Page 89 of A Rake's Redemption
“I agree,” Brice said. “Once word gets back to Ireland, it’s only a matter of time before the Duke of Kildare arrives in London. Better his niece is not residing under your roof when he gets here. There will already be hell to pay.”
Alex sighed again. “You do not know the half of it.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Inis will not be in London when the duke arrives.”
Stephan raised a dark brow. “Are you going to tuck her away in the country, then, and keep her as your mistress?”
“That would not be wise,” Brice said. “The Duke of Kildare is her guardian. All he has to do is get your brother involved, or maybe go directly to the Prince Regent and demand her return—”
“I am not going to keep her as my mistress,” Alex replied, although he wished he could. “Inis will not be in England.”
“What?” His friends spoke in unison.
“She’ll be on a ship sailing to the States.”
Brice shook his head. “Passage to the States in return for going along with your scheme might have been the plan originally, but you cannot follow through with that now you know who she is.”
“I gave her my word,” Alex replied. “It doesn’t matter who she is.”
“But that’s insane,” Brice argued. “You’ll be arrested.”
“For what? I am not abducting her,” Alex answered. “She’ll be travelling alone.”
“That’s even worse.” Brice shook his head again. “Perhaps Kendrick and I should do you a favor and take you directly to Bedlam before you carry this out.”
Alex gave him a brittle smile. “Too late. Passage has already been booked. Inis leaves the day after tomorrow.
Alex woke the next morning with a hangover from hell. If Brice and Stephan thought he’d looked terrible last night, this morning—actually closer to noon—he felt like he’d been hit over the head with the devil’s own pitchfork. Barclay and Kendrick had taken him to all their favorite gaming establishments, but the cards held no allure for him. Nor had he been attracted to the women who’d offered their services. All he could think of was a slender, independent-minded redhead who wouldn’t even speak to him.
So he had done what any self-professed rake would do—he’d gotten stinking drunk. His friends must have brought him home, since he had no recollection of arriving at his door. His coat and breeches were hanging on a rack by the wardrobe, and his boots were standing alongside, evidence that Evans must have been alerted to his condition.
Splashing cold water on his face from the basin on the dresser helped marginally, and he picked up the pitcher and poured the rest of the contents over his head, then slicked his wet hair back. He managed somehow to shave without slicing his face or throat to ribbons.
The aroma of cooking meat and some sort of spice assailed his nostrils as he approached the small day dining room. Ordinarily, he appreciated the smells emanating from the kitchen, but his stomach was practicing somersaults.
Evans appeared in the doorway. “Would you like breakfast or lunch?”
“Just some tea and dry toast,” Alex replied.
“Of course.”
Evans withdrew discreetly and returned so quickly that Alex suspected the tea and toast had been made as soon as his approach was heard. Getting drunk had solved nothing, but the brandy had lessened the pain that had settled in like a dull toothache since Inis had left his house five days ago. Alex had given her the first day to come to her senses. Actually, he’d needed time to get over his own anger. Inis had lied to him. Deceived him. She’d played her part better than the cunning connivers of theton. Eventually, when he’d calmed down enough to think rationally, he could begin to understand why she’d done it.
When he’d called on her the second day, Caroline had told him she needed more time to think over the situation. He hadn’t pressed the issue, since he wasn’t sure he’d totally forgiven Inis, either. The last thing he needed was to get into an argument with her because his pride was still smarting.
The third day, he was informed that Inis wanted to secure passage on a ship. When he’d said he wanted to talk to her first, Caroline had dutifully delivered the message and returned with a note that simply said,Yougave me your word.
Alex finished his meager breakfast—his stomach did feel more settled—and patted the coat pocket that contained the ticket for the passage. He would deliver it in person. If Inis wanted it, she would have to see—and talk—to him first.
As he rode the short distance to Caroline’s father’s townhouse, he practiced what he should say to Inis to convince her to stay. He knew better than to use the term “mistress,” not that it would be appropriate given her own aristocratic status. Offering to set Inis up as a professional horse trainer might whet her interest,but he doubted any segment of Society would condone it, and Inis would not be satisfied to work behind the scenes. Businesses needed to be profitable.
If the woman weren’t so damn stubborn, she’d see that marriage was the only choice. In fact, if they got married immediately, her uncle couldn’t force her to return to Ireland. Surely Alex was a more acceptable choice than that sot of an earl’s son. He smiled. That’s how he would put it to Inis. He would secure a special license as soon as he talked to her.
He handed his bay over to a stable boy and sprang up the steps to the townhouse, his hangover forgotten as he raised the heavy knocker. The doorman showed him to the parlor, and a few minutes later, he heard light, feminine footsteps approaching. He rose and turned, expecting to see Inis, but it was Caroline who stood in the doorway.
“I have Inis’s ticket.” He held it up. “But she needs to come and get it herself.”
