Rules for Reforming a Rake (19 page)

He’d already offered to take the girls to Gresham’s bookshop, where he was to pick up forged identity papers. He hoped anyone watching them would think he and the girls were innocently buying books.

Then, he needed to get to Blakney’s Confectionery, the pie shop across the street from the bookshop. He’d invite them once they’d finished at the bookshop. He glanced around, sensing Napoleon’s spies were all over this lecture hall, already curious about the timing of his hunting trip. He’d noticed several men hovering close by as he’d settled in the seat beside Daisy.

Of course, the girl was beautiful and those men might simply have been trying to gain her notice. Most of them probably were, but among them could have been a French spy sent to watch his movements and report back.

He frowned.

There was another complication. Spending more time in Daisy’s company was dangerous to her reputation—one that was already mildly tarnished. She couldn’t pass the entire afternoon with him and not have tongues wagging.

“Do it,” Ian whispered, coming up beside him. “There are no morals when it comes to winning a war. I know what you’re thinking, that being seen too often in the company of a rakehell such as you isn’t wise for her, but it helps us. Her little tarnish is what makes her so perfect as your cover. It makes your interest in her believable.”

“I don’t have to like it.”

“Make sure you pick up your travel papers today. Gresham has them ready.” He shook his head and sighed. “I know you’re worried about Daisy. Graelem and I will fix any damage your attentions toward her have caused.”

“You had better,” he grumbled.

Ian, never one for coddling his ill humor, indulged him this time. “I will. I promise.”

Gabriel nodded. “I’ll also do what I can before I leave.” A few drunken curses muttered at Lord Hastings’ ball tomorrow night about the priggish virgin who had rebuffed his advances would go a long way toward repairing any damage.

He returned to the girls with a glass of ratafia in each hand.

Daisy took hers with a hesitant smile.

Did she suspect something?

The gavel pounded again, signaling commencement of Lord Allenby’s question and answer period. “I’ll take you to Gresham’s Antiquarian Books as soon as the lecture is over,” Gabriel said.

“And afterward to Blakney’s Confectionery for some strawberry tarts?” Lily added as they resumed their seats.

Bless you!

Gabriel laughed, but he doubted the laughter reached his eyes. “Yes, you impertinent little bluestocking.”

The lecture ended promptly at three o’clock. Gabriel introduced the girls to Lord Allenby, then excused himself to bid farewell to Ian and make further arrangements to meet him tonight.

“She’s pretty enough to set any man’s heart on fire,” Ian said, nodding toward Daisy, who was gently laughing at some remark of Lord Allenby’s.

Gabriel watched the man puff up with pride as Daisy graced him with a dimple-cheeked smile.

“Not even Allenby is immune to her charm, and he’s one of the few happily married men I know. Take this friendly bit of advice—”

Gabriel tensed. “I’ve heard it before.”

“Don’t lose your heart to Daisy Farthingale.”

He nodded. “Furthest thing from my mind.”

“Spend your last days in mindless pleasure with Desiree. She’s undemanding, willing to please. Trained to please. That’s why you set her up in your love nest, isn’t it?”

“I’ll visit her tonight,” he said, more to convince himself to do it than to assure Ian he would.

“And every night until we leave for our hunt?” he asked, grabbing Gabriel’s arm when he tried to turn away.

Gabriel shrugged him off. “What’s it to you, anyway? We’ll be gone in another day or two.”

“It’s enough time for you to get up to your eyeballs in trouble with Daisy. You’re in danger, my friend. I don’t wish to see you break a sacred vow.”

“No broken hearts, no grieving widows,” Gabriel muttered, repeating the pledge he and his bachelor companions had reaffirmed last night. “I know what I’m doing. Leave me alone, Ian. Tend to your own affairs.”

“I’m trying to, but part of my business is to keep you alert and attentive to your mission. Do whatever you wish when you return. Damn it, just don’t falter now.”

“Right,” he said quietly, “when I return.” Ian, of all people, had to know that sheep headed for slaughter never returned.

***

Gabriel escorted the girls to Gresham’s, a musty bookshop run by an even mustier elderly gentleman of the same name who lived alone above the shop. Every corner of the establishment, including his living quarters, was lined with shelves, each shelf crammed with books of higher learning of every size and shape.

