by Lauren Smith
When Perdita finally stopped talking, Alex had a chance to breathe a sigh of relief. But when she looked to Ambrose, he wasn’t calm. His shoulders were bunched, and his fists were slightly clenched.
As Perdita led them back to the Darby residence, Alex sidled closer to Ambrose.
“What’s the matter?”
Ambrose’s nostrils flared. “Darlington? Promise you will avoid him, Alex. He makes me look like bloody Prince Charming.”
“I’ve heard he’s dangerous, but I thought it was only to ladies.”
“It’s more than that. He’s killed men in duels, and he’s a dominating man, Alex. Do you understand me?”
Alex blinked. “I’m sure you mean he’s just not very particular in his tastes…”
Ambrose groaned in exasperation. “He’s the sort to tie a lady down and strike her on her arse, Alex. I don’t want you anywhere near him. Promise me.” He caught her arm, pulling her up short just before they entered the Darby gardens.
“As much as I would love to disagree with you, I think that perhaps you are right. I will stay clear of him.”
Ambrose heaved a relieved sigh.
The sight that greeted them in the middle of the gardens was partly comical and partly shocking. A tall man with sun-kissed skin and ice-blond hair stood in the center of the gardens, arms crossed and glaring at the ring of ladies vying for his attentions. The cold gleam in his blue eyes froze Alex’s blood. This was not a man to get crosswise with. His muscled frame and large hands looked positively lethal, just as lethal as the seductive smile he flashed as he caught sight of her and Ambrose.
“Worthing. Good to see you again.” Darlington inclined his head. The group of ladies all swirled about, momentarily distracted.
“Darlington.”
Alex couldn’t ignore the steel beneath Ambrose’s velvet-soft voice.
Darlington waved an imperious hand, and the ladies chittering about him like colorful little birds parted so he could walk to Alex. He bent over her hand, his lips teasing her knuckles, his blond hair an enticing halo of color. When he raised his head, his blue eyes were rich sapphire pools, blazing with an inner fire.
“I’ve heard much about you, Lady Alexandra Rockford.” Darlington released her hand and straightened.
“You have, have you?” Her tone was a little colder than was proper.
Alex had a sneaking suspicion he’d read the betting books as well. She may have been innocent in many ways, but she wasn’t an idiot. Viscount Darlington’s unexpected arrival in the quaint village of Lothbrook wasn’t a coincidence. Whatever Ambrose had mentioned in the books had to do with her. Darlington likely had intentions to make a play for whatever the wager involved. She only feared what that wager would be if it worried a rakehell like Ambrose Worthing.
Chapter 8
“What brings you to Lothbrook, Lord Darlington?” Alex asked, keeping her tone deliberately cool. She could feel the heat of Ambrose’s body directly behind her, reminding her of what Ambrose had said about him being dangerous. If Darlington had showed up here of all places, it had to be for a specific reason—such as to win a wager in a betting book.
She was suddenly very glad that Ambrose was here. He may be a rake, but so far he had been an entirely honest one. This Lord Darlington, she sensed, would be quite the opposite. He had eyes made to hold secrets and lips that seemed made to speak sweet lies that would woo an innocent maid into a bad position. Ambrose was no less dangerous, but he never seemed to hide his desires or his intentions, and she respected him and trusted him on that alone.
“Oh, the need to bask in the idyllic countryside. London has grown tiresome, wouldn’t you agree, Worthing?” As he spoke, his penetrating eyes darted away from her face to settle upon something just over her shoulder. His entire demeanor cast off a seemingly bored exterior, as he if couldn’t bother to be here or rather anywhere at the moment, and Lothbrook would be as fine as any place.
Alex resisted the urge to follow his gaze. She knew instinctively that Darlington was looking at Ambrose.
“I disagree—London hosts many entertainments. Perhaps you are missing out on them and ought to return?” Ambrose suggested, his tone carrying a slight edge that went unmissed by Darlington.
The tension between the two men became noticeable enough to draw the focus of Perdita’s mother and a group of other ladies standing not too far away. The distant twitter of the matrons had ceased as they turned their focus on Alex and her small group.
