Reforming a Rake (3 page)

“When can you begin?”

“I—Begin?”

Kilcairn tilted her chin up with his fingertips. “I told you, I know all I need to know.”

For a bare moment, Alexandra thought he meant to kiss her. She looked directly into his eyes; she had to, with him standing so close and touching her like that. “I’m staying with a friend in Derbyshire.”

He nodded, running the backs of his fingers softly down her throat as he released her. “I’ll have my coach sent around front for you. Will two footmen be enough to transport your things?”

“Two…” Alexandra closed her mouth. This was going far too fast, like a whirlwind in a storm. But for whatever reason, she didn’t want it to sweep by her. “Two will be more than enough.”

“Good.” The earl reached down and took her hand, bringing it slowly to his lips. She could feel the warmth of his touch even through the thin barrier of her gloves. “I’ll see you this evening, then.”

“My lord, I think it’s only fair that I tell you I will tutor your cousin to the best of my ability,” she said stoutly, trying to ignore the knowing smile and the light
in the gray eyes watching her so closely. “Nothing more.”

He brushed his lips against her knuckles again. “I wouldn’t wager on that, Miss Gallant.”

Lady Victoria Fontaine pushed the lace curtains to one side and looked down at the drive. “You mean to say that is
Lucien Balfour’s
coach?”

Alexandra nodded and continued folding items into a trunk.

“The Earl of Kilcairn Abbey.”

“Yes.”

“But…”

“But what, Vixen?”

Alexandra’s hostess glanced at the coach again, then released the curtains. “Well, I was just going to say that for someone so determined to stay clear of scandal,” she continued, beginning to laugh, “you’re certainly doing a poor job of it.”

“I realize that.” Never would she be able to explain why, in God’s name, she had accepted the post. Nor why she was in such a hurry to pack her things and return to Balfour House. A heat, a fever almost, ran just under her skin and urged her to begin her employment before one could change one’s mind. Whether that one was Lord Kilcairn or herself, she didn’t know. “I’m glad you find it so amusing, Victoria.”

In truth, under different circumstances she would probably have found it amusing herself. She’d met men as arrogant and self-assured as Kilcairn before. She knew men who assumed they were going to get their way by virtue of being, who mowed down everyone and everything in their path without realizing or caring whom they might be humiliating—and they annoyed her
in the extreme. Yet now, after a fifteen-minute interview with a prime example of their kind, nervous, jittery anticipation to return for more made her clumsy and restless and shivery.

But it certainly wasn’t anticipation of his promised kisses.
Naked
kisses, for heaven’s sake. What nonsense!

Upon her return to Balfour House she would reiterate that tutoring his niece and serving as companion to his aunt was
all
she intended on doing, and that if he had something more nefarious in mind, he’d best forget it at once. That would settle her—to make absolutely certain he knew the rules and meant to abide by them. If he didn’t, she would simply decline the position and leave.

That, however, didn’t explain why she was bothering to pack.

“I don’t find it amusing. Really.” Victoria leaned down to scratch Shakespeare behind the ears. “Just stay here, Lex. It’s much safer.”

“I’ve stretched your parents’ kindness to the limits, Vixen. I can’t impose on them any longer.”

“It’s not an imposition,” Vixen insisted, plunking herself down on the bed. “They
like
you.”

“They used to,” Alexandra amended without bitterness. “Now I’m a difficulty and an embarrassment, and no doubt a poor influence on you. You’ll be heading for London in a few weeks, and they certainly won’t want someone of my reputation hanging about you then.”

Victoria smiled. “I am perfectly capable of causing trouble without your influence. But as for—”

“But nothing.” Alexandra closed the trunk and hurried over to toss her toilette items into a hatbox. “I will make my own way, Vixen. I don’t have the luxury of fortune and family that you do, and I can’t just sit about being idle and wait for someone to rescue me.”

“But Lord Kilcairn?”

She’d been trying to avoid that point, though he seemed to have become lodged in her thoughts the instant she’d set eyes on him. And it wasn’t simply because he was the most beautiful, compelling, masculine being she’d ever seen. “He’s the only one who’s even
offered
employment in the past six months.”

“You’re exaggerating.”

