Bargaining With a Rake (A Whisper of Scandal Novel)

by Johnstone, Julie

  “Well, that was refreshingly honest and ego crushing.”

  “I’m sorry.” Her face flushed as her gaze trailed back to Sally. Or was she staring at Sutherland? Impossible.

  “Is the person you wish to meet my business partner?”

  She leveled him with a steady look. “If you want an answer, I think it only reasonable I get to ask a question first since I have already answered one of yours.”

  He believed in fairness. “Go ahead.”

  “Did you whisk me onto the dance floor because you didn’t want to speak with Lady Staunton?”

  “Yes,” he clipped, regretting his agreement to answer honestly. He did not discuss personal matters. No flirting with debs and no personal chitchat. He lived by those rules. Yet as he stared into her eyes, the way gold shot through the green fascinated him. Maybe it was the celebratory whiskey he drank earlier. More likely it was the leftover adrenaline rush of gaining another ship for his shipping company this morning, but whatever it was, tonight he would forget his rules for five minutes. Five minutes couldn’t bring any catastrophic harm.

  Decision made, he pulled Lady Gillian a little closer and tighter, enjoying the curve of her waist and the warmth of her skin. She sucked in a sharp breath, but did not fight his nearness, and his whole body tightened in response to her.

  As they made a circle around the ballroom, she pulled back and looked at him. “I think it’s admirable you are avoiding a married woman’s advances.”

  “Thank you,” he replied. He’d have to speak to Sally later about sharing his personal history.

  The orchestra’s music began to fade, signaling the dance was ending. He didn’t want it to end. Not yet. He’d not had his five minutes of freedom from the life he’d made. “Would you care for one more dance?”

  “I can’t.” She was already pulling away. He gripped the tips of her fingers to stop her flight. What was he doing? Stalling for time? A moment that would lead to nowhere. He racked his brain and seized what he could. “You never told me if it was my partner you wanted to meet.”

  She tugged her fingers out of his grasp, a smile pulling at her lips. “That’s because I don’t share personal information with men who lurk behind curtains.”

  Someone to the left called his name. He glanced to find the voice, but the crowd was thick. That could wait. He would much prefer to exchange witty barbs with Lady Gillian. “You’re a cheeky chit,” he said, turning back to see her response, but she was gone.

  What the devil? He glanced around the dance floor but didn’t see her. He quelled the odd sense of disappointment. He must be bored to even care she had fled. It was best, considering who he was and what she was. He started to weave through the crowd, but a flash of a woman with long black hair ascending the staircase caught his attention. Lady Gillian.

  Before he considered the consequences to her or him, he dashed through the crowd, breaking another one of his sacred rules. Never chase after a woman.

  * * * * *

  Gillian’s heart pounded in her ears as she rushed up the stairs and down the candlelit hall. She leaned against the wall and doubled over. Curse whoever dictated women’s fashion. Stays and a multitude of cotton and silk layers made running no easy task. She struggled for a few short breaths, and then she straightened and pressed her fingertips to her temples.

  She was horrified at how much she had wanted to say yes to one more dance with Lord Lionhurst. What was wrong with her? Flirting with him would not get her any closer to her goal of saving her sister.

  She pushed away from the wall and frowned. She really needed to come up with better escape plans. How was she going to speak with Mr. Sutherland now? She sighed. No telling what Lord Lionhurst would say about her. Hopefully, nothing.

  She had to go in search of Mr. Sutherland, but her feet didn’t want to move. Coward. It wasn’t as if Lord Lionhurst would be lurking around the corner waiting for her. He was probably defending himself from Lady Staunton’s advances at this very moment. That would actually be the perfect scenario. She could speak with Mr. Sutherland without Lord Lionhurst lurking about.

  No more stalling. Mr. Sutherland could leave before she had the chance to find him. Or worse, he could meet someone else. The thought had her flying down the corridor toward the ballroom, but as she rounded the corner, the toe of her slipper caught under a turned-up corner of a rug. She careened forward, throwing her arms out to soften the coming impact.

