Rules for Reforming a Rake Read online

  So was he. He ought to have listened to Ian, but not because the Farthingale women were dangerous. It seemed all Farthingales were dangerous. Young. Old. Male. Female.

  The family and their servants were to be avoided at all costs.

  “We’ll pay for the damage, of course,” she continued in obvious distress, her eyes remaining firmly closed, as if not seeing the damage would somehow make it go away. “We’ll replace whatever needs... er, replacing. Please have your tailor send the bill to Miss Daisy Farthingale. I’ll make certain it is paid at once.”

  Gabriel’s heart stopped beating. Yes, it definitely stopped. And then it began to beat very fast.

  “You’re Daisy?” he mumbled, his tongue suddenly as numb as the rest of his body. Not that he cared who she was, or what Ian had warned. He wasn’t afraid of any female, certainly not this incompetent slip of a girl.

  She opened her eyes and graced him with a gentle, doe-eyed gaze. “I am.”

  Very well, Ian was right. She was a force to be reckoned with, but so would any woman be with glistening blue eyes, pink cheeks, and cream-silk skin.

  “Sir, may I be so bold as to ask who you are?”

  “I’m late, that’s what I am.” He plunked Harry in her arms and hastened to his grandmother’s house.

  CHAPTER 2

  A lady must be witty and clever, for a rake is always enticed by good conversation.

  DAISY STOOD at the front door of Lady Eloise Dayne’s elegant townhouse, tightly gripping the shirt in her hand. The massive carved oak door swung open and Lady Dayne’s gray-haired butler stepped forward. “Miss Daisy?”

  She managed a small smile. “Good afternoon, Watling. How are you today?”

  “Better than you, by the look of you,” he said, gazing down at her in that perfectly expressionless manner only the finest butlers master.

  “Indeed, I’ve had a terrible day.” She let out a deflated sigh ending with a small, wincing groan.

  His expression instantly mellowed. “Oh, dear. Oh, dear. Is there anything I can do to help, young miss?”

  “Thank you, Watling, but I need to see Lady Dayne at once. Or rather, her visitor.” She tucked a stray strand of her hair behind one ear, knowing she looked a fright even though her hair was now tied back in an unfashionably simple ribbon that felt as though it were already coming undone. Her new gown of pale blue velvet was still damp from her misguided attempt to bathe the children. Dark blue splotches dotted the delicate bodice and skirt.

  His gray eyebrows shot up. “Ah, I wondered about his state. So you’re the cause.”

  She shook her head sadly as he ushered her in. “I’ve left Pruitt in charge of the children, but can’t expect him to keep them at bay for very long. Did Lady Dayne’s visitor relate what happened? I brought him this shirt... it belongs to Uncle George, but he won’t miss it. I thought it might do until his own is laundered. Is the gentleman very angry?”

  An unexpected smile formed at the corners of Watling’s mouth. “He didn’t say. If he is, I’m certain he’ll get over it.”

  “Yes, I suppose he will.” She followed the kindly butler into the winter salon, a small and rather cozy room filled with ornate French-style furniture, flowers, and sunshine. There was usually a fire blazing in the hearth, but Daisy noted the lack of one today, for it was warm for late February, even for Eloise, who was elderly and easily took a chill.

  “I’ll advise her ladyship that you are here.”

  Daisy smiled in gratitude and didn’t have long to wait before Eloise burst through the door, sailing toward her in a billowing mass of ecru satin. The lace ruffles at her throat and cuffs flapped in the breeze like raised sails on an English frigate as she wrapped Daisy in her arms. “You poor child! You’ve had quite a day!”

  “And it isn’t over yet,” she said, trying not to sound utterly dejected.

  “I know, poor thing. Now, sit down and tell me everything.” Eloise, whose white hair and dark green eyes had retained every bit of their youthful vibrance, nudged her toward an oversized settee embroidered with pink roses.

  “I will, but later. You’re busy and I must get back to the children. I only stopped in to drop this off.” She held up her uncle’s shirt. “I thought your visitor might use it until his own is put back in shape. It’s Savile Row and of the finest cloth, as his was before Harry destroyed it.”

