A Good Rake is Hard to Find (10 page)

“May I present my fianc
é
e, Miss Leonora Craven?” he asked a bit loudly, making sure that the other men in the room, most of whom were eyeing Leonora with open interest, knew that she belonged to him.

Leonora stiffened beside him, but he squeezed her hand. If she let her displeasure show, it might provoke the assembled group to demand a display of dominance from him. Something he was loath to do, but would if it was required to keep her safe from these wolves.

Sir Gerard laughed knowingly at Frederick's declaration. “As usual, cousin, you display exquisite taste,” he said, gesturing for them to come stand before him. Like supplicants to the king. To Leonora he said, “I'm delighted to meet you, Miss Craven. My cousin is a lucky man.”

Freddy didn't much care for the way Gerard allowed his gaze to rake down Leonora's figure, like a wolf eyeing a tasty morsel. Nor did Leonora, he surmised, feeling her stiffen beside him as his cousin leered at her. It went against every bit of his natural inclination to allow such liberties, but it was a necessity if they were to learn the true nature of Jonathan's death.

Only that knowledge kept him from declaring the gathering to be the farce it was and carrying Leonora bodily from the house.

“A lucky man indeed, Frederick,” Sir Gerard said, his gimlet gaze belying the languid tone of his voice. He wished to convey ease and calm, but it was obvious—at least to his cousin—that his every muscle was poised for action. “If she were mine I'd keep her close to my side, as well. One can never be too careful with women, after all.”

“The tasty morsel has a name, Sir Gerard,” Leonora snapped before Frederick could stop her. “I'm Leonora Craven. I believe you were well acquainted with my brother, Mr. Jonathan Craven, who was a member of your little club, was he not?”

There was nothing to do but wait for Gerard, who had never enjoyed having his authority questioned, to react. But to Frederick's surprise, his cousin threw his head back and laughed.

“This one has spirit, Freddy,” he said with a wink. “I will enjoy seeing her lead you a merry chase.”

“As for you, my dear,” he said, turning to Leonora with a deceptively sorrowful mien, “your brother was indeed a member of our company. I was sorrier than I can say to lose him. As his sister, you are, of course, welcome at any time in my home and in our club. Jonathan was a valued friend and his loss has been felt keenly by all of us.”

As if on cue, the assembled members murmured their agreement. Frederick wondered if they really agreed or if it was simply a rote parroting of their leader's statement.

Whatever their motives, however, Leonora seemed to take it at face value. She inclined her head regally. “I thank you, Sir Gerard, for the sentiment. My family has been quite bereft without him.”

“I am sorry to hear it,” Gerard responded with what seemed to Frederick like sincerity. “But,” he continued, addressing the room at large, “life goes on, as we all know. And we are gathered both to honor the late Mr. Jonathan Craven and to welcome a new member in his stead.”

Rising, he clapped his hands together, and to both Frederick and Leonora's surprise, the assembled guests divided into two groups: men on one side and women on the other.

Before Frederick could stop them, two ladies came and took Leonora by the arms, leading her to file out of the room with them in a line of two by two.

It took every ounce of self-control he had to stop himself from going after her. While he suspected Leonora would be safer in the ladies' company than she would be here with the men, instinctively he disliked having her out of his sight. Especially in his cousin's home, where anything could happen.

“Lord Frederick Lisle,” Gerard intoned in a voice that would have drawn derision from his younger self only a few years ago, “you have been invited to join the most exclusive and exalted Lords of Anarchy. Is it your wish to enter into this sacred order?”

If he weren't flanked on either side by men he suspected would not hesitate to use their massive strength to snap him in two, Freddy would have found the whole situation amusing. As it was, however, he had a role to play. And he did not wish to do anything that might endanger Leonora, wherever his cousin's wife and her cohorts had taken her.

“It is, Sir Gerard,” he said, hoping he displayed the proper amount of sincerity for such an occasion. He'd never been inducted into a glorified fraternity before.

“Then by the power vested in me as the founder and leader of the Lords of Anarchy, it is my pleasure to welcome you into our brotherhood, Lord Frederick,” Gerard said with a sudden grin. “Enough of this solemnity!” he shouted. “Bring the ladies back in and let us celebrate with some dancing!”

