The Rake's Ruined Lady (14 page)

‘She can have everything from you but a wedding ring?’

Hugh displayed even white teeth in a soundless laugh. ‘She doesn’t want one.’

That took the wind out of Alex’s sails. He stopped prowling and shot Hugh a dark look. ‘What do you mean by that?’

‘She told me she’d sooner be Burnett’s mistress than my wife.’

Alex continued glaring at Hugh but inwardly his attitude altered. If what Hugh had just said were true it put a whole different light on things. Ruining a virgin spinster was one thing; bidding against somebody else for a self-confessed paramour was another matter entirely. He’d done so himself on many occasions before he’d met Elise.

Alex thrust his fingers through his hair in exasperation, unsure now how to proceed. It was none of his business if Beatrice and the doctor had been lovers, or indeed if she’d succumbed to Hugh all those years ago when they’d been besotted with one another. His sister-in-law had made no complaint of having been ravished at any time.

Alex realised he probably owed his friend an apology, and beneath his breath he groaned at the mess of it all.

‘Actually, if we’re going to come to blows over grievances...’ Hugh approached in a single athletic stride and knocked Alex onto his back with an efficient jab. ‘It was
my
job to tell Beatrice about Rani. How much does she know about my time in India?’

Alex levered himself up onto an elbow. ‘I haven’t even told my wife about that damned web of deceit!’ he bawled out in his defence.

‘If it wasn’t you or Elise who mentioned a foreign liaison—’

‘It’s bound to have got out,’ Alex interrupted harshly. Your brother knows, after all, and so does Lord Mornington.’ Alex dragged himself upright. ‘You got yourself into the confounded mess so you’ll have to suffer the consequences of being so blasted noble...’

‘Drink?’ Hugh invited acidly. A thumb pointing over his shoulder indicated his study, situated along the corridor. He knew they were both feeling foolish for having swung first and asked questions second.

Hugh knew he was wrong for wanting Beatrice in his bed, but if necessary he’d fight his best friend to have her—because just a single memory of her silky lips slipping beneath his, and her moaning response to his ardour, was enough to send tormenting heat to his loins.

‘Promise me you’ll stay away from my sister-in-law and I’ll take a drink with you.’ Alex feared his terms and his olive branch would be rejected.

‘I can’t do that.’ Hugh turned away from his best friend, calling over his shoulder to a footman, who’d remained stoically seated in a shadowy alcove during the fracas, ‘The viscount’s leaving; show him out.’

Chapter Eleven

E
lise had hoped that the hostility between her husband and his friend might ease in a day or two, but she was disappointed on that score.

Raising herself up on an elbow and resting her rumpled blonde head into a cupped palm, she watched Alex pulling on his clothes. He’d welcomed her back to his side as he always did, by taking her to bed to make love to her at the earliest opportunity. As soon as his son had been settled in the nursery and his in-laws were safely occupied in unpacking and resting in their chambers Elise had been scooped into his arms and the stairs mounted two at a time.

Following their leisurely pleasure Elise had tried to question Alex about recent upsets, but he’d refused to have Hugh Kendrick’s name mentioned and had stopped her words with a hungry kiss before springing out of bed.

‘I’m off to see Adam in the nursery before going out. What will you and Bea get up to for the rest of the day while I pore over dusty old files with my solicitor?’

‘Mischief...’ Elise rolled onto her back, feeling languid, a smile tilting her mouth as she twirled a finger into the dangling golden fringe of the bed canopy.

‘That I can believe...’ Alex approached the enormous four-poster and leaned over his wife, planting a fist either side of her lissom body. ‘And your intended victim, sweet?’

‘Hugh Kend—’

A finger was placed on her lips, silencing her.

‘We must speak of him, Alex,’ Elise said crossly, sliding free. ‘Papa likes him and is bound to ask after him. How are we to explain away your argument with him?’ She sat up, using both arms to draw her knees beneath her chin. ‘Also, Papa is going after Colin Burnett for the money he owes him.’

Alex sat down on the edge of the bed, sensing his wife’s anxiety. ‘I was unaware of any shortfall. Walter’s not mentioned the debt or asked me to help in the matter.’

Elise sighed. ‘He probably did not want his son-in-law to think him incapable of sorting out his own affairs. You know how independent he is.’ She frowned. ‘I know it wasn’t long ago that my father could not abide Hugh because of the way he’d treated Beatrice. But Papa has his whims, and he thinks that Burnett is now the foe and Kendrick, as he calls him, is his knight errant.’

