Lana returned his smile with a weak one. “I apologize, my lord, but what were you saying a moment ago?”
Phoebe gazed toward her brother-in-law with fondness. “Drew has been complaining all evening about escorting me to the ball.”
Lord Andrew shrugged shyly, a complete act on his part. There had been nothing shy about his wandering hands in the garden.
“Do you oppose dancing, my lord?” Lana feigned naïveté, suspecting his reluctance had more to do with jilted lovers ambushing him in the gardens.
“If I may be frank, Miss Hillary, I oppose the marriage market. I try to avoid it at all costs.”
“But Richard insisted I have an escort to the ball,” Phoebe added. “Drew kindly agreed to accompany me, but these affairs are not part of his usual repertoire.”
Lord Andrew raised a brow, a twinkle of mischief in his eyes. “Lady Phoebe insinuates I don’t enjoy an evening with a beautiful lady.” A toffee-colored lock of hair fell forward on his forehead, adding to his annoyingly boyish charm. He brushed it away with his fingertips. “Nothing could be further from the truth, Miss Hillary.”
As she well knew.
Jake joined their group, taking up sentry over her as if he protected the crown jewels. “I doubt anyone would accuse you of disliking the company of ladies, Forest,” he said.
Lana might have frowned upon his insult of Lord Andrew’s character if she didn’t know it to be an accurate account.
“Jake Hillary, long time,” Lord Andrew greeted with a magnanimous smile. “Was it Oxford? No, it couldn’t have been that long ago.”
“It was last evening at Rendell’s.” The unspoken word “jackass” seemed on the tip of her brother’s tongue, but he censored his language in polite company.
Lord Andrew laughed. “How could I have forgotten? Seems you lost all but your waistcoat and boots.”
Jake’s fist tightened as if he would relish thrashing the gentleman.
Phoebe linked arms with Lana and attempted to direct her away from the men. “Let’s allow your brother and Drew to catch up, shall we?”
Lana dragged her feet, curious to overhear what they might say to one another, and a bit hopeful her brother might challenge the rake to fisticuffs after his deplorable treatment of Lady Audley. Lord Andrew had been horrible to her, had he not? He’d lied to the lovely woman, at least about Lana’s presence in the garden. And he’d obviously taken advantage of Lady Audley’s affections. Oh, why must Lana remind herself of Lord Andrew’s faults? He was a rascal, no questions about it.
Lord Andrew’s voice carried faster than Phoebe could lead her away. “Still in a temper over the barmaid, Hillary? She was more my type.”
“Did she have a pulse then?” Jake practically growled.
“Hmm, hot-blooded chit.”
“Heavens.” Phoebe, cheeks blazing with color, put more force behind pulling Lana toward the refreshment table. Once out of earshot, she cleared her throat. “Yes, well. What was I saying?” She clicked open her ivory fan and waved it in front of her face. “Oh, right. We’re returning to the country in the next day or two, as soon as my gentlemen can travel.”
Love lit Phoebe’s countenance when she spoke of her family. It almost made Lana queasy, except it was Phoebe, her guileless and darling friend.
Longing tugged at Lana’s heart. She had never hoped for a loving marriage herself. What her friend had with Lord Richard was a miracle, because no one else married for love. If a couple was fortunate, they might be equally suited for parlor games. Perhaps they may even find each other amiable, or tolerable, or at the very least, neither induced nausea in the other.
“Richard must see to the tenants for his father before we travel north for hunting season,” Phoebe said. “To be honest, Miss Hillary, I sought you out tonight to extend an invitation to visit Shafer Hall. I thought I might be more successful in persuading you in person. Of course your family is welcome as well.”
Lana eyed Phoebe. Something was amiss. “You know I don’t condone the stalking of defenseless animals. And you have never shied away from riding in the hunt. What’s behind this invitation, my lady?”
The pink blooming in Phoebe’s cheeks painted a fetching portrait. She almost glowed as she leaned toward Lana. “Riding isn’t recommended for women in my condition,” she whispered.
Lana matched her volume to Phoebe’s whispers. “You’re with child?”
