Scandalous Scoundrels

by Aileen Fish

  “Very well, it’s settled,” Eloise said with a slow nod of her head.

  “I’ll be off. I’ve left the twins in charge of the other youngsters and dare not stay away too long. Last time I was gone, the little savages took Pruitt prisoner. The poor man still has not recovered.”

  Gabriel found his legs and then his voice. “A moment,” he called out, quickly striding to her side before she could turn away. “I believe I owe you an apology.”

  She lifted her chin and cast him a defiant scowl. “You’re entitled to your opinion of me. I always prefer the plain truth to fancy lies.”

  “Then you shall have the truth,” he said, his gaze riveted by her blazing blue eyes. A tactical mistake, he realized at once, for she did have the prettiest eyes. He cleared his throat. “My grandmother is right, Miss Farthingale. I did not mean any of the crass words you overheard. You were the unfortunate victim of my ill humor. I’d very much like to make amends.”

  “Not necessary.”

  “Quite necessary.” The little widgeon was hurt and still angry with him. He folded his arms over his chest and stared down at her, hoping to intimidate her. Only a little, of course. He didn’t wish to scare her—he merely wanted to impress upon her the importance of his apology. He owed her one and he was going to give it, whether or not she wished to receive it.

  “I believe your description of me was accurate.”

  “Indeed, it was not. I insist on making amends. May I have the honor of a dance with you at Lord Hornby’s ball?” Gad! Had he just asked this innocent for a dance? He’d only meant to mutter some contrite words and be on his way. He hadn’t meant to prolong their association beyond this uncomfortable chat in his grandmother’s parlor. She had to refuse him. He wanted her to refuse him.

  He sighed, knowing he was trapped. She would accept him, for women always did. Always. When she did the inevitable, he’d endure with manly grace. How bad could one dance with this incompetent snip of a girl be?

  She tipped her face upward to meet his gaze, her eyes an intense and fiery blue. “I don’t think so. Please don’t ask me again. Ever.”

  ***

  “You’re in foul temper, Lord Dayne.”

  “Go away, Your Grace.” Gabriel had just settled for the evening in a dark leather chair in the smoking room at White’s, a stately room paneled in dark mahogany and filled with brightly polished tables, crinkled leather sofas, and comfortable wing chairs. He was still stewing over Daisy’s refusal and in no humor for a pleasant chat with Ian.

  Gabriel glowered at his friend in the hope he’d take the not so subtle hint to go away. Ian ignored both his comment and his dark scowl, instead taking a seat beside him. “Is there a reason for your ill humor?” he asked, casually lighting up a cigar. “Here, have a stiff drink. It’ll help warm you up.” Ian reached over and grabbed a whiskey off the tray of a passing servant. “By the way, you’ll like Veronique’s friend.”

  “Who?”

  “My mistress’s friend. Her name is Desiree, and she has red hair, sultry gray eyes, and a limber body that will render you speechless. It’s all arranged. You’re to meet her tonight. She’ll warm you up if the whiskey doesn’t.”

  “Can’t wait,” he said without a trace of enthusiasm.

  Ian arched an eyebrow. “You don’t have to meet her if you don’t wish to. I know a dozen other men who would give their right arms to take her under their care.”

  “I just said I’d do it, didn’t I?” He forced a smile. “And I’m looking forward to it.”

  “My, my. Seems the Farthingale girl has you quite turned upside-down. Well, it’s to be expected now that she’s grown into a beauty. Did your military training protect you from her onslaught?”

  Gabriel shook his head and sighed. “What makes you think I met Daisy?”

  Ian laughed. “You have the unmistakable look of panic in your eyes. You know, the look a deer gets when it realizes it’s about to be shot. I warned you, didn’t I? Now it’s too late. Tell me everything.”

  Bloody hell. Had he spent years fighting Napoleon’s army merely to protect a country of busybodies? “There’s nothing to tell. The girl and I are not on speaking terms.”

  Ian set his cigar in a nearby ashtray and leaned forward, his gaze sharp and assessing. “But you were on speaking terms at one time.”

  Gabriel grumbled something indistinguishable.

