless speech. “Why do you think he is dead?”

“Because he has not written to Prue for months and months. And though Prue says the mail from India is very unreliable, what with storms and ships sinking all the time and people drowning—”

He cut off her ghoulish recitation. “It is very unreliable.”

“Yes, and Prue says to break off a betrothal to someone working in such terrible conditions as Phillip is in India is as bad as breaking your promise to a soldier who is away at war. And I perfectly understand that. It is a matter of honor, isn’t it?”

Gideon nodded thoughtfully. So Miss Prudence had considered the possibility of severing her betrothal, had she?

“But he has never taken so long to respond to her letters before, and you would think he would, wouldn’t you? Particularly when our need is so great.”

“Hmmm.” Gideon’s mind was spinning. “Yes, I can see your need is indeed great…”

Prudence smiled and nodded, responding automatically as her acquaintances quizzed her gently about being seen walking in the park with a famous rake. She bore the polite chit-chat as best she could, watching her sister and Lord Carradice from the corner of her eye. She was itching to get back there. Grace would be blabbing all sorts of things. That man could charm information out of a post and Grace was no post! Her little sister was laughing and chatting away merrily, while Lord Carradice gave her his full attention. What was she telling him?

Prudence’s feelings were so mixed. On the one hand it was wonderful to see Grace looking so happy. She had become so quiet and almost morbid during the last year or so at Dereham Court, but a few moments in Lord Carradice’s company, and she was smiling and chattering like any other ten-year-old girl. She’d even heard her giggle once. Prudence hadn’t realized how long it had been since she’d heard Grace giggle. For that alone, she owed Lord Carradice her gratitude.

It wasn’t simply careless charm, either. He had been kind to Grace, sensitive to her fascination with ancient Egypt. Many fashionable types would have scoffed at her interest in a fad no longer current, but he’d reassured Grace and made her feel important. And now he looked as though he was listening to her with every appearance of interest. Not many sophisticated men of fashion would bother drawing out a child. It would be more common for their eyes to roam the park, seeking more interesting diversions, but as far as she could see, Lord Carradice’s eyes had only strayed from Grace to Prudence. Again, it ought to have earned her gratitude, for Grace needed to experience masculine kindness, to know that all men were not like Grandpapa…

All of these were excellent reasons why Prudence should feel warm toward Lord Carradice. Instead they made her more determined than ever to avoid him. She didn’t need Lady Jersey’s warnings that he was a fatally charming rattlesnake and she could place no dependence on his constancy.

She knew about his fatal charm. He effortlessly drew her to him—the rake in him seemed to call to some dreadful female weakness in her. The animal instincts Grandpapa had spoken of so often and that she’d never believed in—until Lord Carradice.

To be in the grip of such instincts should be alarming, and indeed, when she was in a calm and rational state and out of reach of his rakish wiles, she was alarmed. But when she was with Lord Carradice…her deplorable animal instincts seemed to just take over.

But that was only part of his danger. Prudence’s short time in London had taught her that growing up as she had in an atmosphere of cruel harshness, she had few defenses against kindness. Lord Carradice’s careless kindness to her little sister was devastating. It threatened to undermine all her resolve.

It was the most dangerous wile of all. All the more dangerous because she suspected it wasn’t a wile at all.

She watched him charming her little sister with kindness and tried to harden her resolve. Kindness wasn’t everything. He was perfectly capable of taking advantage of whatever it was that Grace had confided, only to tease Prudence. And the trouble was that even while she
knew
he was only teasing, she…she felt things. Things a betrothed woman had no right feeling for another man.

He was not the slightest bit serious about her. How could he be? He was a gazetted rake and she was no beauty to entice him into fidelity. He had no respect for the concept; he knew she’d been engaged to Phillip for years. He should have realized her mind was firm and resolute and not to be swayed by a rake’s easy charm, but did he care?

She thought of Cleopatra’s barge: Her mind might be resolute, but her body was only too easily swayed. And it could not be!

As Lady Jersey had told her, he was simply bored, like the rest of London society, and thought he would entertain himself with her for the season. But like him or not, Prudence would be no rake’s idle entertainment. For her own peace of mind and self-respect, she would have as little to do with him as possible.

She broke away from the two ladies as soon as politeness allowed, ready to send Lord Carradice on his way. But as she walked toward them, her decision faltered. Her little sister sat happily arm in arm with Lord Carradice, her eyes fairly blazing with excitement. Prudence blinked. Surely any man who could make Grace look so happy could not be all bad.

His eyes, too, gleamed with laughter and anticipation. That look ought to warn her, she reminded herself. Just so had he looked before he had first kissed her. His eyes had glinted that way as he pressed her back on a certain Egyptian sofa.

She couldn’t trust him an inch.

“Thank you for keeping Grace company,” she said brightly and seized Grace’s hand. “However it is late, and we must find our sisters and get home. Good-bye, Lord Carradice.”

