Rules for Reforming a Rake (2 page)

Ian laughed. “Veronique has several charming friends to suit your... er, needs. Come by White’s tonight for a drink. We’ll discuss your return to England and the joys of bachelorhood further.”

“Look forward to it,” Gabriel said with a nod. “Now, what is this nonsense about my making one of the biggest mistakes of my life?”

Ian tried to appear serious, but the corners of his mouth curled upward to form a grin. “The danger is real,” he said, a glint of amusement in his eyes. “You must not take another step toward your grandmother’s house.”

Gabriel humored him by glancing around once more. For the life of him, there was nothing out of place on this street.

Ian took a deep breath. “Right, then. Your grandmother resides at Number 5 Chipping Way, and General Allworthy resides at Number 1 Chipping Way. He’s no problem, of course, being the quiet, retiring sort. So is your grandmother the retiring sort, though I understand she was quite something in her younger day.”

“Get to the point. I’m already late.”

“Yes, well. The problem resides at Number 3 Chipping Way. The Farthingales moved in about three years ago, shortly after you went off to... well, you know. Ever since they took up residence here, this charming street has become a deathtrap for bachelors.”

Gabriel frowned. “Your Grace—”

“Oh, I know it must sound absurd to you, but let me explain. The Farthingales have five beautiful daughters, and I don’t mean just pretty. They’re stunning and of marriageable age, which is a problem for us simple creatures.”

“Simple creatures?”

“We bachelors, haven’t you been listening? What chance do we have against a pair of vivid blue eyes? Soft, smiling lips? None, I tell you. Our brains shut off the moment our—”

“I understand your drift,” Gabriel shot back, rolling his eyes. “But years of battle discipline have trained me well. I have an iron control over my body and therefore am in no danger from the Farthingale girls. They are mere females, after all.”

Ian shook his head sadly and placed a hand on Gabriel’s shoulder. “Julian Emory said similar words to me two years ago while on his way to visit your dear grandmother. He made it as far as the Farthingale gate, heard Rose Farthingale’s kiln explode, and then heard her cries for help. She was trapped inside, along with her shattered pottery.”

“A riveting story,” Gabriel said dryly.

“Julian heroically dug her out of the rubble and lifted her into his arms, but as he carried her from the destruction, disaster struck. She opened her eyes and smiled at him. They were married before he knew what hit him. I doubt the besotted fool will ever recover.”

“I’m not Julian.”

“Curiously, your cousin, Graelem Dayne, said those exact words to me last year. We stood right here as I tried to stop him from visiting your grandmother. I failed, of course. He made it to the Farthingale gate, only to be trampled by Laurel Farthingale’s beast of a horse. The beast broke Graelem’s leg, but did your cousin care? No, because Laurel had jumped down from that four-legged devil, thrown her arms around Graelem, and cradled him in her lap while some medical relative of hers set his busted leg. Laurel and Graelem married a short time after that.”

“Thank you for the warning.” Gabriel started for his grandmother’s house.

“Daisy,” Ian called after him.

“What?”

“Daisy’s next. She’s the next eldest of the Farthingale girls. You know, first Rose, then Laurel, then—”

“Of course, Daisy Farthingale.” Her name sounded as foolish as his friend’s warning.

***

Gabriel strode past General Allworthy’s townhouse at Number 1 Chipping Way, and then paused to look back at his companion because he had heard him mutter something about it being too painful to watch. Ian, along with his emerald green phaeton, was gone.

“Stuff and nonsense,” Gabriel grumbled, dismissing his friend as an alarmist. Julian and Graelem had been ready to marry. It only took the right sort of girl to tame them. He, on the other hand, had every intention of remaining the unrepentant bachelor.

Indeed, marriage was the farthest thing from his mind. Bad women and good times were what he wanted.

He took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and marched straight past Number 3... well, almost.

“You, sir! Please! Stop that baby!”

“Wha-at?” Gabriel turned in time to see a little boy toddle at full speed from the Farthingale drive onto Chipping Way. The infant was stark naked and headed directly toward a carriage that was traveling much too fast for this elegant neighborhood.

“There, sir! Please stop him!” a young woman cried, leaning precariously from one of the upper windows.