“I hate to interrupt,” Perdita whispered, “but the dreaded mamas are watching. Might we sit and drink some lemonade?”
“An excellent idea, Miss Darby. I shall accompany you,” Darlington offered, all politeness as he held out a hand to Perdita. She hesitated briefly, blushing as she finally put her arm through his. The moment Darlington had his back turned, Ambrose grasped Alex by the hand and tugged her closer to him, leaning his head down close to her ear. She glanced nervously about, but since Darlington had walked toward the lemonade tables, he and Alex were no longer as interesting to watch.
“Alex,” he whispered, “that man is dangerous. Stay away from him. Do not let yourself be alone with him. He will ruin you.”
Alex opened her mouth to speak but then nodded. There was a feral desperation in Ambrose’s eyes and face that frightened her. If he, a hardened rakehell, was worried about a man like Darlington and his motives toward her, that was… She didn’t know how to describe it, but a deep fear clawed at her insides, making her tense all over and a little light-headed. For the second time, she wondered if Ambrose knew exactly what the wager was in the betting books about her and if Darlington was somehow involved.
“Good.” Ambrose relaxed a little. “Good,” he repeated.
Perdita and Darlington were standing there, lemonade glasses in hand, watching them. Alex swallowed and tried to smile.
“Everything all right?” Darlington asked, his eyes moving between her and Ambrose.
“Of course,” they replied in unison, which drew the attention of both Perdita and Darlington.
Her friend, always so astute, didn’t miss Alex’s silent warning glance and immediately distracted Darlington.
“How long will you be staying with us, Lord Darlington?” Perdita asked, raising her glass of lemonade and taking a sip. Of the four of them, Perdita appeared to be the most composed. Alex noticed Ambrose’s wolfish expression and Lord Darlington’s leonine relaxation, and she was confused.
Something wasn’t right about Darlington’s unexpected arrival, and she hadn’t forgotten Ambrose’s warning that she was in the betting books of a gentleman’s club. That was never a good thing. But what could she do about it? Ladies had no control over what happened in clubs. Whatever was going on was more than just Ambrose being wary of Darlington over whatever might be in the betting books. The looks being exchanged between them—Ambrose’s scowl and Darlington’s amusement—felt too…personal. It unsettled her.
“I thought I might stay until I wore out my welcome,” Darlington replied, still watching her and Ambrose.
“Then that might be a while. My mother is quite delighted you are staying with us.” Perdita finished her lemonade and then glanced at Alex. “Alex, dear, I’ve a mind to get another glass. Wouldn’t you like another?”
Alex stared down at her own still-full glass of lemonade, and both Ambrose and Darlington noticed, Ambrose with a frown and Darlington with a knowing smirk.
Alex let Perdita tug her to the lemonade table, and they bent their heads together.
“Lord Darlington’s coming here was clearly not a coincidence,” Perdita whispered.
“No, I fear not. Ambrose warned me to stay away from him, and I think…” Alex bit her lip before continuing. “I think that it’s something to do with a wager in the betting books at one of the clubs in London.”
“What?” Perdita hissed, her eyes wide in shock. “You are in a betting book?”
“Shh!” Alex warned her friend as a few ladies
nearby looked their way.
“What sort of wager?” Perdita asked as she and Alex drew deeper into the gardens. Perdita was pale, and she licked her lips. “Alex, this isn’t good that you’re in the books. Do you have any idea of what the wager entails?”
“I don’t know. Ambrose wouldn’t tell me.” Alex was startled by her friend’s reaction. “What’s the matter?”
Perdita’s brows knit, her eyes far too serious, and it only made Alex’s anxiety grow. “My brother, Thomas, he told me once about those books. Sometimes the bets are silly things, but other times they are quite serious. I’m afraid for you, Alex. If you’re the subject of a bet, that cannot be good. Usually it means a man is betting on seducing you.”