  “I heard you saved Daisy’s cousin from a team of thundering horses. Also heard Daisy was most appreciative.”

  He grumbled again.

  “Is that an affirmative? Never mind. What happened afterward? I know you remained at your grandmother’s for quite a while.”

  He glared at Ian, annoyed by the interrogation. “Why don’t you ask your spies? They seem to be quite thorough in their reporting.”

  “But it would be so much more interesting to hear the details from you. Ah, but you’re not the sort to kiss and tell. Too bad. I’ll have to watch the two of you at Falmouth’s party and see how you behave toward each other.”

  “Daisy won’t be attending,” he said tightly, her look of disappointment still vivid in his mind. “Seems her gown won’t be ready in time.”

  Ian’s eyes widened as though he were caught by surprise, and then he shook his head and sighed. “Your cousin Graelem warned me this might happen. He and Laurel invited Daisy to stay with them in order to protect her from that chaotic family of hers, but she refused, claimed to be needed at home. Apparently, she keeps the household running. If you ask me, she seems to be doing a terrible job of it.”

  Gabriel clenched his teeth to curb his anger. He knew Ian was purposely goading him and refused to rise to the taunt. “She does an excellent job under the circumstances.”

  “I see.” Ian took a sip of his own drink just delivered by a steward. “So, have you kissed her?”

  “No, and I have no desire to. However, I will gladly kiss the sultry Desiree should she be willing.”

  Ian threw his head back and laughed. “You’ll find her most accommodating.”

  Chapter 4

  A rake’s weapon of choice may be a blade or dueling pistols, but a young lady’s weapon is her fashionable gown.

  “Daisy, do stop fussing,” Eloise gently chided as she and Daisy rode in Eloise’s carriage one week later on their way to Lord Hornby’s ball.

  “I can’t help it.” Daisy wished she’d never been invited to the ball, though the night was perfect, another in a string of unusually warm evenings. The scent of lilac wafted in the air as they drove through the park, filling the compartment with a magical hint of early spring. “I feel like an enormous snowball in this hideous white satin and lace confection. I can’t seem to get comfortable.”

  Eloise leaned forward and patted her hand. “You look perfect and I’m certain there’ll be a dozen young men who’ll declare that very thing to you before the night is through.”

  Daisy seriously doubted it. “Will your grandson be there?”

  “Yes, Gabriel will—”

  “No, not him.” Ugh! “I mean Alexander.” After all, he was the war hero and heir to the earldom. Gabriel, although handsome enough to send any woman into raptures, was an irritating bounder and she hoped never to see him again.

  “Oh, I see. Unfortunately, Alexander is delayed at Trent Hall on important business. But Gabriel–”

  “When will he return to London?”

  “Alexander?” Eloise shrugged. “In about a month, I expect.”

  “That long?” How was she to meet her future husband if he refused to come to London? She hadn’t considered the possibility when she’d first formed her plan. This was a major setback, she had to admit. What was she to do now? Wait for Alexander? But he could be delayed longer than a month, perhaps not make it to London at all this season.

  Well, she could wait out the month, but she would have to form another plan on the chance that her first didn’t work out. It was only prudent, after all. And how hard could it be to keep her
eye out for other potential prospects? There were plenty of eligible bachelors around. Just not Gabriel Dayne.

  Eloise let out a soft chuckle. “Gabriel will keep us company until then.”

  “What? Why him?” Daisy sank back in her seat and sighed. Ugh, again! Never him! “Must he? Forgive me, Eloise. I don’t mean to be rude. I know you love your grandson and enjoy his company... that is, when he behaves himself. But he so rarely does. I wish I could help you to reform his rakehell ways, but he can’t abide me. In truth, I don’t like him very much either.”

  Eloise’s eyes were suddenly agleam. “Hmm, help me to reform him? Now that’s an intriguing thought, actually quite a wonderful idea. Thank you, Daisy. I’m so glad you offered.”

  At first, Daisy laughed. Then she realized Eloise was serious. Her heart shot into her throat and she grabbed the carriage door to steady herself. “No, that isn’t what I meant at all.”

