Bronwyn Scott - The Regency Season - Wicked Rakes - How to Disgrace a Lady / How to Ruin a Reputation

‘Then we are at cross purposes,’ Alixe snapped. ‘I don’t want a name. I want a man, a real person.’

St Magnus rose to meet her, arms crossed. ‘Listen, Lady Alixe, you can play stubborn all summer, but that won’t change the outcome, it will only change the husband.’

‘And that would be intolerable since it would be you. Don’t stand there and make it seem as if all your plans are for my benefit. You’re only interested in saving your own precious hide,’ Alixe said angrily. ‘You’re not concerned about me. This is all about you getting what you want, just like it was last night. You didn’t care about the translation. You cared about the wager and I was fool enough to believe otherwise.’

Merrick’s eyes narrowed to dangerous blue slits. Good. He was angry. She’d managed to shake his attitude of casual insouciance. It was about time he was appalled by what faced them. Goodness knew she was.

His voice was cold when he spoke. ‘We are most unfortunately in this mess together. You can either take my help and take charge of how this ends, or you can be saddled with me for a husband. I assure you, such a result will only bring you grief.’

She saw the truth in it. Marriage to a man like St Magnus was perhaps worse than the reality of a traditional society alliance. At least then there would be no illusions like there had been momentarily last night.

‘Are you threatening me?’ Alixe tipped her chin high. Women who married the fantasy were inevitably betrayed when their husbands created the fantasy with other lovers.

‘That’s your father’s threat, my dear, not mine.’ Mischief twinkled in his eyes. ‘I think you might enjoy certain aspects of being married to me. It’s not as though it’s a case of caveat emptor. You know exactly what you’re getting. There won’t be any surprises when the clothes come off on our wedding night, after all.’

Alixe felt the hot blush creep up her neck. This man was impossible. ‘Really, you must stop mentioning it.’

St Magnus laughed. ‘I probably will when it ceases to make you blush. Now, we must get you back to the house and get you changed for the excursion out to the Roman ruins.’

This was too much. ‘You do not have the ordering of me.’

‘I thought we’d established that I do until you choose another husbandly candidate.’ There was almost a chill to his tone, cautioning that she’d better be careful about pushing this man too far. His easy manners hid a deeper, angrier soul. It was a surprise to discover it. Nothing in his behaviour to date had suggested such a facet to his personality existed. The glimpse was gone as quickly as it had come.

‘I hadn’t planned to go on the excursion.’ She picked up the flower basket.

‘I hadn’t planned to get caught in the library with you.’

She turned to face him with hands on hips. ‘Look, I’m sorry you lost your wager, but that doesn’t give you leave to make my life any more miserable than it has to be under the circumstances.’

‘I think you’d better get used to calling me Merrick, and you’re wrong about the wager. I won, after all.’ He gave her a cocky grin. ‘I kissed your mother.’

She knew the look on her face was one of pure astonishment. She couldn’t help it. The most incredible statements kept coming out of this man’s mouth. ‘You kissed my mother?’

St Magnus—no, Merrick, chuckled and sauntered down the path back towards the house. ‘On the hand, my dear girl,’ he called over his shoulder. ‘I’ll see you in half an hour at the carriages. Don’t even think about being late.’

Alixe humphed and stomped her foot. He was infuriating. She had no doubts he’d come looking for her if she wasn’t there. She’d tried to avoid him this morning and he’d found her anyway. Well, he could demand she be at the carriages, but he couldn’t tell her what to wear. Alixe smiled to herself. He’d soon see what a Herculean labour her father had set before him. When her father realised there was no way Merrick could free himself from marrying her, her father would relent. Her father didn’t want Merrick for a son-in-law.

Alixe hummed her way back to the house. For the first time since midnight, she had a plan and it would work. Then she’d be right back where she’d begun the summer. Never mind that the two words ‘restless’ and ‘lonely’ hovered on the periphery of her thoughts. She’d worry about that later. At present, she had a husband to lose.

* * *

She was prompt, Merrick would give her that. At precisely eleven o’clock, Alixe Burke presented herself on the front steps with the other milling guests, ready for the outing to the ruins. It was something of a surprise that she was on time given she looked a fright. Mastering such an unattractive, nay, invisible look took time.

If he’d been wearing a hat, he would have tipped it to her in temporary recognition of victory. She wasn’t going to concede quietly. Lucky for him, he liked a challenge. Just as long as he won in the end.

Merrick excused himself from the group he chatted with and made his way to Miss Burke’s side. ‘Touché, Lady Alixe,’ he said in low tones for her ear alone. ‘You will have to do much better than that.’

Her eyes flashed, but her chance for a rejoinder was cut short by the arrival of carriages and horses. There were a few moments of organised pandemonium while Lady Folkestone sorted everyone into vehicles and those who wished to ride.

Alixe chose to ride. Merrick watched Alixe mount the roan mare, taking in the leaping head on the pommel of her side saddle. She was something of a serious horsewoman, then. No one would consider jumping without it. That she considered jumping at all said something about the quality of her riding. She reached down to adjust the balance strap on her stirrup, further testimony to her competence. That was when he looked more closely at the hideous habit. Its lines weren’t ugly. In fact, the outfit was efficiently cut. It was merely the colour. Where other women wore traditional blue and greens, she’d chosen a mousy grey that did nothing to enhance the amber sherry of her eyes or the chocolate lustre of her hair.

* * *

‘You don’t fool me for a moment, Alixe,’ he said casually once the crowd had separated into groups along the road. The road was only wide enough for two to ride abreast and the riders had neatly paired off with the partner of their choice. Merrick would remember what a formidable hostess Lady Folkestone was. No doubt, this outing was designed with matchmaking in mind, the road chosen for this exact purpose. There’d be plenty of chances for the young couples to exchange semi-private conversations while in plain sight of others along the road to the ruins. It was a stroke of brilliance on his hostess’s part.

‘What fooling would you be referring to?’ She kept her eyes straight ahead, her tone cool.

‘This attempt to be invisible, not to mention unattractive. It will take more than that to get me to beg your father to reconsider, or to send me running back to London, refusing to honour my agreement.’

‘Perhaps I like this habit. Perhaps you err by insulting a lady’s dress.’

Merrick laughed out loud. ‘You forget I saw your evening gown a few nights back. At least one item in your wardrobe suggests you have some sense of fashion. As for your “liking” the habit, I do think you like that riding habit. I think you like being invisible. It gives you permission to sail through life without being noticed and that makes you unaccountable. People can only talk about things they see.’

That made her head swivel in his direction. ‘How dare you?’ Now she was angry. The earlier cool hauteur had melted under the rising heat of her temper.

‘How dare I do what?’ Merrick stoked the coals a little more. He liked her better this way—she was real when she was angry.