Rules for Reforming a Rake

by Meara Platt

  “And you are?” Gabriel asked, surprised by his cousin’s new-found domesticity. Things certainly had changed while he’d been away. Friends and family had moved on with their lives, little realizing Napoleon was still a threat. His spy organization remained active, not only on the Continent but in England, and Gabriel had been working to destroy it. He’d been shot for his efforts. In truth, he’d been shot several times in the past three years—mostly minor injuries, but the last time had been serious.

  He was still alive because of Ian’s efforts and would be eternally grateful to him for it. Ian had rescued him from the French abbey where he’d been hiding, slowly bleeding to death from his injuries. Half the French army had been scouring the countryside for him at the time, for he’d gotten hold of sensitive French military maps. Fortunately, those soldiers hadn’t quite known whom they were looking for.

  If not for that, and Ian’s timely rescue, he would never have seen his family again.

  He’d missed so much in all that time away, including Graelem’s wedding.

  “Yes, in fact I’m quite used to the Farthingales. I particularly like Laurel’s sisters,” Graelem said, reclaiming his attention.

  Gabriel nodded. “I’ve met Daisy and the twins.”

  His cousin laughed. “Yes, you seemed quite attentive to Daisy during Lord Hornby’s ball. And Grandmama told me just how attentive you were in the carriage.”

  Gabriel shifted uncomfortably. “Must the entire world know that I kissed the girl? I assure you, it won’t happen again.”

  His cousin arched an eyebrow. “Why not? She’s charming.”

  “It was a mistake.” Had his entire family been enlisted in Eloise’s matchmaking schemes? Even Graelem? “I’m not interested in her.”

  “Are you certain? Because I’m sure I tripped over your tongue a time or two at Lord Hornby’s ball. It seemed to roll out of your mouth onto the ground every time you caught sight of Daisy.”

  Gabriel crossed his arms over his chest and glowered at his cousin. “Thank you. You’re ever so helpful. Any other inane comments?”

  “Seriously, Gabriel. Don’t you wish to settle down now that the war is over?”

  Gabriel relented, accepting a cup of tea and slice of cake offered by a passing servant. “That’s just the problem,” he said in a whisper when they were once more alone in their corner of the parlor. “It isn’t over. In fact, we may be in greater danger than ever from Napoleon. That’s why Ian and I need to speak to you as soon as possible. I’ll soon be ordered to return to France.”

  Graelem noticeably tensed. “Damn. What has happened?”

  “Can’t tell you here,” he said, glancing around and noting the curious stares he was now receiving in return.

  “Oh, hell. Your father’s approaching. He doesn’t look at all happy.” He gave Gabriel a slap on the back, as though to bolster his courage. Not that Gabriel needed it, for he was used to his father’s ire. This was the worst part of the necessary pretense, sending his father into fits of apoplexy. Shaming the honorable Dayne name.

  His father stopped in front of him so that they were standing almost nose to nose. Of course, he was slightly taller and broader in the shoulders than his father. Still, the man was an imposing presence. “How dare you abandon the Fribble sisters.”

  Gabriel shrugged, forcing all warmth from his voice and trying very hard to keep his heart from aching. But the anguish in his father’s eyes, in the eyes of the man he loved most dearly, cut like a knife straight through him. “I didn’t see the point in returning since I have no intention of marrying either of them, or any of your sweet young guests, for that matter.”

  His father shook his head slowly, sadly. “What’s happened to you? I used to be as proud of you as I was of Alexander.”

  “By the way, how is the dashing war hero?” Lord, he’d missed Alex’s bright smile and the good times they’d shared as boys. But to reveal the truth, to give his family hope of his redemption was impossible. The deception had to be perfect or Napoleon’s spies would know he was a fraud.

  He’d spent years acting the immoral dissolute to earn their trust, handing over bits of information about English troop movements that were purposely given under Wellington’s orders and with approval of the Prince Regent. If not for that hard-won trust, he would never have been able to travel to France and gain access to Napoleon’s inner circle. “I haven’t seen my brother in years.”

  “You will soon. He’s returning to London with his betrothed to formally announce their engagement.”