To his surprise, Frederick found himself surrounded by other club members who pounded him on the back in the time-honored tradition of men celebrating with other men.

“What happened?” Leonora asked in a low voice as she stepped up beside him and slipped her arm through his. “I asked the other ladies, but none of them has any idea of what goes on at the induction ceremony.”

Grateful to have her once more under his watch, Frederick shrugged. “There wasn't much to it,” he said, stepping to the side of the room so that the footmen who'd suddenly flooded into the room could roll up the Aubusson carpets. “If I had blinked I think I'd have missed it.”

A line appeared between Leonora's brows, a sure indication that she had more questions. But before she could speak her query aloud, Sir Gerard stepped up beside them. “I hope you will allow me a dance with your lady, cousin,” he said with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. “I would like to bid her welcome to the family.”

“It isn't for me to allow or disallow her from dancing, cousin,” Freddy said, exchanging a glance with Leonora. “I think if I were so foolish as to do that I'd see a swift end to our betrothal.”

“My dear,” she said with a merry laugh, “you make me sound like a veritable tartar. I should think if you were to request it of me, I'd dance with most anyone you recommended to me. Anyone within reason, that is.”

“And am I within reason, Miss Craven?” Gerard asked, a glint of genuine amusement in his eyes. “I'm sure your brother thought so, though he never saw fit to introduce us.”

At the mention of Jonathan, a chill seemed to wash over the three of them. As if his ghost had chosen that very moment to make his presence known.

“Don't be ridiculous, Gerard,” Frederick said a little more sharply than he meant to—it was proving difficult to stem his natural commanding tendencies around his cousin. Clearly Gerard liked to think of himself as the strongest personality in the room, so for the time being Freddy would have to play at being the follower. It wouldn't be easy, but if he and Leonora were going to learn what really happened to Jonathan, then he'd simply need to exercise a bit of control.

“I mean to say,” Freddy continued in a more conciliatory tone, “it's doubtless true that Jonathan intended to introduce you to one another before he died. What reason could he possibly have to shield his sister from one of his most valued friends?”

“None that I can think of,” Leonora assured their host, still all smiles, not revealing a hint of what Freddy knew must be rage at Gerard's criticism of her brother. “Unfortunately, Sir Gerard, though I would enjoy it very much, as you can see from my attire, I am still in mourning for Jonathan. And though he would doubtless have insisted I forgo the conventions, I'm afraid my conscience won't allow me to celebrate when I am not finished grieving for him. I know you, as his dear friend, will understand.”

Freddy watched as a range of emotions crossed his cousin's face. From surprise to rage, then carefully neutral interest. “My dear Miss Craven, you must forgive me,” he said smoothly, placing a hand over his breast—as if the very thought of his own thoughtlessness was too painful to contemplate. “I was so pleased to meet you at last that I simply forgot the protocols of mourning behavior. If you will allow it, however, we may sit out this dance together.” He gestured to a cozy corner near the fire where two chairs had been placed, away from where anything there could be overheard.

“I believe that will be quite unobjectionable, Sir Gerard,” Leonora said, before turning to Freddy with a bright smile. “I hope you won't mind me abandoning you, my lord.”

Trying to convey to her with only a smile and his eyes that he'd be watching out for her, Freddy nodded. “Of course not, my dear. I know you wish to become further acquainted with my cousin. He was, after all, quite close to your brother.”

She nodded. “I knew you'd understand,” she said. “Now, shall we go chat, Sir Gerard?”

Freddy was amused to see that his cousin would be forced to descend from his throne in order to walk with Leonora to the chairs. Gerard was a bit on the short side, so Freddy guessed he'd chosen the height of the chair to give him a sense of power. But when he stepped down, he proved to be half a head shorter than Leonora.

Neither Gerard nor Leonora remarked upon it, however. “Cousin, I hope you will enjoy yourself while you are here. I promise to take excellent care of your betrothed.”

Something in the other man's eyes made Freddy want to pry his hand from Leonora's arm and run away with her. But instead he nodded and watched them cross the room.

