How to Disgrace a Lady Read online

  ‘He’s thinking of his daughter’s well-being,’ a harsh voice broke in. Redfield emerged from the drawing room, shutting the French doors behind him. ‘Better to marry her to an upstanding landowner of the county than turn her loose in London where you can continue to lead her astray with your debauched ways and useless promises.’

  ‘That is libellous!’ Merrick roared.

  ‘What is this?’ Jamie looked from Redfield to Merrick. ‘What have you done?’

  ‘Do you have to ask? You know him better than any of us,’ Redfield accused smoothly, arms folded confidently over his chest. ‘What do you think he’s been doing with your sister all this time? He’s used your friendship to gain entrance to this gathering of decent people. In return, he’s paid court to your sister in hopes of claiming her for himself and all the money that goes with her. He accuses me of what he’s done himself.’

  ‘You’re a liar!’ Merrick had enough. He was not the villain here. He lunged at Redfield, forcing him back to the wall with a body-jarring thud against the sandstone. He landed a solid punch to Redfield’s gut before Jamie got a hold of him and dragged him off the other man, pulling him on to the lawn, away from the light.

  Redfield was bent double, panting in his pain, milking it for all it was worth when the earl barrelled out on to the verandah, bellowing a phrase Merrick was coming to associate with him quite readily. ‘What is the meaning of this? James?’

  ‘There seems to be a difference of opinion over Alixe’s engagement,’ Jamie managed, fighting to keeping a restraining grip on him, much to Merrick’s disappointment. If that scum Redfield wanted to moan in pain, he’d damn well give him something to moan about.

  Folkestone raised his greying eyebrows and focused his cool gaze in Merrick’s direction. ‘Oh? Is that true? St Magnus, your work here is done. You’ve fulfilled your end of the agreement. You’ve won your freedom. That is all you were promised. I have bargained with you in good faith; I trust you have returned the favour and not reached above yourself.’

  ‘What is going on?’ Jamie demanded. Merrick felt his heart sink. It was all going to come out and Jamie would not forgive him.

  Redfield sneered, managing to stand upright at last. ‘Your precious friend was caught with your sister in dishabille in the library. To avoid paying a gentleman’s price for his indiscretion, your father allowed St Magnus to “help” Alixe find a more appropriate husband instead of marrying her himself. After all, why would anyone want Merrick St Magnus for a son-in-law if it could be avoided? However, there was a provision, that if St Magnus failed, he would marry her anyway. The longer St Magnus thought about it, the more appealing the idea of failure became. Why not claim her for himself? Why fix her up with pretty clothes and manners for someone else when he needs the money as much as the next man?’ Redfield spat out. ‘Your friend is as low as they come. Fortunately, I have offered for Lady Alixe to save her from being duped by St Magnus here.’

  Jamie’s grip relaxed slightly, probably out of stupefaction. Merrick took advantage and twisted free. ‘You’re a conniving rat.’

  Merrick lunged again, but this time Redfield was ready for him and they both went down on the lawn, punching in a full-blown brawl.

  It took both Jamie and the earl to separate them. ‘Stop this, Merrick, for Alixe’s sake,’ Jamie murmured at his ear. ‘This will only make a scandal for her.’ It was the only argument that carried any weight with Merrick. Onlookers were starting to gather. Jamie and Folkestone would have to skilfully hush this up if they hoped to staunch any nasty rumours. Lady Folkestone would kill him for this. Instead of her house party being remembered for all the successful matches made, it would be remembered for this breach of propriety right at the last and it would be attributed to him.

  ‘Let me speak with Alixe,’ Merrick asked, tugging his waistcoat into place and relenting.

  The earl shook his head. ‘As I said, your work here is done and most admirably so. I would advise you to pack your things and leave. You can take rooms at the inn for the evening and then go on to wherever your kind goes when you aren’t disturbing decent society.’

  Merrick was gone. Alixe knew it without Jamie having to tell her, although he had quietly taken her aside before the dinner bell and told her Merrick had left on urgent business.

