Bargaining With a Rake (A Whisper of Scandal Novel) (30 page)

A gasp filled the
room, followed by a snicker. Gillian would know that laugh anywhere. “Put me
down,” she demanded in Alex’s ear. He slid her body down the length of his, and
as he did so, she tugged the left shoulder of her dress back in place before
swinging around to face Whitney.

Her sister stood with her hands on
her hips and a smirk on her face. “I don’t know what I expected to find the two
of you doing, but I must say, that acrobatic move I just witnessed surpassed my
wildest expectations.”

Alex crossed to the foot of the bed
and retrieved his shirt. “I do pride myself in my unique abilities to boggle a
woman’s mind, so I thank you.”

“What are you doing here, Whit?” Gillian
tried to force herself to concentrate on her sister’s face and not the way
Alex’s muscles rippled as he maneuvered into his clothing.

“I came to fetch you before Father
sets out to find you.”

“Father?”

“Yes. You know, the man whose house
you live in?” Whitney crossed the room to Gillian and started tugging a hand
through her hair. Gillian swatted her away. “What are you doing?”

“Making you presentable.” Whitney jerked
on Gillian’s bodice and then pulled on the folds of her dress. “Father’s about
to go stark raving mad, and your fiancé is there as well. He’s come for the
wedding, which is to be tomorrow, since apparently your betrothed cannot wait
to make you his.”

“The hell he will,” Alex growled from
the bed as he put on one of his boots. “I’ll kill him first.” Alex shoved his
other foot in the boot and stood up with a ferocious glare on his face.

Already Gillian could feel her peace
slipping away. She pressed her fingertips to her forehead in an effort to think.
“Does Father know where I am?”

“No. I knew because I saw your
carriage several hours ago when I rode past with the Primwittys.”

“Sally and His Grace know I was in
this cabin with Alex?” Gillian groaned.

Whitney raised her eyebrows, her
smirk deepening until both her dimples pierced her cheeks. “Well, none of us knew
for sure, but we all suspected when we saw your carriage and Alex’s horse tied
to the tree beside it. Auntie said you probably sought shelter from the rain in
the cabin.”

“You mean Auntie knows as well?”
Gillian cried.

“Mm-hmm. She’s the one that insisted
we just drive right past and leave the two of you alone to figure each other
out. The plan was to come fetch you after Father was to bed. Auntie told Father
you were at her house visiting with Trent, but Father wouldn’t be deterred. He
said you had to come home straight away and was having his horse readied when I
left. I don’t know what the major ruckus is about, but from the bits and pieces
I heard outside Father’s door, Lord Westonburt is very angry.”

Gillian squared her shoulders. “Time
to face Father.”

Whitney clutched Gillian’s hand.
“What are you going to do?”

Alex was across the room and beside
Gillian before she could answer. “She’s going to marry me.”

“Thank God,” Whitney said. “But how
will you convince Father to give you his permission?”

“She’s going to tell your father what
Westonburt did to my sister.”

“I am?” Gillian locked gazes with
him. She could hardly believe he was willing to sacrifice his sister’s name for
her. “Are you sure? What about your sister’s reputation?”

“My sister would want this,” Alex
said, putting his arm around Gillian’s waist and pulling her close. He pressed
his lips close to her ear. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” she whispered back.

“Father can’t help but agree when he
sees the two of you,” Whitney exclaimed.

Gillian shook her head. “Not the two
of us. That might enrage Father to think I defied him and then brought Alex to
rub my defiance in his face.” She took a deep breath and turned to face Alex.
She knew he was going to disagree, but she also knew her father. “I have to go
alone.”

“Not a chance,” he said flatly.

“Please.” She pressed a hand to his
chest. “You have to trust me. My father will be unreasonable enough. Your
presence will make it worse.”

“Trust you, huh?”

She nodded. She knew how hard this
was for him. He had not trusted anyone in so long, and here she was asking him
to trust in her right after they had just settled matters between them. She had
not exactly given him much time to get used to putting faith in her. Then
again, she had no choice.

“I trust you,” he said. “But that
doesn’t mean I like you facing Westonburt alone,” Alex growled.

“I won’t be alone.”

“I won’t leave her,” Whitney
interjected.

Gillian did not comment on Whitney’s
statement. Instead, she wrapped her arms around Alex. “I’ll talk to Father,
break my engagement with Westonburt, and when I have done everything I can to
smooth things over, I’ll send Whitney to retrieve you.”

“Two hours. Not a second more,” Alex
grumbled, crushing Gillian to his chest and putting his mouth to her ear. “I
mean it. If your sister is not back here in two hours, you can expect me to come
crashing through your door.”

Gillian didn’t doubt his words. She
stood on tiptoe and brushed her lips to his. “Don’t worry. Everything will be
fine.” As fine as it could be, considering what she was about to do and say.

In tense silence, Gillian drove the
carriage Whitney had brought to retrieve her. When they neared the house,
Gillian saw that Sally and Peter were getting into their coach. Thank goodness.
The fewer people she had to worry about the better.

