Chapter Four

CHAPTER FOUR

That could have gone better, Gage supposed.

Either he was losing his touch, or he had sorely miscalculated his charm. Not that he was any kind of Casanova—far from it!—but he was competent enough with most reasonably minded women, which, clearly, Evangeline Raine was not. The termagant had practically kicked him out of her bloody shelter. Him, a duke! The audacity! And yet, he admired her more for it.

She was delightfully direct.

But what was most concerning, however, was that from the sound of the snatches of conversation with the Duchess of Greydon he'd shamelessly overheard, the lady did not seem to esteem London or the season in the least, which would certainly interfere with his plans. He wasn't that fond of town himself, but what had happened in London to make her despise it so?

Perhaps it was that very directness that had not suited the empty-headed aristocrats of the ton. But if she was truly opposed to London, then his strategy would have to take some finessing, or he could kiss Huntington's deal goodbye. Furthermore, he'd done himself no favors by chiding her on etiquette like a fool.

Gage cursed under his breath. He was off to a spectacular start.

Notwithstanding being climbed by a devious quintet of kittens, Gage had felt strangely charged for the better part of his visit, a feeling that had intensified the minute Lady Evangeline's innocent palm had grabbed a handful of his nether regions. His interest had deflated somewhat when William Dawson had arrived, the intimacy between him and the lady impossible to ignore. The whisper of possessiveness Gage had felt had been unwelcome as hell. He had no claim on Evangeline Raine, none whatsoever.

She was simply a means to an end… a very much-needed end.

And yet, he'd wanted to beat Dawson to a pulp.

Either Huntington was blind, or he simply did not know beauty when he saw it. Then again, Lady Evangeline Raine was far from conventional ideals. Hers was a razor-edged sort of beauty, in the way of wolves or hawks, one that might not come without its share of danger.

With all that silk-spun, flaxen hair escaping her braid and framing her face in a gossamer cloud, as well as those angular but starkly arresting features, she'd resembled a creature that wasn't of this realm. He hadn't been far off the mark with his overly mawkish sentiments about her name. Thank God he'd been saved from spouting more nonsense by Dawson's arrival.

As much as her face was all sharp, finely honed angles, her figure was also lithe and long—quite unlike his usual preference for an abundance of curves—but his body didn't seem to care. Her eyes were huge and a pale grayish blue, the color of a Scottish loch in the middle of a winter storm. The Scots loved stories of their woodland sìth, and he was certain if she wandered one of the dells in the Highlands, she'd be mistaken for one.

And he'd been wrong about her being easy; she was going to be a challenge. Although he could already see his advantage. The thorny fairy queen of Chichester may have dismissed him, but she'd been attracted to him as well, despite her clear efforts to conceal that fact. Her fair complexion hid nothing, and those changeling eyes of hers had gone from the palest shade of blue to the silvery gray of an icy morning in the space of a few scattered heartbeats.

In her anger, she'd been magnificent, all cold fire and wintry fury. What would she be like in the throes of passion? He imagined her then, lips parted, elegant throat on display, a crimson blush diffusing through that soft skin…

Hell and damnation.

With a glance back at the shelter house he'd just left, Gage buried those thoughts and raked a hand through his neatly trimmed locks and walked toward his waiting carriage. Both his new valet and the stylish coach were thanks to Huntington's generosity. He couldn't very well call on the lady in rags and on foot, could he?

Terrible first impressions aside, Gage needed to rethink his approach. That striking head of hers housed an equally impressive tongue, one that she was not afraid to use, as evidenced in her swift and unsympathetic setdown. She was no wilting miss at all.

Why did he feel relief at that?

He likely has a stick of politesse lodged right up his… Arse, she'd been about to say arse. Gage shook his head, a reluctant grin curling his lips.

"Did you convince her?" Nearing the corner of the main promenade, he halted mid-stride at the voice to find Lord Huntington lurking near Pilar's Emporium, a shop fancied by all the local ladies.

"It has barely been a fortnight, Huntington. I'm a man, not a miracle worker." He lifted a cool brow. "Or did you expect me to toss the lady over my shoulder and cart her off to London?"