  Redfield had taken up residence beside her for the duration of the evening. He’d been late coming into dinner and when he had arrived, he’d been wearing a different shirt than the one he’d worn in her father’s study. Alixe couldn’t help wonder if Merrick’s urgent business was in some way connected to Redfield’s change of clothing, as was the after-dinner disappearance of Jamie and her father into the study.

  The only good to come of the evening was her father’s decision to hold off announcing a formal engagement. She expected she had Jamie to thank for the reprieve. They would go up to London as planned instead of announcing the news at the midsummer ball the next evening. The delay would give Alixe a chance to enjoy the Season before the wedding and time to put together a fashionable trousseau. Besides, her father said, the contracts still had to be drawn up and there was no hurry now that things were settled.

  Redfield had agreed to the arrangements with a tight smile that suggested he wasn’t truly pleased. Alixe smiled at him smugly behind her father’s back as they shook hands, but Redfield was not content. He cornered her on her way up the stairs, a proprietary hand on her arm that tightened painfully.

  ‘St Magnus has left and I am still here, my dear. I defended your honour tonight with my fists and my proposal when that scoundrel St Magnus would have defamed it. You owe me. Don’t ever forget it.’

  Alixe fell asleep to sobering thoughts. It was hard to believe she’d lain in Merrick’s arms just six hours ago. It was harder still to believe he’d only been part of her life for two weeks. She’d felt more alive in those two weeks than she had in the last two years and now it had all come to an end. Merrick had deserted her. Whatever his reasons, he was gone and she was alone once more. She wished she’d told him what she’d so recently discovered: that she loved him. But it was too late now. It was all over.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The juicy truth was all over London. Merrick St Magnus had been expelled from the Folkestone house party for brawling over a lady. Brawling, mind you, the matrons said behind fast-fluttering fans. Gentlemen might covertly duel, but gentlemen never lowered themselves to an all-out fist fight on a host’s lawn, over the host’s daughter none the less. It just went to prove Merrick St Magnus was no gentleman, no matter who his father was—a fact that made those fast fans reach gale proportions. More than one matron was entertaining libidinous fantasies behind those fans. What would it be like to be in the arms of a man who gave full vent to his passions? To his tempers? Women shivered in London’s hot ballrooms at the very prospect.

  It was the same wherever he went. Their minds were fairly transparent, as were the charms of some of the more forward ladies, Merrick noted, striding through Lady Couthwald’s ballroom with Ashe at his shoulder. He returned the inviting smile of a popular lush-figured widow with a curt nod of his own. There was little variation in their thoughts except that some of the more ambitious entertained ideas of having both he and Ashe warming their beds.

  ‘The conquering hero returns,’ Ashe murmured. ‘Is there a woman in the room who doesn’t want you?’

  ‘Only the ones who want you,’ Merrick replied drily. Such lust was not as amusing as it had once been.

  ‘The widow wanted us both. It might have been fun. We haven’t done that for a long time.’ Ashe Bedevere was the only person Merrick knew who could talk about a ménage à trois with the same casualness he spoke of picking out a new waistcoat.

  ‘We’ve never done that,’ Merrick corrected.

  ‘Are you sure? What about the time—?’

  ‘I’m very sure.’ Merrick cut him off, not about to argue in the middle of a ballroom about whom Ashe had engaged in one of his affaires. Ashe ha
d been his constant companion since he’d returned to town three days ago. Ashe had opened up his rooms to share and Merrick was grateful, but not that grateful. Ashe’s debaucheries weighed on him. Somewhere between Kent and London, his friend’s habits had become tiresome.

  ‘Are you in danger of becoming a prig?’

  ‘Just because I don’t want to “share” with you doesn’t mean I’m becoming a prig.’ But maybe it did. Maybe Ashe was right. He was changing and it frightened him. He didn’t know what to make of it. It was why he hadn’t hurried straight back to London after the fight with Archibald Redfield.

  He could have come earlier. He’d delayed in the hopes that time would dull the edge of scandal that was sure to precede him. But absence had only heightened the anticipation of his arrival and London society was certain he would arrive. Alixe Burke was here, after all, looking lovely and dazzling the young men. Surely St Magnus would not have risked a brawl only to retreat from the field, not when he’d been dancing attendance on the former jilt for two weeks in Kent, depriving the women of London of his presence? He didn’t need a great sense of intuition to know this. The betting book at White’s was full of wagers: when would he arrive, when would he seek out Alixe Burke at a venue and when he did would he stake his claim?

