When Only a Rake Will Do Read online

  Moments later, and despite his good sense, Brendon summoned his valet and then quickly donned his riding clothes. Perhaps it wasn’t the smartest decision, but then again he reasoned, it was unlikely that she would be there anyhow. And if she wasn’t, well, perhaps it would help to ease his mind to know that he’d tried.

  As it turned out, Brendon remained within the park for over an hour, ultimately unable to decide if he was relieved or disappointed when Daphne failed to make an appearance.

  Chapter 5

  Having just been alerted to his sister-in-law’s unexpected presence within his home, Brendon exited his study and moved purposefully toward the front parlor. He found her there a few moments later, seated upon one of the silk-covered settees, a cup and saucer already in hand.

  “Ashleigh,” he greeted upon entering the room. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company this fine morning?” he asked cheerfully. Nearly a week had passed since she and Nicholas had hosted the dinner party in his honor, and he hadn’t seen either of them since.

  “Forgive me for dropping by unannounced,” she began, “but I feared that if I didn’t catch you unawares, it would give you time to find a plausible excuse to deny my request,” she continued with a beguiling smile.

  “Did you now,” he said with an answering grin, for he’d always appreciated her delightfully forthright manner. “And pray tell, what request would that be?” he asked, dropping casually onto the seat next to her.

  “Don’t worry, it’s nothing too dreadful,” she assured him, setting her cup and saucer onto the small tea table, “I was simply hoping that you would agree to accompany me to the British Museum this afternoon.”

  “The museum?”

  “They’ve a newly acquired collection of Greek and Roman artifacts,” Ashleigh explained, “and prior to opening the exhibit to the public, they’re hosting a private showing for their principal benefactors.”

  He regarded her curiously, for his brother had long been one of the museum’s most devoted patrons. “I’m surprised Nicholas isn’t accompanying you then.”

  Ashleigh reached for the cup and saucer she’d just set down, her eyes focusing on the cup’s intricate pattern as she spoke. “He had intended to, of course, but regrettably a rather pressing business matter was just brought to his notice, one that required his immediate attention,” she said, before raising her eyes back to him.

  Brendon’s own eyes narrowed. His sister-in-law had never been an overly proficient liar and his sixth sense was telling him that she wasn’t being entirely truthful, though for the life of him he couldn’t imagine what would possess her to prevaricate about such a thing. “I see. And rather than asking one of your friends to accompany you, you thought of me instead?” he asked, regarding her askance.

  “Well naturally,” she avowed, her features perfectly composed now. “Considering your love of history I thought you would enjoy it.”

  Yes, well, that was true enough, he supposed. Perhaps she was telling the truth after all. Regardless, as he had no other plans for the afternoon, he could see no reason to deny her request. And he probably would enjoy it.

  They had been at the museum for less than twenty minutes when the true motivation behind Ashleigh’s invitation was ultimately revealed, for as Brendon glanced up from the grouping of bronze coins that he’d been admiring, he spotted Daphne Hewitt standing before one of the larger display cases not more than a stone’s throw away. Clearly his sixth sense had been right all along. Even so, he had to admire his sister-in-law’s ingenuity. For knowing that he tended to avoid the types of affairs where Lady Daphne was likely to be in attendance, Ashleigh had cleverly managed to maneuver him into the young lady’s path with a simple change of venue. Nevertheless, as he’d been doing his damnedest to get the lovely Daphne out of his head for the better part of the past week, an unexpected encounter with the beguiling young temptress was the last thing he needed.

  “Oh look,” Ashleigh said in the very next instant, tipping her head to the side as she glanced around his large frame. “Isn’t that Lady Daphne with the Marquess of Bouqefort?”

  Bouqefort? With his gaze focused upon Daphne, he hadn’t noticed the marquess standing just a few feet to her left. He stiffened slightly as his thoughts took an abrupt and entirely different turn. “Yes, it appears so,” he commented, his tone deliberately impassive. However, despite his tone, he was anything but indifferent to the sight of Daphne with Bouqefort, for the handsome marquess was a known rake whose reputation was nearly as notorious as his own.