  Eloise’s eyes twinkled with obvious merriment. “Never mind about him. I gave him an old shirt of my late husband’s that I dug out of storage. It’ll do for now. More important,” she said, urging Daisy onto the settee by patting the seat beside her, “tell me exactly what happened. Whatever possessed Harry to... er, unload... relieve himself?”

  Daisy couldn’t help but laugh as she settled beside Eloise. “I don’t know. The incident was as hilarious as it was horrible. Oh, the look of shock upon your visitor’s face when Harry let loose was priceless!”

  Eloise let out a soft, but hearty, laugh. “I’m sorry I missed it.”

  “It was rather an interesting moment.” Daisy giggled, then sobered. “Harry’s going through a terrible time, and the nanny crisis at home hasn’t helped. I warned Mother that one nanny couldn’t possibly tend to so many children and that we had to hire reinforcements at once, but she’s been so busy with our house guests that she keeps forgetting to send word to the agency. She won’t let me do it,” she continued with a sigh, “because you know what my family thinks of me ever since the incident last year. And now we have no nannies!”

  “That’s why you’re looking after all the children?”

  Daisy nodded. “And doing a rather poor job of it, but they’re still alive and breathing, at least when I last checked. I suppose that’s all that matters. Mother has taken our female relations shopping and won’t be back for hours. Of course, I’m not complaining or trying to shirk responsibility, and I fully admit that I’m to blame for your visitor’s... er, predicament. Is he very angry?”

  The twinkle brightened in Eloise’s eyes. “If he is, I’m certain he’ll get over it.”

  “That’s precisely what Watling said and in just that gleeful tone.” She paused briefly to ponder the coincidence, then shrugged and proceeded with her story. “Miss Beardsley left us this morning.”

  Eloise shifted in her seat. “How is it possible? She just started last month.”

  “And was working out quite nicely until the Devonshire Farthingales decided to give their nanny one week’s holiday. Miss Beardsley wasn’t happy about that, but after some coaxing, she agreed to share the added responsibility with the other nannies. Then the Yorkshire Farthingales’ nanny got sick and the Oxfordshire Farthingales’ nanny eloped.”

  “Oh, dear. I’m getting dizzy just trying to keep track of all these visiting relations of yours.”

  “Imagine how little Harry must feel. Though he’s a darling most of the time—”

  “When he’s not the very devil,” Eloise said with a chuckle. “I do adore the boy.”

  “So do I.” Daisy gave a sad shake of her head. “But he hasn’t taken well to the upheaval in his life. He’s been at a loss since his father’s death and refuses to accept that he isn’t coming back.”

  “And what is your Aunt Julia doing to help the boy?”

  Unwilling to speak ill of Harry’s mother, Daisy kept quiet.

  Eloise pursed her lips and frowned. “Just as I thought, she isn’t helping.”

  Daisy began to fidget with the shirt in her hand. She hadn’t meant to cast blame on her aunt, though apparently Eloise had taken it that way. “Julia is grieving, too. But Harry’s the bigger problem. He keeps running off to find his father. That’s why Miss Beardsley left us this morning. She’d reached her breaking point, declaring we were all mad and she couldn’t possibly stay on with us another moment. I can’t blame her, really.”

  “I suppose not,” Eloise agreed.

  Daisy set the shirt on her lap and began to smooth it out, for she’d inadvertently crumpled the fine fabric
while wringing her hands. “I want to help Harry through this difficult time, but how can I give him the attention he requires when there’s no one left to look after the other children?”

  Eloise cast Daisy a warm, motherly smile. “Dear girl, you can’t take on the troubles of the world.”

  “Oh, there’s no danger of that.” She let out a small, mirthless laugh and rolled her eyes. “I can’t even manage the Farthingale domestic problems. Mother’s in a tizzy with the season about to head into full swing, and the house is already filled to the rafters with guests. I think she’s forgotten that the children are not being looked after.”

  “How convenient for her,” Eloise grumbled.

