by Meara Platt
“Despite my scars.”
“Most of them aren’t that noticeable, and the two that are make you look divinely rugged. I imagine Daisy found them quite attractive.”
Bloody hell again. Will my grandmother never give up?
“I’d be surprised if she noticed anything, for the girl seems to walk in a perpetual cloud. However, I will admit that even foggy-headed girls are consumed by one thing... marriage. I saw wedding bells mirrored in her blue eyes.”
“Ah, you noticed the color of her eyes.”
“No,” he muttered and received a scowl of disbelief in return. Very well, so what if he had noticed? No man could overlook Daisy’s magnificent eyes or her other splendid attributes. But it didn’t mean he was interested or that she pleased him. The war years had trained him always to be vigilant and notice details, that’s all. Her details happened to be spectacular, but it wasn’t something one confided to one’s meddlesome grandmother.
“You are being most difficult, Gabriel. Why won’t you admit that you liked the girl?”
“Because I didn’t. I found her quite unremarkable. She had nothing of interest to say. She lacked style. I think she forgot to brush her hair today. That dark mane of hers tumbled wildly about her shoulders.”
Well, I do like that. Yes, indeed! Wild dark hair and big blue eyes, and a body—no! Daisy Farthingale was not the stuff of his fantasies.
“Her only lure is her wealth,” he continued, “which isn’t enough to tempt me. However, I’m certain she’ll find some fop who’ll fall in love with her dowry. With a little luck, he might even fall in love with her. After they marry, she and her family can slowly drive the wretch insane.”
He expected a feisty response from Eloise, for he had truly gone on a spiteful rant. Instead she sat quietly, staring beyond him toward the door with a pained expression on her face. “Hello, Daisy,” she said in a tight voice. “Don’t believe a word of what Gabriel just said.”
Gabriel felt as if an anchor had just been dropped on his stomach. He tried to stand but couldn’t. Instead, he watched helplessly as Daisy remained at the door wringing her hands while trying to regain her composure. She looked beautiful and vulnerable.
She looked young and very hurt.
Where was Watling? Why hadn’t he announced the girl’s arrival? Or did the blasted chit just burst in whenever she pleased?
Eloise patted the seat beside her and motioned for Daisy to join her, but the poor girl couldn’t seem to move either. “You look lovely, child. Your hair’s done up quite elegantly.”
Daisy patted her hair, which was now styled in a fashionable chignon, then slowly shook her head. “You’re being kind as always, Eloise.” Her chin began to quiver. Hell in a handbasket, was she going to cry? All his fault. “I only stopped by to inform you that I won’t be able to ride with you to Lord Falmouth’s ball.” She let out a shaky breath and ran her tongue slowly across her full lower lip as she struggled to regain the composure that he’d callously shattered. “I know I promised, but I’m certain your grandson can manage that responsibility.”
Her tongue darted out again, and all he could think of was the sweet sensation of her tongue and soft lips going down... Was there ever a man more depraved?
“I’d much rather have your company in my carriage. My grandson,” his grandmother said, glaring at Gabriel, “won’t be very entertaining. He’s all bile and ill temper lately, and he’s lost all sense of good manners.”
Gabriel was about to admit that he had been in the wrong, but Daisy surprised him by coming to his defense. “Please don’t berate him. He has every reason to think the worst of me, and as to his manners, I believe mine were worse.”
“Nonsense, you’re always delightful. You were a little distressed today, that’s all. Nobody’s perfect. We all have bad days. Still doesn’t excuse his rudeness toward you,” Eloise insisted, refusing to be mollified.
“Perhaps not, but let’s not make more of it than necessary.” Her beautiful lips were now stretched in a thin, tense line and her clasped hands were trembling. “I doubt I’ll see him again and I do wish to explain about Lord Falmouth’s ball. You see, I won’t be attending.”
Eloise let out a soft gasp. “Why ever not? You’ve been looking forward to it for ages.”
“It seems Mother forgot to notify the dressmakers to proceed with the final alterations for my gowns. They won’t be ready in time.”
“Daisy, that’s unpardonable!”
