Rules for Reforming a Rake

by Meara Platt

  Love? Marriage?

  Utter rubbish. Not for him.

  He’d put an end to the nonsense by insisting Daisy dance with him, then calmly walk away once the set was through. That would put Ian and any fellow doubters in their place. All he had to do was find her in this crush.

  Sweet, unspoiled Daisy.

  Though he’d heard rumor of some incident in her past. Bah! He knew women, and she was still an innocent. He’d stake his life on it.

  He spotted Eloise chatting with his cousin Graelem and approached them. “Have you seen Daisy?” he asked, not bothering with pleasantries.

  The two exchanged smug glances.

  “It’s a simple question,” he declared, growing impatient.

  Graelem chuckled. “No, we haven’t seen her.”

  “Well, not since she left the ballroom with Lord Hornby’s son,” Eloise added.

  Gabriel regarded them incredulously. “And you let her go off with that... that... foolscap?”

  Eloise shrugged. “You’re hardly considered a prize and we would have let her go off with you.”

  No, you wouldn’t.

  “I overheard him say something about getting Daisy alone in the conservatory,” Graelem teased. “You know, that steamy room filled with lush ferns and delicately scented flowers. Oh, and lots of dark hiding places. But don’t worry, I’m certain the thought of kissing Daisy hasn’t crossed his mind.”

  Had Graelem and Eloise, even Ian, always been this irritating and he simply hadn’t noticed? Or had their characters changed for the worse during his absence from England? “The conservatory, you say?”

  He marched through the crowded ballroom and strode past the gaming room and dining room, peering into each before proceeding down the long, dimly lit hallway. Is Lord Hornby too cheap to provide adequate candlelight for his guests? he thought testily.

  He reached the door to the conservatory and was surprised to find it closed. He flung it open with his shoulder and immediately heard a giggle coming from behind an overgrown fern. Graelem truly had allowed Daisy to go off alone with that dull cabbage, Lumley! He couldn’t believe it! Daisy was obviously inexperienced, unaware of the games played at such ton gatherings. “There’ll be no more of that, young lady!”

  He reached into the ferns and pulled out Dorothea Hobbs and the pimply-faced Tom Quigley. Dorothea squinted up at him, her lips curling in a too broad smile. “Lord Dayne, were you looking for me?”

  “Er, pardon me. My mistake.” He backed out of the conservatory.

  Where was Daisy?

  He began to open doors along the hallway. Billiard room. Study. Lady Hornby’s parlor. Library.

  He paused at the threshold of the library. “Daisy? What are you doing in here?”

  She stood alone in the near dark, a lone, lit candle revealing her slight frame slumped against the fireplace mantel. “Please, leave me alone.”

  “Are you crying?” He was certain he’d heard a sniffle mingled with her words.

  “You needn’t concern yourself. You aren’t responsible for these tears.” She tensed as he stepped in and closed the door. “Just go away. I don’t need your condescension to complete my perfect evening.”

  He started toward her. “I suppose I deserved that. Tell me what happened. What did Lord Hornby do to you?”

  “Lumley?”

  He nodded.

  “Oh, him. Nothing really.”

  He came to her side, his heart slamming against his chest. Nothing really? What the hell did that mean? “Look at me, Daisy.”

  “No,” she said and turned away.

  He placed his hands on her slender shoulders and gently turned her once again to face him. She offered little resistance. “What did he do?” he asked in softest voice, straining to subdue his anger. Of course, it wasn’t directed at her but at everyone who should have been protecting her and wasn’t, particularly her parents, who seemed more concerned with accommodating their never-ending stream of guests than guarding their precious daughter. Leaving this beautiful girl untended in such surroundings was like dropping a lamb into a pack of hungry wolves.

  “Truly, Lord Dayne. He did nothing at all.”

  “The name’s Gabriel. If not Lumley Hornby, then—”

  “No one bothered me.”

  Confused, he released her and ran a hand through his hair. “Then why are you crying?”

