Miss Hillary Schools a Scoundrel (6 page)

Drew blew out a long breath. “I’m taking my leave, Norwick.”

“Indeed, have a nice time.”

Damnation.
The earl could be a real dullard.

Fatigue washed over Drew. Returning to Shafer Hall seemed a prudent choice at this time rather than cards or bedding a wench, but after a good night’s rest, he’d be up for his usual activities. That is, if he could catch any sleep with visions of Miss Hillary plaguing his mind.

Drew bounded from his bed at dawn the next morning, filled with renewed enthusiasm for life. He couldn’t recall the last time he woke at sunrise, although he had experienced many debauched evenings ending with the sun’s appearance. The novelty was a welcome change. Perhaps that was all he needed to cure his ennui, variety in his routine.

Dressed and prepared to return to his parents’ home for the festivities an hour later, he trotted down the stairs to see if households served breakfast at this early hour. In the breakfast room, his brother and Phoebe leaned their heads together, speaking in hushed tones. Miss Hillary and her mother were absent, likely still abed like normal folks.

Devil take it. This would be a grand opportunity for his brother to rip into him without the houseguests being any wiser. Drew turned on his heel in an attempt to escape the dressing down he knew forthcoming.

“Stop right there,” Rich ordered.

Drew halted with a sigh, then plastered on a jaunty grin before facing his brother and sister-in-law. “Good morning, favorite family members. I take it you both slept well.”

“Enough of the pleasantries,” Rich replied.

“Richard, remember what we discussed.” Phoebe placed her hand on her husband’s forearm. “Please stay calm.”

His brother’s jaw went slack, and he inhaled deeply in response to Phoebe’s touch, leaving a more peaceful adversary for Drew to face. He would be wise to stay on his sister-in-law’s good side.

Drew held up his hands in surrender. “Listen, I know what you wish to discuss, but in my defense—”

“Have a seat.” Rich nodded sharply toward a chair, his stormy eyes merely cloudy after Phoebe’s intervention. “You know my thoughts on your association with Miss Hillary. We needn’t rehash it this morning.”

Drew dropped onto the padded seat and eyed the gold-rimmed plate set in front of him. “Really, Rich, must you be so judgmental? Miss Hillary is a delightful girl if given a chance.”

His brother gritted his teeth and snarled. Phoebe had her work cut out today.

“Drew, please don’t antagonize him,” she pleaded.

“My apologies, dear sister, but antagonizing Rich has become a habit. I’ll try to refrain from provoking him further this morning, but only in deference to you.” He tilted his head and regarded her, his thoughts shifting from his brother’s temper to a more pleasing topic. “Pheebs, what color eyes would you say Miss Hillary has? I thought they were green in the garden, but later they appeared blue in the ballroom.”

She blinked. “I… They… I-I think… Hmm, I can’t really say, Drew. Now that you mention it, her eyes do appear to change color.”

He grunted and shoveled a bite of eggs in his mouth, happy to have his observations validated. When he glanced up from his plate again, he discovered Rich’s cheeks matched the strawberry jam on his toast.

“Drew, do you recall you are to stay a hundred feet away from Miss Hillary? That means her eye color, alabaster skin, or… or anything
else
about her person should not be the topic of conversation at breakfast tomorrow.”

Drew chewed thoughtfully while creating a mental inventory of Miss Hillary. “Nor freckles, I imagine.”

“Excuse me?”

“You failed to mention the sprinkling of freckles on her alabaster skin. I’m assuming I should not discuss those either.”

Rich simply growled as Drew had hoped he would.

He would have speculated aloud whether Miss Hillary had spots elsewhere on her body to irritate his brother further if Phoebe hadn’t been present. But despite her marital status and the babe in her womb, his sister-in-law remained rather innocent in her thinking. It wouldn’t do to embarrass her for the sake of bothering Rich.

Phoebe bit her lip and shot a glance toward the doorway. “Could we speak of something else? Lana and her mother may join us any moment.”

Rich caressed her shoulder. “Of course, love.”

Raising his eyes to the ceiling, Drew shook his head. Rich found excuses to touch his wife every two minutes, yet everyone labeled
Drew
the depraved one.

He crammed the last bite of toast into his mouth and shoved from the table. “I’m leaving for the castle. Perhaps our paths shall cross later.”

“Mother wishes to speak with you,” Rich said.

Drew skidded to a stop and looked over his shoulder. “Mother wants to speak with me? And
why
does she want to speak with me?”

