Page 2 of Just About a Rake (Ladies Who Dare #5)

L eonora stepped up to the table full of tarts and other confections, surveying the fashionable horde as she snatched up a lemon cake. Should she go and claim her nightly dose of Dare’s charm or continue to keep a bit of distance? Honestly, she had not meant to avoid him. However, Dare could never be part of the moment to rule all moments that she sought.

He was a rake.

And her time was precious. Far too precious to waste on taming a man. And truth be told, she quite liked him wild. A reformed Dare? The very thought was laughable. Like declawing a lion or trimming the wings off a hawk—why ruin something so gloriously untamed? Besides, a man could only reform himself. If Dare wanted to be good, he would choose to be good. If he wanted to stay wicked, he’d choose to stay wicked.

And that brought about a spot of excitement to her thoughts.

She sought his familiar tousle of brown hair amongst the men. Always styled nine parts fashionable for one part scoundrel. Oh, why is it so hard to resist this bit of thrill?

“Looking for someone?” a low voice drawled from behind her.

Leonora whirled, cheeks bulging with cake, and met the gaze of the most devastatingly swoon-worthy man, in her blunt opinion, in the whole of London. Perhaps even Britain. Dark-blue eyes stared back at her. They reminded her of the depth of the ocean, an intriguing contrast to his rather shallow character.

But that was the charm of Dare.

His handsomeness wasn’t subtle. One didn’t have sneak looks at him. Once you looked, you couldn’t look away. He was that beautiful. He knew this, too. The knowledge hung on his smile and echoed back into his posture.

Ah yes, there it was—the smile he was directing at her now, his gaze brimming with sparks as a wayward lock of hair fell over his forehead.

Leonora’s lips tugged upward until they fully matched his. It was also one of those things one couldn’t help in his presence. His smile had a way of luring the corners of even his opponents’ lips to draw upward bit by bit, until one smile matched the other, and neither person could tell who had won and who had lost, but they were grinning at each other like fools.

Like right now.

Leonora swallowed the cake. “Who would I be looking for?” Ah, certain excitement was just as eager to seek her out as she it.

“Perhaps a certain ruffian that you love to jab with teasing remarks?”

“Ruffian?” She laughed. “There are many men such as that.”

“So harsh,” he murmured, the perfection of his smile never slipping. “Have I been cuckolded by my little beauty?”

Leonora gave a less-than-perfect eye roll. “I’m not even going to begin to explain all the things wrong with that statement.”

He chuckled. “I saw you conversing with the Duke of Calstone earlier.”

Her ears perked. “Jealous?”

“Exceedingly. The duke is a much better man than I. Not a ruffian at all.”

“Is that something to be jealous about when your reputation is one of your own making?”

“A man can be jealous of all sorts of things, even when he is not quite in the right.”

“Not quite in the right, you say?” Leonora laughed. “Well, when it comes to prospects, I dare say most men are better than you in that regard. But do not fret, Lord Dare, you still have your roguish charm that sets you apart from most.”

“What a comforting thought.”

Leonora laughed. He didn’t look comforted at all. Neither did he look offended. This was what she loved about Dare. He didn’t put on airs, and if he did, it was so obvious that she couldn’t help but be amused.

He picked up a lemon cake of his own for inspection. “I noticed you haven’t danced once tonight.”

He’d noticed that? “You should try it,” she said, motioning to the lemon cake. “It’s good.” She turned to survey the dancers. “And you are quite right. I haven’t danced.”

“Why not?” He bit into the cake, nodding his agreement after a moment. “It is good.”

She smiled. A rake indulging in something as sweet and simple as a lemon cake. There should be a headline about that. “I’m not feeling the music tonight.”

“How strange. You love dancing. I know at least that much about you.”

“I suppose”—her gaze flicked over his face—“I’m bored.”

He dusted off his hand after finishing the cake. “Bored? This is a grave problem. What shall happen in the years to come if you’re already bored?”

“I expect I shall have someone by my side to relieve my boredom in the future. The present moment is the challenge.”

He inclined his head, eyes sweeping the room. “I suppose after the excitement of this season so far, a good, old-fashioned ball would seem boring.”

