A Good Rake is Hard to Find (19 page)

“On the contrary, Sir Gerard,” she said with what she hoped seemed like sincerity. “I do quite understand the need to segregate some activities by sex. We could hardly last very long as a civilization if gentlemen were to suddenly take over the running of the household or—heaven forbid—the rearing of children. No, sir, I am quite content with the knowledge that there are some things I should be protected from, but it is my tender woman's heart that wishes to know these things about your club. For instance, what actually happened when my brother's curricle had an accident. He was such a skilled and experienced driver, you see, and I should hate to think that he lost his life because of something that might have been prevented.”

Sir Gerard looked at her from beneath hooded eyes for a moment. Finally he sighed, and placed his hand over hers. “Then let me assure you, Miss Craven,” he said in a condescending tone that made her want to stab his hand with her fork, “your brother was very much enjoying himself when he died. He loved competition, your brother, and it was one of my greatest joys to watch him at the ribbons. And he was racing when he died. I assure you he will be missed by our entire membership.”

Leonora bit back a wave of sadness. Gerard was right about one thing. Her brother had loved racing. More than almost anything. It was just a shame his last race had been with the man sitting next to her.

“You are very kind, Sir Gerard,” she said with a sad smile. “I don't suppose you or a club member have his curricle, do you? I mean the one he drove. That day.” She paused, waiting for some response. But Gerard was not so easy to manipulate.

“But I'm sure you were told already, Miss Craven,” he said with a frown, “that Jonathan's curricle was stolen by whoever caused his accident. That is what the local magistrate decided at any rate. I was sure your father would have related this information to you. But I daresay he was trying to spare you from further pain.”

Then, perhaps thinking to forestall more questions, Gerard patted her hand. “I really do understand your need for answers, but I think it would be best for all of us if you were to simply go on with your life. It's what your brother would have wanted. I'm sure of it.”

Leonora fought to keep her temper under control. The nerve of that man to tell her what her own brother would have wished to happen after his death. Especially given the blackguard's involvement in that death.

He truly was without conscience in the matter, she fumed.

Well, she was finished playing mouse to his cat.

Looking up from her shaking hands, she saw that Freddy was gazing at her from across the table. He raised his brows as if to ask if she were well.

Silently she gave a short nod. Freddy nodded back, then turned his gaze on Gerard beside her. Who was blithely eating his dessert without any awareness of the death stare his cousin was giving him.

Leonora was startled from her observation of Freddy by the voice of his brother.

“I must tell you, Miss Craven,” said Lord Benedick from her other side, “that I am very fond of your latest essay in the
Ladies' Gazette
. The one about the rights of married women.”

Thankful for the distraction, Leonora settled in for a lively discussion of political philosophy. And if she glanced at Freddy far more than was entirely healthy for her, then it was her own fault for failing to protect herself against his charms.

She very much feared that despite her better judgment she was falling in love with him.

*   *   *

From his seat across the table, Freddy watched with barely concealed anger as his cousin spoke to Nora. He could tell from the condescending look on Gerard's face that he was pontificating about something to her. Or threatening her as he'd done earlier.

All he'd wanted to do when Gerard spoke about Jonathan's imagination was plow his already bruised fist into his cousin's face. But despite his savage anger, he knew that they needed to bide their time to ensure Gerard was caught out in a way that would get him a punishment more lasting than a broken nose.

“If you keep looking at her like that, you're going to scare the poor girl off again, Fred,” said Archer from beside him. “I don't think I've seen you look this jealous since you were at Eton.”

At least his brother mistook his rage against Gerard for jealousy over Nora, he thought glumly. He almost wished to ask for help in this matter from his brothers, but that would be far more trouble than it would be worth.

Sitting up, he flashed a fake smile at Archer.

“That's better,” his younger brother said approvingly. “What's got you staring daggers at Gerard? I know he's not our favorite relative, but he hardly warrants the evil eye you've been giving him since he arrived.”