“Stephan is to be a big brother,” she confirmed, clutching her hands over her heart.
Lana gathered her friend in another enveloping hug. “Congratulations, Phoebe. What a blessing.”
“Richard’s father believes Shafer Hall is better suited for lying in wait. Less noise and more privacy. I should be grateful for the offer of his property, but I fear I will be bored to tears.” She retrieved two glasses of punch and handed one to Lana. “The duchess has planned a grand house party at Irvine Castle to alleviate the tedium. Richard has promised I may enjoy some of the activities, but I would appreciate the company of a dear friend. Please say you’ll come north.”
“I would be more than honored to come for an extended visit.” She glanced toward Lord Andrew, who was engaged in conversation with Lord Hollister a few paces away. “Will he—Lord Andrew—be in residence at Irvine Castle?”
Phoebe chuckled. “Drew holds no interest in hunting or travel. You are as likely to see an elephant on the grounds as to cross paths with my husband’s brother.”
The tension in Lana’s shoulders melted away. With a lighter heart, she tossed her hands into the air. “Splendid suggestion, traveling north. But why wait until autumn? My trunks could be packed within the hour, anything to escape the dullness of being marketed like horseflesh.”
Lord Andrew ambled up to the women in time to overhear Lana’s last comment. “I thought ladies liked shopping. I hear husbands are quite in fashion.”
For the love of… Where was Jake now? Lana scanned the room and discovered her brother detained by an earnest young woman and her mother. His brows drew together, and he rubbed his forehead as if in pain. She stifled a giggle. It seemed Jake needed someone to protect him.
Pushing her amusement aside, she offered Lord Andrew a dispassionate stare. The man was too cheeky, by far. She had been jesting, at least to some degree. Husband hunting was a dull, albeit necessary, occupation. “I am not most women.”
“I cannot dispute your claim, Miss Hillary, but perhaps that is your strategy,” Lord Andrew said with a self-satisfied grin. “Pretending to run from gentlemen until you snag a husband is a wise tactic. Most men enjoy a good chase.”
Oh, he thought himself so clever. She lifted her chin. “You would be the expert, my lord. I imagine chasing skirts is your forte.”
Although Phoebe gasped, Lord Andrew broke into warm laughter. His entire being lit from within and the musical sound of his voice wrapped around her, soothing her temper despite her determination to be cross with him.
He bowed, his eyes shining with merriment. “Touché, Miss Hillary.”
Four
Lana couldn’t banish Lord Andrew from her thoughts for several hours following their encounter. She recalled their conversations verbatim as the Berlin carried her and Jake home to Hillary House at the end of the evening. Frustrated with her inability to cease thinking on Lord Andrew, she huffed and shifted her position on the carriage seat again.
Jake crossed his arms and scowled. “For goodness’ sake, Lana. What’s with all the huffing? Are you laying an egg over there?”
She lifted her nose and refused to dignify Jake’s question with a response. He needn’t take out his surliness on her. She shifted on the bench once again as an idea occurred to her. Maybe she would benefit from some of her brother’s knowledge of Lord Andrew’s rotten vices, because surely he had many. Perhaps if she knew the entire list of his sins, her foolish musings on what it must feel like to surrender to his kiss would go away.
“Tell me the reason you dislike Lord Andrew,” she dem
anded.
Jake grunted and stared out the window. With the lamp burning inside the carriage, there was nothing beyond the glass but a sea of darkness. “This isn’t an appropriate subject to discuss with a lady.”
“Away from everyone, I’m not a lady. I’m your sister.”
“In the ballroom, you are a lady,” he argued, “and that blackguard ruins ladies.”
Lana gasped. “Like Leo… Lord Paddock ruined Miss Bettis?”
Jake dropped his head back against the seat and groaned. “Must we discuss Forest?”
“You cannot imply Lord Andrew ruins young ladies and then refuse to share the details. It’s very unfair.”
Her brother grimaced. “Allow me to rephrase. I have no direct knowledge of any action leading to the ruining of innocents. However, his liaisons tend to be brief and varied.”