  Gabriel shook his head. “His what?”

  “Surely, you remember Lord Broadhurst’s daughter, Jillian.”

  “Ah, his childhood sweetheart. Good old Alex. He always was the steady sort. Loyal, trustworthy, a perfect candidate for marriage.” He was happy for Alex, but truly saddened that he’d missed those years with him as well. He was now a stranger to his family and they were strangers to him.

  “I don’t understand you,” his father said, letting out a ragged sigh, “or your desire to shed all obligation and do whatever you bloody well please. I’ve kept silent and allowed you to lead your life of debauchery, believing you’d soon tire of it and that would be the end of the family crisis.”

  Gabriel arched an eyebrow as though bored. “But I haven’t.”

  “I’ll let you in on a little secret—remaining free to do as one pleases isn’t really pleasing at all. It’s a hollow existence, but you’ll see that as soon as you meet the right girl. There will come a time for you to marry and assume your respectable place in society.”

  He let out a mock shudder. “I certainly hope not.”

  “Bah! I don’t know why I bother with you.” His father spoke not so much out of anger, but out of pain. Hell. Gabriel much preferred the anger.

  “Wait, Father!” He placed a hand on the older man’s arm to stop him as he was about to turn away. “Tell Alex that I’m happy for him. Send him my best wishes.”

  “Tell him yourself. He’ll be here by the end of the month.” He turned abruptly and left.

  “And you’ll be back in France by then,” Graelem muttered, “scouting behind enemy lines. Lord, this is a mess.”

  More than his cousin realized. Gabriel watched his usually proud father retreat toward his mother, his shoulders slumped in disappointment. He ached to tell him the truth, but couldn’t.

  Forcing himself out of his own anguish, he turned the conversation to more pleasant topics. “I didn’t mean to insult you or Laurel earlier. Please accept my apologies.”

  Graelem nodded. “No harm done. You have a lot resting on your shoulders.”

  “So will you quite soon.” He grinned at his cousin, forcing himself to forget about Napoleon for the moment. “How is she faring? When is the baby due?”

  Graelem’s expression suddenly softened. “Any day now. Laurel’s perfect and I’m an utter wreck. I suppose that’s because I’m about to become a father. Strange things happen to a man when he realizes he has created new life. He looks at the whole world differently, gains new respect for the woman he’s chosen as his partner in life.”

  Gabriel’s thoughts unwillingly drifted to Daisy, but he tried to shake them off. A partner in life? Living with Daisy would be chaos. Oh, and those relatives. So many of them. And what if he and Daisy were to have children? The little heathens would run rampant over his tranquility, and she... well, creating those little heathens would be quite pleasant, especially with her. She’d shown exquisite innocence and passion in their first kiss.

  In truth, bedding Daisy would be something quite spectacular.

  “I need a drink,” Gabriel said, suddenly finding the room quite warm. “Something stronger than this wretched tea.”

  “Let’s raid your father’s library. I spotted an excellent brandy in there earlier.”

  “Perfect.”

  “I’m obligated to attend Lord Malinor’s dinner party tonight,” Graelem said upon entering the library and shutting the do
or behind them for privacy, “but I can stop by the club afterward. Laurel won’t mind since she’s the one constantly pushing me out of the house to attend these affairs without her.”

  “Damn, I forgot all about Malinor’s party. I’ll be there, too.”

  “We can talk then,” Graelem suggested.

  Gabriel shook his head. “Perhaps, briefly. Too dangerous to discuss plans in any detail. Besides, we’ll need Ian and the others.”

  “What can you tell me now?” Graelem crossed to the decanters standing on a small table beside the bookshelves.

  Gabriel sighed. “The Corsican Wolf is loose and on the prowl, eager to stir up trouble on the Continent. Apparently, he escaped Elba a few days ago with a handful of men. He’ll soon have a rag-tag force of a few hundred loyal soldiers.”

  Graelem paused as he was about to pour their drinks and shrugged. “We can stop a few hundred men.”

  “Indeed, but can we stop a hundred thousand? That’s how many will take up arms at Napoleon’s behest unless we stop him now. The French will flock to his side, they still adore him. He’ll pick up more support every day.”