The man's lips tightened as an arrogant gaze swept him. "I see you've not wasted any time in putting my money to use on clothing, however."

Gage smiled. "Thank you, yes. Your man of business was rather helpful."

"Time is of the essence, Vale," Huntington snapped. "I'm not paying you to strut around Chichester like a peacock on display. Get the lady to agree to London."

Gage resisted the urge to punch the pretentious fop in his teeth. "She'll be at the Duchess of Greydon's birthday ball."

It was a daring boast, and one he wasn't entirely sure he could pull off given the frosty temperament of the lady in question. Still, it would get Huntington off his back for now.

A feminine and utterly contrived gasp interrupted them as a beautiful girl exited the shop, trailed by her lady's maid. "Oh, Lord Huntington, I didn't expect to run into you. How lovely! Alice, come quickly, perhaps his lordship will generously agree to escort us home."

The resemblance in the lady's face was enough for Gage to realize who she was: his quarry's younger sister, Lady Viola. He could see why Huntington was interested in her. With her golden-brown curls and huge blue eyes, she was a stunning girl. But while Lady Viola's beauty was soft and welcoming, her sister's was its opposite; one was a perfect sunny day, and the other, a fierce storm that promised splendor with a healthy side of frostbite.

"Oh, I do beg your pardon," the young woman said, her eyes drifting toward him and then falling away with demure perfection. Gage rather missed the direct stare of her elder sister. "I am intruding on your conversation, my lord."

"Of course you are not, Lady Viola," Huntington said with a courtly bow, his saccharine tone making Gage want to vomit. "My business here is finished."

Gage tipped his hat to Huntington and grinned. "Well, I must be off. Skirts to snare, virgins to seduce, and all that."

This time, Lady Viola's gasp of surprise was real. Gage's grin deepened as Huntington frowned before taking the lady's arm and steering her swiftly away as though he half expected Gage to blurt out the entire scheme. He wouldn't, of course, but just because Huntington was paying him didn't mean he owned him. The man was a pompous, overblown windy-wallet.

Watching them head back the way he'd come, Gage narrowed his eyes in thought, cursing himself for declaring that he would have Lady Evangeline at the most anticipated ball of the season. His quarry was astute, and her wit was sharper than the dagger he carried in his boot. It was evident that she wasn't the type to be led to water… or be told what to do. And worse, she categorically seemed to loathe London.

It would be difficult, but not impossible.

A reluctant smile tugged at his lips as he recalled her fierce defense of her life choices and her complete aversion to propriety. She didn't like rules. Well, neither did he.

The season would begin in three weeks, which meant he had less than that to get her to change her mind. An arrogant part of him had expected her to swoon and simper the minute he'd sauntered into that odd little sanctuary, much like the ladies of his youth. Instead, she'd thrown him out on his ear.

But then, he should have known that she would be different. Before arriving at the shelter, he'd called in at Oberton Hall, only to be informed by the housekeeper that Lady Evangeline was working .

Needless to say, he'd been intrigued.

Gage couldn't recall the last aristocratic lady of his acquaintance who worked. Besides his own mother, though she was an anomaly. Lady Catriona Croft was a Highland warrior disguised as a duchess, and no woman he'd ever met had her measure. One day he'd find a lady of equal worth to introduce to her. She had never pressured him to marry, despite Gage being twenty-eight and yet unwed. Instead, she'd encouraged him to cut his own path.

She would not approve of this , however.

Toying with the heartstrings of a woman as a ploy was not how his formidable mother had raised him. But if he was careful, no one would get hurt. He would get Lady Evangeline to London, they would enjoy each other's company at a ball or two for six short weeks, and after that, he'd bow out. Simple.

Besides, it was obvious that she needed him to get over her antipathy to London. She was the daughter of a British earl, after all, and marriage was her duty. Even if he were the worst duke in London, he still had some influence. His attention would undoubtedly spark more; men thrived on competition. Looking at it that way, he was helping her.

But first, he needed ideas on how to woo the most recalcitrant spinster in England.

And he knew just the person to aid him.

"Where to, Your Grace?" the coachman asked when he arrived at his elegant, borrowed conveyance.