  He had yet to see Alixe. There was no reason to. He’d done his duty for her and for her father. She was the Toast of London. His fisticuffs had ensured her initial popularity. Everyone was waiting to see the woman who’d brought two men to undignified brawling. Alixe Burke must be transformed indeed from the girl society remembered.

  The rumours told the rest of the story. She’d gone from being on the shelf to being a highly contended prize. Men wanted to win the woman who had made St Magnus “decent” for even a short time. The last bit was Jamie’s invention. Merrick wasn’t convinced he’d been decent where Alixe was concerned. That was the other reason he hadn’t hurried back to town. He’d hoped his ardour might have cooled and brought perspective.

  It hadn’t. The remedy had failed miserably. If anything, it had only increased.

  He needed to see her. He wanted to assure himself she was well—that was what he told himself. In his more honest moments, he knew he wanted her—craved her, in fact; craved her dark eyes, her hair slipping through his fingers, her body pressed against his. That was not all he craved. He craved sitting in the library with her, talking with her, listening to her stories of history. But that was a craving he could not succour. There was nothing honourable he could give her in exchange for what she gave him. Because of that, he could not seek her out. People could speculate on what happened in the country away from society’s collective eye. But what happened in London became fact. He could not indulge with her here.

  Fate decided to tempt him and his hard-won logic. The crowd thinned at the far end of the ballroom and there she was. Alixe Burke in her newfound glory, gowned in soft peach with pearls at the base of her neck, a familiar fan dangling closed at her wrist and surrounded by gentlemen. She gave a laugh at something the gentleman to her right was saying. She leaned towards him, a gloved hand skimming his sleeve ever so lightly. There was nothing improper about it. The gentleman beamed, encouraged.

  Merrick felt his gut tighten. He’d taught her that little trick. She’d been loathe to practise such measures that day, but this evening she employed it with enviable ease. He’d not anticipated feeling a proverbial blow to the stomach when she used it on someone else. Merrick recognised the gentleman with her, a Viscount Fulworth, who’d just happened to bet at White’s that Merrick would ask her to dance before the sixth of July. He wanted to pummel the man for wooing her while betting on her next move.

  Behind him, Ashe cleared his throat. ‘I think I’ll see if the widow would settle for just one of us. Excuse me.’

  Merrick nodded absently. By now others had noticed that he and Alixe were in close proximity to each other. The swell of conversation faded and covert glances darted his way. Alixe looked away from the gentleman she was conversing with, her gaze following the trail of silence until her eyes found him, wide and full of warm emotion for a brief instant before it was replaced with wariness.

  He moved towards her. He had to act quickly, naturally, before onlookers started to speculate what any hesitation on his part might mean. On his periphery, he saw Jamie start to move, too, detaching himself from the nearby group, he’d been with. He was grateful for it. Jamie’s presence would sanction the interaction. But he knew, too, that Jamie would be there to protect Alixe. Merrick didn’t imagine he was anything but persona non grata in the Folkestone household these days.

  ‘Lady Alixe …’ Merrick bowed over Alixe’s gloved hand ‘… it is a pleasure to encounter you here.’ He mentioned nothing about any prior meeting.

  ‘Thank you, are you enjoying the ball?’ Alixe replied.

  ‘Yes, and you?’

  ‘Yes. The decorations are quite fine.’

  The banality of the conversation was stultifying. He didn’t want to talk about the ball or the decorations. He wanted to ask her how she was, whether or not she regretted their decision at the swimming hole and did she understand why he’d left the house party; he wanted to explain he’d had no choice, that it had been in her best interest that he leave. He wanted to apologise for not being able to contact her, assuming she wanted to hear such things from him.

  There was only one place that provided any privacy at a ball. He doubted she had any dances left, but he had to try. The orchestra was striking up the early refrains of a popular waltz.