“Sally and Peter are leaving,”
Whitney cried.

“That’s probably best.” Gillian smiled
reassuringly at her sister. “I’d hate for them to hear Father if he gets too angry
when I break off my engagement.”

“I suppose,” Whitney replied,
fidgeting in her seat. “At least Auntie is there, and I’ll be there too. We
won’t leave your side. Don’t worry.”

Gillian was worried, but not about
Auntie or Whitney staying with her. She had to think of a way to get them to
leave the house. She needed to speak freely to Father and let him know that Alex
knew about the past and was more than willing to stand behind Whitney, even if
whoever was threatening them spilled the truth. Gillian pulled back on the reins
of the horses to slow their speed.

“Whit, I want you to go home with
Auntie.”

“Why?”

“I don’t want Father to blame Auntie
for any of this, and he will if she’s there.”

“I suppose you’re right, but I don’t
think I should leave you alone.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Gillian said,
trying to infuse a calming, cheerful note into her quavering voice. “It’s not
as if Father would beat me.”

Whitney raised an eyebrow.

“He has never beaten us,” Gillian
admonished.

“Not yet. But Lord Westonburt does
not seem the type of man to mind hitting a woman. What if they try to force you
to marry him today?”

“Then I’ll leave the house. I’ll be
twenty-one in one month. After that Father will have no control over me, and I’ll
marry Alex.”

“You’d be ruined!”

“I hardly think Alex cares about my
reputation.”

Whitney sighed. “I wish there was
someone who loved me so fiercely that nothing and no one in the world could
make them relinquish me.”

“I love you that way already.” Gillian
reached beside her and grabbed her sister’s hand.

“Thank you, but I was speaking of a
man. Anyway, you cannot love two people so much that you would never abandon
either of them.”

“I can and I do,” Gillian replied as
their carriage passed the Primwittys’ departing one. Gillian waved in response
to Sally’s grin. She had no doubt Sally would want all the details later.

Before the door to the house was
closed behind her, her father appeared in the hallway, lines of anger pulling
at his mouth. “Gillian, I want to see you in my study,” he snapped, causing her
heart to skip a beat.

“Of course.” She curtsied
respectfully. The moment her father’s back was turned she gripped Whitney’s
arm. “Take Auntie and go.”

Whitney nodded and fled up the stairs
to retrieve their aunt. Gillian took several deep breaths to calm her rolling
stomach, then started toward her father’s study. Behind her, she could hear
Whitney talking to her aunt, the door to the house being opened by the footman,
and then silence filling the air. She sighed in relief. At least she need not
worry about her aunt and her sister now. That left Father and Westonburt. She
prayed she would face them one at a time.

As she entered her father’s study,
she cursed inwardly. In the corner, in her father’s favorite overstuffed chair,
sat Lord Westonburt with a drink in his hand and a cigar in his mouth. A fire
roared in the grate, sending a sliver of smoke curling through the air and
casting an oppressive heat over the room.

Choosing to ignore Lord Westonburt’s
presence, she faced her father. “May I speak to you in private?”

“No,” he clipped and waved a hand to
a chintz chair.

Left with little choice, she strode toward
the chair and sat back against the uncomfortable cushion. Sweat trickled down
her back from the heat of the room, as well as her nerves. Her father poured
himself a drink, swirling the liquid in the glass as if the situation were not at
all odd. The ice clanked in the silence until the grating noise drove Gillian
to her feet. Tension coiled through her as she glanced between the two men. Whom
should she face first? Lord Westonburt was the obvious choice, since she wanted
him long gone before she talked to Father.

He rose as if sensing her thoughts,
which bothered her. She backed away from him, but he stepped forward and in two
long strides closed the distance between them. His fingers curled around her
arms, pinching her skin. His face came inches from hers. “You have been a diligent
little debutante lately.”

She forced her fingernails under his
fingers and pried his hand away. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Let me enlighten you, sweeting.” He
hauled her to the settee where he dragged her down to sit beside him. “It’s
come to my attention that you’ve been dallying with two other men. I hear the
poor American fell into your web, and you ate him up and cast him aside like a
spider getting rid of unwanted food.”

Her stomach turned at his description,
and her breathing, despite her best efforts, increased. Lord Westonburt’s gaze
lingered on the rise and fall of her chest. His lips curved into a smile. “Lionhurst
only wants you because you’re mine.”

“That’s not true,” she retorted.
Maybe it had been true in the beginning, but it was not now. Alex loved her.

“Did he tell you he loved you? Pour
his heart out to you?”

She did not say a word, but heat
flooded her cheeks.

Lord Westonburt smirked at her.
“Silly fool. He’s a rake. How many women do you think have fallen for the same
act?”

“You’re lying,” she insisted, though
doubt crept in. Was he still there waiting in the cabin? Did he really love
her? She gritted her teeth. He did love her. She knew he did.

