The Rake and the Wallflower (7 page)

“Like Lady Westlake?”

He nodded. “Her brothers held all but the dullest gentlemen at bay. The few they approved despised bluestockings, but she wanted a husband who accepted her studies.”

“Surely her brothers wanted her happy.” Her hands gripped the bird book.

“But on their terms. They distrusted intelligent females — even their own sister — and believed she needed a firm, controlling hand to correct her odd habits.”

“So you introduced her to Westlake. She remains grateful. But why did you do it? Matchmaking is not usually a gentleman’s activity. Nor is saving the gauche from embarrassment.”

“It bothers me when people are ill at ease,” he admitted, shrugging. It wasn’t something he’d ever analyzed. Nor did he wish to start now. Thinking about it recalled confrontations he wanted to forget, so he resumed his tale. “After Miss Irwin, I distrusted innocents and never danced more than once with one. It didn’t help.”

“Miss Turner?”

He nodded. “I met her the following Season at Lady Debenham’s ball.” The irony was obvious. He had first spoken to Miss Irwin at Lady Debenham’s ball, first danced with Miss Turner, first met Miss Mary hiding behind the palms. Perhaps he should avoid the event in the future, though it was too late to undo this latest acquaintance. And he wanted to believe this one was harmless. Mary triggered neither sympathy nor compassion. “Beyond that evening, I never spoke with her, but she pursued me relentlessly. No matter where I went, she followed. She even tried to force entrance to my club.”

“Good heavens! She sounds like Lady Caroline Lamb.”

“Very like, though this happened before Lady Caroline met Byron. Most people can laugh over Lady Caroline’s antics because she has credit Miss Turner could never achieve. Society might check the facts more closely if Miss Turner pursued me today, but three years ago, they blamed me for encouraging her.”

“No smoke without fire. How I hate that phrase.”

“As do I.” He met her eyes and smiled. “I finally left town to escape her. That’s when she killed herself, leaving a note that blamed me for seducing her. The family confirmed she was with child.”

“She actually named you as the father?”

He nodded. “I’ve been a pariah ever since.”

“How unjust. I wonder whom she was protecting.”

“It no longer matters.”

He leaped up when he heard footsteps in the hallway, but no one entered. Yet it recalled him to their danger. “You had best leave. If anyone finds us together, your reputation will be in tatters. I’ve no interest in igniting another scandal.” His head spun, so he resumed his seat.

“Nor I. My family barely survived the last one. But few would care about me. Laura attracts all eyes.”

“Your sister?”

“And a diamond of the first water. She outshines the sun.”

Her tone contained pride, but also a hint of pain. Anger flared as he recalled the avaricious blonde in the ballroom. Like too many self-absorbed beauties, she had probably sucked the life from her younger sister — unfairly.

“Be glad that she deflects the tulips to her side,” he said lightly. “You wouldn’t enjoy their company anyway.”

“How would you know?”

“You are too intelligent to like posturing, but those who share your interests would flock to you if they could find you.”

“You underestimate her impact. Surely you’ve seen her.” She snorted. “Of course, you have. Everyone notices her the moment they enter a room. I am invisible when she is around.”

“Not true. I admit I’ve seen your sister, but I cannot like her. She is the sort who is never satisfied with what she has. I left the ballroom just now because she fixed her sights on me.”

“She wouldn’t be so foolish!” Agitated, Mary paced to the window and back. “Of course, she would,” she muttered. “The rumors appeal to her. Drat her, anyway. I’d hoped I wouldn’t have to bother Blake with this.”

“Bother him how?” Gray demanded.

Mary jumped. “I’m sorry. For a moment I forgot you were here. Laura is usually sweet and caring, but she can sometimes be headstrong.”

“If she thinks to attach me, she must be mad.”

“Not mad. Bored.” She blushed. “Laura longs for the sort of excitement described in tales of adventure and exotic lands. Unfortunately, no real man can compare to the heroes of those books, a truth she sometimes forgets. It leaves her dissatisfied with those who would court her.”

“God help me,” he muttered.

Mary seemingly didn’t hear as she paced the library. “She rejects ardent suitors, then trails after those who avoid her. She is particularly drawn to anyone who might show her the world. Someone mentioned that you toured the Continent despite the hostilities that still rage. And another tale claims you often travel about England.”

“More exaggeration. The only touring I undertook was six years ago when I inspected four estates before buying Shellcroft. I did visit Brussels after the debacle with Miss Turner, but that was strictly business. I returned in a week.”

