Seduced by a Scoundrel - By Barbara Dawson Smith Page 0,75

While they spoke of Drake with a worshipful admiration, Alicia smiled politely.

But deep inside, she felt shaken, unable to withstand a flood tide of confusion. Drake had provided employment for these desperate souls who might have starved otherwise? The conniving rogue who had led Gerald astray also played the philanthropist? How could she reconcile two such divergent sides in one man?

“Go awa’ wi’ ye now,” MacAllister told the servants. “An’ bring the lady her tay.”

The servants hastened out, leaving Alicia alone with the butler. She sank into the nearest chair and frowned down at the burled pattern in the oak table. “Who is he?” she mused aloud.

“M’lady?”

She looked up to see MacAllister sitting across from her, and she searched his gloomy features for answers. The tangle of her emotions stifled her natural reticence. “My husband,” she said in a rush of frustration. “He’s like two utterly different people. The ruthless gambler … and the generous benefactor who helped Cheever and the other servants here. And at home, too.” She paused, faintly astonished to realize the extent of his munificence. “There’s Kitty, our deaf housemaid. Chalkers, the drunken butler. And the coachman—the one who made me late to my wedding.”

“Aye, Big Bill. A braw pugilist in his time, till his brains got rattled a bit too much.” MacAllister tapped his skull, then leaned forward, bracing his elbows on the table. “And dinna forget Mrs. Yates.”

Alicia stiffened. “What about her?”

“’Tis the most dire tale of them all,” he said. “Wilder found her half dead from a beatin’. Many’s the man who’d’ve driven on by an’ left the puir soul lyin’ in the ditch. But he brung her home, fetched the physician, and had her nursed for months till she recovered.”

Alicia stared, dumbfounded. The woman from Whitechapel who had been battered by her husband. Drake had said the shock had caused her to lose her wits for a while. That defenseless invalid was … Mrs. Yates?

Impossible. But there could be no reason for MacAllister to lie. Not when she could easily find out the truth.

Resentment and understanding warred within her. Against her will, she realized that the impertinent housekeeper must view Drake as her savior. As such, she would feel a certain possessiveness toward him.

Shaken by her own violent jealousy, Alicia wanted to believe she didn’t care if Drake took a mistress. But she couldn’t fool herself. If he dared to kiss and caress any other woman, to do with her that profoundly intimate act that should belong to married couples only.…

Holding fast to her anger, she said, “If Drake likes to help people so much, then how can he encourage my brother to gamble?”

“To gamble?” Regarding her blankly, MacAllister shook his head. “The master didna tell you?”

“Oh, he mentioned something about Gerald having a position here. As a croupier, no doubt. But if my brother so much as puts his hand on a pair of dice or deals a deck of cards, he will be drawn into the game.”

“Nay, the earl isna here for his own indulgence.” MacAllister gestured in the direction of the main rooms at the front of the building. “He’s here to save those auld fools out there from ruin.”

“I don’t understand.”

“His duty, m’lady, is to watch over the tables, to make certain no one wagers beyond his means. Ye must ken, the master canna abide the notion of penniless wives and starving bairns.”

Disbelieving, Alicia stared into his weathered face. “Drake was certainly willing to let my family starve. He stole the very roof over our heads. He forced me to marry him.”

“Aye, that he did.” Avoiding her eyes, MacAllister squirmed uncomfortably in his chair. “He’s a hard man at times. But dinna fret. He has a softness well hidden inside him. In time, he’ll come to love ye.”

Love. That was the second time the servant had used the unthinkable word. Clearly, he overlooked the fact that she had been Drake’s stepping stone into society. Drake had wanted a noble wife, and he had stopped at nothing to achieve his purpose. And if gentlemen could not play beyond their means in this club, that meant that Drake had coldly and deliberately beggared Gerald. He had turned her life upside down by forcing her into marriage. The thought caused an icy shiver around her heart.

So how could she still feel such a yearning inside her? Why did she long to lie in his arms again, to feel the hard weight of his body on hers? Why did she ache to