His sister yanked him into her bedchamber and slammed the door. “Oh, my goodness. Tell me. What did you do?”
“I already told you, I did nothing inappropriate. I stood there, trying my best to maintain control—”
She thumped his chest hard this time. “You dolt.”
“For the love of—Gabby, control your temper.”
She hit him again.
“Ouch! I said stop it.”
She marched across the room, the Oriental carpet cushioning her steps, and then whipped around to throw her hands in the air. “I can’t believe this. And you’re supposed to be a connoisseur of women.”
“Gabrielle Forest, where did you learn such language?”
She tossed her head. “You truly are an imbecile. I possess two ears, dear brother. I hear the scandalous things the ladies say about you. How can you be ignorant to the fact that when a lady kisses you, you are expected to kiss her back?”
Heat crept up his neck to the tips of his ears. Gabby knew of his liaisons? “I was trying to be a gentleman,” he mumbled.
She punched her hands to her hips. “Why start now? Miss Hillary is a thousand times more perfect for you than any of those ninny hammers. It’s no wonder you never offered for any of them.”
He cleared his throat. “Yes, well, Richard demands I leave Miss Hillary alone.”
She gawked as if he belonged in a carnival sideshow. “So Richard is allowed the woman he wants, but you’re not. How is that fair?”
Gabby made a valid point. Why should Rich be the only one satisfying his desire? Of course, his brother married his lady, and Drew was certain that was Gabby’s implied meaning.
He rubbed his hands over his face and heaved a sigh. “What if our brother disowns me? Then you’ll be stuck with me always instead of half the time,” he warned.
She tossed her head. “Perhaps I’ll disown you as well. Let Lizzie and Katie deal with your foolishness for a change.”
Why couldn’t Rich be as understanding as Gabby? Drew gathered his sister in a hug and kissed the top of her head. “Thanks, princess.”
Halfway to the door, he turned back. “Great performance, by the way, although you might wish to be a tad less melodramatic next time.”
***
Drew’s place at dinner was too far from Lana to converse with her, but he noticed she picked at her meal. He sat next to Amelia, much to his displeasure.
“Lord Andrew, what a pleasure it is to see you, at last.” Her greeting sounded accusing.
“I’ve been here several days, Lady Audley. Have you been enjoying the festivities?”
The lady fidgeted with her napkin. “Very much, my lord, although I’m puzzled as to the reason I’m here.”
“It’s a house party. I’m certain you were meant to partake of the activities offered.”
His gaze strayed to Lana again, and he suppressed a sigh. She concentrated on manipulating the peas on her plate as if she recreated an edible Mona Lisa.
Amelia’s knee brushed against his. Drew jumped and banged his leg on the table.
“Oh, dear. Are you all right?” Amelia’s nervous laughter rose above the garbled conversations at the table.
The loud noise grabbed Lana’s attention, and she glared in their direction.
Hell’s teeth. Why did she make him feel as if he’d done something to deserve her glower? He stared back without wavering.
Lana’s eyes dropped to her plate again, and she studied it with an even greater intensity while her face flushed an attractive pink.
He tossed a distracted glance at his dining partner. “My apologies, Lady Audley. I’m a little out of sorts tonight.”
“I didn’t mean to startle you,” Amelia whispered. “Perhaps we could slip away after the last course is served. We should talk.”
He smiled as graciously as possible. Amelia happened to be a perfectly nice lady. Her beauty had gained his notice one evening at the opera. Widowed for a year, she had seemed ready to dabble in pleasure. Unfortunately, Drew had misread her.
Amelia seemed to desire a replacement for her husband, but Drew wasn’t the one to fulfill her wishes, so he ended their association, or he had tried to end it.
“I couldn’t ask you to miss the ball, Lady Audley. All the gentlemen will be searching for you.”
“I see,” she murmured and turned her face away.
He looked toward Lana again. Her apparent misery invoked the worst pain in his chest, and he longed to ease her suffering, if only she would allow him.