  Strong hands gripped her and pulled her to her feet. When she raised her head to thank her savior, her breath hitched in her throat. Lord Lionhurst stared at her in way that left her body tingling.

  “I was looking for you. You dashed away so fast I thought you might feel ill.”

  Gillian blinked. His words, or what she thought he said, registered in her brain. It was hard to know, with his warm hands on her bare arms, and the scent of pine and rain invading her senses. She leaned toward him, a positively idiotic thing to do, but one she was helpless to stop. Mmm…not only did he smell nice, he had the loveliest smile, perfect white teeth. He grinned at her, and she grinned back.

  “Lady Gillian, did you hear me?”

  “Uh-huh.” One superb smile and two dazzling eyes, and her brain was now mush. How disappointing. She had to do better. She pulled out of his grasp and stepped back to put proper distance between them.

  His brow dipped down as if he knew exactly what she’d been thinking. She squirmed under his penetrating stare. He smiled, causing dimples to appear on his cheeks. “Are you unwell?”

  “I’m perfectly healthy.” Daftness did not constitute sickness.

  He proffered his arm while inclining his head toward the stairs. “Oh, yes. You are acting like the picture of health. Not answering questions, your eyes are glazed and a sheen of perspiration is covering your brow.”

  “It’s very ungentlemanly to point out such things.” She slipped her arm through his and feigned a rabid interest in the floor.

  “Something interesting down there?” he asked as he led them toward the steps.

  “Just making sure I don’t misplace my step again.”

  He walked toward the stairs, and when he reached the top, he paused. “Has anyone ever told you that you are a terrible liar?”

  “A few times,” she answered, too distracted by the way his fingers rubbed back and forth on her arm to guard her tongue. She needed to leave him before she said anything else foolish and he told Mr. Sutherland to avoid her. What could she say to part ways that would sound truthful?

  “Gillian!” someone called, interrupting her thoughts. Sally rushed up the stairs to join them. She looked between them as she heaved deep breaths. “I was wondering where the two of you ran off to.” Her amused gaze moved from Gillian’s face to her hand. Gillian tugged her hand free from Lord Lionhurst’s grip and forced herself to meet Sally’s smirk. How thoroughly irritating. Did Sally think her so silly as to fall for a man based on his remarkable looks?

  “Did you decide to explain everything to Lionhurst?”

  “She was just explaining,” Lord Lionhurst declared.

  Stunned at his blatant lie, Gillian gaped at him, unsure how to correct his claim without actually calling him a liar.

  “Good, good.” Sally leaned toward Lord Lionhurst. “So can you help her secure a marriage proposal from your partner?”

  “Sally, please.” Gillian glared at Sally then turned to meet Lord Lionhurst’s gaze. She wished she hadn’t.

  He assessed her in a most unfriendly manner. “You surprise me, Lady Gillian.” His tone was low and hard.

  She really didn’t want to know how she surprised him, but what choice did she have? “How so, my lord?”

  “I had allowed myself to consider for a moment that you might be a genuine woman. Something I never do when it comes to your ilk.”

  His verbal flaying made her flinch. She was nothing like the debutantes here. She did not want Mr. Sutherland for his money, and though she did not love him yet, she beli
eved in her heart she could. That had to count for something. It just had to. She swallowed back her emotions. Lord Lionhurst’s unfair judgment could not be the undoing of her composure. “Lord Lionhurst, you don’t understand.”

  Sally wagged a finger at him “You’re being unfair. And it’s quite unlike you.”

  If anything his expression grew colder. Gillian could not resist rubbing at the goose flesh that popped up on her arms. Silence stretched so that she wanted to bolt from his presence and never see the man again. It was vastly unfair that he was partners with the man she intended to marry. Maybe she could talk Mr. Sutherland into finding a new partner in years to come. One who didn’t hate women.

  Sally blew out a long sigh. “Darling, you should apologize.”

  His gaze locked on Gillian. “I’m sorry you pulled the wool over my eyes.”

  That was hardly an apology, but Gillian forced a smile. “And I’m sorry you’re a cad.”