Gabriel rolled his head back and groaned. Obviously Daisy had endured a dreadful day, first chasing after her cousins—he did admit that looking after seven children was no easy task—and then learning that this much-anticipated event was not to be. A young woman’s first season was a sacred rite of passage, not something to be trifled with or ignored by her family. Daisy looked crushed and he couldn’t blame her.
Yet despite her miserable day, she’d found it in her heart to overlook his outrageous conduct—actually, to dismiss it as though he were irrelevant—well, he didn’t like that. But he hadn’t exactly swept her off her feet with his charm. He’d been cruel and callous, living up to the awful reputation he’d deliberately created over the years.
Damn.
He felt about as low as the scrapings on the soles of his boots.
Lower than those scrapings.
“She’s had her hands full with the family,” he listened to Daisy continue in support of her mother, and thought her too willing to forgive that obviously addled lady. “I don’t mind, really. And the dresses will be ready in time for Lord Hornby’s ball. I’ll gladly ride with you then.”
“Very well, it’s settled,” Eloise said with a slow nod of her head.
“I’ll be off. I’ve left the twins in charge of the other youngsters and dare not stay away too long. Last time I was gone, the little savages took Pruitt prisoner. The poor man still has not recovered.”
Gabriel found his legs and then his voice. “A moment,” he called out, quickly striding to her side before she could turn away. “I believe I owe you an apology.”
She lifted her chin and cast him a defiant scowl. “You’re entitled to your opinion of me. I always prefer the plain truth to fancy lies.”
“Then you shall have the truth,” he said, his gaze riveted by her blazing blue eyes. A tactical mistake, he realized at once, for she did have the prettiest eyes. He cleared his throat. “My grandmother is right, Miss Farthingale. I did not mean any of the crass words you overheard. You were the unfortunate victim of my ill humor. I’d very much like to make amends.”
“Not necessary.”
“Quite necessary.” The little widgeon was hurt and still angry with him. He folded his arms over his chest and stared down at her, hoping to intimidate her. Only a little, of course. He didn’t wish to scare her—he merely wanted to impress upon her the importance of his apology. He owed her one and he was going to give it, whether or not she wished to receive it.
“I believe your description of me was accurate.”
“Indeed, it was not. I insist on making amends. May I have the honor of a dance with you at Lord Hornby’s ball?” Gad! Had he just asked this innocent for a dance? He’d only meant to mutter some contrite words and be on his way. He hadn’t meant to prolong their association beyond this uncomfortable chat in his grandmother’s parlor. She had to refuse him. He wanted her to refuse him.
He sighed, knowing he was trapped. She would accept him, for women always did. Always. When she did the inevitable, he’d endure with manly grace. How bad could one dance with this incompetent snip of a girl be?
She tipped her face upward to meet his gaze, her eyes an intense and fiery blue. “I don’t think so. Please don’t ask me again. Ever.”
***
“You’re in foul temper, Lord Dayne.”
“Go away, Your Grace.” Gabriel had just settled for the evening in a dark leather chair in the smoking room at White’s, a stately room paneled in dark mahogany and filled with brightl
y polished tables, crinkled leather sofas, and comfortable wing chairs. He was still stewing over Daisy’s refusal and in no humor for a pleasant chat with Ian.
Gabriel glowered at his friend in the hope he’d take the not so subtle hint to go away. Ian ignored both his comment and his dark scowl, instead taking a seat beside him. “Is there a reason for your ill humor?” he asked, casually lighting up a cigar. “Here, have a stiff drink. It’ll help warm you up.” Ian reached over and grabbed a whiskey off the tray of a passing servant. “By the way, you’ll like Veronique’s friend.”
“Who?”
“My mistress’s friend. Her name is Desiree, and she has red hair, sultry gray eyes, and a limber body that will render you speechless. It’s all arranged. You’re to meet her tonight. She’ll warm you up if the whiskey doesn’t.”
“Can’t wait,” he said without a trace of enthusiasm.
Ian arched an eyebrow. “You don’t have to meet her if you don’t wish to. I know a dozen other men who would give their right arms to take her under their care.”