  What the devil was she doing with the likes of him? Didn’t she know any better, he wondered irritably, than to publicly consort with a man of his character, and not a chaperone in sight no less? Then again, perhaps she did, he considered with a sudden, sinking feeling, his mind recoiling at the notion. But despite his immediate effort to cast it aside, the displeasing notion stubbornly remained. Damn it all, he thought, his eyes narrowing as he studied them. Having denied her request, was she still intent on pursuing her objective? Was she even now in search of someone else with whom to carry out her outrageous plan, a man like Bouqefort? And if so, why did the mere thought of the marquess, or any man for that matter, taking Daphne up on her scandalous proposal make him feel like putting his fist through the bloody wall.

  “Brendon, are you alright?” Ashleigh asked, breaking into his thoughts.

  He blinked and refocused his gaze. Ashleigh was regarding him with raised brows, her expression searching. “Of course,” he replied, struggling to keep his emotions in check. Raising his hand, he motioned to the next display case. “Shall we move on to the next exhibit?”

  “Actually, I think that I would prefer to say hello to Lady Daphne first,” Ashleigh responded, already moving in that direction.

  With little choice but to follow along, Brendon turned, trailing in her footsteps.

  “Lady Daphne and Lord Bouqefort, how lovely to see you both,” Ashleigh exclaimed as she approached the couple.

  “Your Grace, hello,” Daphne replied warmly, dropping into a curtsey before the young duchess as Bouqefort repeated the greeting and made his bow.

  “Lord Leighton,” she murmured then, with a quick nod to Brendon as he came to stand beside the duchess. It was the first time she’d seen him since her humiliation at his brother and sister-in-law’s home, and in that moment she wished more than anything that the ground would suddenly open up and swallow her whole.

  “Lady Daphne, a pleasure to see you again.” She managed a slight smile, Brendon noted, before quickly looking away.

  “Hello Leighton,” the marquess addressed Brendon affably.

  “Bouqefort,” he replied rather brusquely. Though the two were longtime acquaintances, he wasn’t feeling particularly sociable at the moment.

  “Are the two of you enjoying the exhibit?” Ashleigh asked, glancing between Daphne and the marquess.

  “Yes, quite so, it’s a remarkable collection,” Bouqefort replied.

  “It certainly is,” Daphne agreed. “I’m so glad you made mention of it the other day, Your Grace.”

  “The other day?” Brendon looked to Ashleigh, his brow raised inquiringly.

  “Lady Daphne and I ran into each other at the Halifax affair earlier in the week,” Ashleigh explained.

  “Ah.” The pieces were falling into place. He could almost feel Ashleigh cringe as she stood beside him.

  “Yes,” Daphne affirmed. “And when I in turn made mention of the exhibition during a conversation with Lord Bouqefort later that evening, he was kind enough to invite me to accompany him to the private showing.”

  “Only a fool would have ignored such a fortuitous opportunity,” Bouqefort professed gallantly as he smiled at Daphne.

  “You’re too kind, my lord,” Daphne replied graciously, while inwardly she winced, damning Blackburn yet again for making her play out this wretched farce. She hated leading anyone on, even a man of Bouqefort’s reputation. But even more distressing was her current
predicament, standing just a few feet away from the one man she’d wanted desperately to avoid. Yet here he was; and looking at him from beneath her lashes, she could only imagine what he was thinking.

  “Lady Daphne, is your brother here as well?” Brendon asked pointedly.

  “No, I’m afraid Thomas had a prior engagement and thus wasn’t able to accompany us.” In truth, her brother was likely still abed, having balked at her request to join them. “Take your maid,” he’d said when she’d mentioned the marquess’ invitation, for Thomas had little interest in anything as mundane, in his mind anyhow, as a trip to the museum.

