Page 51 of Stealing the Rake's Heart
“Flirting is not an enjoyable amusement for me,” he said at last. “My intentions towards Miss Atwater are sincere.”
Something like dread coiled in the pit of Alexander’s stomach. He felt sick, and his chest seemed to be tightening with every breath. He began to worry that he might actuallybesick, and plotted several contingency plans in case the nausea came unexpectedly.
The best option, he surmised, would be to throw open the window behind him and vomit out of it.
Undignified, but better than ruining the billiards table.
“Why are you telling me this?” he demanded frostily.
Graham grinned, and Alexander realized that his reaction was exactly what was expected.
“Lady Caldecott likes me,” Graham said, ducking his head modestly. “She approves of me as a suitor for her niece. Without Lady Caldecott’s blessing, I doubt any suitor would get far with Miss Atwater. She does so adore her aunt. And, as I heard his Grace mention, once this little trip is over, Miss Atwater is going home. Her opportunity will be over. No doubt Lady Caldecott asked the esteemed Dowager – such a friend of hers, of course – to invite a few eligible gentlemen, to give her niece a chance, but if she lets this opportunity slip away…” Graham trailed off meaningfully, giving a delicate sigh. “I’m afraid it’ll be ignominy, spinsterhood, and obscurity for our poor Miss Atwater. She deserves better, don’t you think?”
He shuffled closer, eyeing the billiards table as if planning another shot.
“We’ve had our differences, you and me, Alexander,” Graham continued, voice changing. “But if you care for Miss Atwater at all, my advice would be to back away. Perhaps you are truly fond of her. I’m sure you’re capable of it, deep down. But you’re a rake, and a drunk, the sort of man no woman wants to marry. Leave her be, can’t you?”
Alexander found his voice. “A rake and a drunk, am I?” he managed at last. “Some men would demand satisfaction for such an insult.”
Graham sighed, rolling his eyes. “First of all, I doubt your brothers and your esteemed sister would let you fight a duel. Secondly, I am fairly sure I could beat you in a duel, if it came to it. Thirdly – and I think that perhaps this is the most important point – nothing I have said is a lie. It is not slander. It’s just the truth.”
“I am not a drunkard,” Alexander insisted. As he spoke, however, he felt his grip on reality weaken, just a little. Wine had a way of blurring the world at its edges, in a light, pleasant way, nothing like the hard-hitting effects of whiskey or brandy. Even so, he was aware that his voice was not as crisp as it should be, and his hands shook just a little too much.
Graham eyed him for a long moment, and Alexander saw disgust written clear in his eyes.
For the first time, he felt as though he deserved it.
“Just leave her alone, won’t you?” Graham said, after a pause. “Leave her alone, and I won’t tell the world that you and your siblings are penniless until you marry.”
Alexander couldn’t help it. He sucked in a deep, shocked breath, and Graham smiled mirthlessly.
“Idideavesdrop just now, by the way, but when I heard your dear friend Lord Grey talk about your father’s will, it was loud enough that anyone could have overheard. You should talk to him about keeping his mouth shut. Good day to you.”
Dropping the billiard cue on the table, Graham walked out without another word, leaving Alexander reeling and breathless.
What have I done?
Oh, Hamish, what haveyoudone?
Chapter Fifteen
In the morning, Abigail found herself with a slight headache. Perhaps it was her punishment for claiming a megrim the night before.
Daylight brought a newfound sense of confidence, if it could be called confidence. The sugar-pink gown hung up in her cupboard, looking as pretty as ever.
Perhaps the problem isn’t the dress,Abigail thought wearily.Perhaps it’s just thatIam wearing the dress.
A tap on the door made her jump. As always, Aunt Florence came in without waiting for a reply. She glanced down at Abigail’s nightdress and frowned.
“Goodness, girl, you aren’t dressed! We’re going out strawberry picking this morning.”
“I don’t feel like eating strawberries very much, Aunt.”
Aunt Florence sighed. “It’s not about the berries, you silly girl, it’s about the social element. Lord Donovan will be there,” she added, as if that might tempt her.
It did not. Abigail pressed her lips together and avoided her aunt’s stare.
“Why don’t you go ahead, and I’ll find you all out there?”
