Bargaining With a Rake (A Whisper of Scandal Novel)

by Johnstone, Julie

  He refused to give her what she wanted. He glanced around the circle of people gathered to say goodbye and fought the urge to turn on his heel and walk away from the onlookers.

  “Alex.” His father spoke behind him. “Will you walk your mother down the hill, please?”

  He didn’t need any further prodding. Getting away would be a blessing. He threw his arm around his mother’s tiny shoulders and supported most of her weight. As they descended the hill, she began to cry in earnest, and it took all his will not to let loose the emotions swelling inside him and join her.

  * * * * *

  Alex stepped onto the dark balcony, shutting the door firmly behind him. As the door clicked, the hum in the dining hall abruptly stopped, and he allowed himself to relax as he leaned against the railing. The bright moon filled the sky. Funny that the moon would be so vivid on the night they buried Lissie. Maybe she’d get those good things in the afterlife she swore a full moon brought. The little dreamer. He smiled. He could still picture her staring up at the sky, a look of intense preoccupation on her face. He’d sneak up on her, and she’d dissolve into fits of laughter before promptly telling him what was on her mind. Except lately he’d been too busy to notice if anything was on her mind.

  He gripped the glass tighter and gulped down the last of the whiskey. Lissie would never see the places she had dreamed of exploring. And all because she had been afraid to tell any of them she was pregnant. He still could not believe it, but the hysterical servant who had helped her gather the pennyroyal and watched her ingest the oil until she was vomiting and doubled over in pain said it was so.

  The voices in the dining hall erupted behind him once again. He tensed at the intrusion on his solitude. An elbow brushed his arm then Cameron leaned beside him against the balcony. “You have a murderous look on your face.”

  Alex nodded. “I was thinking how I’ll find the blackguard who seduced Lissie and kill him.”

  “You’re not a murderer.”

  “I know.” He met his brother’s gaze. “It’s damn annoying. I’m not too good for revenge, though.”

  Cameron smiled. “I suspected as much. But you have a more pressing problem at the moment.”

  “What might that be?”

  “Lady Staunton is looking for you. She’s acting like a dog in heat. I bet she thinks you’ll ask her to marry you once her husband keels over.”

  Alex could not raise his usual amused chuckle. “Ever direct, little brother.”

  “Everything I am I learned from you.”

  “God help you, then. I’d sooner marry old Lady Burrows than marry Lady Staunton.”

  “Really?” Cameron looked appalled. “You’d marry that wrinkled old bag before the delectable Lady Staunton?”

  “Certainly. Lady Burrows may be old and wrinkled, but at least she has a heart.”

  “Good point. See, you are wise, and I can learn a great deal from you.”

  “Are you trying to lighten my mood?”

  All playfulness left Cameron’s face. “Well, when you walked out here you did look as if you might fling yourself off the balcony.”

  “No,” Alex assured his brother, understanding Cameron’s concern. Between Robert’s suicide and Lissie’s accidentally killing herself, Alex had the desire to draw his remaining siblings close and put them under lock and key. “I was thinking about throwing Lissie’s seducer off a balcony. Not myself.”

  “Good.”

  “Now, on to more important matters.”

  “Lady Staunton?”

  Alex shook his head. “She is not important. Where are Mother and Father?”

  “Mother’s upstairs with a migraine, and Father is locked away in his study drinking barrels of whiskey.” Cameron frowned down at his empty glass. “Catherine is in the dining hall playing the hostess. She’s twittering around the room, smiling and laughing. It appears she’s forgotten the occasion is our sister’s funeral.”

  Alex pushed away from the rail and circled his shoulders, trying to work out the knots in his neck. “Don’t be too hard. That’s just how Catherine copes. Now how do you know Father is imbibing in a good deal of whiskey?”

  “Because, old man, I watched the servant take a full bottle in, and just now when I came looking for you, I saw my good man Smitty bring out the same bottle, now empty. Smitty says Father is foxed.”

  “That should give the guests something more to tantalize them.”

  “They’re tantalized enough,” Cameron said. “I overheard someone whisper that our family is cursed.”

