Bargaining With a Rake (A Whisper of Scandal Novel)

by Johnstone, Julie

  Gillian scrambled to her feet. “I think I feel ill. I better go home and lie down.”

  Auntie snorted. “Business called Lord Westonburt away today. He will be back tomorrow in time for the ball. I imagine a note is waiting for you at your home.”

  “Our butler did try to give me one this morning, but I waved him away.”

  “Perhaps you’d like to go home and read it, since there is no need to stay here now,” Auntie said.

  Gillian’s eyes involuntarily darted to Alex. He was staring down at the paper again, but she could have sworn he was on the exact same page he had been on when she had come in. What was wrong with him today? Her aunt smiled at her. “Or maybe you would care to stay?”

  Drat her aunt. She was purposely reading more into the situation than there was. “Well, I do feel a tad better.”

  “That’s good, dearest.” Aunt Millicent’s head was already bent, and her eyes were focused on her knitting. “I’ll just be right here, if you need me.”

  Gillian needed a way to talk privately with Alex that would not lend credit to her aunt’s suspicions. But going off alone with the man was out of the question for more reasons than mere propriety’s sake. She glanced around the sitting room, the pianoforte catching her gaze. That was perfect. It was across the room, would create noise, and she and Alex would be close enough together to discuss strategy. “Lord Lionhurst, would you care to play the piano while I sing?”

  He glanced up, surprise evident in his confused gaze. My, he was preoccupied. She had not seen him like this. “Pianoforte, did you say?”

  She nodded.

  “I don’t play.”

  Drat him. Why was he being difficult?

  “Do you sing? I can play.”

  “I don’t sing either. How about a walk outdoors?” He was looking at her, but it almost seemed he was not seeing her.

  She shook her head. “Too cold.” She wanted to believe she could trust herself around him, but what if she slipped again?

  “Why don’t you play chess?” Auntie suggested.

  “Perfect!” Gillian exclaimed, wanting to kiss her aunt for the suggestion. The chess table was on the opposite side of the room by the pianoforte, and they could easily pretend to play while forming a plan of attack.

  Alex shook his head. “I no longer play chess.”

  “Why ever not?” Gillian protested.

  A dark look crossed Alex’s face. “I have my reasons.”

  She didn’t want to push him, especially because he for once looked vulnerable instead of like a carefree rake, but she simply had to speak to him. Please. She mouthed the word silently, so he could read her lips.

  With a jerk of his head, he rose and strode to the chess table. He pulled out a chair for her and stood tensely, until she crossed the room and sat. Once he was seated, she studied his face for a moment. His jaw ticked and his fingers drummed a rapid beat on the table. “We don’t really have to play chess. I just needed an excuse to speak with you.”

  He nodded and pushed the chessboard away from the table as if touching it might burn him. “How can I help you?”

  She wanted to ask the same of him but was certain he would deny the need for any assistance. “My aunt is obviously still working to throw us together.”

  “Yes. If only you could make her understand you detest me.”

  “You know that’s not true.” Why had he said that? He didn’t want to marry her or anyone else for that matter.

  “I’m sorry. I’m being unpardonably rude.”

  Impulsively, she reached over and grabbed his hand, and as she did, she knocked a chess piece over.

  He picked it up and set it down with a thump. “Today is the anniversary of my brother’s death.”

  “Oh, Alex.” She squeezed his hand. “I’m so sorry. How did he die?”

  “Don’t you know?”

  She shook her head. “Should I?”

  “I suppose you might not with your absence from Society. If you stayed around long enough, I’m sure someone would fill you in. He killed himself.”

  “Oh, my goodness.” She didn’t know what else to say. “How awful for you.”

  “It’s worse for him, really. He’s the dead one. Of course I’m left here with the guilt, so there is that.”

  “Why would you feel guilty? It’s not as if you killed him.” Alex’s hand twitched under hers.

  “I may not have pulled the trigger, but make no mistake about it, I’m the reason he’s dead.”

