by Meara Platt
Her lips curled in a mirthless smile. “You’ll be joining Wellington’s forces, won’t you?”
He put his hands on her shoulders. “No. I’ll be running as fast as I can in the opposite direction.”
“You needn’t lie to me. I’ll keep your secret.” She held up a hand to interrupt his protest. “We’re kindred spirits, you and I. You understand my shame and frustration because you’re experiencing these same feelings. My situation is inadvertent, caught in the wrong place with a petty, mean-spirited gentleman I disliked. But you purposely want your family to think the worst of you. Why?”
“You’re wrong.” The damn girl was slight and slender, her head barely reaching his shoulders, yet she’d managed to shake him with such force his heart had shot into his throat. Perhaps that’s why it took him a moment to regain his voice. “Daisy, war is not a game. It isn’t something soldiers gossip about over tea, or at ton dinner parties. Bad things happen on a battlefield, men die. Horribly and unfairly.”
“You speak as though you’ve been there. I knew it.” She reached out once more to place her hand over his heart.
“I haven’t. I don’t know a damn thing about Napoleon, nor do I wish to.” He nudged her hand away, cursing at his slip. He had to destroy all trace of good feeling or respect Daisy might ever have felt for him. “I decided long ago never to be one of those pitiful men who risk all for king and country. The only war games I play are games of seduction. The only battles I fight are battles of the sexes. Stop looking at me with starlight in your eyes. Unlike yours, my sordid reputation is well-deserved.”
Daisy tilted her delicate chin upward and frowned at him. “Thank you for the warning, though it isn’t necessary. I know what you are, Gabriel.”
“Good, then I suggest you leave now. I’m suddenly feeling quite wicked and fully intend to steal more than a few kisses. You don’t want to be the scandalous topic of next month’s dinner conversation, do you? I doubt your family will recover from a second disappointment.”
She gazed at him in confusion and suddenly scampered away to put a little distance between them. “You wouldn’t—”
“Your first mistake.” He took a step toward her.
She took a hop back. “I don’t care what others say about you. You’re a gentleman—”
“Your second mistake.” He took another step closer.
Her eyes rounded in surprise. “I don’t believe you.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “Your third mistake.”
“Why are you suddenly so angry with me?”
He frowned. “Get out of here, Daisy.”
She cast him a wounded look. “Gladly.” She hurried out of Lord Malinor’s library, shutting the door behind her with a quick slam.
Once alone, Gabriel pounded his fist into the padded leather back of a nearby chair. Daisy was a torment to him, believing him wonderful and special and all those nice things everyone else had long ago stopped believing him to be.
He was glad they’d shared those kisses, for they were as special as Daisy. But giving in to temptation came at a steep cost. He couldn’t confirm his involvement in Napoleon’s war. He didn’t want her believing he was a man of honor, didn’t want her falling in love with him.
Nor did he wish to fall in love with her.
All he had to do was avoid her until he left for France... if only his heart would let him.
“What did you do to startle your little dove?” Ian asked, ducking into the library just as Gabriel’s fist struck the seat back again with a soft thud.
“She thinks I’m a damn hero. I had to convince her otherwise.”
Ian quirked his head. “No wonder she ran past me as though demons were chasing her delightful tail.”
“Shut up, Your Grace.”
Ian dropped into the chair Gabriel had just been pounding. “Desiree tells me you’ve visited her only the once since setting up your cozy love nest.”
“That is also none of your business.”
“And even that visit consisted only of talk.”
“That is definitely none of your business. Where’s my cousin? He’s supposed to join us.”
“By now, I expect Graelem’s busy keeping the wolves away from his delectable sister-in-law. Daisy does look exceptionally fetching tonight. Malinor, that old buzzard, can’t seem to take his eyes off the girl. Auguste, the younger Malinor, has noticed her as well.”
“Enough, Ian. Forget about her. She isn’t important.”
Ian sighed. “No, I suppose she isn’t. We’ll conquer a city’s worth of virgins after we conquer the French army. How does that sound to you?”
“Jolly good sport.”