Sixteen
Lady Audley’s tinkling laughter made Lana grit her teeth. If there were a subtle way for her to crawl under the table, she would do it, just to see if Drew’s hand rested on Lady Audley’s thigh. The blasted scoundrel offered an insolent smile, and Lana turned away to speak with Lord Henley on her left. There was no need for Drew to flaunt his proclivities at the dining table or taunt her from afar.
Was she too inexperienced for his tastes? Her cheeks heated. Only a fool would fall for a rake, and she had never considered herself a member of that organization, at least not until now.
When the torturous dinner concluded, Lana heaved a great sigh. She must find a way to bow out of the ball to follow. If Drew attended, she’d be as jittery as a cat in a room full of booted men, as Papa always said. But if he was absent… Lana shook her head, forbidding all thoughts of kissing and beautiful widows.
Outside the dining hall, she glanced around for Phoebe. Perhaps Lana would allege a headache and return to Shafer Hall.
“Miss Hillary, there you are.” Lady Gabrielle claimed her, whisking her to the drawing room. Really, the young woman’s habit of clinging reminded Lana of a parasite.
Phoebe approached them with a wary smile. “Gabby, do you mind if I speak with Lana alone?”
“Not at all, Phoebe.” The young woman bounced away, unaffected by the dismissal.
Lana hugged her friend. “Thank you, Phoebe. Your sister-in-law seems to have taken an unexplained interest in me.”
“So I noticed,” she replied with a giggle. “Will you sit with me?”
Lana followed her friend to a seating area for two. Phoebe awkwardly lowered herself into a chair. Despite her increasing bulk, she remained beautiful.
“Pregnancy is a nice accessory on you, my lady.”
Phoebe waved her hand to dismiss the compliment. “I feel like a fatted calf.”
“Well, you appear as glorious as a fertility goddess.”
“I happen to find those idols quite hideous, but I’m sure you meant it as a compliment, so thank you.” Her friend’s smile radiated warmth. Phoebe always reminded Lana of sunshine. “Back to Gabby… It appears she is with you often.”
Lana sank into the brocade Queen Anne chair. “Yes, Lady Gabrielle seems rather attached to me. It’s puzzling, because I barely recall interacting with her when we met a couple of years ago. Yet, she acts as if we are the best of friends.”
“I noticed as much. Of course, that also means Drew must spend time with you as well if he’s Gabby’s chaperone.” Phoebe’s brow wrinkled, and she tapped her fingers against the armrest. “Lana, I know you probably think you know him, but Drew can—”
Lana held up her hand. “Please stop, Phoebe. You mean well, but—how can I say this delicately—I don’t want you to meddle in my affairs.”
Phoebe drew back with rounded eyes. “Oh, I see—”
“Please don’t misunderstand. I appreciate your desire to protect me, but I’m a grown woman. I don’t require anyone intervening on my behalf.” She smiled and folded her hands in her lap to convince Phoebe she remained unaffected by Lord Andrew. “I have no interest in Lord Richard’s brother, and he has none in me.”
At least the latter part of her assertion was true.
“Lana, I must persist in discouraging you. Drew can be charming, and… then later he…”
Lana grasped Phoebe’s hand and gently squeezed. “Thank you for caring for me as you do. You are my dear
est friend. But, rest assured, I’m not in any danger.” She would have to be desirable to be in danger, and clearly, she wasn’t. Lana mentally cringed recalling how rigid Drew had held himself, as if he found touching her distasteful.
She suppressed a sigh of despair. She wouldn’t be a source of amusement for Lord Andrew any longer, not without suffering dire consequences. Her mother was correct. It was time to secure a husband before the last opportunity slipped through her fingers. And Lord Bollrud had something to offer her besides a broken heart. Mama said he wanted to make her his bride. So why did the prospect feel like a boulder dropped on her shoulders?
A footman entered the drawing room to announce the time had come to move to the great hall.
Lady Gabrielle linked arms with Lana and Phoebe. “I do so love dancing.”
How wonderful for the young woman. Lana dreaded the coming dance with the same intensity as an encounter with a guillotine.
Hundreds of candles twinkled in the chandeliers and wall sconces inside the great hall. Opened French doors allowed easy access to the veranda, and the scent of roses wafted on the air. It was a night designed for romance.