‘If Walter knew what that gentleman had planned for Beatrice he’d call him out—and me too, for introducing Hugh to his daughters in the first place.’

‘It wasn’t strictly you who was responsible...it was Hugh’s Aunt Edith who made the introduction.’

Alex smiled sourly. ‘I don’t think your father would quibble over details, sweet, he’d just reach for his choice of weapon...’

* * *

‘Stay with me a while longer...please...’

Gwen Sharpe stretched out a hand to the lean contours of a naked male buttock just within reach of a fingertip caress. Her husky plea went unheeded and a pair of buff breeches sheathed the muscled flesh from her touch.

‘Hugh! I want you to get back in bed!’

If Gwen had hoped an authoritative tone might work better than a seductive one she was wrong, but not surprised. She was aware that her hold on this charismatic man was slipping, and whereas once she might have blamed that doxy he kept on the other side of town now she wasn’t so sure that Sophia Sweetman was to blame. Gwen flopped down onto silk sheets, pondering on the identity of the woman who’d caught her lover’s eye.

She knew that a silly little debutante was flirting with him at every opportunity. She’d heard reports of Stella Rawlings even before she’d bumped into the redheaded wench in Oxford Street. Gwen had persuaded Hugh to take her shopping and had looked on, amused, as the chit negotiated several drapery counters to bring herself directly into Hugh’s path. Gwen had seen genuine boredom in Hugh’s face at the unexpected meeting. But he’d courteously exchanged a few words with Stella and her aunt before moving on.

It certainly wasn’t Miss Rawlings stealing him away. He’d an impatient nature and no desire for novices, however willing they were to learn the sensual arts. Gwen rolled onto her stomach, watching as he shrugged his powerful shoulders into a tailcoat then straightened his shirt-cuffs.

Aware of his mistress’s gaze, Hugh turned about and gave her a smile. ‘Do you want to go to the opera later in the week?’

‘Will you have more time to devote to me that evening?’ Gwen asked ruefully.

‘Perhaps...’ Hugh walked back towards the bed, glad that Gwen was coming to accept, without too much recrimination, that their relationship was coming to an end. Of course ordinarily he’d have enjoyed her charms for longer than six months. Gwen was a competent mistress: shapely, skilful, passionate...the list of her attributes was almost as long as that of the reasons why he was a confounded idiot for considering forgoing them.

‘I was surprised to see that your friend’s wife has returned to town,’ Gwen mentioned idly, sliding a long fingernail to and fro on Hugh’s breeched thigh, inches from her face. Her eyes slid sideways, watching for his renewed arousal and her victory, but he seemed impervious to her teasing even when she replaced the digit with her moist lips.

‘Why were you surprised? The funeral is over and the viscountess resides mainly in London.’ Hugh strolled to a chair and picked up his gloves.

‘The scandal concerning her poor sister is very absorbing.’ Gwen clutched the sheet to her bosom, sitting up. ‘It’s bizarre that a fellow like Sir Colin would jilt a refined lady to marry that silly girl, don’t you think?’

‘Burnett’s affairs are of no interest to me...’ Hugh raked tidying fingers through his thick hair in front of the pier glass.

‘
He
is of scant interest to anybody; it is the combatant ladies who will now be gleefully observed at all times.’

‘Ladies?’ Hugh selected the word that interested him, pivoting on a heel towards Gwen.

‘I saw the viscountess in her landau in Hyde Park. With her were an elderly gentleman and a pretty blonde who very much looks like her, although not in the first flush of youth—older, I’d say, by a year or two. Methinks the spinster and her father have come to do battle with the minx and her aunt.’ Gwen felt her breath catching in her throat at a subtle fleeting intensity in his expression. ‘If the viscountess has brought her sister to town do you think sparks might fly when the rivals meet?’

‘Possibly,’ Hugh said, staring sightlessly at his paramour, a mirthless laugh grazing his throat. ‘But not in a way anybody might expect.’

Hugh clattered down the stairs from Gwen’s apartment and out into the street, unheeding of his paramour at the window, watching his dawn departure. He sprang aboard his phaeton, setting the greys to a trot. His mouth twisted in a bitter smile as he brooded that as far as he was concerned the rivals in this game were men, not women.

