Bargaining With a Rake (A Whisper of Scandal Novel) (20 page)

As much as that man was a rake, he
was good. She was sure he was playing at being something else to hide deep
wounds, and the thought that some woman would someday come along and help him
accept who he really was made Gillian jealous. She squeezed her eyes
determinedly shut and forced his face away. He was not her future. She had no
right to be jealous. Tomorrow was a new day, and she would concentrate all her
efforts and attention on Mr. Sutherland.

“What do you mean he’s gone?” Gillian
demanded of her aunt.

Auntie set down her needlework and
pinned Gillian with a look that could only be interpreted as exasperated.
“Gone. As in not here. I determined your sister needed a new dress for the ball
tomorrow night, and you know perfectly well the only one who can create
something sensational in such a short time here in the country is Madame
Beaupont.”

“Auntie,” Gillian growled, not caring
that Alex was sitting on the couch. He wasn’t paying much heed to her anyway. A
scowl marred his face, and he was staring, it appeared rather incomprehensively,
at a paper in his lap. “I don’t see what Whitney getting a dress has to do with
Mr. Sutherland.”

“She couldn’t very well go into town
without a chaperone,” Auntie said with a roll of her eyes.

“And you consider Mr. Sutherland a
proper chaperone for an unwed girl?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, dear. He’s
driving them.”

Gillian pressed her fingertips to her
aching temples―that was what having no sleep would do to a woman. She
took a deep, calming breath. “Auntie, please explain―
slowly
.”

Her aunt paused with her needle in
mid-air. “The Duke and Duchess of Primwitty finally arrived this morning. The
duchess insisted she needed a new bonnet for walking around out of doors. Their
driver was indisposed, and you certainly cannot expect me to allow the Duke of
Primwitty to drive himself around. I may not be conventional, but I do try to
retain some social graces.”

Gillian flopped into a chair,
exhausted from trying to obtain a reasonable explanation from her aunt. Her
aunt was speaking in confusing circles on purpose. “What about your coachman?”

“The poor fellow is indisposed.”

Gillian snorted. No doubt his illness
had more to do with her aunt telling him to feign sickness than anything else.
“So you’re telling me Whitney has gone into town with Sally and the duke as her
chaperone and Mr. Sutherland as her driver?”

“My, your thoughts are elsewhere
today, dearest.” Auntie glanced meaningfully at Alex. Gillian had the urge to
kick and scream like a child would, except it would do her no good. “I would
never ask the duchess to assume the role of chaperone. Social graces,
remember?”

“I remember,” Gillian said wearily.

“My lady’s maid has gone along as the
chaperone, which worked out perfectly because poor Lauren had not been able to
see her mother in ages, and now she can.”

Gillian was almost afraid to ask, but
she had to know. “Whatever do you mean?”

“The duke and duchess graciously
agreed to allow Lauren to stop at her mother’s house in the village for a
visit. They should all be back by nightfall.”

“Nightfall,” Gillian repeated,
seething. Her aunt had effectively managed to keep Mr. Sutherland away from her
for the entire day, and there were only three more days left until the house
party was over. She didn’t bother to remind Auntie that she had promised not to
interfere, because of course she had promised no such thing. The woman was too
clever. Gillian would have to think of a way to outwit her aunt for the next
two days, and as much as she did not want to risk spending any more time alone
with Alex, she needed his help.

She glanced at him, surprised to find
his blue eyes assessing her. A small smile pulled at his lips. “It’s not all
bad.”

“How?” she snapped.

“Now you can spend the day hiding
from your betrothed.”

Gillian groaned. In her haste to
arrive here this morning and see Mr. Sutherland, she had not spared one thought
for Lord Westonburt.

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.