“Oh,” Lana said on a breath of air. “Well, that is entirely different, isn’t it?” She slumped against the seat, relieved to learn Lord Andrew wasn’t in the same class as her former betrothed, and yet disappointed to have her observations of the gentleman confirmed. Lord Andrew was a scoundrel.
“I was surprised to find him in attendance tonight,” Jake said. “Forest doesn’t typically keep company with polite society, which no doubt explains his lack of decorum this evening.”
“Yes, he was rather forthright in his discussion of the barmaid. No beating around the bush with the gentleman. I suppose one might admire that quality.”
Jake’s expression darkened and his white teeth flashed in the dim interior of the carriage. “You’ll steer clear of Forest or there will be the devil to pay.”
Lana dropped her head a fraction of an inch and raised her eyebrows in mock amusement. She wasn’t one to tolerate threats, much less from her brother, and she wouldn’t abide a raised voice. “Don’t think to intimidate me, Jake. I shall keep company with whomever I wish.”
“Good God.” Jake pinched the bridge of his nose and blew out a forceful breath. “This is for your own protection. You will abide by my rules.”
Her brother’s boorishness crossed the boundaries of her tolerance, which he must have deduced when Lana folded her arms over her chest and set her jaw.
“Lana, be sensible.” His voice bordered on pleading. “You have your pick of fine gentlemen. Anyone you want. You’ve no cause to associate with libertines.”
She sighed. Of course, she wouldn’t seek out the company of such scandalous gentlemen. She sincerely wished for a tidy match with a respectable sort, but her brother wore blinders in the ballroom. She didn’t have her pick of upstanding gentlemen. She had overbearing, destitute viscounts clamoring for her hand.
“Tell me the true reason you dislike Lord Andrew,” she said softly.
He hooked a finger between his cravat and neck to loosen it. “What do you mean by the true reason? I hardly need an additional reason to dislike any scoundrel found sniffing round my sister’s skirts.”
“He wasn’t—He—” Good heavens, if her brother only knew the accuracy of this turn of phrase. “The—the man barely knows I’m alive.”
“Oh, he knows, Lana. The gentleman came perilously close to salivating in your presence.”
She scoffed as a rush of warmth infused her body. Jake behaved as if she was the Queen of Sheba, but she kept a looking glass in her bedchamber. She knew her unfashionable red hair and the freckles sprinkled across her nose were abominations. Her mother reminded her almost daily. Lana couldn’t help it if her ivory skin spotted just thinking about the sun.
“Please, trust my intentions, Lana. I don’t want to see you hurt. Not again.”
Her mouth dropped open but no sound came out. Her brother referenced Paddock, delivering the equivalent of a gut punch. Humiliation engulfed her, and she couldn’t squeeze out any words around the lump forming in her throat.
Lord Paddock had duped her entire family, but Lana had been the biggest cake of all. She had ignored the ample evidence that he’d been with other women, the lip rouge on his cravat, his waistcoat reeking of lavender. Only a simpleton would believe a visit to his elderly aunt accounted for the blood red smears and cloud of cheap perfume clinging to his person.
Lana had made excuses to her family to explain a missed afternoon stroll or his late arrival at the theatre. She’d accepted his flimsy tales with wide-eyed naïveté, convinced she only needed to be a better fiancée to make Leo love her as she had thought she loved him.
Even when rumors of his mistreatment of Miss Bettis circulated, she had confronted him with the secret hope he would vehemently deny the accusations leveled against him. A foolish part of her believed Leo would reassure her everyone was mistaken, that he wasn’t responsible for the young lady’s injuries. That he’d never even made her acquaintance.
Lana shuddered. She could have been in Miss Bettis’s shoes just as easily. Closing her eyes, she breathed deeply to gather her strength.
Her brother had no reason to fear. Lana would never become enamored with a rake again.
“One must offer one’s heart up in order to have it broken,” she said. “I shan’t be hurt again since I’m aware now that love is rubbish.”
She opened her eyes to discover Jake’s unwavering stare. Sadness flitted across his features as he scooted across the carriage to assume the seat next to her and place his arm around her shoulders.
“Please, don’t say that,” he implored. “Love isn’t rubbish.”