  Graelem shook his head as he handed Gabriel his brandy. “But a hundred thousand men?”

  Gabriel nodded. “He’ll have a formidable army by the time he reaches Paris. Once Paris is conquered—”

  “If it’s conquered,” Graelem interjected.

  “It will be, and then Napoleon will look outward to start new offensives beyond his borders. We have to stop him before he regains his full strength.”

  Graelem poured his own brandy and returned to Gabriel’s side. “Do you really think Napoleon can pull it off? Defeat his own French king? I don’t see how.”

  “I’ve seen him, Graelem.” He absently swirled his glass so that the amber liquid spun against the crystal, gleaming as it caught the firelight. “I know the nature of the beast, witnessed the power he has over the French masses. Wolcott is right to be concerned, particularly if this early report he’s received is accurate.”

  He drained his glass and began to pace, though neither the drink nor his pacing relieved the knot of dread now twisting in his stomach. “Wolcott never believed the peace negotiated with Napoleon would hold and he was right. Wellington was of the same opinion. Prinny’s concerned. He fears Parliament will demand more proof before embarking upon another French campaign.”

  Graelem stepped in front of him and put a hand on his shoulder. “That’s why you’ll be ordered back to France, to give Prinny time to sway Parliament and provide the proof of Napoleon’s designs. I have a better idea. Let me go in your place.”

  “Are you mad? You have a wife and child to think about. I have no one.” The memory of Harry Farthingale, that sad little boy desperately missing his father, flashed vividly before his eyes. He silently vowed never to allow the same fate to befall Graelem’s child.

  “But I can fight,” Graelem insisted.

  “Which you may do at length with your wife, but not with the French. However, I’ll need your help to organize my supplies, quietly secure my passage across the Channel.”

  “Damn it, Gabriel—”

  “No, I’ll listen to no more argument. Besides, I hear Grandmama calling us.” He placed a hand to his ear and leaned toward the closed door. “Yes, she’d like us to join her and the delightful Fribble sisters.”

  “Bloody hell, not them,” his cousin said with a laughing groan, but he clamped a hand on Gabriel’s shoulder to stop him as he was about to walk out. “This discussion isn’t over.”

  “Yes, it is. I’ll see you at Lord Malinor’s tonight.”

  ***

  Daisy was determined to make her family proud, but first she had to find a quiet spot in Lord Malinor’s bustling townhouse in order to fix her gown. Julia, in her eagerness to descend from the carriage and reach that wealthy widower’s side before some other predatory female snatched him up, had stepped on the hem of Daisy’s newest gown and soiled it.

  Drat! Daisy stared glumly at the exquisite blue satin as it shimmered divinely by candlelight. Could it be salvaged?

  “It isn’t fair,” she grumbled, recalling the first rule in Lady Forsythia’s book: To attract a rake, one must make an elegant first impression. Her first meeting with Gabriel hadn’t gone well at all. Neither had their second. Not that she intended to pursue the scoundrel. She didn’t. Certainly not now that she’d read the first few pages of Lady Forsythia’s book and realized how dauntingly perfect one had to be in order to conquer a rake’s heart.

  Eloise had instructed her butler to deliver the book to her shortly before they were all to leave for Lord Malinor’s party. It came bound in pink ribbons, no less. Poor Eloise. She wanted Gabriel to marry, but wasn’t it painfully obvious that she and Gabriel were not suited?

  The twins had taken the book from under her pillow, pleading for something to entertain themselves while left behind at home with the little ones. She hoped they would have fun reading it. No doubt they were giggling over its contents right now.

  Daisy’s mother came up beside her. “Darling, what’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.” Daisy quickly hid the damage to her gown.

  “Then stand straight and don’t crush the delicate fabric. Why are you holding the train so awkwardly? You have it in a death grip. You can’t walk about like that all night.”

  “I thought this was to be a simple dinner party.”

  Her mother gave her shoulder a soothing pat. “It is, dear. I doubt there will be more than a hundred guests in attendance.”

  “Oh, dear.” That meant two hundred prying eyes and one hundred heads shaking in disapproval.