“Are you blaming the heiresses and the scandals following the lost betting book of White’s for my boredom?”

“Is it not at least partly responsible?”

“If that were the case, I would be as well off staying home and reading a book.” She couldn’t tell this man about her woes. That wasn’t what they did. Her gaze moved to the lemon cakes. “But then I wouldn’t have been able to taste these cakes. They must be the highlight of the evening.”

“Ah, so my charm can no longer hold a candle even to lemon cakes?”

“Well, they are particularly sweet tonight, the dash of lemon just right.”

“Nevertheless, it’s only natural to discover that there is more to life than beauty and dancing, although most young ladies don’t discover it this young.”

“Two youngs in one sentence.” She cast him a humorous glance. “You are talking as though you are an old fox.”

“I am an old fox.”

“You cannot be older than thirty.”

One brow lifted high. “Thirty is still much older than you. What are you, eighteen?”

“ Twenty .”

He seemed surprised. “Ah, eleven years my junior. A mere sprite.”

This sprite will bite you. “I take that back,” Leonora said. “You are old. And not the good kind of old either.”

“And just what is this good kind of old?”

Her smile turned sly. “Eleven years older but not eleven years wiser.”

He clutched his chest in a mocking gesture. “A direct blow to my heart. You have a saucy mouth, you know, Lady Leonora.”

“Well, what can I say?” Her smile widened. “You are here with me, at a table full of tarts, flirting with a sprite eleven years your junior, making it absurdly easy.”

“I’m not sure why, but I now feel the need to point out that youth is just state of mind.”

“Of course. And how many times has that sentence alleviated the heaviness in your mind?”

He puffed out a breath of laughter before admitting, “More times than I care to admit.”

She laughed.

“By the by,” Dare continued, “where is that surly brother of yours? He is rather slow tonight, is he not? Usually, he’d have burled through the crowd to drag you away from my unsightly presence.”

“You exaggerate.” But Leonora felt a prickle of discomfort skittering down her spine.

“Exaggerate?” Dare scoffed. “An infant could tell he doesn’t like me.”

Well, it was true that Logan Heart, heir to the title of Marquess of Heartly, had a way of sniffing out whenever she engaged in a bit of flirtation with Dare and promptly whisked her away. It was though he possessed a sixth sense where Dare was concerned. But then, Heart was so very much older than she was, so he had accumulated more worldly experience, she supposed.

And yet, for all his overprotectiveness, their relationship wasn’t as simple as it seemed. For he was her brother who was not her brother. It wasn’t that they weren’t blood. They were. Just not in the way everyone believed.

She bit down on her lip, her thoughts flashing back to Calstone’s off-hand remark about her resemblance to the Duchess of Crane. Could the duchess be the other half of her secret? A secret Leonora had stumbled upon on her fourteenth birthday. A secret that she instinctively understood contained within it many more.

Of course, neither Heart nor her parents had any idea she knew, and she’d always wanted to keep it that way, even as her own feelings about it settled and unsettled. Most people would call it a dark, shocking secret, and perhaps it was. But not for Leonora, at least not entirely. Her family had provided her with so much love and care that bitterness or resentment had never found a place in her heart. Instead, there was only a quiet, calm understanding about their actions. She had even vowed to take the secret to her grave, for her family had acted out of a desire to protect. However, a growing curiosity had started to bloom within her recently. Who was the woman who had given birth to her? What was she like? Did she think about Leonora every so often? And could Leonora truly keep the vow she had made as a child to keep the secret?

She glanced over at Dare. She wondered what secrets lay buried beneath the surface of his family. Given the man’s reputation, it was probably best not to wonder. In any event, secrets were part of the fabric of their society.

“See?” Dare broke through her thoughts. “You are not saying anything, which means I am right. Your brother despises me.”

“Not true,” Leonora tried to appease. “He merely doesn’t approve of you.”

“Isn’t that the same thing?”

Leonora chuckled. “Don’t sound so sour. Most men don’t approve of you.” Her gaze skipped over his face. “For obvious reasons.”

He assumed a thoughtful stance, studying her. “ You seem to always ignore these obvious reasons.”