Gabriel tore after the little fellow, snatching him into his arms just as the little imp was about to fall under the hooves of the fast-moving team of horses. The boy squirmed in his arms, but Gabriel wouldn’t let him go. “Let’s get you back to your derelict governess, young man,” he said, wrapping the unclad child in the folds of his cloak, for there was a chill to the air.

But the boy, having no enthusiasm for the idea, began to shriek. “No! No!”

Lord!
Where was that governess?

Gabriel drew the inconsolable child against his chest, speaking to him quietly but sternly in an even tone until his shrieks subsided. As they did, Gabriel patted his small back and soothed his anguished sobs. “There, there,” he said, quite at a loss. “No need to fuss.”

His actions worked to some extent, for the boy did suddenly stop wailing. “Papa... Papa...” he repeated softly, resting his head against Gabriel’s shirt as he emitted trembling gasps of air from his little lungs.

“I certainly hope not,” Gabriel muttered, brushing the tightly coiled gold curls off the boy’s moist brow. “Ah, there’s a good lad. Feeling better now?”

The boy responded with a tiny nod.

Quite pleased with himself and the efficiency with which he’d restored order, Gabriel turned back to the Farthingale house as the young woman burst through the gate, followed by a small army of children in varying states of disarray. She paused but a moment to order her squealing troops “Back inside!” and to Gabriel’s surprise, they promptly complied.

The young woman then turned toward him, her black hair half done up in a bun and the rest of it falling in a shambles about her slender shoulders. “Thank you! Thank you! You saved Harry’s life! We’re so grateful.”

He frowned down at the seemingly appreciative girl. She was young and slight, barely reaching his shoulders. She took no notice of his displeasure, and instead smiled up at him, her eyes glistening as if holding back unshed tears.

Still smiling, she turned to the boy. “You gave me a terrible scare, you little muffin. I’m so glad you’re unharmed.”

Gabriel thought to chide her, but the girl chose that moment to smile at him again, and the words simply refused to flow from his mouth. Well, she did have an incredible smile. The sort that touched one’s heart—if one had a heart—which he didn’t, having lost it sometime during the war.

Her eyes were bluer than the sky.

His frown faded.

She shook her head and let out the softest sigh. “You’re so wonderful with him. Do you have children of your own?”

“You ought to be more careful with your young charge,” Gabriel said, clearing his throat and speaking to her with purposeful severity. The girl’s attributes, no matter how heavenly, did not excuse her lapse in duty.

“Oh, Harry’s not my charge... well, he is in a way. You see, he’s my cousin. And the nannies have all quit our household, so I’m left all alone with the seven children until my family returns.” She wiped a stray lock off her brow, then put her arms forward to show him her rolled up sleeves. “I was trying to bathe the littlest ones.”

He noticed that her finely made gown was wet in several spots. “It seems they bathed you.”

“What? Oh, yes. They did give me a thorough soaking.” She laughed gently while shaking her head in obvious exasperation. “Harry was the last, but now I’ll have to bathe him all over again.”

“Don’t let me delay you.” He attempted to hand the squirming bundle back to her, but before he could manage it, Harry decided to leave him a remembrance.

What was the expression? No good deed ever goes unpunished? Gabriel watched in horror as an arc of liquid shot from the naked imp onto his shirt front, planting a disgustingly warm, yellow stain on the once immaculate white lawn fabric.

He didn’t know whether to laugh or rage. He’d been undone. Brought to his knees by an infant and an incompetent guardian.

“Oh, dear,” the girl said, closing her eyes and groaning. “I’m so sorry. So very, very sorry.”

So was he. He ought to have listened to Ian, but not because the Farthingale women were dangerous. It seemed all Farthingales were dangerous. Young. Old. Male. Female.

The family and their servants were to be avoided at all costs.

“We’ll pay for the damage, of course,” she continued in obvious distress, her eyes remaining firmly closed, as if not seeing the damage would somehow make it go away. “We’ll replace whatever needs... er, replacing. Please have your tailor send the bill to Miss Daisy Farthingale. I’ll make certain it is paid at once.”

Gabriel’s heart stopped beating. Yes, it definitely stopped. And then it began to beat very fast.

“You’re Daisy?” he mumbled, his tongue suddenly as numb as the rest of his body. Not that he cared who she was, or what Ian had warned. He wasn’t afraid of any female, certainly not this incompetent slip of a girl.