  “She doesn’t mean to overlook them. It’s just that she’s had her hands full helping all of us prepare for the upcoming balls and dinner parties.” Daisy loved her mother, Sophie Farthingale; in truth she loved every member of her boisterous family. They had all loved and admired her in return, until that unfortunate incident last year. Now, just when she needed their support the most, they were certain she would run off and do something foolish.

  In truth, their present lack of faith in her was humbling, something she hadn’t considered would happen when she’d set out to help her sister. Well, no one knew what had really happened and she wasn’t about to betray Laurel now that she was happily married to Eloise’s grandson, Lord Graelem Dayne.

  She would have loved to confide in Eloise and seek her guidance, but couldn’t this time. The family relations were too close. In any event, it probably didn’t matter. Her family would regain their trust in her soon enough and then these horrible few months would be forgotten. She certainly was doing all she could to return to their good graces. Indeed, taking care of the children was one of the ways she’d hoped to make it up to them.

  Unfortunately, it wasn’t working out too well for her.

  “Are you ready for your first season, Daisy?” Eloise asked, distracting her from her thoughts. “You’re to attend Lord Falmouth’s ball in a few days.”

  “I am,” she said with an ease she didn’t feel. “Rose and Laurel used their connections to secure vouchers for Almack’s. Rose and her husband took me there a fortnight ago, which in a way counts as my debut, though it shouldn’t since my gown was borrowed from Rose.”

  “Borrowed,” Eloise repeated with a slight frown.

  Daisy dismissed her concern with a shrug. “It was a lovely tea rose silk confection. The gathering was a tame affair and not very well attended. The rooms were simple and the ratafia unpleasantly warm. However, we accomplished our purpose. Rose introduced me to Lady Barstow, one of the patronesses, who gave me permission to waltz.”

  The news seemed to please Eloise. “Well done. Now about your gowns, are they ready yet?”

  “No, but they will be shortly,” she assured, still unwilling to admit her own concerns. “I’ve completed the final fittings and Mother has arranged to have them delivered tomorrow, in plenty of time before the official start of the season.”

  Eloise clapped her hands. “Wonderful! I can’t wait to see you in them. Madame de Bressard is a marvel.”

  “Indeed, she is. Some of her designs are quite beautiful, but the white satin I’m to wear to Lord Falmouth’s has far too many bows and ribbons to be considered elegant.” She paused a moment and wrinkled her nose. “Madame de Bressard wasn’t keen on those frills either, but Mother insisted. No doubt she hoped they would make me appear more innocent.”

  Now she nibbled her lip, suddenly dreading her debut. Had rumor of The Incident begun to spread throughout Polite Society? Was that the reason for the curious glances she was receiving lately? Looking her best was the least of her worries, she supposed.

  Eloise seemed to read her thoughts. “I’m sure you’ll look quite charming and be well received by all. Do stop fretting, child.”

  “Am I that obvious?” Daisy rose from her seat with a sigh. “I do wish to make my family proud, restore their faith in me. I’ll let you in on a little secret, Eloise.”

  “Ooh, I love secrets!” She leaned forward eagerly.

  “Despite my fears, I will enjoy being thrown into the marriage mart. As madly paced as these next few months will be, it will be a pleasant improvement over the chaos presently reigning at home.”

  Eloise pursed her lips. “That’s a logical observation, not a secret. Everyone knows your home is a madhouse.”

  “Speaking of which,” Daisy said, backing toward the door while continuing to chatter, her gaze on Eloise and not on where she was going, “I shudder to think what the little devils are doing now. I really must go. And you must get back to your guest before he suspects foul play. I’ll stop by as soon as Mother returns and—”

  Eloise let out a gasp. “Daisy, look out!”

  “Oof!” She bounced off something solid at the doorway and lost her balance, but was spared the indignity of a fall when a pair of large hands connected to muscled arms reached out and caught her. She found herself locked in the embrace of the gentleman who had earlier rescued Harry, her back pressed against his chest as he drew her against him to steady her. Did all gentlemen have rock-hard chests?

  “We meet again, Miss Farthingale,” he said in a soft, throaty rumble, slowly turning her to face him.

  A crimson rush of heat shot straight into Daisy’s face and fanned across her cheeks. Her heart began to thump erratically within her chest. Oh, great balls of cheese! Up close, the man was even handsomer than she remembered. “Yes, how nice to see you... er... er...”