"Worthing, to the Earl of Lushing," he said.

He'd heard from his new valet, Pierre, who was excellent with a pair of scissors and well-versed on local gossip, that the Duke of Greydon and his duchess were visiting her brother on their way to London for the season.

Gage had met Lushing over a bloodied boxing ring in Edinburgh, when the earl had bet on him in the face of terrible odds. Gage had won the fight by the skin of his teeth, earning Lushing a massive windfall, and they'd been fast friends ever since. Rumor had it that his old mate had opened a club, Lethe—aptly named after the Greek river of oblivion—in an interesting part of London, but Gage had yet to see it.

He caught a glimpse of lavender-gray skirts as the carriage rolled slowly toward the shelter home, and recognized they belonged to Lady Evangeline. Gage watched as she thanked William Dawson and then smiled in salutation at the couple strolling toward her. Lady Viola greeted her sister, the sound of her laughter like bells on the wind.

As if sensing his perusal, Lady Evangeline half turned as the carriage ambled past, her pale silvery-blue gaze fastening on the coach window. She couldn't see him inside, of course, but he felt the visceral weight of her stare through the wood and iron as if her bare fingers had grazed his skin. His ducal crest was emblazoned on the coach door, and her face pinched slightly before the expression was smoothed away by indifference.

Difficult, not impossible , he reminded himself.

He would see her again, once he got some answers from Lushing. He couldn't afford to screw this up. He needed to shore up his estates, pay off this last debt, and fuck off back to Scotland. And to do that, he needed her .

Two hours later, an efficient butler ushered him into Lushing's richly appointed study, where Gage admired the gold and mahogany accents and the heavy French furniture. His booted feet sank into the plush carpets while his eyes took in the framed art on the walls. He imagined that Vale Ridge Park might have been as impressive once upon a time, but even when he was a boy, nice things hadn't lasted in his home. Possessions were always being sold and art replaced with cheaper items or forgeries until there'd been nothing of value left at all.

Now that Huntington had offered him a way to cancel Asher's debt, Gage could use the thousand quid he'd put aside from the sale of a portion of his land in Scotland for critical repairs. Any heirs of his would have a future to be proud of, not one that left them poor and insolvent.

If his efforts with Lady Evangeline came to fruition, that was…

"Vale, this is a nice surprise," the earl called out as he entered the room. Lushing was a handsome man in his late twenties and one of the few peers Gage did not wish to pummel into the ground.

"I need a favor," he said without preamble.

The earl cracked a smile and topped up his glass from a decanter of whisky that stood on a small table. He settled himself in a comfortable chair near the fireplace and indicated for Gage to take the one opposite. "Good God, man, I haven't seen you in seven years, and you won't even buy me dinner first?"

"You can afford to buy your own dinner."

"True. Drink?" Lushing chuckled, lifting his tumbler.

Gage shook his head and settled his large frame into the armchair with a shake of his head. "No, thank you. I'm off the swill. What do you know about the Earl of Oberton's daughters?"

"Which one?"

"Both, I suppose."

A smirk slid across the earl's lips, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Planning to dust off your dancing slippers, Vale? I thought you abhorred the season and hoped to avoid it at all costs. If I recall, you once told me that you'd rather guillotine yourself than be pursued by hoity-toity English debutants looking for the latest wealthiest stud in the stable. Decided to put yourself through some paces and join the rest of our brothers lost to perpetual wedlock?"

The image of Lady Evangeline putting him through said paces, that long, lean body of hers hovering confidently over his, made Gage's mind go blank for a second.

"I'm thinking about it," he finally managed.

The earl stared at him. "You're serious. You intend to look for a wife?"

"Maybe. It's complicated," Gage replied, discomfited at the small prevarication. He did intend to look for one eventually… in Scotland. "What can you tell me about the Raines? The elder one, in particular."

Lushing's eyes narrowed, his face falling. "If you don't mean to marry, what is your intention? My sister is quite fond of Effie."

The sound of her nickname on the earl's lips did something strange to Gage. "I'm simply considering prospects," he clarified to Lushing. "Don't get your petticoats in a twist."