  She hesitated a moment, obviously struggling to compose herself, and obviously about to lose the struggle. Her lips began to quiver. Her hands began to shake. Finally, she buried her face in her hands and burst into sobs. “I tried so hard... so hard to prove I was responsible. Now, I’ll be forever branded the foggy-headed Farthingale, just as you accused.”

  Had he called her that?

  “You were right about me and I was so wrong to resent you for it!”

  He drew her close and wrapped his arms about her, surprised by the depth of her sorrow and alarmed by his sudden, overwhelming need to protect her. “Daisy, please tell me what happened.”

  “I lost the family heirloom pearls. I shouldn’t have worn the necklace this evening because the clasp was broken, but Mother insisted it had been repaired. Rather than fight about it, I put on the necklace just as every Farthingale debutante has done for the last hundred years. I ought to have known better and should have said something, but didn’t. Now it’s lost and I’ve destroyed the proud family tradition!”

  He held her in his embrace, knowing there was nothing he could say to cheer her spirits. Only finding the family heirloom would do. Perhaps this was his chance to make amends. He’d been too proud, too haughty to appreciate how badly he’d injured her feelings the other day. Retrieving the necklace would be the best sort of apology, better than his earlier offer of a dance. “When did you notice it was missing?”

  She sniffled. “A short while ago. It fell off in the conservatory, I think. I tried to return to search for it, but didn’t get very far. I wasn’t alone in there.”

  He understood.

  The Hornby conservatory wasn’t the sort of place an innocent girl could handle without proper chaperone. He’d seen her attended earlier by her Aunt Julia, but apparently her aunt had found other distractions to occupy her time. He also suspected that Graelem and Eloise, despite their earlier teasing, must have believed she was still being chaperoned by her aunt or they would have taken up the slack immediately.

  Daisy started to pull out of his arms, but he held her back, reluctant to let her go. She felt nice, he decided, surprised by how perfectly her slight body molded to his gruff contours. Her silky curls tickled his chin and her scent tickled his senses. She smelled of cinnamon and apples, as delicious as a Viennese dessert. “I’ll help you search.”

  Her eyes widened in astonishment. “You will?”

  He ran his thumb gently along her cheek to wipe away the trail of tears. “If you’ll let me.”

  Leaning back to meet his gaze, she let out a long breath and cast him a dazzling smile. “Gladly. Thank you for the offer. I need all the help I can get.”

  “Good. Yes, then. It’s settled.” Reluctantly, he withdrew his hand from her cheek. There was something about her admission that roused his protective instincts. Ian would have called it a dangerous sign, but it wasn’t. He’d survived to the age of twenty-seven by using his wits, by learning to defend himself against all enemies. This pretty slip of a girl wasn’t much of an enemy and hardly a danger to his bachelorhood. “Now let’s retrace your steps. Exactly where were you when you first noticed it was missing?”

  “On my way back to the ballroom. But I’m certain I lost it in the conservatory. Yes, most certainly in the conservatory. You see,” she said with a little hiccup followed by a harrumph. “Lumley Hornby lured me there in order to show me his... well... his...”

  “His what?” he prompted, noting her hesitation.

  “His cucumber!” she cried, her magnificent eyes rounding in horror. “Only it wasn’t a cucumber at all!”

&nbs
p; “Good Lord!” He’d always thought of young Hornby as a harmless twit, but obviously he wasn’t. To expose himself to a respectable girl. No, not even Hornby could be that much of a muff. Hornby? He wasn’t the sort. Was he? Gabriel shook his head, certain that he’d misunderstood her words.

  “And then he wanted me to touch it!”

  What?

  “But I thought it more closely resembled a gherkin, so I refused. I mean, he led me to believe it would be enormous, the sort of thing one couldn’t resist putting one’s hands around and stroking.”

  Gabriel’s jaw dropped open.

  “Only it was this funny sort of twisted thing that hung limp on the end, like this.” She curved her index finger and held it up to his view.

  Did the girl realize what she was saying?

  “I told Lord Lumley that if he thought to impress me by showing me that... that shriveled thing, he’d have to do a better job of it. Reminded me of a gherkin,” she grumbled again. “Then I told him about your cousin, Graelem.”

