Ruined by a Rake (9 page)

“Good God,” a male voice roared from behind her, “What is the meaning of this?”

Chapter Seven

If looks could kill, Nick would have been a smoldering pile of ashes on the flagstone. Malcolm nearly glowed with red hot anger, his face contorted with the force of his fury. Beside him Lord Henry stood frozen, his shock congealing into horror.
Already faces were appearing in the window as people rushed to see what the disturbance was about.

Nick picked himself up off the ground and brushed off his soiled clothes. “Malcolm, Henry.”

“Explain yourself,” his stepfather demanded, stalking over to where Eleanor leaned against the railing, both hands covering her mouth.

Nick couldn’t meet her eyes. Not yet. Shrugging, he said, “I thought to steal a kiss. The lady thought otherwise.” His tone was lazy, insolent even, despite the emotion burning in his veins.

The kiss was meant to be a means to an end: ruin Eleanor’s marriage prospect,
without
her taking any blame. To let Malcolm’s wrath fall on
his
head, not hers. But that was before their lips touched. Before the whole world had so completely ceased to exist, and the woman he had loved for years had actually leaned into the kiss. Before he’d tasted her, or felt her thundering heartbeat.

“I ought to—
”

“
Lord Malcolm
,” Aunt Margaret interrupted, pushing through the crowd to where they stood. “Perhaps this is a discussion to be held in private.”

She put her arm around Eleanor and tried to guide her away, but Ellie resisted. “No, I should go with them. This isn’t what it looks like.”

Nick started to speak, to say something that would keep her from ruining his efforts, but Aunt Margaret beat him to it. “Not now, dear,” the older woman said through gritted teeth. “You’ll have time for that later.” She forcefully pushed Eleanor to the house, glancing back only once before disappearing inside. He’d never seen Eleanor’s skin so pale, and for a moment guilt assailed him.

No, he refused to feel guilty. He knew when he came out here that he would be hurting the rest of his family, as well as Eleanor. But he could think of no other plan to free
her from Malcolm’s dictates. There would be hell to pay—his stepfather would make sure of it—but Nick would not regret this night.

“In my study,” Malcolm ground out, then turned on his heel and marched inside.

Obedient as a lapdog, Nick followed behind him, allowing a small self-satisfied grin to curl his lips as he walked through the gathered guests. He had a part to play: ruinous rake, not to be trusted with delicate English maidens.

They passed his mother as they strode through the drawing room. Her eyes were red, her gaze unfocused as she smiled in confusion at the pair of them. She raised her glass, saying after them, “My two favorite men, together at last,” before draining the contents in one drink.

Drunk again—what a bloody surprise. She never had been there to stand up for him when he was growing up, when the disdain for her own husband had nearly crushed him. Why should anything change now?

Once in the study, the door hadn’t even click
ed closed before Malcolm turned on him, eyes burning with fiery resentment. “You filthy bastard—you did this on purpose.”

“Purposely kissed her? Yes, no denying that.”

Malcolm slammed a palm against the surface of his desk. “Ruined her chances with Henry! You could have kissed her a thousand times in a thousand different places—you purposely set out to destroy what I worked so hard to bring together.”

“’What God ha
th brought together, let no man set asunder?’ Sorry, but your plans had little consequence on my actions, old man.”

“This is all some sort of bloody game to you, isn’t it? See what you can do to drag the Earl of Malcolm down to your level?”

Of course he would think that. As if Nick had ever wanted anything for or from the man, other than a little respect. Perhaps a kind word or two. Instead, all he’d had was ill-concealed disgust. “Oh, looks like you caught me.”

“You pathetic excuse for a man. Congratulations, you’ve made me a laughingstock. Any hope of Eleanor making a good match has been destroyed.”

Good
. “Come now—I wouldn’t say that. Now that I have claimed the fair maiden’s kiss, I suppose I can marry her.” His chest tightened as if wrapped with steel bands. He’d love nothing more than to do exactly that, just as he knew Eleanor would like nothing less. By making such a statement, there was no better way to insure that Malcolm would
never
let it happen.

Nostrils flaring like a taunted bull, Malcolm shook his head in disgust. “Over my dead body. You’ve always been jealous of the natural children of this family. You never could handle the fact they
are superior to you in every way possible.”

Nick bit down on his tongue, hard. William, Libby, and Eleanor were the best things that had ever happened to him. Despite the fact William was years younger and given all the privilege his status as heir required, he had never been anything but a brother to Nick. As for Eleanor . . . This was all for her. He had to hold his tongue, no matter how much he ached to fight back.

Nick tilted his head as if considering the charge, then shrugged. “Perhaps.”

Malcolm stilled. “I should call you out. If it wasn’t political suicide, I would do just that.” He walked behind his desk and sat, inspecting Nick as if he were the foulest of creatures.

“As of this moment, you are expelled from this family. I hereby banish you from this house and from any other property I own. If you try to step foot on even a square inch of my land, I will have you thrown in gaol. Furthermore, I forbid you to see your mother, or any other member of this family.”

A
boulder settled deep in Nick’s gut, making it hard to breath. He gritted his teeth, struggling to maintain a neutral expression. If this was the price of restoring Eleanor’s choices for her own life, than so be it.

Malcolm leaned forward over his desk, resting his elbows on the polished wood and lacing his fingers in front of him. “And lastly,” he said, a hint of malevolent pleasure lifting one side of his lip in a sneer, “A letter will go out in tomorrow’s post addressed to my solicitor. This time next week, your commission will have been sold.

“Welcome to the life you
should
have had, Norton. I hope you choke on it.”

