Bargaining With a Rake (A Whisper of Scandal Novel) (31 page)

Alex pounded against
the door until it swung open. He had expected to have to push past a footman,
possibly Gillian’s father and hopefully Westonburt. Instead, Alex reached
toward Gillian.

She flinched backward. Ice filled his
veins. “What’s wrong?”

“You shouldn’t have come.”

Westonburt appeared behind her. “It’s
pathetic of you to chase my fiancée.”

“Your fiancée?” Alex didn’t care for
those words or what they implied.

“But of course,” Westonburt replied. “Did
you expect something different? Tomorrow she’ll be my wife. Perhaps you thought
we’d already married?”

He had no idea why Gillian had not
broken the engagement yet, but he would sure as hell do it for her. “She’s not
going to marry you.”

“Are you calling me a liar?” Westonburt
demanded, coming face-to-face with Alex.

“Gillian, tell him.”

“Alex.” She stepped toward him, then
stopped. Tears streamed down her face. “He knows everything. He’s the
blackmailer, and he’ll destroy my sister.”

Alex would kill Westonburt, but first
he had to calm Gillian. He reached for her, but she shoved against his chest. Fear
curled in his belly. “Gillian, listen to me.”

She shook her head. “I can’t
sacrifice my sister to have you. I’d never be happy knowing what I’d done.” She
pushed him back until he stumbled out of the open door and into the dark night.
“Forget you ever loved me.”

Before he could protest, the door
closed with a bang and the lock clicked with finality. He stood for a moment,
fuming. He could break a window and get inside, but what good would it do? She
was terrified for her sister and would sacrifice herself to protect Lady
Whitney.

Alex needed a plan, and he needed one
fast. There was no way he could live without her. He jumped on his horse,
unsure where he was going to go. And then an idea came to him. She may end up
hating him for what he was about to do, but he was betting eventually she would
get over it. He prayed he was right.

Alex pounded on Lady Davenport’s door.
When it swung open, he was surprised to see the entrance hall flooded with
light. At such a late hour, he had assumed everyone would be sleeping, and his
appearance would be the thing to wake them. But he distinctly heard several
women speaking, and by the sound of it, they were all trying to talk at the
same time.

“Might I help you, my lord?” The
butler, if Alex was not mistaken, looked amused.

What the hell was going on in there
? “I’m here to see Lady Davenport.”

“Yes, indeed. She has quite the
turnout of company at this late hour. I’m afraid it may be a while.”

Alex shoved past the butler, giving
the man a reassuring pat on the shoulder as he stepped into the receiving hall.
“I’ve got to see her now.”

He strode toward the voices with the
butler on his heels. When he rounded the corner, he came to a stop, dumfounded
for the second time in the space of an hour.

“Peter,” Alex bellowed, “I assume you
have an excellent explanation as to why you’re here with Miss Mills.”

“Don’t be surly with me, Lion.” Peter
glared. “Miss Mills showed up at my home but an hour ago looking for you.”

“For me?” Alex glanced at Caprice. “How
in the world did you end up here in the country and at the Primwittys’ to
boot?”

Breaking away from Peter, Caprice
rushed past Lady Davenport and Whitney to fling herself into Alex’s arms and
hug him fiercely. “I don’t mean ta cause trouble for no one, but I had ta find
ye. It took me two days ta track ye here. You’ve got a right snooty butler. He
didn’t want ta tell me where he thought ye might be.”

Alex glanced at Lady Davenport and
was met with a cold gaze. It was nothing compared to the frigid glare Gillian’s
sister bestowed on him. He set Caprice away from him and faced the women. “I
can explain.”

Lady Davenport cocked her head. “That’s
good to know. I would hate to think I wasted my time scheming to get you and my
niece together only to find you’re a scoundrel.”

He laughed at her admission. “I thank
you for your help.”

Whitney stepped toward him, her hands
on her hips. “Not so fast, Lord Lionhurst. What are you doing here? And where
is my sister?”

He cast a glance at Caprice, then
back to Whitney. “If you’ll give me a moment to speak with Miss Mills, I’ll
explain everything to you shortly.”

Whitney and Lady Davenport nodded
their agreement. Alex faced Caprice. “Why are you here? Is something wrong with
Bess?” He might have ended his arrangement with his former mistress, but he
still cared for her welfare. She was a good woman.

“Nothing’s wrong with her. She’s the
one that set me on the path of where ta find ye. I’m leaving London and this
life.”

The chit had trekked across the
countryside and dragged his best friend into his personal affairs to say
goodbye. Alex wanted to growl with frustration. “Caprice, I don’t have time for
long goodbyes. I’m sorry. God speed to you.”