  “Come along and meet our host. He’s eager to know all of Julia’s family. Can you imagine? What a coup for the dear girl!” She paused a moment and eyed her with a sudden, speculative interest. “Lord Malinor’s son, Auguste, is unattached. He’s a handsome fellow. A good, solid sort. I’ll make certain you’re introduced to him before the night is over. Your father and I ought to have thought of him sooner. You and he will make an excellent match.”

  As her mother turned away to greet friends, Daisy hurried off in the opposite direction. She rushed past a jovial crowd gathered in the ornately decorated red and gold salon. Those guests were amiably chatting and sipping champagne, ignoring the gentle strains of a harp plucked by a rather large woman hidden behind an abundant green fern.

  They ignored her as well as she tried to edge her way to the stairs leading up to the ladies’ retiring room, blocking those stairs and making it impossible for anyone to pass. She gave up and glanced down a long hallway that appeared deserted, deciding to sneak into one of the many empty rooms along the hall.

  She paused by a closed door and knocked softly. “Is anyone in here?”

  No response.

  Good. She opened the door and found herself in Lord Malinor’s library. The warming fire in the hearth cast a golden glow across the soft leather chairs, mahogany desk, and finely oiled bookshelves. Stepping in, she crossed to one of the red leather chairs angled beside the hearth. And now to fix the problem.

  She raised her hem, and was about to brush off the dirty footprint, when a large hand suddenly gripped her shoulder. She let out a yelp and turned to her assailant, gloved fists raised. “Honestly, Gabriel!” She uncurled her fists and set one hand over her heart. “You scared the wits out of me. What are you doing in here?”

  “Seeking solitude,” he grumbled, his gaze fixed on her ankle, which was exposed to his scrutiny along with the rest of her leg since she’d raised the gown above her knees.

  She quickly smoothed the fabric back into place and shot to her feet. “I was here first and I’m trying to be good, so you’ll have to leave immediately.”

  “What I’ve seen of you is very good,” he said with an arch of his eyebrow and a rakish gleam in his eyes.

  She tipped her chin up and turned away, determined to ignore him. “I suppose you think yourself very witty, but my predicament is s
erious. I’ve been warned to be on best behavior tonight. That means keeping away from rogues such as you.”

  He tucked a finger under her chin and turned her to face him so that her gaze was back on him. “It seems you’ve failed.”

  “Did you purposely follow me in here?” Oh, she’d be in for it if her family found them together, especially after the scathing lecture she’d received on the carriage ride over here.

  “You look adorable when you scowl.” He cast her a deliciously tender grin that heated her insides more efficiently than any fire ever could. “Your eyes blaze an intense blue and your lips—never mind.” He shook his head as though to clear his thoughts. “What I mean to say is that actually, I was here first. I didn’t follow you anywhere. You followed me.”

  She eyed him skeptically. “Why didn’t you speak up when I knocked?”

  He tweaked her chin and then released her, folding his arms across his chest. “I was hoping you’d go away.”

  “That’s not a very nice thing to say. Well... oh, it doesn’t matter. I’ll go as soon as I fix my hem.”

  “Need help?” he asked, bending on one knee beside her.

  She gripped his jacket by the shoulders... my, they were massive shoulders... and urged him up. “No, you may not help me,” she declared, suddenly feeling quite small beside him. “I’m quite capable of handling this mishap on my own, and I’ll be in so much trouble if you’re seen in here with me. It’ll cause quite the scandal. I’ll be ruined and you’ll be forced to marry me. Neither of us wants that. So please go away, just for a little while.”

  “I suppose I should. That’s rather a large footprint on your dress.”

  “I know.” She emitted a ragged sigh. “Please go.”

  He shook his head and tsked. “It won’t come off with gentle wiping.”

  “Any more helpful comments?”

  “But you might try gathering the train and holding it like this, and...” Suddenly, he drew her away from the chair, pulled her toward him, and wrapped his hands about her hips.

  The momentary feel of his hard body against hers, of his arms gently cradling her and the whispered scent of musk against his skin, tantalized her senses and left her so weak-kneed she was barely able to stand.