  His face was taut with pain. Suddenly, it dawned on her why he lived as he did. Alex was punishing himself for his brother’s death. Was that why he tried to be bad? Because he thought he was? Was he not allowing anyone to get close because he didn’t think he deserved love? Her heart ached for him. She understood all too well how it felt to think you had failed someone you loved. “You can’t possibly be responsible for your brother taking his life.”

  His eyes cut into her, making her shiver. “Forget it.” He raked a hand through his hair, and when his hand came down, his smile of perfect nonchalance was back in place. “What can I do for you?” His tone was that of suggestive rake once more.

  She sighed. He had put his façade firmly back in place. Still, she had to try. “Alex―”

  “I said forget it.”

  “All right. I’ll let it go, because I suspect if I didn’t you’d leave me sitting here without a backwards glance.”

  “You’re very astute.”

  “If you ever need someone to talk to―”

  “I’ll employ another mistress,” he finished for her.

  She knew he was lashing out more in anger at himself than her, but his words hurt. She was nothing to him, and he had put her in her rightful place. She swallowed her embarrassment. “Will you run interference for me tomorrow night at the ball, so I can have some time alone with Mr. Sutherland?”

  “Of course. Make sure your aunt has her card room open.”

  “Do you have a plan?”

  “Of course I do. Don’t you know rakes always have a plan? Now if you’ll excuse me?”

  “Where are you going?” There wasn’t much more to discuss since he had a plan, but she hated to see him go somewhere alone on this day in his mood. “Let me come with you.”

  “Aren’t you worried about what might happen?”

  She bit her lip at his reminder. She was worried, but not that he might take advantage of her. She was worried she would beg him to kiss her again. The man made her senseless.

  His finger brushed down her cheekbone and fell away before she could comprehend the intimacy. She shivered at his touch.

  “You’re right to worry, peach. Don’t allow yourself to be alone with me again.”

  Her heart thundered at his words. “Why?” she whispered.

  “Because I’m not sure I could restrain myself next time.”

  He turned on his heel and left her standing there, gaping with longing and surprise. He wanted her. He desired her. Silly, foolish woman that she was, she was inordinately pleased because she didn’t think his desire had a thing to do with wanting revenge.

  After spending the afternoon going over all the details of the ball with her unusually quiet aunt, Gillian rode Lightning home. In the twilight, she allowed her thoughts to drift back to Alex. It was then, in the cool air that crystallized her thoughts, she realized he had become a rake right before her eyes rather than allow her inside his personal pain.

  And she had let him. Disarmed by his lethal smile, she had failed him. Was that what all women did? It was no wonder Alex dismissed the idea of love, if all women became simple minded as she had when faced with his seductive ways. He no doubt had never been pushed to open up and share his heart and pain. She prayed a woman would come along and help him. Then she prayed one would not. She felt awful and confused. Her last prayer was for a good night’s sleep to straighten out her muddled thoughts and calm her turbulent emotions.

  * * * * *

  After a day of hard
riding and a night of holing himself up alone in his guest room, Alex emerged the next day to the sound of Gillian’s laughter. Her merriment filled his heart until Sutherland’s loud guffaw joined her soft chuckle. Alex turned on his heel and made his way toward the stables. He passed a footman on the way, and after ordering a quick lunch to be packed, he gave the footman instructions to tell Lady Primwitty he had gone riding for the day. Let them think what they would. He would make sure do his part tonight, but today he needed to reorder his thoughts and push Gillian out of them, except for how to help her catch Sutherland.

  The riding was exhausting, which was exactly what he needed. He made it a point to stay away for most of the day. When he arrived back at the house, servants were bustling about to prepare for the ball and most of the guests were in their rooms preparing for the evening. He made his way to his room and called for a bath to get the layer of dust off his body.

  After undressing, he pilfered through the stack of notes by his door. As expected, Peter, Sally and Sin had all asked him to seek them out before tonight. Sutherland had left a blunt note that he thought he had found the perfect woman to be his wife; now all he need do was convince her to leave her betrothed. Alex crumpled the note and threw it across the room.