  Eloise was too busy grinning from ear to ear to pay attention to her protests. “We shall begin tonight. Why waste a moment?”

  “Because it’s a terrible idea,” Daisy insisted, shaking her head in dismay. “I’ve never had any suitors. None. Not a one. How am I to deal with any man, much less a rake as dangerous as your grandson? I wouldn’t know where to start. Or how to defend myself.” Or how to protect my heart.

  “Oh, dear. You’re right.” Eloise emitted a long, slightly disheartened sigh. “No, that won’t do. You’re much too innocent to understand the wicked workings of a rake’s mind.”

  Daisy nodded in agreement. “I’m completely inept.”

  However, Eloise’s eyes were still agleam. “But I have the perfect solution to our little dilemma. You—”

  “There is no solution,” she insisted, her frustration mounting.

  “Nonsense, child. I know exactly what must be done to turn you into a worthy adversary for my grandson. I’m going to lend you a book.”

  “A... what?”

  “Not just any book, but a brilliant exposition of warfare between the sexes. It’s called Rules for Reforming a Rake and was written several decades ago by Lady Forsythia Haversham, one of the most respected strategists of her day. Never doubt that these rules still apply.”

  Daisy’s eyes rounded in horror as Eloise continued. “My dear girl, you must look upon each ball, musicale, or soiree as a battle to be engaged, the enemy being the unrepentant bachelor.” She leaned forward and patted Daisy’s hand. “Said bachelor is ever on the alert, his ears pricked and body defensively poised to repel any attack on his freedom.”

  “Lady Forsythia explained all this in a book? Hasn’t she gone through four husbands already?”

  Eloise nodded. “All of them rakehells until she came along and tamed them.”

  “Killed them is more like it, for not one survived beyond their fifth year of marriage,” Daisy muttered, trying to stem her rising panic. How long had Eloise been thinking of this? And how was she to dissuade her from pursuing this doomed and dangerous plan? “At the very least, Lady Forsythia herded each unsuspecting gentleman into an early grave.” She swallowed hard and gave a sad shake of her head. “No, it’s a terrible idea. I will never agree to reform your wastrel grandson. Put the notion out of your head at once.”

  Eloise laughed lightly and reached out again to pat her hands, which were now clasped and resting on her lap. “Gabriel isn’t so bad once you get to know him. The two of you got off to a bad start, that’s all. Think of it this way, your next encounter couldn’t possibly be worse.”

  Daisy tried to muster enthusiasm for the knave, truly she did. But couldn’t. She had problems of her own and didn’t need to pile his atop them. She cast Eloise a polite but dismayed smile. “I doubt he and I shall ever meet again. We Farthingales have been your neighbors for over three years now and have never run into him before. I wouldn’t have met him except for Harry’s escapade. I’m certain he has every intention of avoiding me as well.”

  She hoped that was his intention, for she couldn’t possibly be seen in his company. He was completely unsuitable for her, and he rattled her in ways she did not quite understand yet. Perhaps Lady Forsythia’s book would explain why he made her feel so very uncomfortable. Not that she had any intention of reading it, but every time she thought of Gabriel, heat inexplicably shot into her cheeks. And her heart fluttered. Out of anger, no doubt. Even now, her entire body was growing hot at the mere mention of him.

  Out of anger, she assured herself.

  She would get over her ill feeling toward the bounder in a few days, for she was never one to hold grudges, even though he’d clearly been in the wrong. He’d also been arrogant and rude. He believed her to be a foggy-headed husband hunter with little polish and no sense of style.

  What would he think of her when he learned of The Incident?

  Why should she care? Indeed, she didn’t. She let out a huff and straightened her spine, now quite put out. Who was he to cast judgment upon her when he was unfit to move about in civilized society?

  The carriage came to a stop at the opposite end of the park. “Ah, here we are,” Eloise said, drawing Daisy out of her thoughts.

  Daisy lowered the window and stuck her face out. A light breeze tickled her nose. She noticed an imposing gray brick townhouse that appeared to be impeccably maintained. “This can’t be Lord Hornby’s residence. There isn’t a soul on the street.”

