Seduced by a Scoundrel - By Barbara Dawson Smith Page 0,35
Mama, clinging to Gerald’s arm, Mrs. Philpot behind them.
Mama spied them and giggled like a schoolroom miss. “Oh, my,” she said, lifting her gloved hands to her cheeks. “We’ve caught the bride and groom in a private moment. Isn’t it romantic?”
Her face hot, Alicia stepped away from Drake. It was on the tip of her tongue to say that they had been quarreling, not embracing. But a glance at Gerald’s grim features stopped her. His green eyes asked a probing question: Are you all right?
Her breast tightened. She had always been the strong one in the family. Yet today she wanted to run to her brother, to beg him to rescue her from this circumstance of his making. With all her effort, she forged a smile of greeting.
Gerald strode forward, his heels clicking on the marble floor. “I’ll have a word with you, Wilder.” His imperious voice cracked, and he cleared his throat in a rasping cough. “Immediately.”
Alicia sprang toward Gerald and patted him between his bony shoulders. “You’ll tend to yourself,” she chided. “The damp weather isn’t good for your lungs. You must sit and rest—”
“All he needs is a brandy,” Drake broke in. “You ladies will wish to freshen up before luncheon. Yates will escort you upstairs.”
As if she’d been eavesdropping, the housekeeper glided around the corner of a long corridor. Her expression almost smirking, she folded her hands beneath her buxom bosom. “Shall I show Mrs. Wilder to her suite, sir?”
Drake gave a curt nod. “And Lady Eleanor as well.”
Alicia stubbornly shook her head. “I’ll see to my brother first. His cheeks are flushed. He might have a fever.” Reaching up, she placed her hand on his brow. It was cool, but then, he’d just come in out of the rain.
“Dear me, you’re quarreling again,” Lady Eleanor said. Tilting her head to the side, she blinked her china blue eyes beneath her pink straw bonnet. “You two have quarreled often, haven’t you?”
Gerald hung his head and muttered, “She’s too bossy, that’s why.”
“I’m the eldest,” Alicia felt compelled to point out. “Of course I’m in charge.”
Looking even more befuddled, the countess rubbed her temples. “The eldest … Oh, dear, it seems we have met before today. Yet why can I recall no more?”
“Don’t worry yourself over it,” Alicia said, stricken by a helpless love. “You’ll remember—”
“We’ll puzzle it out over luncheon,” Drake said. Taking Lady Eleanor’s hand, he guided her to Mrs. Philpot, who stood decorously to the side. In a voice far more gentle than he’d ever used with Alicia, he added, “Go upstairs now, my lady. The earl and I will join you in the dining room shortly.” He nodded to her brother, and the two men walked away.
Watching them cross the hall to a pair of opened double doors, Alicia felt a tremor of misgivings. Gerald looked like a schoolboy, his slender form and honey-brown hair a striking contrast to Drake’s powerful, dark physique. They might have been Gabriel and Lucifer.
She bit her lip. If only Gerald hadn’t witnessed that passionate kiss in church. In a rash attempt to protect her, he might challenge Drake, and heaven knew, her sickly brother was no match for a cunning rogue who had grown up on the rough-and-tumble streets of London.
It was even more frightening to think that Drake might influence Gerald. Drake was a silver-tongued serpent who could talk a saint into selling his soul. What if he led her brother further down the path of destruction? What if … Gerald ended up like Papa?
“M’lady? Will you not accompany us?” Mrs. Yates stood on the stairway, staring back over her shoulder, Mama and Mrs. Philpot behind her.
Alicia gathered her composure and gave a crisp nod. Lifting the hem of her rich gown, she trailed the other women up the curving steps. She took only peripheral notice of the fine statues in niches and the gilt moldings of her new home.
Wilder will corrupt Gerald to the ways of a gambler. No doubt the boy will end up in an early grave, the same as your father.
Was Lord Hailstock right? Had she made a dreadful mistake?
* * *
Drake closed the doors to the library and led Gerald to a pair of comfortable leather chairs arranged near the black marble mantelpiece. He was still furious about that ring. Damn Hailstock for his insult! He’d like nothing more than to smash his fist into that