  He jotted a quick note to Peter explaining the plan for tonight, called for a servant to deliver the note and then he ignored the other requests opting instead to soak in the bath until the last possible moment while trying not to think about Gillian in Sutherland’s arms.

  By the time he was properly attired for the evening, he thought he was in control. But as he wound his way through the crowd of people already gathered in the Rutherfords’ ballroom, he found himself searching for Gillian in the sea of guests.

  Everything about her enticed, beckoned and drugged his senses. And her eyes… Alex inhaled deeply. The way they displayed her emotions fascinated him. When she was excited, her emerald eyes turned at least two shades brighter, almost the color of teal. And when she was angry, they deepened to remind him of the dark green trees in the forest, sheltering and secretive. And when she felt pity―he shoved the memory away, as it reminded him of Robert.

  As Alex walked by a group of people gathered in conversation, a hand reached out and grabbed his arm, snapping his attention away from his ridiculous ruminations and back to where it belonged, his surroundings. Lady Chastain smiled at him, showing teeth tainted yellow by her years. She curtsied, smacking him in the face with a large—was that a blasted feather? Swiping a hand over his tingling nose, he squinted at the purple plume sticking out of the woman’s hair. “Ah, Lady Chastain.”

  Why in God’s name women felt the need to adorn themselves so ridiculously he would never understand. He preferred simple beauty. Even if the woman was not lovely, trying to mask it with feathers―Alex glanced down the bumpy length of Lady Chastain’s bejeweled gown―and so many sparkling gems that hurt a man’s eye was not a good idea. Hardly the way to draw attention, at least the favorable kind.

  “Lord Lionhurst, I want to introduce you to my daughter.” Lady Chastain reached behind her and yanked a poor, unsuspecting chit from the circle. She pushed a girl with mousy brown hair and dull brown eyes toward him. The girl tried to hold back her forward motion, but Lady Chastain was a mother hunting a husband for her daughter, and nothing would stand in her way, including her embarrassed daughter.

  Alex sighed and shifted his weight to his back foot just in case the mother hurtled the girl at him. This was exactly why he avoided balls. If the mother schemed hard enough and his guard slipped, even just a bit, he could find himself trapped in a room alone with a girl who could―and devil take them all―would claim ruination. Then he would have no choice but to marry the chit.

  Honor was a damned nuisance, especially now as he felt the tug of it. He could not abandon this poor girl, though he longed to throw himself into his plan to get his mind off Gillian. He bowed deeply and smiled into the girl’s widening gaze. Her face flushed an amazing shade of red and a very slight smile turned up the corners of her lips. Ah, here stood an unblemished treasure. This was a green girl new to the hunt, not yet keen to the ways of the world and most likely still dreaming of falling in love, not being matched with a husband as one matches a stallion to mare. Nothing required beyond impeccable lineage and the ability to procreate.

  “My Marion’s dance card is empty,” Lady Chastain said from behind her daughter.

  Marion’s lower jaw dropped open, and Alex suspected she wished the floor would open up for her as well. Who could blame her? He could not change who her mother was, but he could help launch the girl into Society by creating a buzz.

  As ridiculous as it was, the fact remained the young fops would dance with her if he did so now. Blasted honor. He glanced in the direction of the dancers and saw that two long lines of couples gathered to perform the longways Country Dance. What a bit of stunning bad luck. He’d be at least an hour on the dance floor before he could continue his search. No hope for it, though.

  “Dancing with your daughter would be my pleasure, Lady Chastain.” Alex took Marion’s clammy hand in his and led her onto the dance floor toward the middle of the line. Just as they neared the couples swaying on the marble tile, musical laughter filled the air. Gillian smiled, and her beauty stunned him in all its simplicity. She wore green silk, cut low and fitted to show all her charms, which he fully appreciated.

  Her black hair drifted over her shoulders in alluring waves, a simple white magnolia tucked behind one ear. He stared, as did every man around her. Blast their lustful souls. A generous display of sun-kissed flesh swelled up at the top of her dress. Well, the lady had pulled out all the stops tonight. Sutherland was a goner. Alex shifted with the desire throbbing painfully through every inch of his body, right to his fingertips, which flexed uncontrollably and squeezed the hand he held in his.