“And because I ignore them so regularly, our peers,” except for Heart , “don’t bat an eye anymore when you and I converse at the table of treats .”

“Damnation, woman, do not say ‘treats’ in that tone.”

“Why?” She smiled sweetly. “Don’t you like treats ?” She laughed at his flat look, and teased, “I’m not even sure why I enjoy conversing with you so much.”

He leaned in close. “Because I’m charming.”

Amusement bubbled. “I want to deny it, but I cannot.”

A commotion broke out on the margins of the dance floor, drawing both their gazes. Not a big one, though—it seemed to be a small tiff between a lady and her gentleman.

“What do you suppose that is about?” Dare asked curiously.

Leonora craned her neck to get a better look. “Why ask me? You should know it better, should you not?”

“ Me ?”

She grinned at him. “With all the wisdom and experience of that eleven years of age you have on me.”

“Saucy wench.”

“Old rogue.”

He clucked disapprovingly, but his voice still held cheerfulness. “Perhaps he commented on the color of her dress? Green is such an unflattering color.”

Leonora glanced down at her own gown and back at him, raising a brow.

His gaze flicked to her bosom—of all places!—and back to her face. His face transformed into a smoldering rogue look complete with the playful arch of his brow. “I meant that shade of green on that woman is very unflattering.”

Leonora laughed. “That face won’t work on me, and I doubt a comment on the shade of her dress was enough to spark the anger plainly displayed on the lady’s face.” A righteous storm gathered there, and the small tiff seemed to be growing. “Seems the night is about to turn interesting.”

His gaze returned to the couple. “I suspect you are right.”

“Perhaps she discovered a wager.”

“Perhaps,” Dare drawled. “We should move along from this spot. It seems they are heading in our direction.”

To be precise, the woman was marching their way and the gentleman was trailing behind her, all the while pleading for her forgiveness.

“Are you sure? We have the best spot to witness the drama unfolding.”

“Do you want to observe it or be part of it?” Dare asked dryly.

Leonora paused. Not part of it, of course.

A hand settled on her lower back to guide her a few steps away from the oncoming tempest even as a slap echoed through the ballroom.

Too late.

The storm had arrived.

Rebellion was the mood of the hour.

*

“Hell and damnation.”

The foul words blew past Dare’s lips while several more echoed in his head. He’d had a bad feeling the moment those two chose a direction that would collide with him and Lady Leonora, and that feeling was downright ominous now.

He wanted to snatch Lady Leonora up and make a dash for it, but she had turned her incredulous gaze to the couple—whom he now recognized as Lord and Lady Hamish—and was thoroughly snared by the drama.

“You lowly cockroach!” the woman shouted. “Unless you tell me who the harpy is, your marriage bed turns cold tonight and every night hereafter!”

Strong words. Rather terrifying, actually. And they were too close to the eruption.

He leaned over to mutter into Lady Leonora’s ear. “We should retreat.” They were too close for his comfort.

She glanced between him and the couple and then nodded.

Dare moved to guide Lady Leonora away from the spectacle but was stopped cold when his eyes momentarily locked with that woman’s. He felt the horror unfolding within him as her finger pointed straight at him. “You!” she screeched. “It’s libertines like you who cause the rot in our society!”

His face darkened. “Madam, I am not your husband, so do not drag me into your theatrics. Don’t vent your anger at innocent bystanders.”

She swelled like a round pufferfish. “Innocent? You are a libertine, just like him!”

Did that give permission to attack him? He wouldn’t give this harpy any satisfaction of being too bothered, so he smirked, picking at his jacket. “Come now. I’m an honorable rake.”

“Honorable! Can there be such a thing amongst libertines?”

“Well, yes, honorable rakes don’t play with a lady’s feelings. They rather abhor them, in fact.”

“You—you infamous rogue!”

Lady Leonora stepped forward. “Lord Dare is right, Lady Hamish. If you wish to take your anger out on someone, it’s best to do so on the person who offended you, not a man who was simply enjoying the host’s treats.”

Dare glanced at Lady Leonora. There was that word again. Nevertheless, all his annoyance melted away.

