Bargaining With a Rake (A Whisper of Scandal Novel) Page 2

  Father and his counterattack plans. Her head ached just thinking about his plan to marry her and Whitney off as quickly as possible, so if a new scandal did break they would already be wed.

  Gillian neared the edge of the ballroom and paused when she spotted her sister standing to the left of the door in a row of forlorn-looking young women. Father was a bigger dolt than whoever was threatening them. No Englishman was going to offer for her or Whitney. Let alone dance with them. She crumpled her empty dance card into a small wad. The starchy lot of Englishmen would be far too worried marriage to the daughters of a man suspected of murder would taint their bloodlines with some unseen insanity. And if the men weren’t worried, their mothers would certainly be concerned enough to not allow any such match.

  Gillian gazed across the faces of the women who composed the line of wallflowers. The proof of her belief was in the line of beautiful women. Nothing was wrong with their looks. One of them had a drunkard for a father. One had a brother with a gambling problem. One had a sister who had lowered herself by marrying outside of the ton. And Lady Emma’s father was a merchant. The horror! Her heart twisted when she got to Whitney.

  She raised her hand and waved to get Whitney’s attention. Her face lit up when her eyes met Gillian’s. She rushed away from the other women with a backward glance. Gillian braced herself against displaying her worries or concerns. Whitney was blissfully unaware of the threatening note, and if Gillian could help it, her sister would remain unharmed by the foolish notions of the ton.

  Whitney reached Gillian within seconds and clutched her arm. “Have you been dancing?”

  Gillian fingered the crumpled dance card in her hand. “No. More importantly, have you?”

  “Not yet.” Whitney bit her lip. “Do you think it’s this dress?”

  She eyed her sister’s white lacy confection. She looked perfect, like innocence on the verge of allure. Not the dress, for certain. It was their name, and it always would be. “You look lovely.”

  “If I look lovely, why not one request for a dance?”

  “Because you are so breathtaking they are afraid to approach you,” she assured Whitney. Finding their aunt was a priority. Surely she had enough sway to get at least one gentleman to dance with Whitney. Gillian wanted to skin all Englishmen. If she’d had any doubts about meeting and seducing Mr. Sutherland, they evaporated as Whitney’s eyes filled with tears.

  “Don’t cry like a goose. I had no idea you pined to dance so.”

  Whitney sniffed and dried her eyes. “Don’t you?”

  The only thing she pined for was a one-way ticket out of England for herself and Whitney. If a dance could reduce her sister to tears, what would social ruination and the ugly truth do to her? She smiled indulgently. “Of course, I pine to dance,” she lied.

  “Gillie, there’s an angry-looking woman headed towards us.”

  Gillian quickly turned and faced the crowd behind her. The redhead who’d been talking to the pompous Englishman stalked toward her. By the twisted look on the woman’s face, her temper matched the color of her hair.

  Gillian gave Whitney a little shove toward the refreshment table. “I’m feeling faint. Will you get me some lemonade?”

  “I knew you were acting odd. I’ll be right back.” At least Whitney would be safe from the taint of a scene if it came to that. Surely the woman didn’t think Gillian had set her cap on the Englishman.

  The woman stopped directly in front of Gillian, spearing her with a slanted green gaze. “I thought I recognized you. You can’t imagine the gossip your family’s reappearance into Society has caused.”

  She could imagine quite a lot of things at this moment, but none of them were very ladylike. She pasted a smile on her face, though she doubted she looked friendly. “I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage, as you know me, but I do not know you.”

  “I’m Lady Staunton. You no doubt recognize my name.”

  “I’m afraid not. But I haven’t been in Society in a very long time. I am surprised, though, that the ton so lacks for entertainment they are reduced to speculating about age-old rumors regarding my family.” That she professed the lie without so much as a quiver in her voice was an immense relief.

  Lady Staunton smiled falsely. “But the mystery was never solved, now, was it? So the rumors are still delicious, and I hear you’ve the exact look of your mother. I’ve seen for myself you have her wandering eye.”