  “Goodness, I meant to tell you, but it slipped my mind. Gabriel is to join us.”

  “Now? Here? This is his home?” She tried to keep the dismay out of her voice, but knew she’d failed. She had expected the man to reside in a den of iniquity. After all, he had a horrid reputation. But to reside in this magnificent abode?

  “Yes, this is his London residence. Of course, his seat is in Derbyshire.”

  Daisy turned to her companion. “I’m curious about that, for you’ve never really explained how he acquired his seat. Certainly not through the Trent line, for he’s the younger son. And there are so many rumors circulating about it that one doesn’t know quite what to believe.”

  “Is it important? He’s quite enterprising—acquired the Derbyshire estate and title all on his own.”

  “But how?” Probably by cheating at cards, Daisy mused. Or doing the Prince Regent some wicked favor to earn his gratitude. Hushed up a royal scandal, no doubt.

  Eloise sat upright and quirked her head. “How odd! You know, I’m not certain how it came about. The news spread quietly one day that he’d been made Baron Summersby and given a charming estate to go along with the title. Gossip has it that he saved the life of an unnamed royal offspring, or perhaps it was some other royal relation. The point is, Gabriel must have rescued someone important, although the details were never disclosed.”

  “No doubt from a seedy establishment filled with cardsharps, cutthroats, and women of ill repute.” Daisy closed her eyes and stifled a sigh of exasperation. “Is there a reason you asked him to join us tonight?”

  Eloise’s diamond earrings gleamed as brightly as her eyes. “I didn’t. He asked to accompany me.”

  “He asked you? He ought to have been warned that I was to ride in your carriage. I’m sure he won’t be pleased to find me here.”

  “Oh, he knew you were coming.”

  Daisy tried, but failed, to muffle her surprise. “He did? And he still agreed to ride with you... er, with us?” How odd, for the man detested her. Well, he didn’t really. He felt quite indifferent toward her, which was in many ways worse, for hatred required some passion, while indifference was as exciting as sipping tepid soup. No flavor, no vibrance. Just watered-down bland.

  “Good evening, Grandmama, Miss Farthingale.”

  “Eep!” Gabriel’s whiskey-smooth rumble jolted her out of her thoughts. He’d moved so quietly that she hadn’t noticed his approach. He now stood by the carriage, a smirk on his handsome face.

  Eloise harrumphed. “Must you be so formal, Gabriel? This is my dear Daisy, and I insist you call her so.”

/>   “Very well,” he said, filling the doorway with his presence as he climbed in and settled in the seat across from her. “Good evening, dear Daisy.”

  The bright streetlight illuminated his exquisite features.

  Oh, she was doomed to an evening of torment! It wasn’t fair that a man as wicked as Gabriel should look so good. The cut of his formal black coat accentuated his broad shoulders, powerful chest, and trim waist. The light shimmering into the carriage from the street seemed to form a halo about his magnificent gold hair.

  “Good evening, Lord Dayne,” she managed with a pronounced squeak to her voice. Be clever. Be clever. Now is your chance to show him you’re not in the least affected by his presence.

  “Please, call me Gabriel.”

  Unfortunately, he did affect her—she couldn’t overlook the rapid beats of her heart or the butterflies fluttering in her stomach. She stared at his lips as they moved, unable to respond to his question. Wait, had he even asked a question? His lips were as tempting as hot scones slathered in butter. Made her want to sink her mouth on them and lick—stop thinking of slathering Gabriel with anything! Finally she managed an appallingly dim-witted reply. “What?”

  He leaned close and began to speak to her as slowly as one would to a foreigner who did not understand the English language or to a person of limited understanding. “I... said... you... may... call... me... Gabriel.”

  Ah, this was going to be a very long evening.

  “I... heard... you... the... first... time,” she replied, leaning ever closer so that their noses almost touched as she imitated his manner of speech. “I... just... hadn’t... expected... the... offer.”

  He chuckled lightly.

  Their breaths mingled.

  His was nice, as inviting as a soft May breeze.

  Her skin grew hot and inexplicably began to tingle. Not fair. Not fair!