Drinking liberally from his wine goblet, Freddy reconsidered whether to tell his brother about Gerard. Given that Archer had dealt with a threat to his own lady just a few months before, he might be just the man to talk to. And unlike Benedick and Cam, he could be trusted to keep the story to himself.

“Let's just say,” he said finally, “that our least favorite cousin has been up to something nefarious. Something that ended with the demise of Leonora's brother.”

His brother's brows drew together. “Jonny Craven. I knew he'd died of course. A carriage accident, wasn't it?”

“Indeed,” Freddy said, glaring at his curried lobster. “Though it may not have been as accidental as all that. And, given that it was during a race with Gerard at the time, there's no way our cousin isn't involved somehow. He might not have landed the killing blow, but he damned well ordered it.”

“Really?” Archer hissed in a low voice. “I knew Gerard's driving club was up to no good, of course. Anything he's involved with has a tendency to be a bit dodgy. But…” He glanced around at the table to make sure they weren't being watched. “Murder?”

“That's right,” said Frederick, grateful to his brother for understanding the gist of things so quickly. “Separately Leonora and I came to the conclusion he was involved somehow, then decided to work together to look into it.”

“I'm surprised you're allowing her to look into it at all,” Archer said with a frown. “I know I tried my damnedest to keep Perdita from looking into the matter of her blackmailer.”

When Freddy didn't answer, Archer looked at him more closely. “Aha,” he said. “You didn't want her working on it.”

“Of course not,” his brother said with a scowl. “She shouldn't be involved in this business at all. I certainly want her as far away from Gerard and his bloody Lords of Anarchy as possible.”

“And Mama invited him to dine with us, and seated Leonora next to him,” Archer said with a shake of his head. “I'll give the mater this,” he said. “She's got a particular talent for finding exactly the thing we don't want and doing it.”

“Doesn't she?” Frederick said, laying his fork and knife down as the footman took his dinner plate. “At least I don't think Gerard has become so bold that he'd try something at the dinner table with a passel of Lisles watching him.”

“No,” Archer said thoughtfully. He glanced across the table, where Leonora was laughing at something Benedick said. “He wouldn't do that. He values Papa's status too much. It would be foolish for him to offend the most powerful relative he possesses.”

“I just wish there were a way to get him away from Leonora permanently.” Freddy knew that if anyone were going to understand his point of view on this, it would be Archer. “He's already had her brother killed. I'm afraid that if she asks too many questions he'll take it into his head to harm her, too. Especially given the veiled threats he made when he arrived this evening. Clearly he was taunting her about her brother to see if she'd take the bait.”

“It is troublesome,” Archer said. “When I was in a similar situation, I took Perdita away, but I have a feeling that Leonora would have your guts for garters if you tried something like that. Perdita almost did that to me, come to think of it.”

For a moment Freddy was distracted by the glow of happiness that virtually shone out of his brother's face. “You are so disgustingly pleased with yourself, aren't you?” he asked. “I would never have guessed it would be you who settled down first. Though you were always wanting to mark off your own space from the rest of us. So it stands to reason you'd do the same with your lady.”

“And you aren't marking your own territory?” Archer asked with a raised brow. “It is perhaps indelicate of me to say it, but you all but pissed in a circle around her when you entered the drawing room earlier. I think we've got the message. Loud and clear.”

“So what if I did?” Freddy said without remorse. “I know what our brothers are like. You might be spoken for, but Cam and Ben certainly aren't. It nearly broke me the first time she jilted me. I'm not going to stand aside and let her leave me again.”

“So, it's a true betrothal, then?” Archer asked thoughtfully.

“Damn right it is,” Freddy said, without a pang of conscience for the lie. He might trust Archer with the story about Gerard, but the news that Freddy was involved in a faux betrothal would simply be too juicy a tale to keep to himself.

Still, it bothered him that his brother had even asked if the betrothal was real. “Why, what have you heard?”