  A gasp resounded to his left, and he glanced at Lady Marion just in time to see her hesitant smile turn to one of joy. He dropped her hand at her hopeful look and immediately put a good foot between them. What could he say so as not to hurt the girl’s feelings, yet make her understand he did not harbor those kinds of feelings for her? “Lady Marion—”

  “Darling, there you are,” Sally chirped in his ear. “How goes your plan?” she whispered.

  “Not accordingly. There have been some changes.”

  Sally raised her eyebrows in question.

  “Later,” Alex said. “I’ll explain later.”

  “Very well, darling.” Her voice raised to conversation level. “Peter and I have been looking everywhere for you. Haven’t we, Peter?” Sally glanced behind her and Peter stepped forward.

  “I tell you, the woman has dragged me back and forth across this dance floor till my shoes now have holes.” Peter lifted his foot and pointed. “See. She’s worn out my favorite pair all in search of your sorry self.” Peter shook his head. “All I want is a drink and a good card game.”

  “I know just what you mean,” Alex mumbled, then winced, remembering Lady Marion.

  Sally whipped out her fan and smacked Peter on the arm, then turned and whacked Alex. “Men are so tedious at times,” she said to Lady Marion, linking arms with the girl. “Don’t mind their grumbling. Finery never can hide the naughty little boys they truly are.” Sally led Lady Marion right next to Gillian in the dance line, leaving Peter and Alex to follow.

  “I feel like a puppy who’s been scolded for chewing up a shoe,” Peter said, frowning. “A perfectly natural thing for a pup to do, mind you.”

  “I’d say so,” Alex replied, staring at Gillian. She met his gaze, and his heart gave an odd tug. He put his hand to his chest to rub the ache away. Maybe he was getting ill.

  For a moment, Sally and Gillian huddled together, making a show of exchanging a greeting, but their lips moved in a flurry of hurried, whispered words. What were those women up to?

  “Lady Gillian, how did your game go this afternoon?” he asked. “Do you have a good strateg
y?” Was that enough of a hint for her to know he meant the game of seduction?

  “The beginning of the game went well enough, but my strategy needs improving.” Gillian cut her eyes to the left, and Alex followed her motion. Bloody hell. Westonburt was a leech at Gillian’s side. Alex would have to remedy that. “Evening, Westonburt.”

  The man unclenched his jaw enough to say, “Same to you, Lionhurst.”

  Westonburt genuflected toward Peter. Alex nearly laughed, but Peter’s well-placed sharp jab to his side stopped Alex’s mirth.

  “Your Grace, it’s a pleasure to see you.”

  Peter pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and managed a superior look. “Likewise.”

  Peter’s ability to suffuse disinterest into his reply impressed Alex. How had he never noticed that particular talent of his friend’s?

  It was time to begin his plan. He had played a little game of bait and catch many times with Peter in the past before his friend had become married and boring. Alex turned to Peter just as the notes of the music softly filled the room. “Cards after this?”

  “What do you have in mind?”

  The tempo rose and Alex’s pulse sped up with the beat. “Vingt-et-un, of course. Dockside play.”

  “Those are high stakes, but I’m game,” Peter replied with a nonchalant shrug. “But we need three more players.”

  On cue, Alex stepped forward and met Lady Marion in the middle. She curtsied and as her head dipped, he took advantage of her distracted state to glance at Gillian. Her hair fell forward as she curtsied to Westonburt, and as she came up, the view of her décolletage made Alex swallow convulsively. It was the pure joy she displayed when her gaze locked with his that tripped him up, though. He missed a step as he stared at her and almost bumped into his surprised partner. Was she happy to see him for himself or because he was her distraction?

  When her eyes cut to Westonburt and her brows rose in question, he had his answer. When had he become such a dolt?

  The men moved back in line and Alex threw out the bait that he needed to. “I’ll ask my brother and Lord Dansby. Who else?”

  “Say, Westonburt,” Peter fairly shouted over the rising crescendo. “Do you play Vingt-et-un?”