  “Did you, now?” Alex looked at his brother. “What else are the guests saying?”

  “They say two grown children dying out of five is a bad omen, a curse.” Cameron pushed off the rail. “I hate how people are so inconsiderate as to whisper loud enough for me to hear.”

  “Yes, they should take care to whisper more quietly.” Alex glanced at Cameron. “Maybe we are cursed. First Robert’s death, now Lissie’s.”

  “Lissie didn’t mean to kill herself. Her girl said so.”

  “True. But Robert did. The fool. And no one knows that better than me.”

  Cameron flinched.

  “Sorry.” Alex sighed. “I didn’t mean to bring Robert up now.”

  “No, I’m glad you did. You never talk about him. Do you want to?”

  “You want me to lay my betrayal out nice and neat for you?” Alex growled.

  “That’s not what I said nor, for the record, is it what I think.” Cameron took a swig of his drink. “Let’s forget it.”

  “Forgotten.”

  “How do you propose we find the fiend who seduced Lissie? And when we do, what are we going to do to him?”

  “Since murdering him is out, I’ll settle on heinous revenge.”

  “I’m helping.”

  “We’ll see.” Alex didn’t want Cameron to get into any trouble.

  When Cameron looked as if he were about to protest, Alex said, “I propose we start in Lissie’s room. Maybe we’ll discover something to point us in the right direction.”

  A few minutes later, he stood on the threshold of his sister’s bedroom. He and Cameron slipped quietly into the space. The pungent odor of mint and sickness surrounded him, nearly gagging him.

  “What the devil is that smell?” Cameron held his arm to his mouth as he rushed to open the window.

  “That’s the smell of death.” Alex walked over to the dresser and opened a drawer. They worked in silence for close to an hour until they stood surrounded by scattered clothes, books, shoes and enough feminine trinkets to boggle the mind—but no clues.

  “I don’t know, old man. Maybe she didn’t leave a clue.”

  Alex surveyed the room. There had to be a clue. His eyes burned as he swept his gaze over the room repeatedly.

  Cameron walked toward the bedroom door. “Maybe we should get some sleep. Come back tomorrow.”

  It would be so easy to agree. In sleep, the pain would be forgotten, but when he woke it would still be there, consuming, throbbing and never really a memory. Just like Robert.

  He shook his head, blinked and glanced around the room again. The old doll he had given Lissie on her eighth birthday still sat on a small green child’s chair in the corner of her room. The decor of pastels and flowers could not have fit his sister more perfectly. He studied the dresser, cluttered with brushes, perfumes and hairpins. Nothing there that could help him. What kind of clue was he even looking for? Who was his sister? A dreamer, a writer. Perhaps a diary? Where would she hide a diary?

  He walked over to the wooden jewelry box he’d given her for her birthday last year and tried the lid. Locked. He sifted through her belongings on her vanity, looking for the key.

  “What are you doing?” Cameron asked, coming to stand beside him.

  “Looking for a key.”

  “Why?”

  “Maybe there’s a diary in here.” Alex tapped on the lid of the wooden box.

  “Lissie didn’t have any dark se
crets to hide!” Cameron protested.

  “Really?”

  “Sorry. Stupid thing to say.”

  Alex picked up a letter opener and wedged it into the lock until it clicked satisfactorily. His hands trembled as he opened the lid and picked up the small leather-bound book. He ran a thumb over the cover of his sister’s diary as he walked to the bed and sat. Cameron sat beside him. Opening the diary, Alex flipped toward the back.

  March 20, 1818

  Today I told him I wished to marry him, but he said it couldn’t work. He’s to marry another, has probably known for weeks and weeks that he will. Why didn’t he tell me and stop our madness? What am I to do? The shame to me, the shame to my family. I’d kill myself, but how can I do that to Mother after Robert?

  Alex gripped the paper between his clammy fingers and forced himself to turn the page. He cleared his throat and continued.

  April 1, 1818

  Marion is my best hope. She owes me since I know she’s been playing the doxy to the stable master. Who am I to stand on propriety? Still, I must appear to be threatening.

