Rules for a Fake Fiancé (Rogues Gambit #1)

Chapter Twenty-Three

Use every tool in your arsenal, fair orfoul.

S he didn’t see him at all that day. That was in part her choice. She declared herself ill, refused to go downstairs for afternoon callers, and barely made an appearance at that evening’s ball. She kept hoping that Trevor would storm her door and demand to see her. Or he would appear with a minister and a special license. Anything dramatic that would prove he wanted her as much as she wanted him. She needed that declaration because he hadn’t made one last night. And she was afraid that she had thrown everything away on a ridiculous ploy to win him back.

She was a fool. A damned fool.

So it was that on the next day, she dressed herself in her best gown for an afternoon garden party. This was a green silk stitched with silver filigree meant to reflect the sunlight. It was her favorite gown, and she wore it as if the design weren’t supposed to suggest veins. Veins in a cricket. She’d tried to explain to the duchess that crickets did not have veins, but the lady would have none of it. So she wore it and prayed everyone thought it an interesting design and not a scientific mistake.

Eleanor tried to talk to her as she stepped into the carriage. Mellie could easily believe that the woman had guessed the reason for her illness yesterday. She might have heard Mellie return early in the morning. She’d definitely seen Mellie’s red-rimmed eyes. Fortunately, the woman didn’t judge her. And in an uncharacteristic show of warmth, she had even patted Mellie’s hand in the carriage.

“Are you sure you are feeling well enough for this?”

What she was really asking was, do you feel well enough to face society? The answer was obvious.

“Absolutely.”

Eleanor gave an approving nod. “And you are in fine looks. Never fear, we shall find you a husband soon. A few more gentlemen have made inquiries into your financials. Radley told me he heard it from…” Eleanor chatted on, but Mellie stopped listening. She had no interest in any man except Trevor—only to scratch his eyes out.

Good Lord, didn’t he know she could be pregnant? Didn’t he realize…

While Eleanor prattled on about potential husbands, Mellie’s mind circled with the same thoughts that had been spinning there for the last thirty-six hours: on all the ways Trevor had failed her. In truth, it wasn’t a lot. It was simply that he didn’t love her when she loved him. He had allowed her to stumble headlong in love with him while he remained damnably aloof.

By the time they arrived at the party, Mellie had worked herself into a fine temper.

As was typical these days, a group of her scientific friends greeted her immediately. She made her schedule known—or Eleanor did—and so those who wished to find her, could. These gentlemen were among her possible husbands, and she found them pleasant but not stimulating.

She heard about one’s newest anatomical drawing of a toad, another’s unfortunate experiment with fireworks. She reassured him his eyebrows would grow back better than ever. And then there was the last man to bow over her hand: Mr. Rausch. He greeted her as warmly as ever, but there was a new tightness about his face.

He began talking, giving her some effusive compliment about how she’d styled her hair, which was especially annoying because she’d barely styled it all. The bulk of her hair was braided to the base of her skull before being allowed to fall free. So she held up her hand, stopping him mid-word.

“Pray, forgive me for interrupting, but what has you looking so pinched?”

She watched his eyes focus intently upon her face, and he abruptly frowned. “Pinched? I am never pinched.”

She laughed and did as bold a move as an unwed girl could do in society. She stretched up on her toes and pressed her gloved thumb against the lines between his brows, smoothing away the tightness there.

“I meant pinched in terms of anxious. Not that your funds are lacking. I believe we are all aware of your wealth.”

He frowned all the darker, but she did not flinch. They were the same in their wealth. Newly minted as rich, they were not casual about their coin even as they relished every stitch of gold filigree in their attire. It declared to the world that they had something of worth.

So when he frowned, she merely shrugged. She could tease him about his coin and he would tolerate it, or she would cut him. Such was her mood this day.

In the end, he was the one who relented. He took her gloved hand and pressed a kiss to it, holding her fingers overlong. “You make me laugh, Melinda.”

“I have not given you leave to use my Christian name, Mr. Rausch.”

“I know, but I am going to take a liberty before this afternoon is over, and I thought to ease the surprise with boldness.”

“You are ever bold, sir,” she retorted, but there was no rancor in her words. In truth, she liked a man who knew what he wanted and grabbed it, no matter the consequences. “I intend to follow your example today,” she said blithely. She was done with this prancing about for a husband. She would select one today and be done with it.

