Gillian nodded, though she felt like gasping as Whitney had. A torrent of emotions coursed through her, but she held each one back as always.
“My dears, we can’t change the mistakes of our parents,” Sally said. “Shall we pick up with our friendship as if it was never interrupted?”
“I’d like that very much,” Gillian said.
“We’d like that very much,” Whitney amended.
“Excellent!” Sally embraced them before shoving them back to study them. After a moment, she smiled. “Now that we’ve settled that, Gillian, you must tell me what you did to pique Lady Staunton’s ire. I heard you were involved in a bit of a scene last week.”
Gillian frowned. She’d hoped the incident would pass without remark. She should have known better. “I can’t say for certain, but I’ve a fair idea. However, it seems so trivial. It must not take much to anger Lady Staunton.”
Sally rolled her eyes heavenward. “Not much at all. She’s a spiteful woman, though with her mother who can blame her? So what was your sin?”
“She thinks I have designs on a man she apparently has a deep affection for.”
“Well, that couldn’t have been her husband,” Sally pronounced with a wicked grin. “He’s rail thin, sloppily dressed, with a sallow complexion and thinning brown hair. She’s smart enough to know you wouldn’t want him, and it’s common knowledge she holds no affection for him.”
Gillian laughed. “The years have not changed your direct nature in the least.”
“Were you worried they had, darling?”
“Maybe not the years, but definitely becoming a duchess.”
“Oh, that.” Sally thrust her hands on her hips. “That’s changed me quite a bit. Now I put up with nonsense from no one.”
“You were like that at eight.”
“Was I?” Sally quirked her mouth. “I must speak to my husband, then. He promised quite a lot of benefits if I married him.”
“You’re incorrigible.” Gillian laughed and it felt exactly as it had when they had been younger.
“I’m incorrigible? You’re one to talk. One week back into Society and you’re trying to pinch Lady Staunton’s next victim out from her eager clutches. What does the poor fellow look like?”
Gillian opened her mouth to give his description, then promptly changed her mind. She could paint a vivid, exact picture of the man: black hair, dancing blue eyes, crooked smile and overwhelming presence. But how could she explain remembering so much detail about a man she had improperly met while hiding behind a curtain? She could not. She shrugged, choosing her words carefully. “He was tall with black hair and blue eyes.”
“Darling, that describes half the men here,” Sally murmured with a sigh. “You’re no help. Then again, if he’s rich, alive and holds a loftier title than the one Lady Staunton currently possesses, she would think you were poaching someone she might want to claim. Her poor husband’s at death’s door, and she’s on the prowl for his replacement.”
“That’s despicable,” Whitney said. “Surely you’re mistaken.”
“I’m never mistaken when it comes to matters of the heart.” Without taking her gaze off Gillian, Sally returned the wave of a young couple who danced past. “She’s awful, and she’s after one of my dearest friends. I heard she made quite a scene chasing after him at a ball last week. Chased him right to the front door, which I’m told he dashed out of to escape her.”
“I wouldn’t worry about him.”
Sally narrowed her eyes at Gillian.
Blast! She’d not meant to let anything slip, but the surprise of realizing Sally was talking about the man from the curtains had stolen her senses.
“Why?” Sally raised her eyebrows. “Is Lionhurst the man she thinks you’re after?”
“Lionhurst?” Gillian frowned. The name unleashed an old memory. “Do you mean Alexander Trevelle?” She pictured the boy she remembered from childhood. Face streaked with dirt and hair filled with straw from the haystack he had been hiding in to avoid being whipped by his father, the duke.
“One and the same,” Sally said. “I see by your frown you remember him.”
“Oh, I remember him.” Didn’t all women remember the first boy who ever kissed them? She was no exception, even if the kiss had been when she was eight, and she had considered his warm lips extremely disgusting. The way he’d barged behind the curtain and thought she was a woman who had been waiting with bated breath to fall into his arms made perfect sense now. The little she recalled of the boy she’d barely known was someone who assumed everyone pined for his attention. “I can’t believe after all these years he’s not changed in the way he treats women.”