When Lady Hamish’s eyes narrowed on Lady Leonora, Dare stepped to the side to block her view. Hell hath no fury and all that. “Like I said madam, do not drag others into your argument. It’s bad sport.”

“Quite right, quite right,” Lord Hamish said, finally stepping in. “Camilla, let’s take this to a more private setting!”

“Why?” she exclaimed. “You weren’t private in your affairs, so why be private with the consequences?”

Poor fool.

Dare didn’t mince his actions with words. He turned on his heel and ushered Lady Leonora away before the little temptress said anything else and Lady Hamish dragged them even deeper into her affairs. How bothersome that a simple meeting of gazes could spiral into a nightmare. Was this the new world they lived in?

He flinched as another slap echoed through the ballroom. At this rate, between Lord Hamish’s drink-inflamed cheeks and all the slaps, his face would be swollen to a sphere tomorrow.

And they’d had the nerve to drag him into the mess.

“What a disaster,” Dare muttered. He could still hear her cursing at his back, but at the very least—a sweep of the room confirmed—all eyes remained on that woman’s chaotic performance.

“Are you all right?” Lady Leonora asked, sending him a concerned glance. “I cannot believe you were a target for Lady Hamish’s ire.”

“I cannot believe you inserted yourself into said ire,” Dare countered, still mired in some disbelief that she would do such a thing. When last had anyone stood up for him in such a manner? Not in years. Certainly not in his adult life.

“Why not?” She waved a hand. “If I hadn’t defended you, I’d not have been defending myself, now would I?”

Dare spotted a nearby pillar and pulled her over behind it. “Your logic has flaws as deep as underground mines.” He stopped to make sure they weren’t being noticed. “Let’s wait here for a bit.”

“ Hiding is your solution?”

“Being caught up in that disaster will bring nothing but more disaster to you, Lady Leonora,” Dare said, the hairs at the back of his neck prickling with awareness. “My reputation can survive any calamity, but yours cannot.” And no shadows should taint the woman beside him, not even his, as large as they loomed. But even if his shadows lacked the ability to taint her all on their own, if she stepped any closer and fully entered the darkness that shrouded him, she might never recover from that. And yet, he couldn’t bring himself to regret this flirtatious thing they had formed between them.

Regret couldn’t touch its brightness. Yet.

She lifted to her toes to peek at the ongoing commotion. “Well, we are out of the blast range now, though it seems Lord Gibsy and his wife have been dragged into their tiff instead of us.”

Dare followed her gaze. Lady Hamish was indeed pointing a finger at Gibsy, who had turned red, purple, and blue all at once. It seemed the woman was determined to blame any man passing for her husband’s indiscretions. At least it wasn’t just him.

“He looks like he wants to throttle Lady Hamish,” Lady Leonora murmured.

“I want to throttle her,” Dare muttered. And that was saying much. This was the first time in his life such an urge had overtaken him where a woman was concerned.

He glanced at Leonora.

And it was because of her.

Not because Lady Hamish had dragged him into that spectacle—Dare could handle drama—but because she had done so while Leonora was at his side.

“I pity her,” Leonora murmured. “She’s had a shock.”

“Of course. It’s how she treats the bystanders that I object to.”

Leonora nodded. “Agreed. There are a thousand different ways to vent anger. This is quite something else.” She paused. “Tell me, Dare,”—she sent him a speculative glance—“has a woman ever slapped your face?”

“No, I have been fortunate there.” He didn’t much care for pain.

“I find that hard to believe. Don’t all infamous rakes have a slap or two to boast?”

“Should a lady be speaking about infamous rakes to an infamous rake?”

“Are you avoiding the question?” she countered while avoiding his.

Dare shook his head, chuckling. “Only the rakes lacking in charm get slapped. And let me assure you, a slap is nothing to boast about, even for men who have been labeled rakes.”

“Then your charm must indeed be quite something.”

“Haven’t you experienced that for yourself?”

“I suppose I’ve gotten a slight glimpse.”

A throat cleared behind them. “And just what glimpse have you gotten from him? And why in everlasting damnation am I always finding the two of you together?”

