Scandalous Scoundrels

by Aileen Fish

  “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 door 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 serious. 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.

  Would Alexander Dayne’s touch be as divine?

  Oh, it simply didn’t matter. Alexander wouldn’t have her now that she’d kissed his brother with utter abandon. Perhaps had it been a chaste, you-remind-me-of-my-maiden-aunt sort of kiss, it would have been all right. But the kiss they’d shared was one of those you’ll-be-damned-in-hell-for-eternity kisses that could never be taken back. Or forgotten. Blessed angels! She’d really liked that kiss.

  And once again, Gabriel’s touch was muddling her senses. Why else did she desperately wish to kiss him again? “Stop it, you scoundrel. What are you doing?”

  She tried to push away, not from horror, but from shame at her own sense of delight. His hands felt wonderful against her body while he deftly worked to hide the stain by rearranging the drape of her gown.

  “Stand still, Daisy. And don’t fidget or you’ll tear the fabric. There, much better. However, you still need something more. Something daring to distract the eye. Ah, yes. This must go.”

  He pointed to the lace at her bosom.

  She gasped. “You insufferable cabbage head! Are you suggesting I remove my fichu?”

  He shook his head and laughed. “You’ll expose just enough there to draw everyone’s eye away from your hem and toward the endowments with which the Good Lord has blessed you. And make no mistake, you are amply blessed.”

  “I hate you,” she whispered, wishing he would stop looking at her as though she were a ripe cherry that he’d like to pick. Only he wasn’t looking at her in a leering, boorish sort of way, but in an oh-hell-I-think-I’m-losing-my-heart-to-you, endearing manner that turned her legs to pudding. Of course, it couldn’t be so. Rakehells were good at pretending.

  “No, you don’t, Daisy,” he said, his voice taking on a sudden seriousness. “You simply hate my wicked ways. Sometimes I hate them too.”

  Her eyes widened in surprise. “You do?”

  He shrugged. “But not enough to change them.”

  “My family thinks I’m wicked too. Oh, I don’t know why I just said that. I suppose I simply want you to understand why I’m so desperate to have you leave.”

  He leaned closer and whispered against her ear. “But I like wicked girls.”

  She balled her hands into fists and was about to do damage to his manly chin when his tone suddenly mellowed. “Ah, but you’re not really wicked, are you? Everyone just thinks you are because of The Incident. Eloise told me about it, how you were caught in the stable with Lord Kirwood’s lack-wit son, Devlin.”

  She gazed at him in defiance. “So what if I was?”

  “I am hardly one to pass judgment,” he assured. “However, I don’t believe a word of that fable, about the pair of you being caught while trying to elope. It simply doesn’t ring true.”

  “It doesn’t?” She took a deep breath. “Why not?”

  “Because I’m your first. The only man ever to kiss you,” he said with such tenderness that she wanted to throw her arms around his neck and cry on his shoulder. “It’s obvious, so don’t bother to deny it. You’ve never been in love, n
ever been swept off your feet, and certainly not by Devlin Kirwood.”

  The accuracy of his statement and the tinge of arrogance with which he delivered it unsettled her a little. “You’re wrong, I have been in love. Um, with your brother, Alexander. I think he’s wonderful.”

  Gabriel’s eyes darkened, and his lips twisted into a small grin, indulgent and at the same time mirthless. “Yes, well, everyone loves Alex. He is wonderful, as you say. But the Kirwood incident may pose a problem for you. Alex, being perfect in every way, expects the same in his wife.”

  She tipped her chin upward again, not quite understanding why she felt the need to defy him. He was the first person to see through Devlin’s lies and believe her. “He’ll forgive me when I explain it to him.”

  “Explain what? That you went to the stable hoping to prevent something romantic from happening between you and Kirwood? Staying home, safe in your bed, would have sent Kirwood a more effective message.”

  Daisy bit her lip. No, she wasn’t going to reveal the truth about that night! She and Laurel had sworn each other to secrecy. It wasn’t her fault that Devlin Kirwood—that clunch—had tripped and fallen against her at an inopportune time, or that her father had come upon them at just that moment, or that Devlin had lied through his teeth about his plan to elope with her, thus giving rise to the false story known from then on as The Incident.

  Gabriel’s voice gentled as he spoke. “I’m not sure why you were in the stable that night, but I do know that you’ve unfairly suffered the consequences. It explains why those two fools, Lumley Hornby and Tom Quigley, attempted to kiss you the other night.”

  “I don’t care about those oafs.” She gazed into Gabriel’s tawny eyes, curious as to what he might be thinking, but she could discern nothing. “What hurts most,” she admitted, letting out a long, ragged breath, “is the disappointment I see every day in my parents’ eyes. They’ve lost all faith in me, won’t ever trust me again, and I’ve been feeling quite miserable about it for a long time.”

  “I know,” he said softly.

  She gazed up at him and sighed. “You do?”