  He hadn’t mentioned his name, and by the look of him, didn’t seem inclined to tell her. Too bad she hadn’t thought to press Eloise for the information, but it hadn’t seemed important at the time. In any event, knowing his name would somehow make the horror of the encounter worse. He’d no longer be some stranger who had the misfortune to cross her path on the street.

  She tried to stifle her embarrassment and turn away, but his eyes seemed to exert an invisible force that held her in place. There was something dark and dangerous in their tawny gleam. His lips twitched at the corners, as though he was holding back a laugh or a condescending remark. She knew what he really wanted to say was “you’re a clumsy simple-brain and I’d like you to keep as far away from me as possible.”

  He continued to hold her, but made no attempt at politeness. A simple nod or smile would have sufficed, but he failed to offer either. Of course, why would he? She was the last woman on earth he cared to see, which was really too bad because he truly was one of the handsomest men she had ever encountered.

  Indeed, quite the handsomest she had ever met, despite his scars. “You never told me your name.”

  He arched a wicked eyebrow. “I know.”

  Oh, he did look sinfully dangerous, too. In a way that made a girl’s heart flutter as hers was fluttering now. Well, her heart was doing a little more than that, for it was practically in spasms and leaping out of her chest. Drat! Why did he have that effect on her? One would think the scar at his chin and the one above his eye would make him look cruel or scary, but they didn’t. One would think that his size and solid muscles would be intimidating... well, they were, but in an exciting, melt-one’s-resistance sort of way.

  He looked wonderful in the ill-fitting shirt Eloise had loaned him.

  She gazed at the shirt and the muscles rippling beneath it like perfect waves across the vast ocean. Chest hairs, as pure a gold as the hairs of his thick mane, peeked out between the straining buttons. She moved her gaze upward and groaned. Even his tawny-brown eyes were perfect, flecked with gold and slanted ever so sensually.

  “Daisy, are you all right?” Eloise asked with some concern.

  Why? Because she looked like a stunned trout with her mouth agape? Because she couldn’t take her eyes off the man and his handsome features? It didn’t seem fair that he should have a firm jaw, straight nose, inviting lips, and cheekbones as finely sculpted as his warrior’s body.

  She heard Eloise clear her throa
t and stifle something that sounded like a titter. “Daisy?”

  Did the gentleman also believe she was two cards short of a full deck? Is that why he was now grinning at her and continuing to hold her despite his obvious reluctance?

  She shook back to attention, or perhaps he was the one gently shaking her. “I’m fine. Just perfect, Eloise. I really must be going. Oh, sir. I’ll leave this with you.” She offered the gentleman the crumpled shirt still clutched in her hand, for she’d foolishly forgotten to hand it over to Eloise when she’d started for the door. “It might fit better than the one you presently have on, which seems rather tight... but not in a bad way... that is, you’re big.”

  He released her and took it without comment.

  Eloise sighed. “Honestly, Gabriel. I think you ought to thank the girl. By the way, Daisy, this is my grandson, Lord Gabriel Dayne, youngest son of the Earl of Trent.”

  Daisy inhaled sharply. “You’re Gabriel?”

  “I am,” he said with a quirk of his eyebrow, which made him appear quite sinister.

  “Oh.” She refused to be disappointed in the knowledge. Of course, it meant that he had to be ruled out as a possible suitor. After all, the manner in which he’d earned the right to be called a lord, considering he was the younger son of an earl, had provided fodder for gossip for months on end.

  Eloise had spoken about him and his elder brother, Alexander, quite often. While Alexander was a decorated war hero, Gabriel was an unredeemable wastrel and a dishonorable gentleman in every way, one to be avoided at all costs. However, Eloise loved him and firmly believed he was misunderstood.

  Daisy wondered whether Alexander was as ruggedly handsome as his disrepute of a brother, something she would like to know since she was determined to marry Alexander. How else was she to be restored in her family’s good graces? Alexander had an excellent reputation and pedigree and, because he was the eldest, would inherit the earldom and the Trent fortune that went along with it.