“I see you doubt me. Shall I tell you
what he said to me at the ball?”

Her heat banged in her ears. “No.
You’ll just spew lies.” She wrenched her arm free of him, stood and faced her
father. “I’ll not marry Lord Westonburt, and nothing you can do or say will
change my mind.”

Her father slammed his glass onto the
table sloshing liquor over the side. “You’ll marry him.”

“I won’t.”

Her father stood, his face mottled
red. “You stupid girl. Westonburt knows about Whitney. If you don’t marry him, he’ll
tell everyone that your sister murdered your mother, and he’ll make sure Whitney’s
life is ruined. Will you do that to your sister? Will you cast her to the
wolves?”

God. It was worse than she had ever
imagined. She stumbled to the settee and sat.

Lord Westonburt dropped down beside
her, slapping his hand over one of her knees. “Don’t be angry at your father,
sweeting.”

She knocked his hand off her knee. “Do
not touch me,” she spat, sliding away from him. She turned accusing eyes on her
father. “How could he possibly know about Whitney?”

“Sweeting, I can answer that. My
father was shagging your mother.”

Gillian jerked away from Lord
Westonburt. She was going to be sick. She breathed deeply and swallowed until
she felt under control.

The sadness in her father’s eyes left
little doubt to the truth of Lord Westonburt’s claim. “The man you saw with
your mother was Lord Westonburt’s father.”

“Why did you never tell me?”

“I can answer that, sweeting. He
hates you. You’re not even his daughter.”

“I’m going to be sick,” she mumbled,
snatching Lord Westonburt’s drink out of his hands. She threw back the contents
of the glass, the caramel liquor burning a fiery path down her throat and
igniting a flame inside her belly. “Is it true?” She met her father’s eyes.

“It’s true. But I don’t hate you.”
Her father cast a glare at Lord Westonburt. “I did. For years. Your mother told
me the day she died you were not mine. I’d always suspected, but to hear her
say it…” He shuddered.

Gillian clutched at her dress. “If
you’re not my father, then who is?” Her eyes trailed to Lord Westonburt, who
was smirking at her. “You don’t mean…? That is to say, we―” she motioned
a hand between herself and Lord Westonburt.

“Rest easy, sweeting. You’re not
related to me. Your dear old dad is dead. Been dead for years, according to my
dying father’s confession. Your mother shagged her father’s coachman. The poor
sap ended up dead in a carriage accident. She married your father out of
need
,
not love.”

Gillian’s heart wrenched at Lord
Westonburt’s words and the way her father flinched. The truth explained so much,
though. The way Father had always treated her coldly. The way he had done
everything in his power to protect Whitney.

“I’m sorry,” her father said.

She shook her head. She didn’t blame
him. How could she? He’d been duped into marriage, then cuckolded and left to
care for a child who was not even his. He could have turned her out to the
streets, named her illegitimate, but he’d kept her here and done the best he
could. She owed him, and she owed Whitney.

“Now you know almost everything,
sweeting.” Lord Westonburt smiled then as if it were all a game, as if ruining
her life gave him pleasure, which it likely did.

She glared at him until his smile
faltered. “What else can there possibly be?”

“Don’t you want to know how I know
about your sweet little sister pushing your wanton mother to her death?”

Gillian nodded wearily.

“Seems my mother had a suspicion my
father was shagging another woman. She followed him the night your mother died.
Mum saw everything and used it to her advantage.”

“How could she possibly have used
that night to her advantage?”

“My father was a weak man, God rest
his pathetic soul. He told Mummy dearest everything, right down to the gritty
details of your illegitimacy. Mum may be a black-hearted wench, but she’s a
rather smart woman. She used her newly acquired information to blackmail your
father.”

“Blackmail?” Gillian glanced at her
father.

He nodded. “She threatened to tell
the
ton
you were illegitimate and that Whitney was a murderer. So I
bought her silence.”

“For how long?” Gillian whispered,
her head reeling from the truth.

“Since the year your mother died.”

“You protected me?” She swallowed
away a lump of emotion. She had told herself it didn’t matter if he didn’t love
her, but it did. Knowing he had protected her mattered a great deal.

“Of course. As best I could. Until
she demanded I betroth you to him.” Her father jerked his thumb at Lord
Westonburt.

Lord Westonburt smiled. “I suppose
this is where I come back in. Father confessed everything on his deathbed to me.
Naturally, I took up the reins of blackmail as is my duty and right. So you
have a choice, my lady. You can marry me or I’ll destroy you and your sister.”

“I don’t give a damn about myself,”
she snapped.

Lord Westonburt’s eyebrows rose.
“Such nasty language from such a lovely lady. You may not care about your own
reputation, but can you say the same for you sister?”

He had her. He knew he did. She hated
him. Her fingers twitched with the desire to claw out his beady eyes. But she
could not do that. What she had to do was worse than maiming. Worse than
murder. She would rather be dead. But she was not.

She was going to have to betray Alex
to save her sister.