Dare sighed, turning to see Leonora’s brother. The sun seemed to have set on their coquetry. “Your sister is speaking of charm, Heart, just as she is charming. Does that appease your curiosity?”

“No, it doesn’t. What are the two of you doing behind this pillar?”

“Well, depending on your perspective, we are not behind it,” he replied.

The man scowled. “You always have a blasted answer for everything, don’t you?”

“That is my charm.”

“Heart,” Leonora said flatly, claiming her brother’s attention. She pointed at the couple over yonder. “We are just observing a bit of a commotion between Lord and Lady Hamish from a respectable distance.”

Dare clasped his hands behind his back as Heart stepped forward to follow his sister’s line of sight.

“Oh, that,” Heart muttered, his gaze flicking between the two before stepping back again. “I heard Lady Hamish learned about her husband’s affair tonight. She must not be taking it well if she is publicly causing such a ruckus.”

“Would any woman take such a thing well?” Leonora demanded from her brother.

Dare flinched, pushing back a memory that tried to resurface. Indeed, no woman would take a philandering husband well. His own father had been an ill-famed scoundrel. But his mother’s distress had been the exact opposite of Lady Hamish’s public lashing out.

Leonora made a dismissive gesture. “Forget I asked.”

Dare glanced at the man. Both he and Heart carried reputations that could shame any ordinary rogue. Heart was even more notorious than him. Though, twenty or so years ago, if gossip could be relied upon. Still, it would explain why Lady Leonora couldn’t so much as blink in his company without her behavior being noted but could also hold her own with any teasing remarks.

If Heart truly was as black as the rumors claimed, she’d been standing in a rake’s shadow since birth, though Dare doubted she had knowledge of her brother’s previous or current exploits.

“No, I can’t imagine any woman would respond favorably,” Dare murmured.

Heart cut him a nasty look. “Come, Leonora, we’re leaving.”

She scrunched her brows. “Leaving, as in you are dragging me away to another pillar? Or leaving, as in going home?”

“Leaving, as in going home,” Heart bit out between clenched teeth.

Dare chuckled, a ray of sun breaking through the shadows once more. Ah, how temptation beckoned for him to step into the full brightness of her light, but he would resist. It would be a repeat of the past, a past that destroyed his family, and he refused to allow that to happen again. Leonora should always shine bright.

“What do you find so amusing?” Heart demanded.

Dare shrugged. “I merely wonder how I would fare if I had a little spitfire for a sister like yours.”

The man took a threatening step forward. “Do not call Leonora a spitfire.”

“ Heart .”

Dare winked at her, almost laughing at her glowing eyes, the same blue of a clear summer sky. “What should I call her then?”

He caught her soft sigh.

Heart jabbed a finger at him. “Don’t call her anything if you know what is good for you. Stay away from her.”

“Gentlemen,” Leonora said exasperatedly.

“But what if your sister is good for me?”

“Oh, dear lord,” she muttered, rolling her eyes.

Heart sneered. “Are you saying she can reform a hardened blackguard like you? Don’t make me laugh.”

“I never said anything about reform.”

Leonora cocked her head to the side, suddenly interested in the content of their jabs, and he caught the sparkle in her eyes, the mirth. “Good for you how?”

His eyes met hers. “Your smiles brighten my evening.”

“That’s it,” Heart growled. “We are leaving, Leonora. Now.”

She returned his wink even as her brother all but hauled her from the ballroom. Dare tracked her until she was out of his sight before chuckling and shaking his head, any traces of a smile quickly fading from his face. He counted to sixty before lazily striding through the room to the cloakroom to retrieve his coat. There was no point in staying any longer.

None of what he’d said was a lie. Leonora Heart was good for him. She brought a spark to his evenings more and more with each encounter. He accepted his coat from the attendant who rushed over, flicking a coin to him.

“Thank you, my lord.”

Dare gave a curt nod, shrugging into his coat.

It wasn’t enough. More , something in him cried out at every one of her smiles. Was tonight’s sparse glimmer enough to tide him over to tomorrow’s ball?

Stop with the foolishness, Dare. You know . . .

He scowled, striding through the main doors of the Haversham residence and descending the stairs.

Yes, he did know.

While she was good for him, he was no good for her.