Lord Bollrud caught her eye and meandered her way. A horrible churning began in her stomach, and she drew in a slow breath to quell her nerves. Must she always experience that sick feeling when gazing upon the man she would eventually marry?
“May I have the first dance, peach?” Drew’s warm breath brushed the edge of her ear, sending shivers racing along her skin. She willed her heart to stop its incessant pounding. She’d not make a cake of herself any longer. Better to put an end to their association and salvage what she had left of her pride.
Ignoring Drew, Lana forced a gracious smile for the gentleman who had just reached her. “Lord Bollrud, what a pleasure to see you this evening.”
His shocked expression almost brought her to genuine laughter. She supposed the man had never received anything other than a distantly polite greeting from her in the past.
“Uh, may I have this dance, Miss Hillary?”
“Of course, my lord.” Lana glanced back at Drew before allowing the most uncoordinated man on the premises to escort her to the floor, the man destined to become her husband. May God have mercy on her toes.
***
Drew never took his eyes from Lana as Bollrud jerked her around the ballroom floor. How could she be interested in that simpleton? He paced back and forth, his muscles tensing with each step, as he waited for the dance to end.
Lana wore an apricot-colored dress that, from a distance, made her appear as if she wore nothing. Although Drew liked the illusion, his fists tightened with a desire to pound Bollrud for his part in appearing to touch her nude body.
As soon as the music stopped, Drew pounced. He reached Lana at the edge of the dance floor in four strides. “Excuse us, Bollrud.”
Lana’s lips parted in surprise. “I’ve promised the next dance to—”
“He begs your forgiveness, but he had to leave.” Drew placed his hand on the small of her back and guided her back to the floor.
Lana bestowed a resentful glare. “You didn’t even give me a chance to name the gentleman. How do you know he has left the ballroom?” Still, she took position for the waltz as the music began to swell.
Drew pulled her close, no longer caring what his brother or anyone thought. If the ton believed he desired Lana Hillary, they wouldn’t come close to guessing the intensity with which he longed for her. “That wasn’t nice, peach, the way you cut me.”
Lana’s graceful movements seemed rote, as if she’d received extensive instruction in dance. “I asked you to refrain from referring to me in that manner, my lord.”
His lips turned up into a half smile. She made his courtesy title sound downright disrespectful, and he admired her gall. “What’s wrong with my pet name for you, peach?” Drew grazed his lips against her ear.
She slanted her head away from his mouth. “It’s not clever. I would think you could come up with something more creative. Peach isn’t much different from the other names I’ve been called all my life. Let’s see… there was carrot, pumpkin, and tangerine. It’s always a food.”
“You think I’m mocking you.”
“What else am I to think? I have orange hair. Ha, ha. I comprehend your reference. I look like a peach.”
He twirled her, drawing her as close as he could without actually making love to her on the ballroom floor and scandalizing everyone. “I think you smell delicious like a peach, and I’d love nothing more than to devour you.”
Lana’s sharp intake of breath made him smile. There were a thousand ways he could leave her breathless. “You’re my forbidden fruit, Lana, and I don’t like that I can’t have you.”
“Why… why can’t you?” The way she boldly met his gaze in spite of the quiver in her voice sent his blood rushing. “And wasn’t the fruit in question an apple?”
“I don’t care for apples.” The music ended and he led her from the floor to a settee in a quiet corner.
They sat in silence, his bouncing leg betraying his agitation. Lana had shown a preference for Bollrud, snubbing Drew. Had she misled him in her attitude toward matrimony? Did she want to marry Bollrud, to grant him issue? The very idea made him want to thrash the man. “You and Bollrud make a dashing couple, what with your eyes all shiny and his dull as a lump of coal.” He smirked to give the impression the answer to his next question didn’t matter. “He intends to make an offer for you. Do you plan to accept his proposal?”
She wrinkled her nose, a reluctant grin on her lips. “It’s not my desire to marry Lord Bollrud.”
That wasn’t a complete denial as Drew had hoped. “Hmm. That’s reassuring. Have you set your sights on some other poor chap?”