“Perhaps not for you,” she murmured.
Jake didn’t argue. Instead, he squeezed her in a brotherly hug, making tears prick the back of her eyes. She sniffled a few times before inching away and twisting sideways on the bench to face him.
“Will you tell me of your infatuation with Lady Audley?”
Jake’s eyes widened for one fleeting moment before his expression went blank. “I don’t know your meaning.” He directed his gaze forward; his jaw tightened. Clearly, he did know her meaning, but she would honor his reticence for now.
Sadness rolled off him in waves. Jake cared deeply for the young woman, more than Lana had guessed. And he obviously required assistance in his pursuit. Lucky for him, Lana was the perfect one to further his cause. After all, Jake had accused her of being an effective matchmaker. Why shouldn’t she use her talents to help someone dear to her?
Lana tapped her finger to her chin as an idea formed in her mind. The visitors at Shafer Hall would spend most of their days engaged in activities at Irvine Castle, the Northumberland residence belonging to Phoebe’s father-in-law, the Duke of Foxhaven. Perhaps Lana’s friend could arrange an invitation to Irvine Castle for the beautiful widow.
“Pay me no mind,” she said. “I see you harbor no fondness whatsoever for Lady Audley.”
***
Drew’s routine had returned to normal after the Eldridge ball, the soiree proving to be nothing more than a tiny bump on the otherwise smooth road to debauchery. In fact, he’d almost succeeded in banishing the entire encounter with the fiery Miss Hillary from his mind. Almost. Nonetheless, her memory plagued him more than usual this evening, and he found himself wondering what event she attended tonight.
He’d been loitering at Brook’s for the past three hours, bored with the same scene, the same faces. He considered, and dismissed, the idea of heading to the gaming hells or paying a visit to the lovely new wench under Madame Montgomery’s employ. Even those prospects sounded dull.
Drew had always relished his decadent existence: imbibing, gambling, and a different woman to bed every night. It was his calling. His father expected it of him. While his older brother, Rich, was the responsible one, Drew’s exploits provided entertainment to his sire. But as of late, his usual pursuits brought him little excitement. When had everything in his life become so mundane?
“Down on your luck, Forest?”
Drew glanced up to find his childhood friend, Anthony Keaton, Earl of Ellis, meandering to where he sat nursing a drink. They had first made each other’s acquaintance as
young boys barely out of leading strings, having grown up on neighboring estates. Later, they attended Eton followed by Oxford the same years.
The prospect of challenging Ellis to a game of billiards and recalling old times cheered Drew a smidge. “My luck is improving with your arrival.”
Ellis flopped into an adjacent chair with a grimace. “My gambling days are over.”
“Since when?”
“Since I lost nine hundred pounds the last time I played faro with you. What are you drinking?”
Drew jiggled his near empty tumbler. “Scotch.”
“Let me buy you another.” Ellis signaled for a footman. “Another scotch for my friend and I’ll have a brandy.”
When the man returned with the drinks, Ellis sank back in his chair. “How’s your family?”
Drew raised an eyebrow in bemusement. “The same.”
“And your mother and father? How are they?”
Egads. If he had hoped for sparkling conversation from Ellis, he was disappointed so far. “Both are in excellent health. Thank you for inquiring.”
“I suppose your sisters are fit as well. Gabrielle and… um, the other girls.”
“Indeed. I’ve received no notice of any dire illnesses afflicting any of my siblings.”
“What are the other girls’ names?” he asked absently.
Drew chuckled. “Damnation, Ellis. Are you drafting my biography?”
His friend laughed as well. “I wouldn’t wish to put readers into a sleeping trance.”
“Then explain your line of questioning before you place me in a sleeping trance.”
“It’s nothing. I’ve simply been thinking how long it has been since I visited the Forest brood. Have they departed for the country?”
“Good God, man. Spit it out. What is it you wish to know?”
Ellis gulped his drink instead of answering. Then he pursed his lips, seeming to ponder his next words. He sat up straight before leaning forward to rest his forearms on his thighs. “I wish to inquire after Gabby.”
Miss Hillary Schools a Scoundrel Page 3