“But avoided London until the following Season, I suppose.”

“Do you blame me?”

“Of course not.”

He rested his chin on his hands to contain a new bout of dizziness. “If she thinks I am an adventurer, then all I need do is tell her the truth.”

“I wouldn’t advise it. When she turns headstrong, Laura ignores facts that contradict her assumptions. That is another lesson she seems to have forgotten.” She sighed.

“Then how do you expect Rockhurst to talk sense into her?”

“Blackmail. He holds the purse strings since he is financing this Season — our oldest brother’s estate barely covers his own expenses. Blake can also ruin her if he chooses.” She blushed. “Please do not repeat that, my lord. I don’t want to harm her if I can help it, but you have a right to the truth. Blake was another who ignored her.”

“Do you mean she tried to force Rockhurst into marriage?” What the devil had he done to deserve this? And why did unstable girls always target him?

“She considered it. William discovered the plot before she could put it into operation. There was a rather ugly scene that should have taught her a lesson — and did, for a while. But she seems to have forgotten it. Like too many diamonds, she expects every man’s regard, and when she takes the bit between her teeth, there is no stopping her. Perhaps you should take advantage of your injuries to avoid society for a few days. Spend time at your clubs while that bruised eye heals.”

“I won’t allow anyone to dictate my life.” The reaction was automatic and contradicted his own history of avoiding dangerous people.

“Men!” She shook her head. “Then at least remain in company for a week or so. I’ll not have her add to your problems.”

It took him a moment to recognize she was protecting him rather than arranging his life as his father had tried to do. No one had ever protected him. Even his family considered him hopeless. “I will consider it if you will stop skulking in corners. You would attract your own court if you remained in the ballroom.”

“Don’t flatter me, my lord. What would I do with a court anyway? I’ve no chance of making a match in town. I wish to wed for love — Catherine has done so twice — but I’ll not find such a man here.”

“Why?”

“London gentlemen are superficial, which is why they gravitate to beauties like Laura. The few willing to talk to someone as inept and clumsy as I spout bad poetry and false flattery as if I hadn’t the wit to converse sensibly.”

“Surely there is someone who cares for you.”

“No one.” She grimaced. “Except possibly Mr. Griffin, but I cannot like him. Nor can I believe he is truly infatuated.”

“The snake.” He nodded toward the reticule holding her sketchpad. “You caught his character perfectly.”

“I know. But he is persistent, which is another reason I prefer to remain out of sight.”

Gray said nothing. The runner he’d hired had not yet turned up anything useful. There was no point in mentioning his interest until he had evidence. But he could ask Nick and Justin to keep Griffin from annoying young ladies. No girl should be forced into seclusion because a gentleman made ballrooms unsafe. “Is there no other?”

She shrugged. “If I cannot wed for love, I would prefer to remain single.”

“A barren life for a woman.”

“For some, but I had expected no other choice until recently. What little Father left was set aside for Laura, so I accepted a role as governess to my niece. Only Catherine’s marriage to Rockhurst changed my prospects. But I sometimes wish I could go back. Life was simpler then — more enjoyable in some ways.”

“Really?” The question was rude, but he couldn’t help himself. He’d heard the conviction in her voice. She was unlike anyone he’d ever met. “Why would you say that?”

“It would have been different had I held a post with strangers. But with family, I suffered none of the indignities of service. And Sarah — my niece — is a joy. Bright, happy, smart… It broke my heart when Rockhurst hired a real governess.”

“Surely the woman is capable.”

“Very. In fact, she is a warm, loving lady. Intelligent, well educated, and she’ll be able to prepare Sarah for society. We’d all feared that Sarah would end as a governess.” She rubbed her arms. “But I miss our time together. Since Blake hired Miss Mott for Laura and me, my days have been filled with manners and court curtsies. I’ve had no time to study anything of interest.”

“That is part of life, my dear.”

“I know, but it is frustrating. Rockhurst is determined to find me a husband. My only consolation is that he will never force me to accept someone I do not approve.”

“What about your brother?”

“He is rebuilding his estate, so Catherine took charge of Laura and me — to no one’s surprise, for she’d raised us. Mother died when I was four.”

Approaching footsteps cut off further confidences.

Gray stifled a curse. He should have insisted she leave instead of succumbing to the pleasure of talking to her. If anyone found them together, she was doomed to spend the rest of her life as his wife. He would not tolerate another scandal.

