Bargaining With a Rake (A Whisper of Scandal Novel) (21 page)

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 strategy?” 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?”

“Better than anyone I know,” the man
replied with the smuggest smile.

“Care to prove that and play in our
modest game?”

Something shifted in Westonburt’s
eyes, making them darker, challenging. Alex recognized the burn to win at all
cost. He’d seen it in his own face when he was younger and very foolish. Westonburt
finally nodded. “I’d love to.”

Adrenaline pumped through Alex’s
veins as he danced Lady Marion down the long lane to the end. The bait was cast.
The game was on. And he meant to play for the stakes of ruination. Pray God,
not his own.

Toward the end of the dance, Lady Struthford
called for a change of partners, and Alex quickly grabbed Gillian’s hands as
she passed while guiding Lady Marion in Westonburt’s direction. The wolf would
hardly attempt to devour this girl. She was no beauty and possessed a lowly
title. Alex refused to worry about her. He had his own problems. Yet as she
danced away with a smile on her lips, he second guessed his selfishness.

“Developing a tendre?” Gillian
whispered as he bowed to her.

He came up, wrapped an arm around her
waist and twined his other hand with hers. “Hardly. Since you trod on my heart,
I’ve quite given up on females.”

Gillian chuckled as they danced down
the line. “I’d say your low impression of females was formed long before our
encounter.”

Her words were so true that hearing
them felt like he’d been pricked by something sharp. But he wasn’t here to try
to figure out anything about himself. “How goes the seduction? I don’t see your
target anywhere around.”

“Quit calling it a seduction,” she
hissed. “It sounds so sordid put that way.”

What else could he call it? He
frowned. She was trying to capture a marriage proposal from his partner who she
barely knew and certainly did not love. Although she wasn’t after Sutherland’s
money, she was pursuing him based on where he lived. Didn’t that make the whole
affair sordid? One he couldn’t quibble over since he was helping to lead the
lamb to the sacrificial altar.
Deuced honor
. It kept rearing its ugly
head tonight.

He squeezed Gillian’s hand. “How’s
the merry chase going, then?”

She rolled her eyes heavenward. “You
are incorrigible. It’s a courtship.”

“A what?” He gaped. Now he had heard it
all. A woman courting a man? An interesting concept and one, he realized with
surprise, he would not mind having tried on him. Not that he wanted a wife. Besides,
he could not think of a single lady he would wish to court him. Now, seduce
him… He glanced away from Gillian and forced his mind back to the task at hand.

“Call it what you like,” he said,
hearing the growl in his own voice as he danced her back down the line. “Just
as long as it is a success. And judging by the fact that I do not see Sutherland
anywhere around…”

She raised one beautiful black
eyebrow. “But you underestimate me. Here comes my future husband.”

Alex looked toward the direction she
indicated. Sure enough, Sutherland strolled their way. Gillian tapped Alex’s
shoulder, drawing his gaze back to her, and nodded at the approaching figure. “If
you really mean to help me, now is the perfect time.”

He stood rooted to his spot, absurdly
jealous that Sutherland would be dancing with Gillian while Alex sat in a smoky
room full of men in their cups telling bawdy jokes. Funny, but he usually loved
just that sort of thing.

“Don’t you have a card game planned?”
she offered.

“I’ll take over from here, Lionhurst,”
Sutherland said, winking at Gillian while clapping Alex on the back.

As Westonburt ambled toward them,
Alex sprang into action. He clasped the man around the neck. “Let’s go, old boy.
I’m dying to see just how good you are.”

Westonburt hesitated, indecision
flickering in his cold eyes. It was obvious that the man sensed he should stay
and protect what was his, but Alex would bet his life that Westonburt’s desire
to climb the social ladder would win over good sense.

“They’re waiting for us,” Alex said, pointing
to Peter and his friend Dansby. “Are you in or not?”

“I’m in.”

Without a reply, Alex walked away
from Gillian, though her tinkling laughter followed him, teasing him with what
would never be his.

* * * * *

The five men settled into their seats
as a servant scurried toward their table with a silver tray containing liquor, their
deck of cards and chips. Lady Davenport’s husband might have been dead, but
Gillian’s aunt had obviously not forgotten what men wanted from a ball—a place
to gamble and good liquor to drink. Apparently, this was exactly what her aunt
wanted too.

She sat several tables over, holding
court among eight other matrons. Lady Davenport shone like a diamond of the
first water among the drab older women surrounding her. Her old cronies dressed
as if they already had one foot in the grave in their dull gowns buttoned up to
their necks with firm scowls on their faces. Not Lady Davenport. She wore
royal-blue silk, which came to a rather daring plunge to expose her charms. The
blue flowers in her hair made Alex smile. Her attire was a blunt, silent
statement that she was not dead nor did she care to be old. Gillian must have
learned how to express herself by mimicking her aunt.

Picking up the cards, Alex ran a
finger over the smooth surface as he surveyed the table of four friends and one
enemy surrounding him. Peter and Cameron knew the stakes were far higher than
blunt, and Dansby would realize something was amiss very quickly as Alex
planned to lose the first hand. He never lost at cards.

“Should we draw for the first
dealer?” Alex spread the cards face down across the table with a fumbling
stroke. One card flipped up, and Alex smiled ruefully. “Sorry. My fingers
aren’t warmed up yet.”

“That’s obvious,” Westonburt said
with a smug smile.

Dansby raised both eyebrows at Alex
but said nothing.

Each man drew a card, then laid it
face up in front of them. Westonburt smiled, then reached for the cards to deal
them. “It seems my luck has already begun.”

Peter fiddled with his card as he
stared at Westonburt. “Seems so. But I’m feeling rather lucky too. Why not make
the minimum bet thirty pounds and the maximum five hundred?”

“Good God, man.” Cameron smacked the
table with a snort. “We are not all dukes with a king’s ransom at our
fingertips.”

“Poor excuse,” Peter replied with a
grin. “If you’re afraid to test your skill against mine, simply say so.”

“I’m not, you bloody peacock,”
Cameron bellowed.

Peter flicked his card toward the
pile Westonburt was gathering to shuffle. “Then you agree to the terms?”

Cameron blanched but nodded.

“If I lose five hundred pounds, I’ll
have pockets to let for the rest of the month,” Dansby said, picking up his
glass. He leaned back in his chair and took a long swig of the drink.

Alex hid his mirth by taking a drink
of his whiskey. Dansby had plenty of money, but not many people knew it. The
man was a friend indeed to play along so beautifully.

After a minute of drumming his
fingers against his glass, Dansby finally nodded. “I’m in, but only if
Lionhurst agrees to loan me some blunt if I end up in dire straits. Quarter Day
is a long way off and a man has to eat. What do you say, Lionhurst? I’ll pay
you back if it comes to that.”

Alex shrugged. “I suppose I can
afford to do that. But if you end up without the money to pay me, I’ll take it
in property.”

“As it should be, my friend, as it
should be,” Dansby replied.

Peter tapped on the table in front of
Alex. “I take it this means you’re still in the game?”

“I suppose I can’t pull out since
this was my idea, though I am now regretting the suggestion,” Alex said.

All the men chuckled at his
comment―all save one. Westonburt stared into his glass with a scowl. The
stakes were high, so high Alex would bet if Westonburt lost enough hands, he
would not have the money to pay into the pot. But then, that was the point. Alex
stared at his foe.

“I’m in,” Westonburt snapped.

“Then by all means, let’s begin,”
Alex replied, pleased that his fish had bitten the bait meant to drag him to
the surface and strip him of the ability to breathe.