***

Aunt Margaret paced from one side of the room to the other, her face drawn with worry as her fingers mangled
a lace handkerchief. “I don’t understand, Eleanor. Why on earth would he have done such a thing? Ruining your chances like that,” she said, shaking her head. “He has always been a bit of a scoundrel, but I always felt he was a gentleman at heart.”

Heedless of her fine silk gown, Eleanor sat in a heap on the settee, pressing a pillow to her middle. The myriad of emotions rushing through her all at once
made it hard to think, let alone make sense of what had just happened. What should she do? What did this mean for her sister and her?

Her heart ached bitterly.
What on earth had Nicholas been thinking? She wouldn’t be surprised if Malcolm met him at dawn over this.

Peering
up to her aunt, she shook her head. “He was trying to save me.”

If only she had told Nicolas the whole truth of the situation. Eleanor squeezed her eyes shut. He may have had some ridiculous notion of helping her, but what if Libby was the one forced to pay the price?

Aunt Margaret stopped dead in her tracks. “
Save
you? From what?”

“From having to marry Lord Henry.”

She blinked, dumbfounded. “But you
wanted
to marry. You told me yourself you were finally interested.”

It was Eleanor’s turn to be at a loss.
“What? No, I didn’t want to marry. Uncle Robert was forcing me to. You know how I feel about marriage after Mama and Papa.”

Aunt Margaret put a hand to her mouth. She
looked beyond appalled. “Oh my dear! I had no idea. I thought at long last you had changed your mind. I thought you had finally seen the goodness marriage can hold.”

She’d been on Eleanor’s side after all?
Something inside of her eased, making things just a little less awful. “No—I mean, I’m sure that it can be, but I never wanted to risk it.”

“Then why—?”

“Because Uncle threatened that if I didn’t, he would summon Libby from school, forcing her to marry instead.” The words burned her throat like whisky.

The fury in her aunt’s eyes was a balm to her soul. “Over my dead body.”

Eleanor gasped—it was the most passion she’d seen in her aunt since Mama died. She seemed fully alive again, like the formidable woman she had once been.

“He ruined your mother’s life by forcing her to marry your father. She was determined that you and your sister would not suffer the same fate. Before your debut, she made Robert swear that you and Libby would be free to choose your own husbands—if you even wanted one at all.”

Eleanor swallowed against the emotion that clogged her throat. Mama had done that for her?

A small, unexpected smile deepened the lines bracketing her aunt’s thin lips. “She threatened if he didn’t, she would marry a Tory and take up the plight of the working class, handing out pamphlets on the street if need be. She would have done it too, I swear to it. Robert realized it as well; I was right there when he finally gave his word.”

He had agreed? He had given Eleanor’s mother his word, only to break it the moment it suited him? Anger flared to life deep within her, heating her blood and searing her resolve. She thought of Nick, standing up for her in his own convoluted way, now being subjected to her uncle’s fury.

This wasn’t his fight—it was hers.
It was past time Uncle Robert was subjected to
her
wrath, not the other way around. Hadn’t Nick just shown her how strong she could be? “I have to go,” she said suddenly, unable to sit idle for even one more moment.

“Wait.”

She stopped at the authoritative tone in the older woman’s voice. “Yes?”

“I understand now why rescue was necessary in the case of Lord Henry. But I still don’t know why Nick decided he was the one to do it. Are not the two of you adversaries?”

And there was the crux of the matter.

An unfamiliar longing wrapped around her heart as she thought of him and what
exactly he was to her. What they were to each other. “Oh Aunt, I’ve been so stupid. All this time we bickered and argued, but yet all along . . . it’s been him. It’s always been him. The one who drives me mad, who makes me want to throttle him, but who always challenged me. Always looked to me as an equal.” She swallowed as a new truth assailed her with the force of an exploding firework. “I can’t bear the thought of being without him.”

“So you didn’t mind his kiss?”

Heat scorched her cheeks, but she looked her aunt straight in the eye. “I loved it. And I love him.”

Aunt Margaret’s mouth dropped open in surprise, even as her eyes misted over. Nodding crisply, she rose to her feet. “I’m coming with you. And next time,” she said
, tossing a shawl about her shoulders before linking arms with Eleanor, “do feel free to come to me when my brother makes an arse of himself.”

***

Nick stood rigidly still, absorbing the ramifications of his own stepfather’s words. His commission. His livelihood—his very identity. These were to be the price for Eleanor’s freedom.

So be it.

Though dread filled him like rising flood waters, there was no regret. No remorse at all.
She was worth any price, as far as he was concerned. “Ah, the relief you must feel to finally wash your hands of me. See now? I did you a favor after all.”

“Too bad such a thing didn’t happen a decade ago,” his stepfather
retorted. “You have ten minutes to be gone from this house before I have you thrown out.”

Nick nodded once in acknowledgement, then turned and
strode for the door. As he reached for the knob, the door swung open, and Eleanor nearly bowled him over. He jumped back, regaining his balance even as he lost his breath. His heart soared at the sight of her. Her face was a mask of determination, her chin held high and her eyes flashing like fire-lit bronze. His beautiful, glorious warrior—God how he loved her.

Malcolm started to protest, but she sliced a hand through the air, silencing him. She
marched straight past Nick to the desk, Aunt Margaret following behind her. “How dare you, sir. You made a promise to my mother, and she’s barely gone a year before you break it? What kind of man are you?”

Malcolm’s face went as red as the scarlet curtains behind him. “How dare
I? How dare
you
, bursting in here like some sort of lowborn, mannerless chit. Margaret, escort our niece to her room. I will deal with you both later.”