She opened her eyes and graced him with a gentle, doe-eyed gaze. “I am.”

Very well, Ian was right. She was a force to be reckoned with, but so would any woman be with glistening blue eyes, pink cheeks, and cream-silk skin.

“Sir, may I be so bold as to ask who you are?”

“I’m late, that’s what I am.” He plunked Harry in her arms and hastened to his grandmother’s house.

DAISY STOOD
at the front door of Lady Eloise Dayne’s elegant townhouse, tightly gripping the shirt in her hand. The massive carved oak door swung open and Lady Dayne’s gray-haired butler stepped forward. “Miss Daisy?”

She managed a small smile. “Good afternoon, Watling. How are you today?”

“Better than you, by the look of you,” he said, gazing down at her in that perfectly expressionless manner only the finest butlers master.

“Indeed, I’ve had a terrible day.” She let out a deflated sigh ending with a small, wincing groan.

His expression instantly mellowed. “Oh, dear. Oh, dear. Is there anything I can do to help, young miss?”

“Thank you, Watling, but I need to see Lady Dayne at once. Or rather, her visitor.” She tucked a stray strand of her hair behind one ear, knowing she looked a fright even though her hair was now tied back in an unfashionably simple ribbon that felt as though it were already coming undone. Her new gown of pale blue velvet was still damp from her misguided attempt to bathe the children. Dark blue splotches dotted the delicate bodice and skirt.

His gray eyebrows shot up. “Ah, I wondered about his state. So you’re the cause.”

She shook her head sadly as he ushered her in. “I’ve left Pruitt in charge of the children, but can’t expect him to keep them at bay for very long. Did Lady Dayne’s visitor relate what happened? I brought him this shirt... it belongs to Uncle George, but he won’t miss it. I thought it might do until his own is laundered. Is the gentleman very angry?”

An unexpected smile formed at the corners of Watling’s mouth. “He didn’t say. If he is, I’m certain he’ll get over it.”

“Yes, I suppose he will.” She followed the kindly butler into the winter salon, a small and rather cozy room filled with ornate French-style furniture, flowers, and sunshine. There was usually a fire blazing in the hearth, but Daisy noted the lack of one today, for it was warm for late February, even for Eloise, who was elderly and easily took a chill.

“I’ll advise her ladyship that you are here.”

Daisy smiled in gratitude and didn’t have long to wait before Eloise burst through the door, sailing toward her in a billowing mass of ecru satin. The lace ruffles at her throat and cuffs flapped in the breeze like raised sails on an English frigate as she wrapped Daisy in her arms. “You poor child! You’ve had quite a day!”

“And it isn’t over yet,” she said, trying not to sound utterly dejected.

“I know, poor thing. Now, sit down and tell me everything.” Eloise, whose white hair and dark green eyes had retained every bit of their youthful vibrance, nudged her toward an oversized settee embroidered with pink roses.

“I will, but later. You’re busy and I must get back to the children. I only stopped in to drop this off.” She held up her uncle’s shirt. “I thought your visitor might use it until his own is put back in shape. It’s Savile Row and of the finest cloth, as his was before Harry destroyed it.”

Eloise’s eyes twinkled with obvious merriment. “Never mind about him. I gave him an old shirt of my late husband’s that I dug out of storage. It’ll do for now. More important,” she said, urging Daisy onto the settee by patting the seat beside her, “tell me exactly what happened. Whatever possessed Harry to... er, unload... relieve himself?”

Daisy couldn’t help but laugh as she settled beside Eloise. “I don’t know. The incident was as hilarious as it was horrible. Oh, the look of shock upon your visitor’s face when Harry let loose was priceless!”

Eloise let out a soft, but hearty, laugh. “I’m sorry I missed it.”

“It was rather an interesting moment.” Daisy giggled, then sobered. “Harry’s going through a terrible time, and the nanny crisis at home hasn’t helped. I warned Mother that one nanny couldn’t possibly tend to so many children and that we had to hire reinforcements at once, but she’s been so busy with our house guests that she keeps forgetting to send word to the agency. She won’t let me do it,” she continued with a sigh, “because you know what my family thinks of me ever since the incident last year. And now we have no nannies!”

“That’s why you’re looking after all the children?”