“No, silly.” Caprice slapped his arm
lightly. “I want ta pay ye back for being so nice ta me.”

Alex rubbed the back of his aching
neck. Women would never make sense to him. “You want to give me money?”

“No, information. Listen ta me, Lord
Lionhurst. I’ve come ta warn ye. Harrison”―Caprice glanced at the ladies
and flushed crimson. “Beg pardon, my ladies. I meant ta say Lord Westonburt. He
came ta visit me. Banged me up, he did.” She pointed to her cut lip and held up
a bandaged hand.

Alex curled his
hands into fists. He should have killed Westonburt when he had the chance. “What
does your visit have to do with Westonburt?”

“If ye’ll remember, I told ye he’s
quite the talker when he’s um, er, ye know?”

“Go on.” Alex nodded.

“As ye wish. Seems Lord Westonburt knows
a secret that he’s using to marry Lady Gillian. He’s blackmailing her father. I
know you’ve a special interest in the lady. Bess let it slip.”

Alex grabbed Caprice’s elbow. “Perhaps
we should retire to another room after all.” If Caprice knew what he thought
she did, he did not want her to be the one to spill the secret to Whitney. That
was what he was here to do. Better him than a perfect stranger.

Before he could take one step with
Caprice, Whitney and Lady Davenport moved in front of him. “Don’t even think of
taking this woman from this room,” Whitney commanded, surprising him with the
strength of her voice. “Miss Mills, why was Lord Westonburt blackmailing the
Duke of Kingsley?”

“’Cause he knew that the duke didn’t
kill his wife. The daughter did, and the duke paid dearly ta keep his secret
and protect his daughter.”

“Do you mean to say that Lady Gillian
killed her mother?” Gillian’s aunt demanded.

“Gawds, no.” Caprice turned to Alex
and patted his arm. “Don’t worry. ’Twasn’t her. I mean ta say the other one did.
What’s her name?”

“Whitney?” Whitney whispered through
bloodless lips.

“Yep.” Caprice snapped her fingers
and pointed one at Whitney. “That’s her. Pushed her, she did. Right into the
river and the woman drowned.”

Early the next morning, Gillian
dressed carefully in black for her wedding. Her clothing fit her mood. With a
glance in the looking glass, she grabbed her brush off her dresser.

Her maid frowned at her. “Will you
not even let me dress your hair?”

“No,” Gillian replied, gleaning a
certain pleasure from the ghastly picture she presented. She patted her hair,
smiling at the severe chignon. She turned to Clara and held up the folds of the
silk dress. “How do I look?”

“Like you’re in mourning.”

“Perfect.” Gillian nodded with satisfaction.

“What are you mourning on your
wedding day, my lady?”

Walking to her bed, Gillian picked up
the gown that she had worn yesterday. Clara had tried to take it earlier to
wash it, but Gillian had refused to let her. She pressed the gown to her nose,
inhaling the scent lingering on the fabric. She could still smell Alex on the
material. She would never forget their day or what they had shared. Setting
down the dress, she met Clara’s inquiring gaze.

“My wedding.”

Her maid raised her eyebrows. “Wedding
nerves.” She nodded as if nerves explained everything.

Gillian sighed. “Go on, Clara. Come
to fetch me when the vicar is here or my aunt and sister arrive.”

Before Clara could bob a proper
curtsy, a knock resounded on Gillian’s door. “My lady,” the butler called. “I
think perhaps you’re needed downstairs now.”

So soon? Her stomach clenched in
fear. She wanted to run away, find Alex and beg him to forgive her. Instead,
she stuck her feet in her slippers, clutched Clara for support and made her way
down the hall to the stairs. She could not abandon Whitney or her father.

Midway down the stairs, Auntie’s agitated
voice reached her ears. Gillian hurried her step toward the library, her brow
furrowing at the jumble of raised voices coming from within. What could
possibly be going wrong now? She burst through the door and stopped, stunned by
the scene before her.

In the far corner, Father and Whitney
huddled with their heads together. Father patted Whitney, who spoke between hiccupping
sobs. And on the other side of the room, a bald giant of a man struggled to
subdue Lord Westonburt, who twisted until Gillian thought his arm might tear
from the socket. Alex―Alex was here? She blinked, but he was indeed still
here and yanking Lord Westonburt’s other arm back behind his back.

“What’s happening?” Gillian cried
out, afraid to hope, but the possibility was there.

“I’ll be back,” Lord Westonburt
growled, gazing wildly at her. “They can’t keep me forever. You can’t prove I
ravaged that bar wench.”