His brother grinned, clearly pleased with himself. “I’m sure she didn’t appreciate your stunt at dinner.”

“I hardly think she noticed on her own, traitor.”

“Bottle-head,” Rich shot back, a spark of amusement shining in his eyes.

A corner of Drew’s mouth slanted up and he squared his shoulders, preparing to engage in a verbal duel. “Miss Molly.”

“Toad-eater.”

“That is
enough
, boys.” His sister-in-law wore a disgruntled look, but he and Rich smiled from ear to ear. Drew had missed his brother this last year while Rich traveled. Nothing ever filled the void left by absent family members, he had come to realize.

“Saved by your wife again,” he said then hurried from the breakfast room and sprinted up the stairs. He rounded a corner in the upstairs hallway on the way to his chambers and almost mowed over Miss Hillary.

“Oh.” She covered her heart with her hand. “My lord, you frightened me.”

A moment alone in the corridor with Miss Hillary? His day had gotten off to a great start.

“You hardly seem to be a shrinking violet, Miss Hillary.” Drew leaned closer and breathed deeply, detecting the light scent of lily of the valley. “Though I dare say, you smell like one.”

She rolled her eyes. “Violets have no scent, silly man.”

“Really? Allow me to try again.” This time he leaned even closer, his lips almost grazing her slender neck. God, she smelled scrumptious, like ripe innocence ready to be plucked from a tree branch. “What are you wearing, peach?” he whispered.

“Ahem.”

They both jumped away from each other, and Drew spun around to encounter Mrs. Hillary’s chiding stare.

“Good day, Mrs. Hillary. I was just commenting on the delightful aroma wafting through the hallway.” He stepped toward her, yet kept a respectful distance. Sniffing the air, he allowed a magnanimous smile to spread across his lips. “I believe I have located the source. Is that a new scent you’re wearing?”

Miss Hillary released a soft snort behind him.

From her mother’s scowl, he clearly hadn’t fooled her. “You are too kind, Lord Andrew. Have you consumed breakfast this morning?”

“I have. A delicious spread awaits you.”

“Then you will excuse us so
we
may partake as well.” Mrs. Hillary motioned to her daughter to accompany her. Drew moved aside to let her pass. Both women floated down the red-carpeted hallway, Miss Hillary’s hips swaying ever so enticingly.

Did the little minx know what she was doing? If she kept that up, he’d have to bed her. Consequences be damned.

Drew replayed the scene in the hallway with Miss Hillary on the ride to Irvine Castle. The chit had become irresistible overnight. Had her mother not interrupted when she did, Drew would have backed her against the wall and kissed her thoroughly.

Shaking off the temptation she presented, Drew focused on the horizon. He would do well to recall Miss Hillary remained an innocent and turn his attentions elsewhere. There were many beautiful, accommodating ladies waiting at Irvine Castle. He simply needed to bed one and give up his fantasies of Miss Hillary. Several women had exhibited signs of their willingness to accommodate his needs last night, but damn him, even the thought of a supple body beneath his lacked the allure of watching Miss Hillary from across the room.

Drew recoiled. He would rather
watch
Miss Hillary than tumble a fine wench? He required a doctor. Although he suspected the true cure for his affliction remained out of his reach, thanks to his damned brother.

“Hell’s teeth.” Drew sat up straight in the saddle. Why hadn’t it dawned on him earlier? Miss Hillary was forbidden, and what man didn’t desire what was denied him?

He issued a relieved chuckle. A physician’s assistance was unnecessary. Drew knew how to remedy his situation. He only need gain full access to Miss Hillary, and once he knew with certainty he could tumble her, he would lose interest as he did with every other woman. Well, his interest usually waned
after
he had bedded the object of his desire, but Drew only needed to possess the knowledge he could win Miss Hillary. He needn’t actually claim the prize. He possessed some willpower, after all. His promise to his brother would remain unbroken—perhaps bent a little, but still unbroken—and he would be able to return to a normal existence like the one he enjoyed before meeting Miss Hillary.

Drew frowned and gripped the reins tighter. But how could he navigate her mother without leaving the impression he intended to offer for the chit? Mrs. Hillary’s drive to find a husband for her daughter proved treacherous terrain for a man like him. Of course, she hadn’t been the most attentive chaperone last night. Distracting her should be easy.

In reality, Miss Hillary’s mother was the lesser of his two concerns. The true challenge lay in getting what he wanted without upsetting Phoebe and incurring Rich’s wrath. An idea began to form as the battlements of Irvine Castle loomed into sight. He had to seek out his sister.