  Marion is all atwitter with fear that I’ll tell her secret, so I told her mine. She’ll help me gather the Pennyroyal to rid myself of M.’s baby. I shall never forgive him or myself.

  Alex looked up from the paper. “Who do you think M. is?”

  Cameron squinted down at the paper. “I’ve no idea.”

  April 2, 1818

  Alex’s hands shook so violently he had to grip one hand with the other in order to read the spidery writing. April 2 had been three days ago, the Primwitty ball. He should have known something was badly wrong when she had fled his side. He swallowed his self-loathing, storing the feeling for later, and gazed at the entry.

  Now I know, and it is worse than I thought. I forced myself to stand and hear it all and watch it all. They announced his betrothal, and he appeared so very happy and she so very beautiful. Lady Gillian Rutherford. I hate her. I hate him. I hate myself most of all.

  Alex snapped the book closed.

  “Did you hear me?” Cameron asked.

  “What?” A roaring filled Alex’s ears.

  “I said we need to warn Lady Gillian who she’s to marry.”

  “Warn her?” He whipped up and loomed over his brother. “Don’t utter a word. The lady’s a schemer who had every intention of seducing Sutherland into marrying her. Besides, when I’m through the lady won’t have to concern herself with being shackled to a monster.”

  “All right. I can live with that. But what exactly are we going to do?”

  “You’re going to do nothing.”

  “Alex―”

  “No. This is my revenge. Mallorian seduced Lissie to get back at me.”

  “Why? Why would he do that?”

  “Because.” Alex said, “he wanted to buy into my company and I dismissed him like the piece of garbage he is.”

  “It’s not like you to be cruel.”

  Alex nodded. “He happened to come to me right after Bess told me about a serving wench who’d said she’d been beaten and forced by him. But the woman had no witnesses. Bess took the girl in and wanted to make sure it was all right with me.”

  Cameron whistled. “That’s bad. What do you intend to do?”

  “The man’s a social climber. I intend to take away his ladder.”

  “The Lady Gillian?”

  “That’s right,” Alex said, the roaring finally dying away in his ears.

  “Are you saying you intend to seduce his fiancée into marrying you instead? A sort of public humiliation?”

  He intended to seduce Lady Gillian into publicly leaving Mallorian, but marriage was not part of the bargain. He’d set her up nicely when he was done and ensure she had a better life than she would have ever had with Mallorian.

  “Alex, you didn’t answer my question. You do intend to marry the lady once you’ve ruined her, don’t you?”

  “I do not,” he replied, giving his brother a look that dared him to protest. “The lady wanted to flee to America on Sutherland’s coattails. Well, I’ll send her there in grand style. She’ll be fine. And in the end she’ll thank me. She can find a man to marry that she actually loves.”

  Cameron shook his head. “Somehow I doubt the lady will thank you.”

  Two Days Later

  Cheapside

  London, England

  Alex crouched beside Peter Manchester, the Duke of Primwitty―the one man besides his brother that he trusted with this sordid mess. Alex pressed his back against the cold brick of the Merry Tavern and took another shallow breath. It was useless. The stench of rotting garbage filled his nose once again. “Sodding garbage.”

  “Exactly,” Peter agreed, taking his own shallow breath with his hands over his mouth. “My legs are cramping.”

  “Quit whining.” Alex rubbed at the knots in his own legs.

  “How much longer do you think we’ll be forced to crouch here?” Peter asked.

  “Can’t be that much longer.” Alex eyed Madame Lovelace’s establishment.

  “We’ve been here for hours,” Peter complained.

  Alex glanced at the moon. “Probably three. Mallorian has to come out soon.”

  “I long for my clean, warm bed. And my wife,” Peter said, his voice raising a notch.

  Alex chuckled. “Marriage has made you weak. Keep quiet or you’ll blow our cover.”

  Alex would wait here all night to learn every sordid detail he could about Mallorian. He wanted to know the man better than his own mother did. Then he’d use that knowledge to completely destroy him.