“Now you’re sounding utterly morose. Gabriel, I have to know your mind is on the mission and not on the Farthingale chit.”
Gabriel settled in the chair across from his friend. “Consider her forgotten.”
Ian shook his head and let out a mirthless laugh. “Right. Forgotten. Any more news from Wolcott?”
“Yes, none of it good.”
When Graelem quietly slipped into the library moments later, Gabriel relayed the latest instructions. “Napoleon is making faster progress than anyone thought possible. I have to sail to France without delay. Graelem, that gives you about two days to gather the supplies I’ll need and arrange my passage across the Channel.”
His cousin scowled. “It’s too bloody dangerous for you to undertake this mission alone. We could go together. I don’t see why you’re always taking on the dirty jobs.”
“You’re needed here. So is Ian, especially now that Napoleon’s spies have infiltrated the highest echelons of English society. You need to be attending the London balls and parties, keeping your eye on anyone who seems to be acting suspiciously.” Gabriel eased forward in his chair and motioned for the pair to come closer. “Napoleon’s spies must believe that Prinny’s chosen John Randall and Edward Gaffney for this secret assignment. While they watch John and Edward,” he said, glancing at Graelem, “Ian and I will contrive some ruse to explain my sudden absence. Wolcott’s preparing those fake orders concerning John and Edward as we speak. I’m to hand over this supposedly secret information to those spies at Lord Hastings’ ball tomorrow night. If they believe I’m on Napoleon’s side, they’ll stop watching me closely.”
“I have a hunting lodge not far from the Scottish border,” Ian said. “A few dropped hints and everyone will believe we two bachelors—desperate to escape feminine shackles—intend to ride off shortly on a hunting excursion.”
Graelem ran a hand across the back of his neck. “It might work if news of that hunting trip spreads before Napoleon’s escape is made public.”
“I’ll take care of the problem this evening,” Ian said. “All I need to do is mention our plans to Lady Phoebe Withnall and she’ll spread the word throughout the elegant salons of London within a matter of minutes.”
Graelem grunted. “Incorrigible gossips serve a useful purpose, I suppose.”
Ian nodded and then turned to Gabriel. “The day before your scheduled sailing, you and I will ride off together on the north road toward Scotland. Once we’re certain no one is following us, we’ll break away at the first opportunity and ride eastward toward the sea.”
“Eastward to your doom,” Graelem muttered, frowning at Gabriel. “There must be a better way to slow Napoleon’s progress than to send you back into that deathtrap. What can you do on your own against Napoleon’s army?”
“I don’t know, but Wellington needs time and that’s what I intend to give him. My job will be done once the English army is properly supplied and transported to the Continent.”
Ian appeared equally displeased. “I’ll join you as soon as Prinny permits me. He’ll grant me that permission as soon as the House of Lords votes to approve a new campaign against Napoleon. I’ll speak to Prinny tomorrow, just to be certain I’ll have his permission before you set sail.”
“Count me in,” Graelem added.
Gabriel scowled at him. “I don’t need you. At least Ian speaks French, and Edward and John know all about munitions. They’ll go about London supposedly gathering their supplies and weapons, doing what they must to put the French off my scent for as long as possible. Even if you were useful to have along,” he said, pausing briefly to emphasize his next words, “I’ll not turn Laurel into a grieving widow. Nor will I allow your child to grow up without his father.”
This was the pact they had made at the start of the war—no attachments, no wives or sweethearts left behind to grieve, no children to shed tears over the loss of a father. Now that Graelem had married and Laurel was with child, sending him off on this dangerous mission was out of the question.
“Right, that’s settled.” Ian slapped his hands against his thighs. “If I do say so myself, I like this idea of a hunt. It also gives us the excuse to be seen with John and Edward should the need arise. Everyone knows they’re avid sportsmen. In fact, we can meet them tonight at White’s, share a few drinks, let word spread of our bachelor outing, then return to my townhouse for more detailed planning.”