Alexandra wished she possessed Victoria Fontaine’s self-confident bravado. “I am not. Everyone thinks I’m a husband-stealing strumpet. And at least half of those who think I dallied with Lord Welkins think I killed him, as well.”

“Lex,” Vixen protested. “Don’t even say that!”

“You know it’s true. Even if they don’t blame me for his death, they certainly delight in talking about it.”

“I hope you realize your new employment certainly won’t stop anyone from talking about you.”

Alexandra opened the bedchamber door and motioned to Lord Kilcairn’s two liveried footmen, standing practically at attention in the hallway. With polite, blank-faced nods they hefted her trunk and carried it downstairs. Nothing remained besides her hatbox and a small valise of odds and ends. She sighed as she snapped the valise closed. That was everything she owned. “Odds and ends” seemed a fair description of her life these days.

“Lex, I know you heard me.” Victoria gazed at her, violet eyes concerned. “Does Kilcairn have any idea about your last position?”

“Yes, he does. He didn’t seem bothered in the least.”

“Well, I suppose he wouldn’t be. His own reputation is far worse than yours. He probably
likes
the rumors.”

Alexandra forced a smile, trying to push away another
rush of nervousness. “Perhaps that makes me lucky. He seems determined that his cousin marry well; if she does him credit, she’ll do me credit, as well.”

Victoria stood, her expression still skeptical. “At least keep your bedchamber door locked at night.”

Somehow she didn’t think a locked door would stop Lucien Balfour if he was intent on entering a room. Her pulse jumped at the thought, and she scowled.
What was wrong with her?
“I shall.”

“And if something isn’t to your liking, please say you’ll come back here right away. You don’t have to be independent all the time.”

“I promise, Vixen. Really. Don’t worry.”

Impulsively Victoria flung her arms around Alexandra and hugged her. With a belated smile, Lex returned the embrace.

“I’ll see you soon,” she said, gathering her hatbox and her dog and turning for the door.

“Be careful.”

Alexandra marched into Balfour House behind the footmen, her speech practiced and ready on her lips. Just inside the foyer, though, she slowed and stopped. Except for the butler and a housemaid, the hallway stood empty.

“Where is Lord Kilcairn?” she asked, even as she realized how ridiculous the question sounded. The lord of the manor did not appear to welcome every employee. Still, the earl had given a forceful impression that he took a personal interest in hiring her, and part of her was disappointed that he wasn’t there awaiting her arrival.

“Lord Kilcairn has gone out for the evening,” the butler said in the same toneless voice he’d used that morning. He gestured her toward the stairs, where the laden
footmen had already reached the landing. “This way, Miss Gallant.”

“Are…” She realized she didn’t know the names of her charges, except that Kilcairn’s cousin was Rose. A governess couldn’t very well inquire after the household’s family by their familiar names—not without even having been introduced. And neither did she wish to begin her acquaintance with Kilcairn’s staff by admitting to complete ignorance.

“Is there something else, Miss Gallant?”

Alexandra cleared her throat. “No. Thank you.”

Scowling, she lifted Shakespeare and trailed the footmen and her trunk upstairs. The whole situation was so odd. Since she’d left Miss Grenville’s Academy, she’d been careful about the positions she took—pleasant households with well-behaved children or kind, elderly women in genuine need of a companion. Taking the post offered by Lady Welkins and her awful husband had been her first real mistake. Working for Lord Kilcairn might be another.

“This is your bedchamber, Miss Gallant,” the butler said from behind her. “Mrs. Delacroix has taken the green room in the corner, and Miss Delacroix is in the blue room adjoining yours. Lord Kilcairn’s quarters are at the other end of the hallway.”

The footmen emerged from her room and, bowing, returned downstairs. Alexandra nodded at her guide, grateful he’d supplied her with the names of her charges. “Thank you. Are Mrs. Delacroix and Miss Delacroix in this evening?”

“You are to be introduced to them in the morning, Miss Gallant. Dinner will be served in your bedchamber, and breakfast is set downstairs promptly at eight. I am Wimbole, should you require anything further.”

“Thank you, Wimbole.”

The butler gave a stiff nod and turned on his heel. Alexandra watched him disappear down the stairs, back into the bowels of the huge house. Squaring her shoulders, she entered her bedchamber.