“I just said I’d do it, didn’t I?” He forced a smile. “And I’m looking forward to it.”
“My, my. Seems the Farthingale girl has you quite turned upside-down. Well, it’s to be expected now that she’s grown into a beauty. Did your military training protect you from her onslaught?”
Gabriel shook his head and sighed. “What makes you think I met Daisy?”
Ian laughed. “You have the unmistakable look of panic in your eyes. You know, the look a deer gets when it realizes it’s about to be shot. I warned you, didn’t I? Now it’s too late. Tell me everything.”
Bloody hell. Had he spent years fighting Napoleon’s army merely to protect a country of busybodies? “There’s nothing to tell. The girl and I are not on speaking terms.”
Ian set his cigar in a nearby ashtray and leaned forward, his gaze sharp and assessing. “But you were on speaking terms at one time.”
Gabriel grumbled something indistinguishable.
“I heard you saved Daisy’s cousin from a team of thundering horses. Also heard Daisy was most appreciative.”
He grumbled again.
“Is that an affirmative? Never mind. What happened afterward? I know you remained at your grandmother’s for quite a while.”
He glared at Ian, annoyed by the interrogation. “Why don’t you ask your spies? They seem to be quite thorough in their reporting.”
“But it would be so much more interesting to hear the details from you. Ah, but you’re not the sort to kiss and tell. Too bad. I’ll have to watch the two of you at Falmouth’s party and see how you behave toward each other.”
“Daisy won’t be attending,” he said tightly, her look of disappointment still vivid in his mind. “Seems her gown won’t be ready in time.”
Ian’s eyes widened as though he were caught by surprise, and then he shook his head and sighed. “Your cousin Graelem warned me this might happen. He and Laurel invited Daisy to stay with them in order to protect her from that chaotic family of hers, but she refused, claimed to be needed at home. Apparently, she keeps the household running. If you ask me, she seems to be doing a terrible job of it.”
Gabriel clenched his teeth to curb his anger. He knew Ian was purposely goading him and refused to rise to the taunt. “She does an excellent job under the circumstances.”
“I see.” Ian took a sip of his own drink just delivered by a steward. “So, have you kissed her?”
“No, and I have no desire to. However, I will gladly kiss the sultry Desiree should she be willing.”
Ian threw his head back and laughed. “You’ll find her most accommodating.”
CHAPTER 4
A rake’s weapon of choice may be a blade or dueling pistols, but a young lady’s weapon is her fashionable gown.
“DAISY, DO STOP FUSSING,” Eloise gently chided as she and Daisy rode in Eloise’s carriage one week later on their way to Lord Hornby’s ball.
“I can’t help it.” Daisy wished she’d never been invited to the ball, though the night was perfect, another in a string of unusually warm evenings. The scent of lilac wafted in the air as they drove through the park, filling the compartment with a magical hint of early spring. “I feel like an enormous snowball in this hideous white satin and lace confection. I can’t seem to get comfortable.”
Eloise leaned forward and patted her hand. “You look perfect and I’m certain there’ll be a dozen young men who’ll declare that very thing to you before the night is through.”
Daisy seriously doubted it. “Will your grandson be there?”
“Yes, Gabriel will—”
“No, not him.” Ugh! “I mean Alexander.” After all, he was the war hero and heir to the earldom. Gabriel, although handsome enough to send any woman into raptures, was an irritating bounder and she hoped never to see him again.
“Oh, I see. Unfortunately, Alexander is delayed at Trent Hall on important business. But Gabriel–”
“When will he return to London?”
“Alexander?” Eloise shrugged. “In about a month, I expect.”
“That long?” How was she to meet her future husband if he refused to come to London? She hadn’t considered the possibility when she’d first formed her plan. This was a major setback, she had to admit. What was she to do now? Wait for Alexander? But he could be delayed longer than a month, perhaps not make it to London at all this season.
Well, she could wait out the month, but she would have to form another plan on the chance that her first didn’t work out. It was only prudent, after all. And how hard could it be to keep her eye out for other potential prospects? There were plenty of eligible bachelors around. Just not Gabriel Dayne.