  So this was about the man. Blast him. She should have known he would cause her trouble. “I’m not sure what you mean,” she said while she cursed Lord Pain in the Neck in her mind.

  Lady Staunton gave Gillian a look that said they both knew Gillian was lying. “You should not stare at every handsome man you see, my dear.”

  “I only return the stares I receive, Lady Staunton. Now, if you will pardon me. I think I see my father beckoning me.”

  “I can see you’re in need of some friendly advice,” Lady Staunton said as she gripped Gillian’s arm.

  Beads of sweat dripped down Gillian’s back. She eyed the gaggle of men and women who had stopped talking to gape at her and Lady Staunton. She could make a scene, but that would serve no purpose and would undoubtedly make matters worse for her family. “I’m all ears, Lady Staunton. I never turn down advice from my elders.” Gillian smiled sweetly as she delivered the pointed barb.

  Lady Staunton’s lip curled back most unbecomingly. “Stay away from Alex.”

  “Who?”

  “Don’t play innocent with me,” Lady Staunton snapped. “I saw him raise his champagne glass to you. Bow to you.”

  Gillian ground her teeth on a growl of frustration. It was just like a man to cause trouble and disappear. A black head flashed up ahead just as a man slipped through the wide doors that led to the entrance hall. That thick, wavy black hair was unmistakable. “Lady Staunton,” Gillian said, struck with inspiration, “I have no interest in the man you are referring to, but if you wish to pursue him, I believe I just saw him rushing out of the ballroom toward the entrance hall.”

  “Really?”

  Lady Staunton turned and fled before Gillian could answer her question. Gillian breathed out a shaky sigh of relief. Finally, she could search for Mr. Sutherland. She turned on her heel and nearly toppled into her fiercely frowning father.

  Alex strode through the milling throng of guests, not bothering to slow to speak to those who signaled him. If he didn’t know Lady Staunton so well he’d think his mind was playing tricks on him, but unfortunately he knew her very well. Or he once had. That was definitely her voice calling behind him. She had always been the sort to believe no man could resist her, and it still smarted to think he had once given credence to her belief. He pretended not to hear her and lengthened his stride. The last thing he wanted was another encounter with her tonight.

  He slowed his steps only when he reached the door to freedom. He signaled to the somber-faced servants standing ready near the door, and they scrambled to open it for him, their dark green and gold liveried coattails flying out behind them in their haste.

  The heavy, dark doors swung open with a creak to reveal the black night beyond the mansion. Not even Lady Staunton was brazen enough to run after a man into the night. For a moment, he reconsidered when he recalled just how brazen she could be, but her husband was inside. Surely that would cause her to be more delicate in her pursuit.

  His shoes tapped a descent against the marble staircase as the music of the waltz faded behind him. A sense of release seized him the moment the false twitters of the ballroom ceased. Before he reached the beginning of the pea-gravel drive, his coachman pulled to a halt directly in front of him.

  “Was the evening good, my lord?”

  “It was a ball,” Alex replied, looking up at Jenkins.

  “Ye need say no more. I know what ye think of those.”

  Alex bloody hated them, but his mother had begged his help in watching over Lissie, and he could not very well let his favorite sister down. A
nd when he made the date to meet the willing and luscious Lady Beth behind the curtain, the ball hadn’t seemed so tiresome, until he’d picked the wrong curtain.

  A reluctant smile of admiration pulled at his lips. Whoever the black-haired beauty was who had emerged looking as innocent as a child from behind the curtain certainly had spunk. And a grand ability to verbally spar. Too bad she appeared to be a debutante. He drew the line of wickedness at innocent virgins.

  He jumped into his carriage and rapped on the ceiling. “Take me to the docks, Jenkins.”

  Jenkins’ ruddy face appeared upside down in the window, his brown hair hanging in a comical pointed fashion. “Do ye mean yer office or the Devil’s Tavern?”

  “The Devil’s Tavern, good man. Sutherland’s just in from America.”

  “Delayed, was he, my lord?”

  “Three full nights. No doubt he’s livid.”

  “Yer partner stayin’ awhile this time?”

  “I suspect so. We’re buying another ship.”