The earl gave him a guarded look but conceded. "Effie is a bit of an odd duck. Their mother left the roost a handful of years ago, some scandal that was swept under the rug. Seems like she might have eloped with an artist. A few years after that, the younger one was sent away to France to live with an aunt and only returned at the turn of the New Year. That didn't stop the offers from coming immediately in, so if it's Lady Viola you're after, you'll have healthy competition."

"And Lady Evangeline?" he asked. "She wasn't sent to France with her sister?"

"No. She was raised here and has had a few seasons with Vesper but hasn't received any tenders of marriage." The earl gave a slow lift of one shoulder, brow creased in thought.

"Why?" Gage asked.

Lushing blew out an exhale and stared at his drink as though searching for the right words. "She's… rather unconventional at best, but she's a kind girl with a deep heart. She can be outspoken at times, but some of our dinner discussions about the pitfalls of Parliament have been the most lively I've ever had. She's as smart as a steel trap."

Gage had already discerned that on his own, though that didn't explain why she'd had no offers. A clever brain wasn't a deterrent in his book. "Do you know why she seems so determined to stay away from London?"

"She didn't have an easy time of it during her first season," Lushing said and frowned.

Gage leaned forward with interest. "How so?"

The earl's mouth twisted with unusual rancor, his always pleasant mien absent. He seemed to weigh his words once more. "She ran afoul of a gutless prick."

"Who?"

"Huntington." When Gage's mouth slackened, Lushing nodded with a snort. "She called him a gifted ventriloquist for inserting his own bigoted words into his future wife's mouth. Needless to say, he did not take well to the rather clever insult and gave her the unfortunate moniker of Lady Ghastly on account of it. Sadly, the name stuck, and she became the laughingstock of the ton. My sister was one of her few champions. In her second season, Effie made the wallflowers look desirable when she became a defiant pariah." Lushing gave a fond chuckle and shook his head. "I still recall the pamphlets she distributed during Huntington's own ball to save lost and starving dogs. She refused to be cowed by his vitriol and became the symbol of the type of female no aristocratic gentleman should want, according to him." His mouth twisted. "He made her an outcast."

Shunned for standing up to a bully? Gage frowned.

Huntington was bloody full of himself, but he was also the type of pompous aristocrat who would not take kindly to being shown up, especially by a woman. He also had more influence than Gage thought, if he could destroy a woman's entire future for no valid reason but a bruised ego. His frown deepened. There had to be more to it.

"Did he ever court her?" Jilted men could be cruel.

"Not that I recall." He tapped a finger to his chin. "She was much too smart for him. Effie was quite the conundrum, quiet and strong of mind, though Vesper later told me that much of her shyness fell away when she no longer sought to impress the ton. She refused to quake and cower." Good for her , Gage thought as the earl drained his glass and refilled it. "Despite my sister's wishes, the lady most likely won't be in London for much of the season, so even with the competition, I do hope it's the younger one you're considering. Effie is quite opposed to marriage."

Lost in thought, Gage nodded absently, tapping his fingers on the polished armrest as he considered the information. That would suit him fine. He didn't want to marry either. He only needed to convince her to go to London for six weeks to meet the terms of the agreement he'd made. But how?

His mind was whirling. Clearly, she was immune to being charmed or wooed, or perhaps it was just that he'd bungled both beautifully. So what did she care most about? Her friends and her shelter animals, obviously, but how could either of those help him penetrate her defenses?

"I'd be careful with Huntington, too," Lushing went on. "It's no secret that he intends to court Lady Viola. He's been to Chichester from Crawley a dozen times over the winter months already. Half the ton is in his pocket, and the younger set is so afraid of incurring his displeasure they won't cross him." Lushing's face flashed with dislike once more. "He's a nasty piece of work and not to be trusted."

"I'm aware," Gage said, discomfort burning at the thought of the deal in place, and the fact that he would play a part in bringing such a cad back into Evangeline's orbit, but he had no choice. "I'm still repaying Asher's vowel to Huntington," Gage said bitterly. "The interest alone is exorbitant. My fool brother agreed to the terms without even reading them."