  “What about Graelem?” Lord, what had his cousin done to involve himself in this imbroglio?

  “Now there’s a man with an enormous cucumber, but he doesn’t go around bragging about it. Why are you looking at me so oddly? Surely you knew Graelem was an avid gardener. His beets and squash won first prize at last year’s Midlands fair. Are you laughing, Gabriel?”

  “No.” Lord help him! The girl was actually speaking of vegetables. Thank the Graces. He’d been angry enough to grab that clunch, Hornby, and stuff his entrails up his skinny arse. He’d still have a private word with the man, for there was no mistaking the suggestive nature of his conversation.

  “Yes, you are. It isn’t funny. Gardening is serious business.”

  Oh, she’d bludgeon him if he revealed what he’d truly been thinking about Hornby’s intentions. He dared not burst out laughing. Ouch! The restraint was killing him. “So you lost the necklace in the conservatory.”

  “I can’t be certain, but I believe so. Do stop grinning. It’s the last place I remember having it.”

  He took her arm and led her out of the library. “We’ll start our search there, but let me go in first to clear the place out. It won’t do to have you seen in there with me.”

  “Very kind of you to think of it. Why are you still grinning?”

  “I didn’t realize I was.”

  ***

  Daisy had the distinct impression that Gabriel was staring at her derriere. Well, she ought to have known better than to reach over the oversized lungwort in order to better sift through the foliage and soil beds. She’d thrown herself off balance and was now tipped forward and fully exposed to his scrutiny. “Would you kindly help me up?”

  Wordlessly he moved behind her, placed his hands on the sides of her waist, and drew her to a standing position. She stifled a groan as her back came to rest against his gloriously solid chest. The room was secluded, dimly lit, and lightly scented by the lilac in bloom.

  His body felt warm against hers, the gentle touch of his hands at her waist, intimate. Now if only Gabriel would miraculously turn into Alexander. She closed her eyes and imagined Alexander turning her to face him, and lowering his heavenly mouth to hers... and seeking her lips for a long, lingering kiss.

  She drew away with a start.

  This was Gabriel!

  Oh, she had to stop thinking about the delicious feel of his body against hers and concentrate instead on finding the necklace. After all, Gabriel would not indulge her very much longer. She’d heard him muttering under his breath, something about being punished for his wicked ways. No doubt he considered her a nuisance and had a hundred reasons to part company with her. Only extreme pity for her situation—or perhaps a sacred promise to Eloise to keep an eye on her so that she wouldn’t make a complete ninny of herself—could be keeping him here.

  Perhaps it was a little of both.

  It certainly wasn’t a desire to kiss her.

  She certainly had no desire to kiss him, even if he did have the nicest lips. They gave a tell-tale twitch at the corners whenever he was about to smile.

  “Wipe the dirt off your hands and put your gloves back on,” he instructed, handing her back the elbow-length, white satin gloves that had been meticulously fashioned to match her gown.

  “But we’re not done searching.”

  “I’ll continue to look through the plants and soil beds. Dirt won’t show up against my black clothing, but there’ll be the devil to pay if you stain your pretty gown.”

  “Do you really think this gown is pretty?” She slid the gloves up her arms but was unable to button the cuffs.

  Gabriel sighed and turned her to face him. “Here, let me help you.”

  “Thank you,” she murmured, allowing him to gently tug the gloves over her elbows and secure the buttons.

  He tweaked her nose. “Keep them clean.”

  She nodded.

  Did he think her pretty, too? He’d said so earlier in the carriage, but she had been distraught and he would have said anything to soothe her.

  She studied him as he began to search. He was in very good shape for a debaucher of women and a general dissolute. Indeed, his body was remarkably well toned. So well, in fact, that he might have been mistaken for a Roman gladiator or other such symbol of masculine perfection.

  She knew from the scent of his fresh breath as he’d leaned close a moment ago that he hadn’t been drinking. Odd that he should be among the few sober men at the ball. Her host’s son, Lumley Hornby, had imbibed too much—which explained why he’d tried to kiss her tonight. Tom Quigley had tried the same, calling her magnificent and chasing her around the conservatory when she’d realized her necklace was missing and returned alone to search for it the first time.