Gabriel nodded. He’d also have to put his affairs in order before he left. “Graelem, I—”
“I know,” his cousin said with a grumble, rubbing his hand roughly across the nape of his neck. “You can count on me to manage your estates while you’re away. Write a note to your parents. I’ll hold on to it and turn it over to them if the need arises. It had better not. I’ll expect you to get your sorry arse safely back home as soon as possible.”
Gabriel nodded. “I’ll do my best.” He rose to signal the end of the conversation. “Well, time to return to my wastrel ways.”
Graelem rose with him and gave him a hearty pat on the back. “Be careful. One slip and the wretched mission fails.”
Just as he’d slipped with Daisy? How much did the girl really know? Probably nothing. Still, he had to be careful around her. He’d spent much of the war years being thought of as a coward, a drunk, and a cheat by friends and family. He needed Daisy to believe it as well.
He closed his eyes, hoping to expunge her from his mind.
He couldn’t.
Gabriel took another moment to compose himself before slipping back to the party. When he did, Lord Malinor instantly cornered him, shoving a glass of champagne into his hand. “Been looking all over for you, Dayne. Where the devil did you run off to?”
“Talking to my cousin in your library,” he replied, stepping back to avoid his host’s breath, which reeked of stale spirits. With his red, bulbous nose, the man reminded Gabriel of a modern-day Bacchus, or what he imagined Bacchus might have looked like when debauched and in his cups. “Hope you don’t mind. He’s about to become a father, you know.”
Lord Malinor burst into a chuckle, and then winked at him. “I hear your cousin’s wife has been giving him the devil of a time. Did he want advice on how to handle her? Beautiful gels, those Farthingales, but high spirited. They require a delicate touch.”
Gabriel assumed a bored manner, though the little hairs at the back of his neck were standing on end. What did Malinor want with the Farthingale girls? “Don’t all women?”
“But Lady Laurel’s got a temper. Don’t know that any man can handle her. Now, the young one over there’s a tempting morsel, an attractive bit of goods. My son’s taken a fancy to her.” He pointed to Daisy. “Gad, what a body on the gel!”
Gabriel’s fingers tightened around the glass he held in his hand. “Yes, she has an interesting look about her, but she’s a little slip of a thing. Easily overlooked in the crowd.”
“Oh, one would have to be as dead as mutton to overlook that vision,” Lord Malinor said, licking his lips as he stared at her. She stood a short distance away, beside her mother and surrounded by several admirers, including Malinor’s son, Auguste. “What I wouldn’t give to have that young flesh tingle beneath my fingers.”
Gabriel excused himself before he gave in to the urge to lift the worthless man by his lapels and shake him till his wig fell off and yellow teeth popped out. “Pardon me, Lord Malinor. I believe my grandmother is summoning me.”
Lord Malinor held him back as he started to move away. “About the gel, any interest in her?”
“I’m not in the habit of discussing such matters.”
“Don’t bite my head off, Dayne. It’s not as if you intend to marry her. You’ve made no secret of your loathing for the institution, but she’s a beauty and if you don’t want her there are others who will. Just making sure you haven’t changed your mind, but I see by your scowl that you haven’t. Leaves the field clear for the other poor sods. Lucky for them you’re not interested. They’d be hard pressed to compete.”
Lord Malinor left him to join his son and the circle of men now formed around Daisy. Auguste Malinor, more formally known as Viscount de Veres, had inherited his mother’s good looks and his father’s scheming nature—a bad combination, to Gabriel’s way of thinking. When the elder Lord Malinor passed on, Auguste would inherit the vast Brayfell holdings and assume the title his father now held, Earl of Brayfell.
He watched Daisy chat and smile and thoroughly charm Auguste and the throng of popinjays dancing attendance around her. She’ll be married before the year is out, he realized, suddenly feeling a tremendous sense of loss. Perhaps she’d marry before he returned from France.
He stared at her, marveling at the stark contrast between them. She was carefree and unburdened, eager to rush headlong into the future. He had no future, or none that he dared to think about.
CHAPTER 11
A lady must never insert herself in the business or political affairs of a rake.