Gillian gasped and looked at Alex. He
pointed to the Duke of Primwitty. “He saw the whole thing. Didn’t you,
Primwitty?”

The duke nodded. “Certainly. But the
woman fled when I struggled with you. Didn’t see her again until last night when
I talked her into pressing charges.”

“You filthy liar,” Lord Westonburt
roared.

He was right on one account. They
were lying. The duke had no more seen Lord Westonburt ravish the woman than Gillian
had. But there was nothing filthy about the men. They were quite impeccably
dressed and ravishing. She smiled with the beauty of fate.

Lord Westonburt lunged for her, but
his captor jerked him back. “You’re my fiancée, do you hear me?
Mine
. If
you forsake me, I’ll ruin your sister. I swear I will.”

Alex’s fist flew through the air.
Lord Westonburt howled with pain as he grabbed at his nose. Blood seeped from
between his fingers. “Take him, Constable Stevenson,” Alex demanded. “The Duke
of Primwitty will accompany you, and Kingsley and I will be down later to verify
the whole story.”

“Gillian,” Lord Westonburt cried as
the constable dragged him toward the door.

She met his gaze and prayed he could
see just how much she detested him. “I told you I wouldn’t marry you.”

He gripped the side of the door as
the men tried to tug him from the room. “I need you, Gillian. You can’t forsake
me. Without you, I’ll never belong. I’ll never be someone.”

“But you are someone,” Whitney said,
stomping past her. Gillian watched in stunned disbelief as her sister marched
up to the man who was the greatest threat to her future happiness. “You’re a
cruel devil and a black-hearted scoundrel. That’s why you’ll never belong. May
you rot in hell.” Whitney reached out just as Lord Westonburt’s fingers popped
away from the door ledge and slammed it in his face.

Shaking with relief and concern, Gillian
rushed to her sister’s side. “Whit, you don’t know what you’ve just done.”

“I know
everything
.” Whitney crushed
Gillian to her. “Miss. Mills told me about Mother.”

Gillian pulled back
with a frown. “Who is Miss Mills?”

“It doesn’t matter.”
Whitney waved a hand in Alex’s direction. “He’ll explain everything to you
later.”

Gillian swept her
gaze around the room until she found Alex. Walking towards her, he shrugged, a
seductive smile pulling at his lips. “It’s complicated, my love. But remember,
you trust me completely as you asked me to trust you.”

“Oh, Alex.” She
threw herself into his arms. “I’m sorry.”

“Shh.” He brought
her hand to his lips. “I understand. But I must say you’re lucky.”

“Am I?”

He nodded. “I’ve
never been good at following dictates.”

“Thank God,” she
replied and pressed her head to his shoulder.

His lips came to her
ear. “You can make it up to me later. I’ll think of something.”

“I’ve no doubt you
will,” she whispered in his ear.

A throat cleared
beside her, and Gillian released Alex and met her sister’s eyes. “I’m so sorry
you and Father felt you had to hide the truth from me all these years. Do you
hate me?”

“Hate you?” Gillian hugged her sister
fiercely. “I love you.”

Whitney drew away and looked down at
her hands. “But I pushed her. Funny, I still don’t remember a thing. I killed
our mother.”

“No, darling.” Gillian reached for
her sister and petted her head as she’d often done when they were children. “You
ran to help her. You were a child. Don’t blame yourself because if you do then
I’ll have to keep blaming myself for not stopping you when you ran from me. If
I had stopped you, Mother would be alive.”

She glanced at her sister, wanting to
hold her and protect her, but in Whit’s eyes she did not see fear, only sadness.
“You’re not afraid of Lord Westonburt?”

“No. Anyone worth my time won’t hold
such a thing against me. Give me the chance to take care of myself, Gillie. I’m
stronger than you think.”

Dear heavens. Whitney knew everything
and did not seem to be crumbling under the truth. Gillian was free. She was
actually free to think of her own future. She turned back to Alex, wanting to
run to him, but she paused at the sight of her aunt and the vicar standing side
by side.

“Reverend,” she called. “I’m sorry
for your troubles, but there will be no wedding today.” She shivered at the
thought that she might have been married to Lord Westonburt in a few short
minutes.

The vicar nodded. “I’ll be on my way,
then.” He did not get a step before Alex grabbed the man’s arm.

“Reverend, can you be persuaded to
come back to this house in three days to actually perform a wedding this time?”

The vicar’s eyebrows rose into a
bushy arch as he regarded Alex with curiosity. “And who’ll be the happy
couple?”

Gillian dropped her sister’s hand and
reached for Alex. His fingers enclosed her hand, and he squeezed gently. “We
will, Reverend,” Alex said, his words filling her heart with joy and love.