Alex swallowed hard. That would be a bad thing—a very bad thing. If men in London were plotting to ruin her, that was serious indeed. She’d heard of men going to great lengths to ruin ladies. There were always tales of desperate fortune hunters who talked young ladies into racing to Gretna Green to marry over the anvil against their families’ protestations. But that wasn’t all. She’d recently heard that a year ago a duke had abducted a young woman whose uncle had defrauded him over an investment scheme. The couple had thankfully ended up married, but the scandal had been all over London for months. Alex could imagine a man kidnapping a woman to win a wager if there was a large amount of money involved.
“You must get Mr. Worthing to tell you the particulars of the wager. We might be on better guard that way,” Perdita suggested.
Ambrose hadn’t wanted to tell her that much about the betting book earlier. Alex doubted she could convince Ambrose to do anything he did not wish to.
“Perdy, would you be able to distract Lord Darlington while he is here? I fear Lothbrook is too small a place, and whatever his intentions are, he might succeed whilst he is here.” She knew she was asking a lot for her friend to risk her own ruination by keeping a known rogue distracted, but they had little choice.
“I can try. I’m sure Mama will help us—unknowingly, of course. She is quite smitten with the idea of a match between us.”
“What?” That was news to Alex. “How do you know that?”
Her friend plucked a wildflower from the thick patch of blooms where an errant gardener had not taken care to remove them. Perdita played with the red petals and sighed.
“Mama wishes to buy me a husband, and a titled lord in desperate need of coin is easy prey. She will want to snatch him up for me. We’ve had chances before, but none of the other impoverished lords were…” Perdita blushed. “Well, Mama wants beautiful grandbabies, and she took one look at Lord Darlington and fainted. She will chase him for me if she gets a chance to convince him to marry me.”
“Oh, Perdita.” Alex’s heart swelled with sympathy, and she hugged her friend. “You won’t marry a man simply because your mother decrees it, will you?”
Perdita blinked, her eyes a little too bright. “I normally would say no, but…I confess, Lord Darlington is rather fascinating. He’s the sort of man I might fall in love with, but I am not some chit just out of the schoolroom. He would break my heart if I dared to trust him with it. I honestly don’t know what I would do if he proposed to me. I suppose I should be thankful he’s more interested in you. But then again, he doesn’t wish to marry you, likely only ruin you.” She chuckled dryly. “Alex, dear, we are in quite a spot of bother, aren’t we?”
“We are indeed.” Alex raised her chin and glanced across the vast Darby gardens and found where Darlington and Ambrose stood talking.
“What if I went to London?” she said suddenly.
“London?” Perdita let the wildflower fall to the ground. “Why London?”
“Don’t you see? I could hide in plain sight. Lord Darlington has no chance of compromising me if we are in public all the time. I won’t let my guard down for even a moment, and he won’t have the chance to ruin me. My mother is there, and she could see that I’m never without a chaperone.”
Her friend’s eyes sharpened as she considered this new plan. “Yes, yes you are right. That might work.”
Alex clasped her friend’s hands in her own. “Would you come too, Perdy?”
“Why yes, of course,” Perdita agreed. “There are a few places I wish to visit since it’s been positively ages since I’ve been to London.”
Alex grinned in the light. “Then we face London together.” She knew that despite Perdita’s mother wanting to marry her off, Perdita had avoided London as much as Alex had since they had come out in society. Neither of them had been interested in marrying simply to please others.
“Then it’s settled.” Perdita smiled back. “We flee to London.” And they both dissolved in a fit of giggles.
*****
Ambrose watched Alex and Perdita giggling and sharing conspiratorial glances at the far end of the garden. Vaughn Darlington stood beside him, brooding and silent.
How things had changed. Ambrose’s chest tightened at the thought. Years ago they would’ve been scheming together and stealing kisses from maids in the bushes.
“I suppose you’ve read the betting book at White’s?” he asked.