  His faced darkened, but before he could respond, Sally stamped her foot. “Play nice, children. You are both my friends, and I’ll tolerate no quarrelling.”

  Gillian locked gazes with him once again. If he thought she would be the first to apologize, the man was mistaken. She’d stand here all night, even if these slippers did pain her feet to distraction.

  “All right,” Sally said, irritation lacing both words. “I see the two most stubborn people in the ton are standing before me. “Come along, Gillian. The challenge of who will outlast the other will have to wait. Your father sent me to find you.”

  Gillian’s mouth went dry. She forced herself to swallow. “Why?”

  “Something about an important announcement.”

  Blast her father. The possibility of what he might want to announce frightened her. Throwing decorum to the wind, she whirled around to race down the stairs to stop her father’s madness. Two steps into her charge, her slick shoe slid out from under her, and she hurtled forward.

  Warm hands slid around her waist, jerking her back and locking under her rib cage, dangerously close to her breasts. Hot breath tickled her neck. Lord Lionhurst pulled her close against the hardness of his chest and powerful thighs. She shook, but it was not from fear of her near fall. A bolt of desire streaked through her body, making her weak in the knees.

  This night was not going at all as she had planned. She tried to wiggle out of his grasp, but he refused to release her. Why wouldn’t he let go when he thought so little of her? Did he want her profuse thanks? Did he expect her to faint or blubber on and on? She straightened her shoulders and prayed she appeared composed and calm.

  “Thank you for saving me.”

  Heat radiated from the length of his body to hers; his heartbeat tapped a fast rhythm against her back. He turned her around on the step and tipped her chin up, until she looked into his eyes. He did not look like he hated her. He looked like he might kiss her. Her pulse leaped at the notion. She forced herself not to move.

  He leaned toward her, and she closed her eyes. His hand brushed her cheek and tucked an errant strand of her hair behind her ear. “You need to slow down.”

  Good God, but she really was a fool. What must he think about her standing there and closing her eyes? She shivered as his fingers traced a hot path down her jawbone. “There may not always be someone there to catch you when you fall.”

  It was not her fall she was afraid of, and the reminder slammed her in the chest. She stepped back, aware of their inappropriate closeness. “I’ll be careful,” she murmured.

  “You’ve not changed one whit since we were young,” Sally huffed beside her. “Disaster follows your every footstep. Lionhurst is correct. You do need to slow down.” Sally gave her a stern look. “Especially on slick steps. Not every man here is as quick on the feet or as chivalrous as Lionhurst. It’s ghastly to admit, but some of these fops wouldn’t risk wrinkling their fine coats in order to save a lady from social disaster.”

  Gillian peeked at Lord Lionhurst and was surprised to find a blush tingeing the skin around the edges of his snowy cravat. He pulled on his collar while bowing to them. “As I’ve performed my chivalrous duty for the night, I’ll bid you farewell.”

  He swept past Gillian and down the stairs, disappearing after a moment into the thick crowd of the ballroom.

  “I wouldn’t count on Lionhurst’s help again.” Sally linked her arm through Gillian’s.

  “Because he thinks I’m a despicable fortune hunter?”

  “Are you?”

  Gillian shook her head. “I swear I’m not.”

  “I believe you.” Sally squeezed her hand. “I really do. Lionhurst will see he’s misjudged you.”

  “You don’t think he’ll say anything to Mr. Sutherland, do you? Warn him against me, I mean.”

  “Darling, I hate to tell you this, but I’ve no doubt he’ll warn Mr. Sutherland against you. Lionhurst detests treachery, and it appears he has decided you’re treacherous.”

  “Then why are you smiling? We have to stop him.” She grabbed Sally’s hand and flew down the stairs, not pausing until she reached the bottom. “Do you see him?”

  “All I see are stars. That descent left my head spinning.”

  Gillian wanted to shake Sally for her flippant attitude. Everything rode on getting to Lord Lionhurst before he got to Mr. Sutherland. She had to find a way to make him understand without telling him too much.

  “There he is.” Sally pointed.

  Gillian craned her neck around a group of men to see the best path to him. But before she could judge the quickest way, her father materialized from the crowd.