  Then there had been the gentleman who’d pinched her by the punch bowl in the ballroom. Obviously, no gentleman.

  Only Gabriel had acted with chivalry, which was quite ironic since he had the worst reputation of all. If he was so wicked, why hadn’t he tried to steal a kiss from her?

  Not that she wanted his kiss.

  Still, it was quite insulting that he hadn’t tried.

  She shook her head and silently chided herself for the direction of her thoughts. Hadn’t she learned the dangers of kissing a man? Even though she’d never actually been kissed, just allowed herself to take the blame.

  And endured stiff punishment for it.

  “I think it’s safe to say that the Farthingale heirloom is not among the lungworts,” Gabriel remarked, looking down among the plant beds. “Shall we search by the Cupid’s dart? Perhaps you dropped the pearls there.”

  “No, I never went near them.” He could use a good shot of Cupid’s dart, right in the... no, he was being kind and helpful. It wasn’t his fault that he had a terrible reputation. Well, it was. But even rakehells could be nice at times. Which explained why he hadn’t tried to kiss her yet, assuming he wanted to at all.

  Goodness! She had to stop thinking of Gabriel and kisses.

  He ran a hand distractedly through the golden waves of his hair. “The orange trees?”

  She squelched the urge to reach out and run her fingers through his glorious mane. Instead, she shook her head. “No.”

  “The eucacias?”

  She gave another shake of her head. “No.”

  “The wild hoarhound?”

  She sighed. “Quigley chased me by the orchids. Perhaps we’ll find them there.”

  He quirked an eyebrow. “You mean young Hornby chased you.”

  “No, he tried to kiss me by the cucumbers—”

  Gabriel’s expression immediately darkened. “So, he did try something!”

  She groaned, wishing she had not let that slip. “It was nothing, really. He left when I slapped him... well, perhaps it was more than a slap. I’d curled my fingers into a fist. You see, I accidently bloodied his nose and he was already in ill humor over the gherkin incident.”

  Now, both of his golden eyebrows
were sternly arched. “You ought to have told me earlier.”

  She nodded. “I know. I’m sorry. But as I said, his amorous attempt failed and there was no harm done except to him. He was more irritated than hurt, though he let out an alarming howl when I struck him. He claimed to have very weak nasal cavities.”

  Gabriel smothered a cough, although she might have detected a chuckle mixed in as well. But his manner quickly turned serious. “Tell me about Quigley.”

  “Must I?”

  Gabriel took a step forward so that he was now standing quite close. “Yes, Daisy,” he said, sounding quite protective. “You must.”

  Crumpets! She liked that man-seeking-to-defend-his-woman look about him. Clearly, he was not amused by Quigley and meant to do something about it. She wouldn’t allow him, of course. Men brawling over her? Whatever was left of her reputation would be in tatters. “I’ll tell you, but only if you promise not to do anything about him.”

  His scowl warned that he was about to leave right now and pound the truth out of Quigley. She placed a hand on his arm to hold him back, not that he’d made a move toward the door yet, but she was already distressed and could not afford to have him cause a scene. “Quigley was here when I returned and offered to help me, or so I thought, but what he really wanted to do was pull me down behind those eucacias and... is that all men have on their minds?”

  “Some men,” he replied, glancing at her hand, which was still on his forearm. She quickly removed it.

  “Of course,” she continued with a quick intake of breath, “I was forced to strike him over the head with a watering can that happened to be close at hand. He stumbled and let go of me, and that’s how I made my escape.”

  “Very resourceful of you. I could have used you at... er, at my side.”

  When fending off that irate husband, she imagined. However, there was a look in his eyes, a dark, faraway expression that made her think just for a moment that he was noble and heroic and... no, he had spent his years carousing while his brother had gone to war.

  Yet, there was something about him. Something commanding, and at the same time, comforting. He didn’t look like a coward at all.