He was sure Gwen had correctly described seeing the Dewey family out for a drive in the park. If he were arrogant and conceited, as Bea had accused him of being he mocked himself, he’d believe she had followed him to London to become his mistress. But it was closer to the truth to suppose Mr Dewey had come after the doctor for compensation of some sort. Burnett was sure to refuse ceding his birthright for Beatrice, so perhaps the less formal role she’d stated she’d be willing to undertake might be arranged between them.

Hugh knew he could outplay the doctor at every turn at the negotiating table and he was determined to have Beatrice at any cost...

And damn any man who tried to stand in his way.

* * *

‘The old biddies will do their best to extract from you an account of Sir Colin’s betrayal simply to be feted as the first to pass it on. You must refrain from calling him a swine, though he deserves it.’

Beatrice received that blunt advice from Fiona Chapman while the two of them were ascending the magnificent stairway of Lord and Lady Whitley’s townhouse on Devonshire Square. Outwardly Beatrice remained exquisitely cool and calm. Inwardly her heart was racing, while her mouth felt arid and her palms clammy. She moved them inconspicuously against the skirt of her sister’s blue silk gown, borrowed for the occasion.

Elise had stayed at home; her morning sickness had lasted so long she’d finally given up hope of leaving the house, saying she felt too queasy to socialise. Nevertheless she’d insisted Beatrice attend with Aunt Dolly and their friends. The sisters had spent some time—in between spells of Beatrice rubbing the expectant mother’s back while Elise used a china bowl—in selecting a perfect ensemble for Bea’s first social outing since Colin jilted her.

The idea of facing down the stares and whispers had been daunting, but there was undeniable good sense in the advice to thwart the gossips and boost her pride and reputation. So, following her father’s declaration that he’d like to go to London before his aching legs put him in a Bath chair, Beatrice had agreed to the trip.

Earlier that evening, during the ride over to Devonshire Square in the viscount’s coach, her Aunt Dolly had bluntly stated that the wretched doctor might have dreadfully humiliated Beatrice, but it was her niece’s duty not to show it bothered her in the slightest. Bea could not but agree.

Glancing over a shoulder, Bea received a bright smile and a little wave from Aunt Dolly, coming up the stairs just behind them. Despite a tilting stomach that Bea was sure made her feel as sick as her poor sister, she inched up her chin and went with Fiona towards the hum of conversation issuing from the assembly.

‘It is a shame Elise is not with us,’ Fiona whispered. ‘She has perfected the art of batting back a snide remark.’

Bea choked a giggle and put a silk-gloved finger to her lips to hush such talk in case it was overheard.

‘That’s the spirit!’ Fiona hissed. ‘Keep smiling—it will confound them all.’

On entering the brightly lit drawing room Lady Groves and Mrs Woodley sailed immediately in their direction.

‘How very nice to see you again, my dear. We heard you had come to town and hoped you might attend this evening.’ Lady Groves glanced over Bea’s shoulder. ‘Is the viscountess not with you?’

‘My sister is indisposed, ma’am,’ Bea replied.

‘Ah...so I was right...’ Gloria gave her companion a nod. ‘The viscountess looks to be blooming because she is increasing again, Mary.’

Bea started to attention and gulped down a spontaneous denial. Only very close friends and family were aware of the good news. ‘I...I beg you will not say that, madam, as it is not...um...’ Bea fell short of telling an outright lie, yet neither could she hint at the truth before her sister and brother-in-law thought it the right time to make an announcement. ‘Elise is in mourning for her mother-in-law...’ Bea blurted, having just remembered the recent funeral.

Lady Groves patted Bea’s fingers. ‘Of course...I understand; that was naughty of me.’

‘Ah...I see that Mr Kendrick has just arrived,’ Fiona burst out, keen to change the subject lest Beatrice tried to flee after such an inauspicious start.

Though feeling compelled to do so, Bea didn’t turn about. She knew her first glimpse of him would increase the weakness in her knees and make her insides again lurch painfully. She’d come here with Elise’s assurances that Hugh wouldn’t be interested in such tame entertainment. A meeting with the fiancé who’d abandoned her she was prepared for...but a run-in with the dangerous philanderer who wanted to sleep with her was too much...

‘Gracious! Whatever has brought him here tonight?’ Gloria Groves gushed behind her fan, endorsing Elise’s idea that Hugh was likely to shun the Whitleys’ invitation. ‘My...but doesn’t he look handsome?’