“Oh, he’s changed some,” Sally said with a chuckle. “He steals quite a bit more than just kisses nowadays.”
“What does he steal?” Gillian asked, intrigued by Sally’s statement.
“Hearts, darling.” Sally pulled Gillian to her side, their heads close together. “He steals hearts.” She grinned at Gillian. “You’ve given me an idea.”
Gillian didn’t like the sound of that. Sally had never been known for her sound ideas. “What sort of notion?”
“You have to help me.”
“Help you?” Gillian tried to extract herself from her friend’s embrace. “How can I help you?”
“Why to save Lion from Lady Staunton, of course.”
“What fun,” Whitney exclaimed, a grin lighting her face. “I’ll help too.”
“I’ll find a small role for you.”
“A small role?” Whitney’s lips poked out in a pout.
“Darling, you’re gorgeous,” Sally exclaimed to Whitney. “But Lionhurst likes dark hair.”
Whitney and Sally both stared at Gillian. She ignored her sister and focused on Sally. “I can’t afford to embroil myself in helping your friend. I’ve too much on my mind.”
“You only need act if Lady Staunton comes near him.”
“I’m sorry.” Gillian shook her head. She could not slip into such an entanglement. “I just can’t.”
All the animation in Sally’s face disappeared. “Why not? Are you afraid of losing your heart to him?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Gillian snapped, picturing the man he had become. She could imagine with his gorgeous smile and, no doubt perfected seduction methods, how a woman might be in danger of losing her heart to him, but she was not your average woman. She was on a mission to save her sister and herself. “My heart is in no danger.”
“Then you’re perfect. I don’t have to worry you’ll get hurt this way, and I can quit fretting about Lionhurst falling back into Lady Staunton’s clutches. The last time almost killed him.”
“From my conversation earlier with Lord Lionhurst,” Gillian said firmly, “I suspect he can handle himself with any woman.”
“You don’t truly know him.” Sally shook her head. “He never shows his true self when he is out in Society.”
“No doubt because the women would run screaming,” Gillian retorted.
Sally’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t remember you being cold and mean.”
Heat flooded Gillian’s face. “I’m not. It’s just…” She trailed off. She could explain neither her situation nor the encounter behind the curtain with Lord Lionhurst. “I just already have something very important to see to tonight.”
“Oh, darling. What a goose I am! What gentleman is in your line of fire tonight?”
“No one in particular,” Gillian replied, not certain she was ready to divulge her mission to Sally just yet, or possibly ever.
“Have you forgotten about Mr. Sutherland?” Whitney interjected, a gleam of mischief in her eye. “I thought you wanted to marry him?”
“Whitney, hush!” How embarrassing and typical of Whitney to stir up trouble by blurting such a thing to Sally. Now Sally would ask questions that Gillian could not answer.
“How very interesting.” Sally scrutinized her. “Why do you wish to marry Mr. Sutherland? He would take yo
u away from England.”
“I have my reasons for wanting him.” She prayed Sally would accept her vague answer.
Sally’s mouth tightened, but she nodded. “Well, I suppose I could assist you, though I really don’t wish to help you capture a man who will whisk you away from me.”
A swell of emotions rose up to lodge in Gillian’s chest, but she pushed the tide back. Sentimentality would have to wait. “How do you suppose you could help me? Do you know Mr. Sutherland?”
“Not personally. Lionhurst is business partners with him and has brought the man here tonight.”
What a relief. After a week of trying to meet Mr. Sutherland, she was finally going to get her chance. Gillian couldn’t stop the smile from coming to her face.
Sally grinned back. “I’m glad my information pleases you. Lionhurst can introduce Mr. Sutherland to us both.”
“Couldn’t you just introduce me to Mr. Sutherland yourself after you meet him?” Something about Lord Lionhurst made her think avoiding him would be best. So far, he’d caused her nothing but trouble.