"Can I help pay it off?" Lushing offered, but Gage was already shaking his head. The earl had sunk enough of his own money into Asher's schemes, and Gage's pride would not allow him to accept his friend's generosity.

"I have a plan," Gage said.

The earl slumped back with a sigh. "It's my fault. I cut him off after that last scheme at Tattersall's when he attempted to rob Peter to pay Paul in hopes of settling his debts," he said with regret. "If I'd loaned him more money, maybe he wouldn't have gotten in so deep—"

Gage shook his head, cutting him off. "My brother made his choices. He bought that Arabian pair with money he didn't have. He chose to wager all our unentailed property and sell off everything that wasn't nailed down. He chose to get into that curricle himself. Cutting him off was the only thing you could have done. He'd have dragged you down with him. Why do you think my mother kept me in Scotland after the duke sent for his heir? She didn't want me following in my father's or my brother's footsteps."

Choice.

It made men who they were.

"Did it help?" Lushing asked.

"She saved my life." Gage swallowed the knot in his throat. Initially, he'd resented his mother for taking him away to Scotland, but later on, he'd realized leaving England had been for the best. Without her, he would have turned out just like Asher and their father, and followed the same path to self-destruction.

"You were lucky then." The earl cleared his throat and exhaled a harsh breath. "Do you believe the rumors? That the bolts on Asher's carriage had been tampered with?"

Gage sucked in air. He'd heard the same, but there'd never been any proof.

The Metropolitan Police had deemed his brother's death a tragic accident, but for all Asher's flaws, he was meticulous and loved horses. The idea that he'd not inspected his carriage and team before the race was hard to believe. Yet accidents did happen, especially in racing, but loosened bolts were a serious accusation. "I don't know," he replied finally. "Do you?"

"The fact that Huntington goaded Asher into doing double or quit with the curricle race never sat well with me."

"Double or quit?" Gage echoed, his stomach churning. He hadn't heard that.

The earl flattened his lips. "Huntington desperately needed that money Asher owed him, and he didn't have the funds to cover his own losses, so he badgered him into the race."

Gage frowned. "Wait, Huntington had money problems?"

"Still does. He's a preening peacock of a spendthrift." Lushing sipped his drink. "Why would he bet against Asher, who had bested that course dozens of times, unless he was certain that your brother was going to lose?"

And he'd made a bloody fortune from it, Gage knew. "So you suspect he had a hand in fixing the race?" he asked quietly. "Was Huntington competing, do you know?"

Lushing shook his head. "No. A craven hector like that would never put his own neck on the line."

They fell into silence, preoccupied with their own thoughts. Even if it hadn't been an accident, chasing down answers wouldn't bring his brother back. Asher had been dead a full year now. Gage had to look ahead… to the future. To his future.

"So London for the season then?" Lushing asked, breaking the silence, and when Gage nodded, the earl sat forward with forced cheer. "Good, at least it will be entertaining to watch you, cap in hand, posturing for a bride."

Given the earl's earlier protectiveness of Evangeline, Gage suspected that if Lushing knew the truth, he might not be so eager. One could argue that what Gage was doing with Evangeline was in poor taste. He was planning to use her, after all. But reason and logic warred inside him. She could make the choice not to see him or go to London. He would not force her, but that didn't mean he wouldn't do everything in his power to convince her. He simply had to find the right motivator.

"I'm not setting my cap for anyone," he said. "I'm only having a look. It's not like any Englishwoman accustomed to a life of leisure and luxury in the ton will be itching to move to Scotland."

"There are plenty of mothers and their daughters who will salivate at the thought of a coronet," Lushing said with a devilish grin. "Should you announce you're on the hunt for a duchess, you'll have your pick of the crop. A look will turn into a betrothal, mark my words."

"Hardly," Gage said. "Didn't you read the Times ? I'm the poorest, most dreadful duke in London."

Lushing made a scoffing noise. "You're a duke, Vale. You could be as poor as a church mouse waving a sword in a bloody tartan in the middle of Mayfair and these matchmaking mothers would still fawn at your coattails."

Gage hoped not—he had one goal, and that was one spinster to snare.