  “I see.” Brendon said, a slight, disapproving frown upon his lips. Surely not even Thomas would have allowed Daphne to accompany a man like Bouqefort on an outing unchaperoned, would he?

  Noting Brendon’s expression, the marquess was quick to interject. “Lady Daphne’s maid accompanied us in her brother’s stead, and is at present awaiting us in my carriage. In fact, we should probably make our goodbyes, for we began our tour of the exhibit quite some time ago and were just about to take our leave,” he continued.

  “Of course,” Ashleigh replied with a smile. It was lovely to see you both.”

  “Indeed,” Brendon seconded as they said their farewells, feeling only slightly relieved to know that Daphne and the marquess wouldn’t be making the ride home unaccompanied.

  When they were alone once again, Brendon leaned down to whisper in Ashleigh’s ear. “If I didn’t know better,” he began, tongue-in-cheek, “I might think that you had orchestrated that little encounter.” When Ashleigh looked up, her eyes wide with feigned innocence, he could see that she was about to deny having done any such thing, but after hesitating a moment she appeared to change her mind.

  “You spend so much time at sea,” she whispered back. “Is it so terrible that Nicholas and I would like to keep you close to home? To see you settle down and start a family?”

  “Umm hmm, just as I suspected,” he replied with a knowing smirk.

  “She’s a delightful young lady, Brendon,” Ashleigh continued, deliberately ignoring his comment. “Witty, intelligent, charismatic, the two of you would make a wonderful match; and you can’t honestly tell me that you don’t find her attractive.”

  “Quite the contrary,” he admitted. “But even though I wholeheartedly agree with your assessment of Lady Daphne’s winning attributes, it doesn’t mean that I am ready to drop down onto one knee before her,” Even if she wasn’t secretly engaged to another man, he added silently.

  “Well if you aren’t, I can assure you that at least a dozen other gentlemen are, and most-certainly will before the Season’s end; perhaps even Bouqefort.”

  “I haven’t the slightest doubt that you are correct, though I wouldn’t be so sure about Bouqefort’s motives,” he responded derisively. Nevertheless, her would-be suitors were all bound to be sorely disappointed when they ultimately discovered that the lady in question was already spoken for.

  “Brendon, you know-”

  His well-meaning sister-in-law’s comment was mercifully cut short, however, as a uniformed attendant approached them holding a tray of crystal flutes aloft.

  “Would you care for refreshments?” the young man asked, stopping before them.

  “Indeed we would.” Brendon replied. Taking two glasses of champagne, he handed one to Ashleigh and then promptly downed the contents of the other before setting it back upon the serving tray. Then, hesitating but an instant, he plucked another from the tray, fairly certain that between Ashleigh’s needling and his suspicions concerning Daphne and Bouqefort, he was going to need it, in addition to several more before the afternoon was through.

  “Come, let’s enjoy the rest of the exhibition, shall we?” he suggested as the attendant walked away a few moments later.

  Though Ashleigh eyed him thoughtfully for a moment, she apparently decided to let the matter drop as she made no further mention of Lady Daphne or of his lamentable bachelor status as they continued on with their tour.

  Although Daphne had managed to keep her emotions firmly in check while in the presence of Lord Bouqefort, once she and her maid had been returned home she immediately sought out the privacy of her bedchamber, for coming face to face with Brendon had been even more discomfiting than she had feared. Walking over to the large bay window, she dropped down onto the seat cushion with a dejected sigh. Thinking back on their brief encounter her spirits plummeted, for while Brendon certainly hadn’t been outwardly discourteous, she’d detected a marked change in his demeanor, a coolness, perhaps even an underlying hostility to his manner, neither of which she had ever perceived before.

  If she didn’t know any better she might have thought him piqued at seeing her with Lord Bouqefort, that jealously might have been the cause of his attitude. But of course she knew that wasn’t the case. No, in all likelihood Brendon’s attitude was simply the result of her shameful proposition, for undoubtedly she had lost whatever respect that he may have once had for her, and in truth she could hardly blame him. Nevertheless, it still hurt, far more than she thought possible.