Eloise let out a soft chuckle. “Gabriel will keep us company until then.”
“What? Why him?” Daisy sank back in her seat and sighed. Ugh, again! Never him! “Must he? Forgive me, Eloise. I don’t mean to be rude. I know you love your grandson and enjoy his company... that is, when he behaves himself. But he so rarely does. I wish I could help you to reform his rakehell ways, but he can’t abide me. In truth, I don’t like him very much either.”
Eloise’s eyes were suddenly agleam. “Hmm, help me to reform him? Now that’s an intriguing thought, actually quite a wonderful idea. Thank you, Daisy. I’m so glad you offered.”
At first, Daisy laughed. Then she realized Eloise was serious. Her heart shot into her throat and she grabbed the carriage door to steady herself. “No, that isn’t what I meant at all.”
Eloise was too busy grinning from ear to ear to pay attention to her protests. “We shall begin tonight. Why waste a moment?”
“Because it’s a terrible idea,” Daisy insisted, shaking her head in dismay. “I’ve never had any suitors. None. Not a one. How am I to deal with any man, much less a rake as dangerous as your grandson? I wouldn’t know where to start. Or how to defend myself.” Or how to protect my heart.
“Oh, dear. You’re right.” Eloise emitted a long, slightly disheartened sigh. “No, that won’t do. You’re much too innocent to understand the wicked workings of a rake’s mind.”
Daisy nodded in agreement. “I’m completely inept.”
However, Eloise’s eyes were still agleam. “But I have the perfect solution to our little dilemma. You—”
“There is no solution,” she insisted, her frustration mounting.
“Nonsense, child. I know exactly what must be done to turn you into a worthy adversary for my grandson. I’m going to lend you a book.”
“A... what?”
“Not just any book, but a brilliant exposition of warfare between the sexes. It’s called Rules for Reforming a Rake and was written several decades ago by Lady Forsythia Haversham, one of the most respected strategists of her day. Never doubt that these rules still apply.”
Daisy’s eyes rounded in horror as Eloise continued. “My dear girl, you must look upon each ball, musicale, or soiree as a battle to be engaged, the enemy being the
unrepentant bachelor.” She leaned forward and patted Daisy’s hand. “Said bachelor is ever on the alert, his ears pricked and body defensively poised to repel any attack on his freedom.”
“Lady Forsythia explained all this in a book? Hasn’t she gone through four husbands already?”
Eloise nodded. “All of them rakehells until she came along and tamed them.”
“Killed them is more like it, for not one survived beyond their fifth year of marriage,” Daisy muttered, trying to stem her rising panic. How long had Eloise been thinking of this? And how was she to dissuade her from pursuing this doomed and dangerous plan? “At the very least, Lady Forsythia herded each unsuspecting gentleman into an early grave.” She swallowed hard and gave a sad shake of her head. “No, it’s a terrible idea. I will never agree to reform your wastrel grandson. Put the notion out of your head at once.”
Eloise laughed lightly and reached out again to pat her hands, which were now clasped and resting on her lap. “Gabriel isn’t so bad once you get to know him. The two of you got off to a bad start, that’s all. Think of it this way, your next encounter couldn’t possibly be worse.”
Daisy tried to muster enthusiasm for the knave, truly she did. But couldn’t. She had problems of her own and didn’t need to pile his atop them. She cast Eloise a polite but dismayed smile. “I doubt he and I shall ever meet again. We Farthingales have been your neighbors for over three years now and have never run into him before. I wouldn’t have met him except for Harry’s escapade. I’m certain he has every intention of avoiding me as well.”
She hoped that was his intention, for she couldn’t possibly be seen in his company. He was completely unsuitable for her, and he rattled her in ways she did not quite understand yet. Perhaps Lady Forsythia’s book would explain why he made her feel so very uncomfortable. Not that she had any intention of reading it, but every time she thought of Gabriel, heat inexplicably shot into her cheeks. And her heart fluttered. Out of anger, no doubt. Even now, her entire body was growing hot at the mere mention of him.