“Nothing,” Archer responded with a shrug. “It's just that I get the feeling something isn't quite settled between you. Otherwise you wouldn't feel it so necessary to mark her as yours.”

Leave it to his little brother to ken the situation correctly from the first. But he was hardly going to admit to it aloud. “Don't be daft. Of course everything is settled between us. I have no intention of letting her go this time around. And she's simply going to need to come to terms with that.”

“I'm not quite sure that's how it works, Freddykins.”

“That's what you think, Archie.”

 

Fourteen

“You know how much I've wanted to become a member of a driving club,” said Lady Hermione Upperton as she and Leonora wandered the aisles of Castle's Bookshop.

For the first time in weeks Leonora had fallen right to sleep upon seeking her bed the night before. Of course that might be because she'd had a day that would exhaust a cheetah. From the visit from Freddy's mama and sister-in-law, to the revelations from Lady Darleigh, and finally ending with the fraught dinner party at the Pembertons', it had been the day from Hades.

She'd not only needed sleep, she was unable to keep her eyes open from the moment her head hit the pillow.

The first rest she'd had in weeks, however, didn't make her eager to rise from her bed when her maid awoke her not long after dawn with the news that Lady Hermione Upperton had called and needed to speak to her about an important matter.

Her friend was always up before the dawn, and had difficulty imagining that anyone would wish to sleep past the sunrise.

“Of course I know of your longing to join a club, Hermione,” Leonora said, pulling down a volume of Shakespeare's sonnets that their Ophelia might like. Ostensibly, it was to find her a birthday gift that this shopping trip had been embarked upon. “It's all you've spoken about for years.”

“Yes,” Hermione agreed. “And of course I would never dream of trying to join the Lords of Anarchy, though they are the only club that uses curricles instead of larger carriages.”

“That's a relief,” Leonora said, glancing at her friend. Despite the other woman's protestation, Leonora knew how tempting the thought of a club that drove racing carriages would be for her friend. “I am quite positive now that the Lords of Anarchy are not all they seem.”

“There's just something I don't trust about Sir Gerard,” Hermione agreed. “Especially given what happened with your brother. And from what I've heard the club doesn't spend a great deal of time driving.”

“That is quite true,” Leonora said, flipping through a book of sonnets. “Anything but, really.”

“I had thought that perhaps the Whipsters would have me,” Hermione said diffidently, leaning her back against the shelf beside Leonora. “They said that a lady would be better suited to take up some more feminine pastime. Like needlepoint. Or … you will be amused at this … writing poetry.”

That did spark a reaction from Leonora. “They didn't!” She stomped her booted foot. “It infuriates me that poetry gets lumped into those so-called feminine occupations. Why cannot they simply think of it like anything else? Like playing whist? Or I don't know … painting? Both men and ladies paint but you don't see anyone telling Gainsborough to leave the daubing to the ladies. Why then must people like that say that poetry or needlepoint or any occupation is particularly suited for females.”

“Well, they do say that watercolors are especially suited to ladies, Nora,” Hermione said defensively. “And what of needlepoint? I don't think I've ever known a man who sews.”

“That is because a man who sews is given his very own specific title—he's a tailor.” It was an old hobbyhorse for them both. One that never failed to leave each of them feeling angry and out of sorts.

“Why must people insist upon separating occupations and pastimes into those for men and those for women?” Hermione was perhaps even more upset about the situation than Leonora since from an early age she'd wanted nothing more than to spend her every waking moment with horses and in carriages.

Leonora at least had loved the written word, which, granted, was not entirely thought to be a proper occupation for a lady, but was at least known for having female practitioners of it. So far as Leonora knew, there were no truly famous lady drivers.

“Why cannot we simply do what we wish? It's too frustrating!” Hermione closed the atlas she was examining with a snap. “The Whipsters didn't even put my name up for a vote. The main chap just scribbled out a note to me telling me how foolish it was even to apply to them.”