“I would, darling, but there they are. Together.” Sally pointed toward the terrace door.
Gillian followed the direction Sally pointed. Her sight settled immediately on Lord Lionhurst’s tall figure. His black hair shimmered under the light of the chandelier. His white shirt, cravat and black pants would have been commonplace except he wore a ruby waistcoat that fit him to perfection. A devilish grin danced across his face, as if wicked thoughts played out in his mind. He was the apple in the Garden of Eden. Dangerous. Sinful.
An involuntary sigh of appreciation escaped her lips. Good God, she was a dolt! She glanced around to see if anyone had noticed.
An amused smile stretched across Sally’s lips. “Are you positive your heart is safe?”
“Completely certain. Mr. Sutherland is the only man for me.”
“Truly? What is it about Mr. Sutherland’s looks that draws you to him?”
Gillian quickly turned her gaze to Mr. Sutherland as Sally quietly chuckled beside her. Blast Sally! She somehow knew Gillian had not spared a glance toward Mr. Sutherland. As the men made their way through the crowd and toward them, Gillian found it hard to keep Mr. Sutherland in her sights with Lord Lionhurst there. The man was too tall, his shoulders too broad.
She forced herself to concentrate on Mr. Sutherland. He had brown wavy hair that did not shine as the marquess’ black locks did and—oh, good heavens. This comparison was going badly and in a dangerous direction. She pasted a smile on her lips and kept her gaze planted on Mr. Sutherland until both men stood before her.
“Lionhurst, this is Lady Gillian, the Duke of Kingsley’s eldest daughter. I’m sure you remember her,” Sally finished with a throaty laugh.
Gillian shot Sally a glare.
“Of course, I mean after all these years,” Sally finished with a shrug.
Gillian focused on Lord Lionhurst and prayed he would keep their meeting in the curtains to himself.
His blue eyes crinkled with amusement and something else—something possibly wicked. His bold gaze moved down her body and back to her face again. Little sparks of gold danced like flashes of light across his eyes.
Warmth suffused her body. “Lord Lionhurst,” she whispered, though she’d meant for her voice to come out strong.
A slow, purely seductive grin spread across his face. “I remember you.” He said no more, but she knew exactly what he was remembering. His hands on her face and at her waist. No doubt, the kiss he’d stolen eleven years ago had been long forgotten by a man who’d probably kissed more women than a legion of men.
Gillian’s heart hammered, but she forced herself to speak. “You must have an excellent memory.”
“Oh, I do.” His eyes smoldered. “I never forget a woman I’ve kissed.”
“You most certainly have not kissed me!” Gillian protested, glancing from her sister’s shocked face to Sally’s knowing one. Looking at Mr. Sutherland was out of the question. Her face might as well be on fire, for all the embarrassment she felt.
“I did kiss you. Of course, you were just a child―”
“Eight,” she interrupted.
He grinned. “You remember too?”
“You scoundrel,” she snapped. “You stole that kiss!”
He shrugged. “The slap was well worth it.”
What must Mr. Sutherland think? She stole a glance at him. Was that amusement or horror? Before she could decide, Sally said, “I presume this is Mr. Sutherland, your business partner?”
Mr. Sutherland bowed to Sally. “I think we can skip the formal introduction.” His gaze slid between Gillian and Lord Lionhurst. Thank goodness, the man appeared to have a sense of humor.
He bowed to Gillian. “I can see why Lionhurst remembers you.”
Gillian’s stomach tightened. He seemed nice enough based on ten seconds. Could she seduce this man into marriage? What choice did she have? Gillian curtsied. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” As she was coming up, a hand pushed against her back.
“Get to the dance floor,” Sally hissed, propelling Gillian into Lord Lionhurst’s arms and away from Mr. Sutherland.
“Wait, no,” Gillian protested, but her objection was drowned out by the lively notes the orchestra had struck up.
Surprise that appeared to match her own registered across Lord Lionhurst’s face, but he slipped his hand around her waist and led her away.