She began to march toward the exit, but Grace dragged at her arm, saying, “Prudence, Lord Carradice and I have come up with the most brilliant solution to our problems!”

“It is so kind of Lord Carradice to be concerned,” she said sweetly, flinging a look over Grace’s head that told Lord Carradice that she wished him to take himself off. “However, I don’t wish to trouble him with our private family affairs. I’m sure he has much more important matters to take care of.” She hurried on.

“Not at all.” He ambled along beside her and quite casually added, “Grace and I have decided that the best thing is for you and I to become betrothed—purely for your sisters’ sake, of course. Nothing binding.”

She stumbled a moment in shock. “You must be mad, Lord Carradice! I couldn’t possibly agree to anything so absurd!”

She tried to lengthen her pace, as if to escape his outrageous suggestion. Beside her, Lord Carradice strolled along, his long legs easily outpacing hers with no apparent effort.

“Why not?” he asked in a reasonable tone.

“Yes, Prue, why not? I think it is a splendid plan,” said Grace enthusiastically, skipping along beside them.

Prudence darted her a quelling glance. It was not a splendid plan, it was impossible! Quite ridiculous! She hurried on through the park, peering around in an effort to see that landau with her sisters in it. Unfortunately, there were so many other people, she could not see over them. “I’m a little worried that your coachman may have become lost with my sisters.”

“Hawkins is never lost, and besides, my cousin is with them. Now don’t change the subject. We were discussing our betrothal,” said Lord Carradice calmly.

Prudence came to an abrupt halt. “Hush!” She glanced around. “People might hear you and not know you are funning, and then we should really be in the suds!”

He shrugged. “I don’t care if they hear—”

“Well, I do!”

He took her hands and smiled down into her eyes, a sort of lazy, knowing smile that weakened her resistance quite disgracefully. She snatched her hands away.

He lowered his voice slightly. “Grace and I are agreed. Your sisters must have their coming-out before Grandpapa’s ankle is healed, and since Great-uncle Oswald is so pig-headed about firing you off first, and since Otterbottom is in India, giving some poor tiger indigestion—”

“Mr. Otter
bury
is not!” Prudence glared at Grace. “Did you have to blurt out everythi—”

“Or oozing up between the toes of some miserable elephant,” Lord Carradice continued imperturbably, “you have need of a
fiancé faux
to foil Great-uncle Oswald’s foolish dictum concerning your sisters’ coming-out, and thus I humbly offer my services.”

“Humbly!” She snorted. “It’s impossible!”

“Why is it impossible? I’m frequently humble. I do humility extremely well. Ask anyone! I was voted the most humb—”

She interrupted his nonsense. “I meant, your offer is impossible. I wouldn’t do at all.”

“Why not? Grace likes me, you like me, Great-uncle Oswald—”

“Grace is an impressionable child, easily deceived!” Prudence ignored an indignant gasp from her sister and continued in a heated tone. “And you cannot possibly claim that Great-uncle Oswald likes you. He despises you. He called you a smoky knave and an unshaven lout!”

He passed his hand across his chin. “You will perceive I possess a razor.”

“He also called you a vile deceiver, a cowardly impostor, and a shocking humbug!”

“Pah! Sticks and stones!” Lord Carradice dismissed Great-uncle Oswald’s strictures airily. “And it was
shockin’ humbug
, not
shocking
. In any case, men of his age are not at their best at such an ungodly hour of the the morning. I think you will find he is singing rather a different tune now.”

“Pooh!” snapped Prudence inelegantly. “Why would he have changed his tune so suddenly?”

Lord Carradice managed to look wicked, smug, and saintly, all at the same time.

“In any case,” Prudence added belatedly, “
I
don’t like you!”

He shook his head at her, a deep smile lurking in his dark eyes. “Oh, Prudence, here I thought you were a truthful girl! Relatively speaking. All dukes aside.”

Prudence found herself reddening under his suddenly intent and knowing gaze. She turned away, suddenly flustered. She did
not
like him! Not one little bit! She couldn’t possibly like such a frivolous person! She refused to!

He added in a purr, “I’m sure you do like me. I’m very likeable, once you get to know me. Grace liked me after only a few minutes, didn’t you, Miss Limb?”

Her traitorous little sister nodded enthusiastically.

“See! Even Great-uncle Oswald came to like me once he knew me better. I grow on people, you see—”

“So do warts!” she snapped. “And I never gave you leave to call me Prudence. I am Miss Merridew to you, sir! And I will
not
enter into a false engagement—or any other sort—with you! Come, Grace! Come, James!” And gesturing to the waiting footman, she marched imperiously off, dragging Grace by the hand.

He strolled along beside her, seeming to take one step to her three. “It is most unfashionable to scurry through the park, you know.”