“WAIT FOR ME, Lily. I’m coming with you,” Daisy called the following afternoon, rushing downstairs to catch up with her sister as she prepared to walk out the door. The day was overcast, uncommonly cold, and Lily was already bundled in a fetching forest green pelisse to match the green of her merino wool gown. “Just give me a moment to find my gloves.”
Lily sighed. “Very well, but hurry up. I don’t wish to be late.”
Daisy hastily donned the dark blue wrap that matched her gown, grabbed her reticule and the gloves she’d forgotten she’d tucked inside the reticule, and then turned to her sister only to meet her skeptical glance.
Lily stood by the doorway, her arms folded over her chest, and she was tapping her foot with marked impatience. “You do realize I’m on my way to a lecture at the Royal Society.”
Daisy nodded. “I understand Lord Allenby is to speak on Sir Isaac Newton’s Philosophiae naturalis principia mathematica. I find the topic fascinating and can’t wait to learn all about it.”
Lily tossed her head back and laughed. “What rot! You wouldn’t even read Lady Forsythia’s silly book, but Dillie and I finished it last night while you were at the Malinor ball. It’s actually quite fascinating. The rakehell’s character very much resembles that of a dominant male baboon.”
Daisy rolled her eyes and laughed. “You’re jesting.”
“Not at all. It will make for interesting research. However, Newton is far more interesting to me at the moment. Apparently, to you as well. Why the sudden fascination in principles of mathematics?”
“I’ve had a lifelong passion for the subject,” she said with a merry gleam in her eye, “but never the time to pursue it.”
“Hmm, to pursue it or Lord Gabriel Dayne? Shall I feign surprise when we run into him at the lecture hall?”
Daisy’s gleam faded. “I doubt we’ll see him, Lily. Even if rakehells were about town at this time of day, I doubt they’d spend much time at the Royal Society. However, he spoke so highly of Lord Allenby and the topic of his lecture that it piqued my curiosity.”
“When did he have the chance to speak to you? Last night?”
Daisy blushed as she tried to avoid Lily’s assessing gaze. “Yes, several times. He helped me fix my gown after Aunt Julia accidentally stepped on it. After that, he tried his best to avoid me, but I h
eard him and Graelem talking about the lecture, so I asked them about it. That was shortly before Gabriel joined Lord Malinor at the card tables.”
Lily rolled her eyes. “And not a half hour later drunkenly accused Malinor’s son, Auguste, of cheating?”
Daisy’s eyes widened in surprise. “Where did you hear that?”
“From Aunt Julia. I can pry all sorts of information out of her at will, so don’t try to deny it happened.”
“Wouldn’t think of it,” Daisy said with a resigned sigh. “I don’t understand him, Lily. Perhaps you can help. It’s as though there are two sides to him, one intelligent and charming, and the other slovenly and deceitful. I know the terrible effect too much drink can have on a man, but I just can’t believe he was that deeply in his cups. There must be a logical explanation for his behavior.”
“And you’re determined to discover it.” Lily took her hand and squeezed it gently. “I like him, too. So does Dillie. And since we’re such clever young ladies, we can’t all be fooled by our instincts. If he were truly bad, we’d sense it.”
“Precisely. So what do you think is the cause of his bad behavior?” Although Lily was younger by almost two years, Daisy often turned to her with difficult problems. Lily was the smartest person in England, as far as she and her sisters were concerned, and they greatly admired the nimble workings of her brain, although most of the family and certainly everyone outside the family seemed put off by her.
Lily shrugged. “I’d have to spend a little more time in his company to figure it out. I’ll do it for your sake, and who knows? I might also gather insight from his behavior that I can apply to my baboon research.”
“Ugh! Lily, kindly stop thinking about your baboons.”
She shrugged again. “I can’t. They fascinate me, just as Gabriel fascinates you. Will you allow him to kiss you again?”
“Hush,” Daisy said with a laughing groan. “Don’t remind me of my mistakes. I don’t know why I allowed those kisses to happen.”
Lily pursed her lips in thought. “You told me that he made you feel safe.”