  Not long after returning home from the museum, Brendon had closeted himself in his study, his vacillating thoughts once again at war within his head as he’d sunk down onto the leather sofa with an empty glass in one hand and a bottle of expensive French cognac in the other. And while he’d been trying his damnedest, and in spite of the fact that the bottle was now half-empty, he couldn’t seem to get the unsettling notion of Daphne and the Marquess of Bouqefort out of his head.

  Finally he gave up. For her well-being, as well as his own sanity, he needed to warn her away from Bouqefort and any other man for that matter. Somehow he needed to convince her that this reckless pursuit of hers was liable to do her far more harm than good and to make her understand that if she continued upon the path she’d chosen she was likely to get hurt.

  Leaving the study he strode down the hall, climbed the stairs and made his way purposefully to his bedchamber, summoning his valet along the way.

  “Gervais, I’m going out,” he said, as the accommodating Frenchman followed him into the room and immediately began the task of setting out his evening clothes.

  “And which event will you be attending this evening, my lord?” Gervais asked as he selected a pristine white cravat from a drawer within the large armoire that sat against the far wall.

  “To be honest, I haven’t the slightest idea,” Brendon replied as he set about unbuttoning his shirt.

  Chapter 6

  It took him three, excruciatingly long hours to find her. However, considering that the Season was at its peak, in addition to the sheer number of social gatherings being hosted in London each and every evening, it was a wonder that he’d found her at all.

  Now, standing in a shadowed alcove along the edge of the Wittingham’s ballroom, Brendon watched her as she moved from one partner to the next. She looked like a golden goddess in a gown of pale-yellow silk and cream-colored lace, the lustrous fabric shot through with tiny golden threads that caught the light whenever she moved. And remarkably, for one who claimed less than a week ago to have little but a life of misery ahead of her, she appeared to be in exceedingly good spirits, he noted with a frown. Was it because Bouqefort had agreed to do for her that which he had denied, he wondered irately?

  Despite the fact that it was none of his dammed business, he intended to find out before the night was through, one way or another.

  For Daphne, the Wittingham soiree was shaping up much like any other social gathering as she smiled, laughed, danced and conversed with those in attendance, all the while doing her best to meet Edward Duntton’s exacting expectations. As was his custom, the earl stood now as he so often did within the edges of the crowd, watching from the sidelines as she continued to enact the role he’d assigned her. And while he’d said nothing further about announcing their engagement prior to the Season’s end, she remained apprehensive, knowing that he could change his mind at a
ny given minute.

  Even now she could almost feel the weight of his eyes upon her as she danced with her latest partner, the newly-appointed Viscount Hemswhich, a pleasant young man with a quiet demeanor, flaming red hair and a smattering of freckles atop his nose and cheeks, and not much older than her.

  “My apologies,” he uttered contritely as he trod upon her toe a moment later, effectively distracting her from her thoughts of Blackburn, at least for the moment.

  “It’s quite alright,” she replied with a gentle smile. “I’ve trouble with the steps myself at times.”

  “I doubt that,” Hemswhich replied, returning her smile even as a blush colored his cheeks nearly the same shade as his hair. “But you’re extremely kind to say so, my lady.”

  Fortunately the young viscount managed to keep from mashing her toes a second time as he focused his gaze upon his shoes for the duration of their dance.

  It wasn’t until Hemswhich had escorted her from the floor and taken his leave that she darted a furtive glance in the Earl of Blackburn’s direction. Much to her relief, for she was in desperate need of a moment to herself, she saw that his back was to her now as he stood conversing with a group of older gentlemen on the opposite side of the room. Another quick glance showed that Thomas was still standing at Miss Flemming’s side, nattering with the girl and her mother as he had been for the past quarter-hour.

  Eager to take advantage of the opportunity, Daphne scanned her surroundings, ultimately focusing her gaze upon a set of French doors positioned along the east side of the ballroom that presumably lead to one of the side terraces, and quickly hastened toward them.