  Jenkins smiled; then his face vanished, but his loud whistle drifted down to Alex’s ears. “A celebration, then, is it?”

  “Certainly,” Alex said and stretched his legs out in front of him.

  “Might I remind you, my lord, last time ye two gents bought a ship, the celebration got a mite too rowdy.”

  Alex grinned up at the roof of his carriage. “You’re entirely too familiar for a driver.”

  “Aye, my lord. That’s why you like me.”

  That was true, but he’d not admit it to Jenkins.

  “How many ships does this make, my lord?”

  “Twelve.”

  “I’ll be getting a raise, then?”

  “I suppose,” Alex said with a chuckle, and then settled back against the cushion and closed his eyes while breathing deeply of the cool night air. He needed to clear his mind and concentrate on business, but the scent of magnolias drifted around him from the Devons’ enormous garden, and the fragrance had him smiling.

  The cheeky chit from the curtains had smelled flowery. Why in the devil would a debutante be hiding behind a curtain waiting to meet a man? Didn’t she know she was courting ruin? Maybe she wanted to be ruined. Likely, given how a woman’s mind worked. The notion of the tart-tongued woman as a schemer didn’t fit. Maybe she’d been convinced by some scoundrel to meet him behind the curtain? Alex sat up with the insane impulse to go back, find the woman and make sure she was fine. He paused with his hand on the door.

  He was a scoundrel. What was he thinking? She would doubtfully take any advice from him, however well intended. He sat back with a growl. What had come over him? He knew better than to involve himself with debutantes. They wanted husbands, not rakes to introduce them to the pleasures of the body. “Jenkins, what the bloody hell, man? Go.”

  The door to the carriage flew open. His younger brother Cameron bounded through the entrance and snatched the door closed behind him, looking like a hunted bandit with his mussed hair and a darting gaze. Cameron tapped the carriage ceiling with his cane. “Go, Jenkins. Before the women run out to catch a rare glimpse of Lord Lionhurst. They’ll tear me to pieces just to get at him.”

  “Amusing as always, I see,” Alex growled as the carriage jerked to a start.

  Cameron grinned in return. “I do try. Now tell me what induced you to break your vow.”

  “My what?”

  “I seem to recall you swearing you would never attend another ball under your own devices again,” Cameron said, clutching at the seat as Jenkins took them around an especially sharp curve.

  “Mother,” Alex said simply. Really he need say no more. Cameron was her son too, after all.

  “Ah.” Cameron nodded. “That explains everything. So this is a one-time favor?”

  “Unfortunately, no,” Alex replied, something black and sharp curling in his gut when he considered the possibility that he would have to encounter Lady Staunton again. “Mother has asked me to keep an eye on Lissie as she enters Society.”

  Cameron’s eyebrows came together. “Why didn’t she ask me? She knows you hate Society, and I love it.”

  “I suppose Mother doesn’t trust that your attention will stay on Lissie and off whatever pretty face happens by you.”

  “You offend me.”

  Alex laughed. “Really? Why? You know it’s true.”

  “I can be just as focused as you.”

  Alex considered the fact that he had told Lady Beth he’d meet her behind the curtain tonight. But he had only agreed to the secret encounter once he’d known Lissie was safely ensconced in their parents’ carriage and on her way home. “I’ve more control,” he said with a smile. “You would have been behind the curtain with some lady embraced in your arms while Lissie was still at the ball.”

  “Beg pardon?” Cameron said, looking like a bobbling head as the carriage bounced and jerked.

  “Never mind,” Alex replied testily as the carriage swayed down the road. Jenkins had clearly imbibed in some drink while waiting for Alex to leave the ball. Not that he blamed the man. It was a damned cold night. But Alex didn’t want to end up overturned because his driver had drunk too much. A gentle reminder should do.

  “I don’t see how it’s absolutely necessary you attend every ball Lissie goes to this season,” Cameron said.

  Alex studied his brother’s frowning face. “Exactly how does my attending a few balls cause you any distress?”

  “Five out of ten women who stopped to talk to me tonight wanted to talk to me about you.”