  “Finally,” he barked. “Come along, my dear.” He took her arm, but she dug in her heels.

  “Are we leaving already?” Things could not get any worse.

  “Certainly not,” he replied. “Mr. Mallorian is waiting for you.”

  “For me?” Gillian gulped back her fear. “I feel ill, Father. I really can’t dance right now.”

  “Good.” Her father pushed her through the crowd. “He doesn’t want to dance.”

  “What does he want?”

  “Why, to announce your engagement, of course. It’s all settled. The wedding is set for two months’ time.”

  Alex made his way around the outer edges of the crowded ballroom, intent on reaching the card room before another woman waylaid him. He should have known better than to come into the den of schemers, otherwise known as the marriage mart. Women loved to play games, and he had decided long ago that he was no woman’s prize, so why the blazes was he irritated with Lady Gillian? She’d admitted nothing shocking in her plan to capture Sutherland. Indeed, she had proven herself to be like all other women. He had expected it, hadn’t he?

  He yanked on the edge of his dangling cravat and wrapped the material around his fingers as he walked. It wasn’t her bothering him. Surely not. He flexed and released his fingers against the soft material. But what if it was? What did that mean? He paused, unwound the cravat and stuffed it into his coat pocket. It would mean he was a fool who still held a farthing of hope that women were not inherently conniving. And he was no fool.

  No, it was not Lady Gillian—it was dressing like a dandy and coming to a place where women plotted to catch him or some other unsuspecting sop for his title, money or land. He refused to spare another thought for the lady. The company was expanding faster than he’d ever dreamed when he concocted the scheme of going into a merchant trade to irritate his father.

  He pushed through the door to the gaming room. Stopping inside the threshold, he allowed his eyes to adjust to the dim lighting. A pungent haze hung over the heads of the players. He located Sutherland at a small table by the window on the far side of the room. By the way Sutherland’s opponent yanked his hands through his hair, Alex had no doubt his partner was winning. No surprise given his ability at Vingt-et-un was legendary at the shipping yard. Alex strode across the room, nodding to acquaintances but purposely not stopping.

  His head buzzed with the roar of con
versations in the room. He needed to talk to Sally about her card room set-up. It was too loud by half to think properly in here. Bloody balls. He longed to leave and go to a nice dark corner at White’s.

  Just as Alex reached Sutherland’s table a chair scraped across the marble floor almost tripping him in his path.

  “Watch it,” Alex clipped, letting his dark mood slip through.

  “Beg pardon,” the man said and turned. Marcus Rutherford’s ruddy face broke into a wide smile. “If I’d known it was you I’d not have apologized.”

  Alex grinned in return and extended his hand to Rutherford. “It’s been a long time.”

  Thick fingers clamped around Alex’s hand before he found his arm propelled up and down in an enthusiastic handshake. Rutherford had always reminded him of a friendly pup, but now the pup was grown.

  “Come into Society more often and you’d see me,” Rutherford said.

  “I’ve better things to do than stand around while ladies decide if I’m rich enough, titled enough and stupid enough for them to snare me as their husband.”

  Rutherford chuckled. “I feel certain they don’t think they can snare you. Unless your opinion of marriage has changed.”

  “Did something in my demeanor just now lead you to think it might have?”

  “Not really, but since you were here I thought perhaps…”

  “I’m here because my youngest sister made her debut and my mother called in a favor from me.”

  “Ah, the fair Allysia is now on the market?”

  Alex didn’t like the gleam in Rutherford’s eye. “My sister is under my watchful gaze.”

  “You don’t have any worries from me,” Rutherford said. “She’s lovely but another lady has my attention at the present.”

  “Splendid.” He clapped Rutherford on the back. He’d hate to have to meet his friend in the ring at Gentleman Jackson’s. But he’d pummel any man who trod on his sister’s heart.

  He glanced back the way he had come. Maybe he should go back into the ballroom and watch his sister more closely. Father was here, but he was easily distracted. Until now, Alex had not really considered what it meant that Lissie was now counted among the grasping horde of Society misses. He turned back to Rutherford and found the man studying him.