“My goodness.”

The room was splendid. All of her previous postings had been in affluent households, but nothing she’d seen before could rival this. The bedchamber was larger than some sitting rooms she’d seen, and no doubt Lord Kilcairn’s private rooms were even larger.

Though Wimbole hadn’t named her quarters, she felt certain the butler had shown her into the gold room. No other name fit. The bed’s canopy drapings were gold, as was the heavy, elegant coverlet. The curtains hung green and gold in the three windows, while the two sitting chairs placed before the roaring fire were a darker bronze with gold thread running through the intricate, Oriental pattern.

Shakespeare sat on her foot to get her attention, and with a start Alexandra knelt to remove his leash. The terrier bounded off to wander every nook and cranny of his latest home, tail wagging at each newly discovered scent.

While her dog pranced about and growled happily to himself, Alexandra unfastened the trunk and began unpacking. Coming into a situation blind was not the way she worked. She had
never
accepted a position without first meeting her charges. In the morning she fully intended to lay out her conditions for accepting employment in Kilcairn’s household. If he didn’t like any of them, or if she didn’t like the Delacroix ladies, she would…

Her hands slowed as she set out her toilette items. If
she left this post, it would probably be another six months before she could find another household willing to hire her. Resolutely she went back to her task. That, she would worry about tomorrow.

Tomorrow arrived earlier than she expected. When Alexandra first opened her eyes into complete darkness, she couldn’t decide what had awakened her, much less where she was. Then Shakespeare
wumphed
, and blinking sleepily, she remembered both.

Fumbling for the candle on the bed stand, she sat up. As dim golden light flickered in the room, Alexandra spied her dog by the door, looking from her to the exit and wagging his tail pitifully.

“Oh, goodness, Shakes,” she whispered, swinging her feet out from the warm bed and onto the cold floor. “I’m so sorry. Just a moment.”

She couldn’t recall where she’d put her slippers, if she’d even brought them. But her dressing robe lay across the foot of the bed, looking shabby against the magnificence of the quilted golden coverlet.

“Get your leash,” she instructed, shrugging into the robe.

The terrier dashed to the dressing-table chair, leaped onto it, and reared onto the table to pull the coiled leash down. That done, he dragged the braided leather line over to her.

She hooked the leash to his collar, picked up the candle, and hurried to the door. The bolt and the hinges were both thankfully silent. With Shakespeare tugging her forward, they stepped into the silent, moonlit hallway. “Shh,” she reminded him as she padded down the stairs in her bare feet.

As they reached the foyer, the grandfather clock
standing there chimed. Alexandra glanced at it as they passed—fifteen minutes before three. The front door opened easily. A night breeze lifted the hem of her gown and robe, and she suppressed a shiver as cold air traveled up her bare legs. Leading the terrier around the side of the house to the small garden, she said, “Hurry, Shakes. It’s cold.”

“Trying to escape already?”

Alexandra whipped around, a shriek stuck in her throat. Lord Kilcairn stood at the border of the garden, looking at her. “My lord!”

If not for the candlelight, he would have been invisible, for he was clothed in black from his boots to his greatcoat to his beaver hat. The veriest edge of snow-white cravat glinted at her as he shifted. “Good evening, Miss Gallant. Or rather, good morning.”

“My apologies,” she said with a shiver, induced more by his imposing presence than by the cold. “I neglected to take Shakespeare outside before I retired for the evening.”

“You’ll catch your death out here.”

“Oh, no. It’s quite pleasant this evening.”

The earl stepped forward, shedding his caped greatcoat as he approached. “If you die of pneumonia, Miss Gallant, I’ll have to hire someone else for the devil spawn,” he said, lifting the coat and placing it over her shoulders. “And I don’t want to go through that horror again.”

The coat was heavy and warm from the heat of his body, and smelled faintly of cigar smoke and brandy. She abruptly remembered his deep voice talking of hot, slow kisses, and swallowed. “Thank you, my lord.”

“In the future, Miss Gallant, I would prefer that Shakespeare not relieve himself in my garden. And un
der no circumstances are you to go wandering outside in your bare feet and nightclothes.” He paused. “Though I believe a competent teacher of etiquette would know that already, wouldn’t she?”