Everyone knew Gresham’s establishment was a gentleman’s realm existing for the fulfillment of scholarly pursuits. Indeed, Gabriel had never seen a woman in the place in all the years he’d been coming here. Well, Daisy wasn’t just any woman.

Gresham would quickly find that out.

“No shilling shockers here,” Daisy commented as they entered.

“Indeed,” Lily said, her eyes wide and brimming with excitement. “Walking through the shop is like walking through a maze. I’ve never seen so many books in my life.”

Gabriel helped the girls to step over several lofty tomes that were too big to fit on the shelves. Gresham had stacked them wherever space could be found on the floor. The old bookseller liked his clutter and often declared that he found more comfort between the sheets of a book than the sheets of his bed.

That may have been true until today, Gabriel mused with a chuckle.

After a mere half hour with Daisy, the old man appeared ready to toss aside his life’s work, polish his dancing slippers, and join the ranks of her admirers.

Yes, Daisy was something quite special, for she was sincerely kind and caring, and genuinely unaware of her allure.

“These two annotations of Newton’s work are suitable for a beginner,” Gabriel said, placing the reading material in Daisy’s gloved hands.

“Thank you,” she managed before Gresham reclaimed her attention.

Indeed, after slipping him the forged identity documents, Gresham had followed Daisy about like a lovesick schoolboy, so enthralled by her it seemed as though he’d never seen a young woman before.

“I’ll take the annotations, Gresham.” Though reluctant to deny the old man the pleasure of Daisy’s company, Gabriel knew it was time to end the visit. They had another stop to make.

“They are first editions, my lord.”

Which meant the old scoundrel intended to charge him double what they were worth. Apparently, his work for the Crown did not diminish his desire to make a healthy profit. “Very well.”

Daisy flashed the bookseller an adorable smile.

“They are for Miss Farthingale?” He wiped his hands, gnarled by age, across his dusty apron.

“Yes,” Gabriel said and was graced with an equally adorable smile from Daisy. He drank in her loveliness, treasuring the simple moment. Eventually, she’d grow to detest him when rumors of his drinking and whoring while at the Duke of Edgeware’s hunting lodge reached her ears. None of it would be true, of course. But the lies would persist long enough to keep Napoleon’s agents off his scent.

“Then you may have them as a gift,” Gresham said.

Until today, the man had been as tightfisted a merchant as ever existed, but one smile from Daisy and he was merrily giving his stock away. “Nonsense, put the books on my account and wrap them as quickly as you can.”

Daisy pursed her lips. “On your account? I think I ought to pay for them.”

“Gresham, I’ll string you up by your short hairs if you take so much as a ha’penny from either Miss Farthingale. Is that understood?”

“Yes, my lord.” The old man cast him a curious glance, no doubt wondering why either of them was offering to pay for something he’d just offered as a gift.

In truth, Gabriel wasn’t certain why Gresham’s gesture had irked him, for Daisy wasn’t his wife nor was he courting her. She was free to have admirers, even crotchety old men such as the bookseller.

And now Lily was studying him as though he were one of those male baboons she had been going on about earlier. Perhaps there was a slight resemblance, he reluctantly admitted. He suddenly felt quite possessive, and didn’t want another man giving Daisy presents.

He ignored Lily’s grin and purchased two books on African swamp baboons for the little bluestocking, deciding it was necessary to divert the gossips just a little. Not that there would be much to whisper about, for handing Daisy a gift of Newton’s works would hardly be considered in the same light as a gift of jewelry or perfume.

“It’s getting late,” Lily hinted not so subtly.

“Yes, on to Blakney’s.” He escorted the girls across the street to the large shop painted strawberry red and smelling of freshly baked pies. The crowd was sparse, and the few ladies and gentlemen present were unfamiliar to him or the girls.

The jovial proprietor, obviously a man who enjoyed sampling his wares, welcomed them in with enthusiasm and cheerfully led them to a decorative wrought iron table surrounded by red and white striped cushioned chairs.

Once they were seated, he scurried into the kitchen and returned rolling out a large cart filled with hot pies.