His brows shot up and a gleam entered his eye. It was his greedy look, and she was well used to it by now. “Miss Smithson, would you care to explain that last comment?”

“No, I will not.”

“Then perhaps we could walk in the garden so I may pester you until you reveal your secrets.”

She looked at him. She thought of Trevor and her fury at him. And she thought of all the other gentlemen of her acquaintance. Mr. Rausch was the one who most intrigued her. Her heart might long for Trevor, but at least Mr. Rausch stimulated her mind. That was something when Trevor gave her nothing.

“I accept your challenge, sir. We may walk, and I shall work to ferret out the cause of your distress.”

“Ah, well, that is no easy task.”

“I have never been one to choose the easy path.” She said the words, but in her heart she knew she lied. A careful look at her life revealed that she had always chosen the easy path of staying at home, caring for her father, and creating a place that was hers alone. It was only because Ronnie continually charged into her home that she had been driven to seek an alternative. She might have said that she’d chosen the difficult path in London, except that Trevor and Eleanor had arranged everything. She had performed, danced, and even spoken as she was told.

But no more. She was a woman reborn, a dragoness when everyone thought her a cricket. Well, the dragoness would take her future in her own hands. And given that Trevor had spurned her, she supposed her best option was Mr. Rausch. So she allowed him to walk her through the garden. They greeted several friends, but never lingered. And when their path wended toward a secluded corner, she allowed it to happen.

“Well, sir, we have had a lovely walk,” she began. “But as we cannot expect to remain alone for long, pray tell me what is on your mind. Please don’t say that I am the cause of your distress.”

He smiled and possessed her hand. “On the contrary, it is my business affairs that upset me because I must go away to Africa.”

“Africa!” she gasped. “Oh, I have often longed to go there just to see the animals.”

“There are creatures there that are nothing like what we have in poor England,” he agreed. Then he pulled her fingers to her lips. But rather than kiss them, he lifted her hand higher and higher until the button below her elbow was revealed.

“Mr. Rausch—”

He pressed a finger to her lips, telling her to be quiet. She raised her eyebrows at his impertinence, but didn’t object. After all, she had decided to be amused by boldness today, right? But when he thumbed her glove undone and began to push it down her elbow, she wasn’t intrigued as much as confused.

Then he brought it to his lips. Not her arm, but the glove as it slouched on her wrist. She felt the tickle of his lips and heard a slight sound as he sucked the button inside his mouth. He was…suckling her glove.

She looked at him, wondering if he meant to be erotic. Obviously, the answer was yes, and there was a certain wild thrill to be had when undressing in public so a man could fondle her arm. But she wasn’t aroused. And when his tongue traced a circle along her skin, she shivered, not from excitement but a vague, wet revulsion. All she could think was that he was licking off her perfume. And then he looked into her eyes.

She expected to see a dazed hunger there. Some sort of sexual need such as on Trevor’s face whenever they touched. Instead, she saw calculation. The kind of narrow-eyed inspection that her father gave rare beetles or whatever else was trapped beneath the glass of his microscope.

This was not physical desire. This was analysis.

“Miss Smithson, you surprise me,” he said. “And I assure you, I do not surprise often.”

She tried to pull back her hand, but he held it still, idly stroking her bared wrist. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Did you feel no desire?”

“I—” She swallowed. “It was pleasurable,” she finally admitted.

And it had been. Just not exciting.

“Damned by faint praise,” he said as he straightened to his full height. “I suppose I shall have to persuade your mind then.”

“I have always been impressed by the way your mind thinks,” she said honestly. “You are not as educated as you pretend, but your thoughts are keen. And you know how to listen. That is rare, even among learned men. I find it quite stimulating.”

His expression shifted into a genuine smile. It wasn’t polite. Not the cultured shift of lips and chin to show amusement. This expression showed teeth and looked odd in this manicured garden. And yet it was the warmest she’d ever seen on him.

“Mr. Rausch—”

“I want to take you with me to Africa, Miss Smithson. I want to show you giraffes and rhinoceros.”

She tilted her head. “Would that not be rhinoceri?”

He chuckled. “I have no idea, but I would show you them. And at night, I would teach you things that would excite you. I would show you ways to pleasure that can only be learned in the Orient.”

She arched a brow. “Would we be traveling to the Orient?”

“Yes,” he said, the word pitched lower and more seductive.