  ‘Would you care to dance, Lady Alixe?’ Merrick asked.

  Alixe looked flustered for a moment. She sought refuge with a glance to her dance card. ‘I’m afraid this dance is spoken for.’ She cast a quizzing glance at Fulworth.

  Merrick’s sharp eyes moved to the viscount. ‘I don’t mean to intrude, forgive me.’ He was all politeness, but he could afford to be. He was about to help Fulworth win. Fulworth had a large sum riding on the wager.

  Fulworth bowed. ‘If Lady Alixe would not mind, you may take this dance, St Magnus. I find my supper has not settled as well as I’d hoped. My dear Lady Alixe, would you forgive me?’

  What a ninny the man was. But Merrick merely offered Alixe his arm and swept her on to the floor before Fulworth invented another lengthy show of chivalry.

  ‘He’s no good for you, Alixe,’ Merrick began, fitting his hand easily to the small of her back.

  ‘Why is that?’ Alixe enquired.

  ‘He bet on you at White’s. He wagered that I would dance with you before the sixth of July.

  Lucky for him, tonight’s the fifth.’ Merrick swung them through a turn, taking the opportunity to draw her closer.

  ‘I’m coming to discover men are not so very different from one another, regardless of station,’ Alixe said with a touch of coolness.

  ‘How have you been?’ Merrick moved to safer conversational territory.

  ‘Do you mean, how have I been since you left so abruptly?’

  ‘I understand you’re upset. I would like to explain.’

  ‘There’s nothing to explain.’ Alixe sighed. ‘I’m not even sure I’m angry at you, precisely, except that you left without saying goodbye. But you’ll be glad to know that Jamie picked up the pieces admirably.’

  ‘And Archibald Redfield?’

  ‘He has been temporarily thwarted. I have been given a London Season to enjoy the city and put together my trousseau while my father draws up the contracts and looks into Redfield’s background. Father and Redfield stayed in the country, but I expect them to arrive any day.’

  ‘London agrees with you. You look lovelier than ever.’

  ‘I have to. It’s my last chance to find someone better than Redfield.’ She looked up at him, her gaze touching him at his core. In that brief moment he acknowledged what he’d been avoiding all those days on the road, putting off his return to London. He loved Alixe Burke.

  ‘You were right, Merrick, I hav
e only the freedom to choose who my husband will be. Redfield tried to take that away from me. He may still succeed unless I find someone else. A titled young gentleman with a decent background would sway my father, I think. So you see, marriage has become a jail and an escape all at once.’

  ‘You could marry me.’ The words were out before he could stop them, before he could think about all the reasons he was unsuitable for her, before he could think about his fear that he would fail her.

  Alixe stumbled against him in her surprise.

  ‘My father has released you from your obligations. Jamie told me. You’re no longer the husband in waiting.’ Alixe shook her head. ‘I don’t mean to be cruel, but you haven’t any money, no title. You are no better a candidate than Redfield, perhaps worse. My father would not accept you.’

  ‘I’m not marrying your father. I’m marrying you. Would you accept me, Alixe?’

  Her face froze, her whole body tensing in his arms. ‘I cannot discuss this here.’

  ‘Then where?’ He unashamedly leaned close to feather her ear with a soft sensual breath. He would fight with everything in his arsenal, be it a sin or no. ‘Name the place and I’ll be there. I’ve thought of nothing else but you since I left Folkestone. I dream of you, I wake hard and ready with the wanting of you. Tell me you don’t think of me, that you don’t remember the magic we can make together.’

  Her pulse leaped beneath the strand of delicate pearls and Merrick smiled. ‘Admit you want me, Alixe Burke.’

  ‘I will admit no such thing.’ But she trembled as she said it and her eyes could not help but fall on his lips.

  ‘You don’t have to. Your body has done it for you, my dear.’ They passed the doors to the verandah. ‘Shall I sweep you outside and kiss you senseless?’

  ‘Merrick, please don’t,’ Alixe begged. Her fingers had buried themselves in the fabric of his jacket at the shoulder. She was wavering.

  ‘Why not? Why should I not ask for what I want? Why should you not take what you want?’