*   *   *

“I am so pleased to have a moment to give you my condolences in person, Miss Craven,” Gerard said as he led her to the corner he'd chosen for their chat.

She couldn't help but notice that the fireplace was quite ornate, an exquisite carved marble. But when she looked closer she saw that what she'd at first thought were cherubs were in fact satyrs engaged in just the sort of things one might imagine satyrs would get up to.

To her embarrassment, Gerard noted the direction of her gaze and smirked. “You are not the first lady to be drawn to those carvings, my dear,” he said silkily. “I feel sure any number of gentlemen would be happy to show you precisely how to reenact the satyrs' frolics in the flesh.”

Unsaid was that he himself would be the first in line, but the desire hovered in the air between them. Leonora felt her stomach roil at Gerard's undisguised lust. Especially when his cousin, her betrothed, was only a few feet away. She had known he was bold, but she hadn't quite realized how bold until now.

“I thank you for the compliment,” she said coolly, wishing she were a man so that she could call him out—both for insulting her, and for killing her brother. “However, as you well know, I am betrothed. And as you also know, this subject is entirely inappropriate for an unmarried lady and a married gentleman. If you have no care for your cousin, you must at least have some respect for my brother, who counted you among his friends.”

Though she hadn't expected Gerard to respond with a quick apology, or embarrassment, she was surprised by his gleeful laughter.

“My dear, Miss Craven,” he said, gasping for breath. “You should see your face. I vow you look quite ferocious. Just like my old nanny when I was a boy. I hope my cousin knows just what he's getting himself into.”

Not deigning to respond to her host's strange mirth, Leonora waited until he was finished with his fit and said, “I believe you wished to talk to me about my brother?”

Wiping his eyes, Gerard calmed himself, and smiled sheepishly. “That wasn't well done of me, was it? I'm afraid I let your responses get the better of me. Pray, forgive me, Miss Craven.” He placed his hand over his breast as he had done earlier. It must be something he did frequently, she thought. “It was devilish of me to behave so. Especially when you are so clearly overset by the loss of your brother. You were twins, were you not?”

Unsure of what he would do next, Leonora nodded slowly. “We were twins. Though we were quite different in any number of ways.”

“Indeed,” Sir Gerard said, stroking a finger over his chin. “You, the thinker, the poet, and Jonathan, the doer, the driver. Opposite sides of the same coin, it would seem.”

“If that is how you wish to see it,” she said, wondering what he was getting at.

“I only mean to say, Miss Craven,” Gerard said with a smile, “that you were very different from one another. You, for instance, would never betray a friend. Would you?”

A jolt of surprise, then anger shot through her. “Are you implying that my brother would have?” she asked softly, keeping her voice low lest the rest of the room hear them.

Gerard shrugged. “Not in as many words, my dear. Only that your brother was possessed of a moral code that was—how can I put this delicately?—not quite as strong as yours.”

“You know nothing about me,” she said hotly.

“Do not be angry with me, Miss Craven, I implore you. I only meant that if your brother had been more careful about things. If he hadn't been so determined to win at any cost, he might still be alive today.”

So that was it, she fumed. He was accusing Jonny of cheating in the race that took his life. She knew the accusation was absurd, but even so she felt the sting of outrage as it curdled in her gut. “My brother would not race at all if he could not race honorably,” she said through her teeth. “Something you would know since he spent most of the past year and a half in your company.”

“Oh, I never said he wasn't honorable,” Gerard said with a thoughtful stare. “Only that he was willing to do whatever it took to win. And sometimes that meant risking things that weren't his to risk.”

“You speak in riddles, Sir Gerard,” she said, unable to endure another minute of his cross talk. “Either my brother cheated or he did not. Either he caused his own death or he did not.”

“I rather fear, Miss Craven, it's more complicated than that,” Gerard said, rising and offering her his hand. Which she refused. “Suit yourself. It was a pleasure speaking to you. I believe you'll make an excellent match for my cousin. I believe he too has a very strong sense of right and wrong. You may be very happy looking down your noses at us mere mortals.”