“Oh, I think I’m in heaven,” Daisy said, closing her eyes and inhaling the delightful aroma of apple, cherry, apricot, mince, quince, meringue, and a dozen more scents. “I would have studied harder had I realized learning was this much fun. Of course, if I finished every session with a visit to a pie shop, I would be the size of a horse by now.”

And still beautiful, Gabriel imagined. He watched, fascinated by the changing expressions on her face as she perused the enticing display. “They all look so tempting. I don’t know which to choose.”

He knew what tempted him and it had nothing to do with pies.

“I’ll have an apple tart, if I may,” Lily said to the proprietor.

“Um, I’ll take the meringue,” Daisy said.

“And you, my lord? What’s your pleasure?”

I’ll have Daisy, thank you. No fork necessary, I’ll use my tongue.

“May we have a pitcher of lemonade?” Lily added.

Gabriel nodded. “Of course. An excellent idea. I’m feeling a little parched myself.”

And sensing prying eyes upon him.

He was now certain they’d been followed ever since leaving the Newton lecture. He hoped neither Daisy nor Lily had noticed. He also hoped no one had noticed Gresham slipping him the forged documents or Blakney slipping the little note under his plate that revealed the time, date, name, and location of the ship upon which he was to sail to France.

He suspected that French agents had been following him for several days now, and it had taken tremendous effort on his part to pretend to be unaware. He’d spent years building up his tawdry reputation, selling them information about England’s battle plans—with full knowledge of the Crown, of course—and was about to give them more tonight. He’d been feeding these French agents useless bits of information without problem for years.

The information was always accurate, but given a day too late. Sometimes even an hour too late. Sometimes given timely, but since the English knew the information was in the hands of the French, the generals were able to plan around it.

He eased back in his chair and turned his attention to Daisy, doing his best to convince the French spies that this outing had nothing to do with preparing for his mission and all to do with a rakehell’s lust for a beautiful girl.

Daisy closed her eyes and ran her tongue ever so slowly along the dollop of meringue on her fork. Images of Daisy running her tongue ever so slowly along his... no, too exquisitely painful to dare hope!

Had he worried about convincing those spies?

It was all he could do to keep his eyes from bulging out of their sockets... or hiding the hard bulge elsewhere on his body.

DAISY ENTERED
Lord Hastings’ residence escorted by the Mongol horde also known as her family. They presently surrounded her and pushed her along on their slow migration up the receiving line, paying more attention to her than usual during their progress. Her mother was going on and on about Auguste Malinor and Daisy was now concerned that everyone would make too much of his attentions toward her. She wasn’t about to smile and pretend to be in raptures over a man who didn’t make her tingle.

Too bad, for she sincerely wished to adore Auguste.

Unfortunately, Gabriel was the one who made her tingle. All over. Every body part. She glanced around. Had he arrived yet? Careful planning was required to slip away from her family and find him, a few choice words... well, very small lies... to her parents and particularly to her Uncle George. Very little escaped his notice, so she’d have to move quickly the moment he was distracted.

“You seem pensive this evening,” Uncle George said, boring into her with his keen gaze. He was a big bear of a man and more clever than anyone she’d ever met, other than Lily. She adored him, usually. Right now, he was an obstacle, for he sensed she was up to something.

“I’m overwhelmed by the magnificence of the Hastings home.” She pretended to study her surroundings. The ballroom itself was painted in a cheerful shade of apricot yellow with crisp white trim. Above the trim was a beautifully painted ceiling depicting angels frolicking in an Italian style villa. Four massive crystal chandeliers lined the ceiling, each chandelier ablaze with floral-scented candles. The shimmering light played tricks on the eyes so that the angels appeared to dance among the crystals. “Don’t you find it lovely?”

He arched an eyebrow. “Hmm.”

She turned to inspect the crush of splendidly dressed lords and ladies filling the large room, her gaze trained on the taller gentlemen in the crowd, hoping one of them was Gabriel. Despite her initial reluctance, she’d had fun with him at the Royal Society lecture, and afterward at the bookshop and confectionery.

“Are you looking for someone in particular?” her uncle asked, not at all fooled by her casual glances.