  Something rustled through the trash near his left foot, and in the little sliver of moonlight shining between the tavern and the madame’s house, Alex made out the outline of a rat. Loathsome creatures. He hated rats. Peter bolted upright beside him, and Alex reached up reflexively and jerked Peter back down.

  “Sit still, man. You’ll get us discovered with your theatrics.”

  “Rats are vile,” Peter growled, shaking off Alex’s hand. “Got bit by one once when I was a child. Deuced nasty bite that almost killed me.”

  “Does Sally know you’re afraid of rats?”

  “No. Nor does my curious wife know I’m here playing spy with you, given you made me swear not to tell her. Keep annoying me and I may have to unburden all my secrets.”

  “You’re bluffing. If I thought you would do that I wouldn’t have asked for your help.”

  “Ask for my help?” Peter sputtered. “You told me I was helping, then swore me to secrecy. Sally would blister my ears if she knew we were crouched outside of Madame Lovelace’s engaged in some harebrained scheme of revenge. You do know they have constables for this sort of thing?”

  “I can’t use a constable, and you know it. I’ll not chance besmirching my sister’s good name by allowing this sordid mess to come to light.”

  “You know, sometimes being your friend is a burden. Lucky for you, I’m a strapping young man, so I’m up to the challenge.”

  When Peter flexed his thin arm as proof of his masculine state, a smile pulled at Alex’s lips, but allowing even a moment of levity so soon after burying his sister felt like the worst sort of betrayal. He looked away and rubbed his burning eyes.

  “You do realize Sally would only protest because she is not here with us.”

  “I do.” Peter’s white teeth flashed in the darkness. “However, I choose to forget my wife’s adventurous nature in order to maintain my sanity.” Peter slapped at his face, disheveling his glasses. He shoved his spectacles back onto the bridge of his nose. “These blasted mosquitoes are chewing on me like a savory piece of meat. Are you sure your mistress gave you the correct information about this man’s habits?”

  “Positive,” Alex replied, not bothering to explain that Bess was no longer his mistress. He would save that conversation for later, or maybe never. It was his private matter. “I gave Bess a large purse to distribute as she saw fit to loosen some tongues, and she said Madame
Lovelace’s tongue would have detached from her body had it gotten any looser. Mallorian is here, as he is every Wednesday night. When he exits, you follow him, and I’ll pay a visit to Mistress Caprice Mills—his regular choice for companionship, according to Bess.”

  “Are you sure this is the best course of action?”

  “What would you do if someone seduced your sister and she died trying to rid herself of the child?”

  There was a pause of silence as Peter took off his glasses and rubbed at the bridge of his nose. Finally, he put them back on with a sigh. “Same thing. I’d destroy the man, but I’d probably leave out ruining another woman.”

  “I told you, she will be better off with what I have planned for her. She wanted to seduce Sutherland. Clearly, she wants no part of marrying Mallorian and she wants out of England. I will be providing her both her fondest wishes.”

  “It’s convenient for you to think so,” Peter replied.

  Alex clenched his fists. “If you won’t help me without lecturing me, then go.”

  “I’ll stay. And I’ll shut up, but only because I have every faith your good nature will return, and you’ll do the right thing by Lady Gillian once you’ve seduced her.”

  Alex gaped at Peter. “If you think I’m going to have some change of heart and marry the lady, you’re sadly mistaken.”

  When silence greeted Alex, he glowered. “I will never marry.”

  “I know you say that. I think you’ve just not met the right woman.”

  “And you think a lady I already dislike, who I plan to seduce and then ship off to America, might be just the woman to change my mind about women and marriage?”

  “I think she might,” Peter snapped. “Sally’s told me a great deal about Lady Gillian and her personality. I think she’d suit you.”

  “I didn’t ask you to come here and think, and why the bloody hell have you been talking to Sally about Lady Gillian?”

  “Calm down,” Peter growled from the darkness. “The conversation had nothing to do with you. Sally was excited to see her friend after all these years, and we simply talked of the two of them and then the lady herself.”