They had seen each other the night the bet had been written down. Ambrose wouldn’t forget watching Vaughn seated at a table only half a dozen feet from the betting book as Ambrose had listened to the low rumblings of the men discussing Alex’s fate and her future ruination. At the time it had sickened him, and now, having met her, he was filled with righteous anger. A woman had a right to enjoy lovemaking and not be the subject of a man’s cruelty. After what they’d shared in the garden, he knew she would be a good lover, and the thought of sharing her or giving her up to some brute from White’s… He shook his head again, trying to erase thoughts of Alex outside the gardens with him above her and the glorious passion that he craved all for himself. Perhaps his reasons had become selfish, but he refused to let another man have her.
“I have seen the book.”
“And you decided to take up the wager?” Ambrose asked carefully.
He had signed his name, officially taking on Alex’s seduction himself, but it was still open for any man to beat him to it. It was that thought more than any other that was gnawing away at him. Not because he wanted to win for his own sake, but for Alex’s.
“I might have.” Vaughn was watching him rather than the party guests. “And so have you, I believe.” Then Vaughn looked toward Perdita and Alex. “Does she know you are playing her false to line your pockets?”
Rage bristled beneath Ambrose’s skin. “See, this is why we are no longer friends. You assume I dictate my life choices based on my need for coin. But I’m not like you, Vaughn. I’m a friend of Lord Rockford’s, and I accepted the bet to ensure that Alex’s first time is enjoyable, not wretched as those others driven by money might make it. Unlike you, I have a heart.”
Vaughn smiled. “So it’s a noble cause for you, and I’m simply the bastard standing in your way? Well, may the best man win.” Vaughn walked away, leaving Ambrose on edge.
He didn’t want to be adversaries with his old friend, but things had changed. They’d once run through the fields, fishing poles in hand and singing bawdy songs on summer days. And now we are enemies. It left a bitter taste in his mouth. He stomped over to the lemonade tables and downed an entire glass in a few hasty gulps. It was rather ungentlemanly. A few matrons raised their brows and whispered behind their fans.
He offered an apologetic smile to the ladies before he headed for Alex. He didn’t want to let her out of his sight. He caught a glimpse of Perdita and Alex approaching a small space in the garden where croquet had been set up for picnic guests. Alex was playfully swinging her mallet while Perdita was setting up the balls. Ambrose was halfway to them when Vaughn beat him there.
“I’d love to join you ladies in a game,” Vaughn said just as Ambrose reached them. Both Alex and her friend seem surprised.
“Well…” Alex started, but Ambrose spoke up.
“I wish t
o play as well. We could play doubles.” He could be on Alex’s team and keep her away from Vaughn.
“Splendid idea, Mr. Worthing,” Alex said and tucked her arm through Perdita’s. “We ladies shall play against you gentlemen, and I suspect we shall crow our victory over you.” When Alex looked his way, her lips twitched impishly as though she’d guessed his intentions.
“Right,” he grunted and retrieved a mallet. He simply kicked Vaughn’s across the ground until it landed at the tip of the other man’s leather shoes.
“Thank you.” Vaughn’s cold reply was dripping with sarcasm as he picked up the mallet.
“Perdita and I shall use the blue and black balls. You gentlemen may have the red and yellow.” Alex escorted her friend away from the men to whisper again.
“This is not how I intended to spend my garden party,” Ambrose muttered as he stole the red ball, leaving Vaughn the yellow one.
The ladies were allowed the first turn, because, well, because Ambrose was attempting to be a gentleman, after all. Alex was the first to strike the ball, and he couldn’t help but admire the way the wind tugged at her skirts, the pale-blue muslin like a summer sky, the white lace at the edges of her hem and sleeves like wisps of clouds. Her hair was pulled back neatly with a few loose tendrils caressing her neck. It made him even hungrier for her, even after what they’d done in the garden earlier.
She’d opened herself up and let him see the real Alex, not the woman with a heart encased in iron. His Alex had been sweet, breathless, passionate, and a giving partner. He’d never imagined that. Too many ladies were afraid to touch a man back, to explore him. They believed they must lie still and wait until the man had sated himself, but that wasn’t how lovemaking ought to be. Ambrose was a firm believer that a lady had as much right to her own passions and pleasures as any man did. Alex had been a perfect partner in pleasure. Someday she’d make a man a very happy husband.