  “Ah, I do apologize for being the cause of your pride taking a blow.”

  “As you should.” Cameron let go of his seat cushion long enough to jerk his coat down and smooth out a few wrinkles. “I know I’m devilishly handsome.” He flashed a perfect smile. “But I was starting to wonder tonight whether my looks are fading.”

  Alex struggled to hold in his laughter. Sometimes reading Cameron was difficult. His brother could be joking or he could be completely serious. He had been known to be sensitive, relegated as he was to the slot of youngest brother.

  “You’re not ugly yet,” Alex said, deciding to reply with an answer that could be considered serious or facetious. “But you may want to slow down. Too much wine and women is bound to age any man.”

  “I don’t think so,” Cameron replied. “Look at you. Almost three and twenty, never married, and God alone knows how many women you’ve bedded and how much whiskey you’ve drank.”

  “I’m an exception to the rule,” Alex replied, suddenly wishing to change the course of the discussion. “Besides, I’m only bedding one woman right now.”

  “Yes, the lovely Bess. How is your mistress? Attached, are you?”

  “I do not form attachments, and you know it.” He hadn’t meant to snap the words, but each one resounded in the carriage.

  “Settle down, old man. I wasn’t implying you had softened in your view of women.”

  Alex scrubbed a hand across his face to hide the scowl pulling at his lips. “Sorry. It’s been a long night.”

  “Yes,” Cameron nodded. “I saw Lady Staunton ensnare you briefly. And then I saw you streak out of the ball as if the devil chased you.”

  Alex did laugh then. “More like a witch. Vile woman.”

  “Listen,” Cameron said as he leaned forward in his carriage seat. “You should know that Bess is saying the two of you have a relationship with many strings.”

  Alex studied the river as they passed it. He’d have to talk to Bess. He’d thought she understood. Splendid. He did not want to hurt her, but he couldn’t allow her to think there was more to their understanding than simply pleasure.

  Cameron propped his feet on the seat next to Alex’s leg. “So you don’t care for Bess at all? I thought perhaps you had thawed a bit when I heard the news.”

  With a quick shake of his head, Alex shoved Cameron’s feet away before leveling his brother with a narrow-eyed warning. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  The carr
iage jerked to a stop, and Alex glanced out the window to make sure they were at the Devil’s Tavern. No telling where Jenkins might have taken them if he had drunk as much as it seemed. The peeling red paint and the broken black shingles of the dock’s most famous drinking establishment told Alex they’d arrived just where he intended. He threw open the door and stepped onto the stairs. “Jenkins,” he bellowed.

  His driver popped down to the ground. “Sir?”

  “Not so much whiskey next time, no matter how bloody cold it is outside.”

  “Aye.” Jenkins had the grace to look properly humbled, though his coachman knew it would take a disaster for Alex to fire him. He had a soft spot for his driver, the man being the only one who had any inkling just how hard Alex’s older brother’s death had been.

  Alex descended the carriage, Cameron close behind him. Cameron didn’t speak, but the mumbling under his breath was clear enough. The lights from the tavern illuminated his younger brother’s troubled face. Alex sighed. “You’ve something else to say, I take it.”

  Instead of answering, Cameron shifted back and forth, making Alex uneasy. Cameron was normally blunt to a fault. A ship’s bell rang from the river, signaling its entrance into the Thames, followed by a raucous cheer erupting from within the belly of the tavern. “I need a drink,” Cameron muttered.

  “Then by all means let’s make haste,” Alex said, taking that as a signal that Cameron was not going to say anything after all.

  Cameron shook his head. “My confession’s best given out here in private.”

  The muscles in Alex’s body tensed in response to the word confession. “In my experience it’s best to keep confessions to yourself. They rarely have the effect you desire.” They both knew whom Alex was speaking of. They seldom mentioned their dead older brother, though Robert occupied a place in Alex’s thoughts daily.

  “Mother’s asked me to watch you,” Cameron said, having the decency to sound sorry about the matter.

  “My, she’s been busy. She convinced me to watch Lissie, but I suppose that was a guise so she could get me where she wants me and keep me under her scrutiny.”