Lana swiveled to face him and grimaced. “I’d rather not have this conversation. Can’t we leave it be?”
“Marriage would bring you security, and perhaps you would be happy with the right gent. It’s possible. Just look at Rich and Phoebe.” Drew wanted to kiss Lana in the worst way, but he forced himself to keep distance between them on the settee. “Good God, Lana, any man would count his blessings every day if you agreed to be his wife. What are you thinking settling for Bollrud? You can do much better.”
She studied her hands. “You mention your brother and Phoebe. They are made for each other. It’s unfair to use them as an example. Their happiness is a fluke.”
“Don’t you believe in love?”
She nailed him with a glower and crossed her arms under her bosom, distracting him from their conversation. “Do you?”
When he didn’t respond, she shook her head as if giving up on him. “Tell me the reason you avoid marriage, Lord Andrew. No, wait. Allow me to contemplate.”
“By all means, Miss Hillary, take your time. I’m anxious to hear your thoughts.”
She tapped her finger to her bottom lip several times. “You hate women.” She sounded so proud of herself, Drew couldn’t help but chuckle.
“That’s what you think? I hate women? Quite the opposite, Miss Hillary. By history, I’ve loved women too much to select only one.”
“I don’t believe you,” she stated with a defiant tightening of her jaw.
“What’s not to believe? I surround myself with women at every opportunity.”
“Clearly, it is untrue you take advantage of all women,” Lana challenged. “I’m a woman.”
Drew couldn’t hold back a grin. “An undeniable fact.”
“And you have been nothing but a gentleman in my presence. I believe your renown as a rake is overstated. Besides, I haven’t seen you talking to any woman for more than a few minutes at most, aside from Lady Audley, but I get the distinct impression that association has ended.”
He cocked a smile. Cheeky and beautiful. How was a man to resist her? “Is that so? You do realize discretion is essential in any liaison.”
She gasped. “Are you saying…? No, never mind. I don’t want to know.” She
catapulted from her seat, but sat back down just as abruptly and glared. “Why did you promise to keep your hands off me?” she whispered.
Drew’s jaw dropped. “Good heavens, woman. The things that come from your mouth…”
Lana’s shoulders slumped forward. “Seriously, my lord, if you are a scoundrel, why did you agree to leave me be? Am I lacking in some way?”
“You lack nothing, my sweet. You’re beautiful.”
How could she think otherwise? Didn’t she view her image in a looking glass? But beauty aside, Drew couldn’t have Lana, and this knowledge caused a wrenching in his chest. She belonged with someone who would love her forever, not bed her once and toss her aside.
“If you must know, Miss Hillary, I do have standards, although low they may be.”
Her arched brows shot upward. “A scoundrel with standards? I like that in a scoundrel. Do tell.”
He wanted to wipe the adorable impish grin from her face with a passionate kiss, but that would violate his rules completely. “I never seduce an innocent, Miss Hillary, never.”
Her merriment vanished, and she lowered her voice to a whisper. “What makes you think I’m an innocent?”
“Virgins are off limits,” he replied bluntly. “They always fancy themselves in love, and I don’t wish to bring heartache to anyone. No virgins. It’s an unbreakable rule.”
“Again, Lord Andrew, what makes you think I’m a virgin?”
The impudence. This entire conversation was inappropriate for mixed company, yet Lana Hillary didn’t blush, swoon, or exhibit any other typical reactions he would expect. Perhaps he had pegged her incorrectly.
“For starters, you’re a respectable young woman from a good family.”
She rolled her eyes. “Oh, and I’m certain that’s written in stone. Are you telling me you’ve never met a respectable young lady from a good family who behaved a bit recklessly?”
“No,” he admitted with a smirk. “I suppose all young ladies don’t fit the same mold.”
“Then I rest my case,” she stated triumphantly, a smile lighting up her face.
Drew clapped. “Bravo. Excellent argument, Miss Hillary. Enough of this nonsense. As much as I want to monopolize your time engaging in impolite conversation, I better allow you to dance with some of the other gentlemen.” Just not that bugger, Bollrud.
Miss Hillary Schools a Scoundrel Page 11