But would that be so bad?

The thought distracted him. Before he could gather his wits, Mary had shoved the bird book into his hands, swept the folio out of sight, and ducked into the window seat behind heavy velvet draperies. She must have made contingency plans the moment he staggered through the door.

And just as well. The draperies had barely closed behind her when the drunken Earl of Clifford stumbled into the room.

“Sho this is where you went, Grayson,” he slurred. “Did the beating shcramble your brains? Always knew you were prissy, but never took you for a scholar.” He stared pointedly at the book open in Gray’s lap.

Clifford was a self-righteous prig, far too like Rothmoor for Gray’s liking. Both men considered reading a waste of time. Rothmoor preached that the only knowledge a gentleman needed was how to choose horseflesh, hunting dogs, and bed partners. He left everything else to solicitors and stewards. Gray had started his shipping business as much to thumb his nose at Rothmoor as to support himself — he’d been living quite nicely from his investments.

But Clifford’s real complaint was Gina Wren. The earl had never forgiven Gray for winning the delectable courtesan. Clifford had offered a larger house and more extravagant allowance, but she had turned him down. He never forgot slights.

“Birds?” the earl continued in incredulous tones, catching sight of an illustration. “You won’t find your next bird of paradishe in that dusty old tome.”

Gray donned his social mask, surprised that it had slipped with Mary. A glance identified the illustration as a pied flycatcher. “Just settling a wager,” he said mildly.

“Wager?”

“Precisely. One party claims a pied flycatcher appeared outside his window last evening. The other swears it is found only in the country. They were working up to pistols at dawn when I offered to discover the truth — for a fee.”

Clifford sneered. “You always had a nose for profit. Sho who wins?”

“Neither. The bird prefers woodlands, but sometimes visits Hyde Park. Since the window in question is in Albany, a lost flycatcher might have flitted by. Thus I judge both men correct.”

“Sho you lose.”

“Hardly. My fee stands. Arbiters never lose.”

A sound from the window told him Mary was battling laughter. Fortunately Clifford was too foxed to notice.

“Since when do you unruffle ruffled feathers?” asked Clifford, resting one hip on the corner of the table.

“’Tis an innocent lark. And a service to society. Those hen-wits were ready to meet over a bird.”

“Abshurd. Now a dog or a horse… Good wagering there. But never a bird.”

“Not even a wren?”

Gray enjoyed Clifford’s scowl. After losing Gina, the earl had added new exaggerations to Gray’s reputation. In retrospect, Gray wished he’d bowed out of the competition. Gina’s passion was as fiery as he’d expected, but she was a demanding little witch — one of the reasons he’d delayed his return to town. He would have to dismiss her, but she was the sort to throw things, and he hated violence.

“If you’ve settled your wager, you’ll be on your way.” Clifford swayed. It was clear he wanted privacy to sleep off the wine. He was so far beyond foxed that it was a miracle he’d retained the sense to leave the ball. But the man would never risk becoming an
on-dit
.

Any other time, Gray would have left, but he could not abandon Mary. Until Clifford passed out, she would be trapped. And Clifford was looking rather green. Gray didn’t want Mary subjected to the sights and sounds of illness. So Clifford had to go — voluntarily, lest he wonder why Gray wanted him gone.

“I’ll not leave just yet.” Gray stifled a yawn. “Lady Stafford was chirping about a reed bunting last evening, but I’m not sure what the beast is. As long as I’m here, I might as well look it up.” He cocked his head as if puzzled. “You look a bit green around the gills, Clifford. Do you feel all right?”

“Are you implying that I can’t hold my wine?” Clifford straightened so fast he nearly toppled over.

“Of course not. Only the veriest greenling would fall ill from a little wine, and you are far beyond that age. But it appears that supper did not agree with you. Oxbridge rarely serves decent food, but tonight was the worst I’ve tasted. The lobster patties were so greasy, I was bilious after only four. And I could swear the pickled herring was spoilt. Who serves herring at a ball, anyway? So
déclassé
. It positively reeked, and one piece was actually green.” He heard Mary choke. “Of course, Oxbridge’s catering is ambrosia compared to that inn I was stranded at last month. The fish had gone quite off, and I swear the stew was at least a week old. Mutton and lumps of rancid fat. Three men shot the cat in the taproom. Horrible mess. And the smell! I nearly lost my own dinner.”