***

“Why should I help you?” Gabby flounced across her chambers and dropped onto the chair in front of her dressing table. Crossing her arms, she frowned fiercely.

Drew wagged a finger toward her mirror. “Princess, you might want to take a gander. You have something unattractive on your face.”

She gasped and swiveled to catch her reflection in the looking glass. Nothing was there, and she swung around again to pierce him with another dark look.

He shrugged, a huge smile pulling at his lips. “My mistake. That
is
your face.”

“Drew.” Gabby jumped from the chair and charged, smacking his arm hard.

“Ouch.” He laughed when she delivered a few more blows he halfheartedly tried to deflect. She had actually been quite adorable before succumbing to her temper. “I was only teasing, princess.”

“Stop calling me that.” She stamped her foot, bouncing her ebony curls in the process. “I hate it when you tease me.”

“But it’s so entertaining,” he countered.

“Not for me.”

She hit him once more before stomping back to the chair and collapsing on it. Her bottom lip trembled.

“Gabby, look at me.”

She turned away in stubborn defiance.

Drew sighed and crossed the room to kneel in front of her, trying to gain eye contact, but she dodged any attempts he made. “I’m sorry. Would it help if I confessed to lying?”

Her furious gray eyes shot to his. “It would be more shocking to admit you ever tell the truth.”

He suppressed a laugh and patted her knee. “You’ve grown into a beautiful young woman. No longer are you the little girl I loved annoying. I would be smart to recognize this fact and treat you like a lady.”

Suspicion darkened her eyes. She would be difficult to convince, but Drew had nothing to lose.

“If I didn’t recognize your maturity, why would I come to you for help?” He glanced toward the ceiling certain lightning would strike him dead any moment.

“Again,
why
should I help you?”

“Don’t you like Miss Hillary? She was here two years ago. Did you not spend time with her then?”

Gabby snatched a book from her dressing table and buried her nose in it. “I like Miss Hillary fine, but I’m not fond of
you
at the moment.”

This was going nowhere. He rose from the floor and sank into an armchair, a pink, fuzzy, childish piece of furniture. Running his hand along the armrest, he discovered the soft fabric actually felt nice under his fingertips, much like Miss Hillary’s silky skin had last night. Back to the task at hand.

“Don’t you long for more freedom?” he asked.

Her head jerked up. “I desire more than a
taste
of freedom, which is what you propose. I wish to come out next season, but Mama refuses to allow it. It’s unlikely she would grant permission for me to participate in the festivities.”

“If I can convince her, will you assist me?”

Gabby appeared to mull over the decision before lifting the open book to block his view of her face. “I can’t.”

“Why the devil not?”

Gabby peeked over the edge of the book. “Despite my desire for liberation, I cannot be a party to heartbreak.”

“What are you talking about? No one’s heart will be broken.”

Laying the book on her lap, Gabby stared hard. “Tell me your intentions with Miss Hillary. Why do you want to chaperone me? And why do you ask me to spend as much time with her as I can? You want to get close to Miss Hillary, don’t you? But I’m afraid you will only hurt her. She is a nice young woman.”

He slumped in the chair and rested his chin against his propped-up hand. “
Everyone
thinks I’m the devil. I don’t intend to hurt Miss Hillary. I simply need this.”

“
What
is it you need?”

“I can’t put it into words,” he snapped. “You couldn’t possibly understand.”

She frowned. “Then you may seek assistance elsewhere. I have to know what I’m doing if I join this venture with you.”

They sat in silence, Gabby never wavering in her stare. Looking into her eyes for the first time, Drew detected a hint of compassion.

“If you must know, I’m unable to banish Miss Hillary from my mind,” he admitted in a quiet voice. “She has plagued me for weeks, ever since the Eldridge ball.”

“Indeed?” A gradual lifting at the corners of Gabby’s lips raised his spirits. “Very well, Drew, but you must do something for me in return. Secure Mama’s permission for me to be presented next season.”

“I beg your pardon? Why, that is coercion, Gabrielle.” Clever girl. He winked. “I’m impressed.”

***

An hour after his conversation with his mother and father, he questioned the wisdom of accepting full responsibility for Gabby. His sister pranced down the stairway in her lavender riding habit at the appointed hour, drawing the notice of every gentleman loitering in the foyer. Good God, when had she grown into a beautiful young woman?