Alex wanted to avoid a confrontation with Lady Staunton, but he wasn’t sure whisking Lady Gillian onto the dance floor was a better predicament than facing the woman who was making a beeline for him. One woman wanted him, and he wanted the other.
An innocent. A woman he had no right to want. He would never offer her the thing a debutante such as herself would be after―marriage. And what he did have to offer―pleasure and passion―was not something she would be shopping for.
He thought he knew better than to play with fire, so why was he leading the burning flame onto the dance floor? He should be a man, turn around and march her back into the safekeeping of the lady’s sister and Sally.
Her hips swayed alluringly as she walked beside him, but he knew she did not intend to entice him into her bed. Her look of outrage as he propelled her onto the dance floor had made how she felt about him apparent. She had judged him as a rake and knew the best thing was to stay away. Good for her. And him. But one dance would not bind either of them to anything. And his attention would not harm her. He was an honorable man when it came to debutantes. Hell, any woman. He never got involved with a woman unless she was widowed and willing or a paid professional who knew better than to expect marriage and emotions.
He led her onto the dance floor while trying to ignore her scent. Was that freesia? He leaned close to her hair. Definitely freesia.
She swatted beside her as if he was a pesky fly.
She had spunk. He’d give her that. And she smelled good. No doubt, she would prove to be like all women of her lot—interested only in titles and wealth. He grabbed her gently by the arm and turned her to face him.
“Do you always sniff women like you’re a dog?” Emerald eyes framed by long, sooty lashes glared at him.
He swallowed his laughter and desire. “No. Why didn’t you want to dance with me?”
Her forehead creased at his question. “I think we both know why, Lord Lionhurst. You don’t seem the sort of man to simply want a dance from a lady.”
“I’m without reproach when it comes to debutantes,” he snapped, unsure why her negative perception of him made him angry.
“Not true,” she replied, placing a hand on his arm to position herself for the dance. “You stole a kiss from me, and I am a debutante.”
He swirled them around the dance floor in silence, trying to decide what to say to that. She was right. He had stolen a kiss from her years ago. He’d never stolen another kiss since. Her slap across the face had left a lasting impression. Making sure the woman was willing was always neces
sary.
He hadn’t the foggiest idea what to say. No witty rejoinder came to mind—a completely new situation for him. He forced himself to look at her and was surprised to find her studying him. “Are you going to keep our secret?”
“Of course,” he replied, bothered at the frown of worry creasing her forehead. It had been fun to tease her earlier, but he hadn’t meant to really concern her. “Relax and have fun. I promise to return you unscathed to your sister the moment the dance ends.”
Her gaze traveled back the way they had come, the frown not lessening a bit. If anything, she appeared more concerned. “Are you concerned that dancing with me will harm your reputation?”
She bit her lip but didn’t respond.
“I assure you, try as I might to dissuade mothers from pursing me, I am still a favorite pick as an eligible bachelor season after season.”
“You’re rather conceited,” she said.
“No. I know very well it has nothing to do with me. Or rather anything they know about me personally. They want me for their daughters because of my title and my money. I could be daft and they would still want me. Dancing with me might actually help you garner attention. Pleasant attention, that is. So you can rest easy, unless your frown has nothing to do with being concerned about your reputation and is caused by something else entirely.”
Her eyes widened a fraction.
“Ah.” He swirled her around once and smiled down at her. Did she know how expressive her face was? “So what is the truth of your concern?”
“Do you truly wish to hear the truth?”
“The truth would be nice. I so rarely get it but generally prefer it. Don’t you?”
She nodded. “Generally, though sometimes the truth can be hurtful.”
“I’ll take my chances.”
“All right.” She glanced to where Sally and Sutherland stood talking to Lady Whitney before settling her troubled gaze back on him. “I have someone I wish to become acquainted with, and I’m anxious that I’ll miss my chance while on the dance floor with you.”
Bargaining With a Rake (A Whisper of Scandal Novel) Page 4