She began to think about Master Ah-Lan and his intriguing acupuncture, not to mention the unique creatures in the Orient. She had never had a desire to travel the world before. Never thought to go beyond the streets of London. Her explorations had been reserved for chemicals and formulas, but now he sparked a desire to explore the world, and she took a step toward him.

“So you wish to learn?” he asked. “Shall I tell you about the creatures in China—big bears that are colored black and white and are the gentlest of creatures?”

“Bears? Gentle?”

“Usually.”

She couldn’t imagine it. “Tell me more.”

His smile widened, and he began to touch her cheek. “There are such wonders in the world, I could not begin to describe them all.” He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. “Or the things I have yet to try.”

She knew he meant sexual things, and part of her tightened in curiosity. Perhaps even desire. So she did not stop him from caressing her jaw or brushing his thumb across her lower lip. His hands were different from Trevor’s. Larger, more calloused. She wasn’t sure she liked them.

Meanwhile, his greedy expression was back. He knew he had caught her. “It will cost you though,” he said softly. “But I think you shall enjoy paying.”

She nearly rolled her eyes. Men could be such single-minded creatures. “Sexuality is not so difficult a thing.”

He chuckled. “Then you have a great deal to learn, and I shall enjoy teaching you.”

She started to argue, but he pressed his thumb across her lips.

“I have a different payment in mind, Melinda.”

She shook her head. “But I have nothing else to offer.” Except her dowry, of course. But he had no need of money.

“You do. You have your cosmetic formula.”

She blinked, pulling back. She hadn’t thought about her clearing lotion in weeks, and wasn’t that a surprise? Before Trevor, it had been the single most important thing in her life. But now, it languished in her notes. A forgotten recipe for a cosmetic for women.

“But…why?” He had no blemishes that she could see. No dark spots to remove or lessen.

“Can’t you guess?” he challenged. “Give me the formula, Melinda. Let me sell it. You can even help, if you like. Advise me on the factories, tell me which shops would be best, which ladies would pay most for it.”

She thought about it. She had no doubt that he could make a fortune with her formula. He had the skill and the resources to produce it. Meanwhile, he stroked his fingers along her neck. He slipped beneath her hair, and she knew he angled for a kiss.

“It is part of my dowry,” she whispered, thinking aloud. “I should choose a husband who knows what to do with it.”

She saw his lips curve, but there was no humor in the expression. “I have no intention of marrying you, Melinda. Only a mistress will do the things I imagine.”

She jolted. “What?”

And now he did look amused, as one might at a very young child. “I have told you I am a man of greed. Why would I allow a woman—any woman—to load me with her debts? No, Melinda, what I offer you is the world.”

“In exchange for the formula.”

“And your body. Your luscious, innocent body to use for our pleasure.”

Now she understood. Now she knew what he offered, and she was shocked. She shouldn’t be, she supposed. What he said made sense. And damn it, she was considering it. After all, she hated this business of finding a husband. Why not throw it all to the wind and make a fortune besides? She could force him to share the profits with her. She could make a contract, couldn’t she?

There was a name for what he offered. She’d overheard it before but only now began to understand what it entailed.

“Is this…” She swallowed. “Are you offering me carte blanche?”

“Yes,” he said. “You strike me as a woman daring enough to make such a path enormously profitable. For us both.”

“Daring? Me?” She nearly laughed out loud at that. She’d been the opposite of daring. And the one time she’d truly embraced recklessness, she’d given her virginity to the absent Trevor.

“Yes, you,” he said, and there was a wealth of temptation in those two words.

She started to think about it. She tried to analyze her possibilities as she might a chemical formula. She weighed options and costs, but despite all that intention, her thoughts were stuck on the night she’d shared with Trevor. And the horrifying idea of doing that with anyone else.

And while she stood there in awkward contemplation, a man appeared. A man who was so familiar to her heart and soul that her body was stepping toward him before her mind even registered his angry gaze and his raised fist.

“Bloody bastard!” Trevor bellowed. Then he planted a facer direct to Mr. Rausch’s jaw.

Mr. Rausch rocked back on his heels, taken completely off guard. He had enough time to lift a hand in defense—but not recover his balance—when Trevor hit him again. This time, the man went down in the dirt.

Mellie rushed forward, grabbing Trevor’s arm as she tried to pull him back. “What are you doing?” she cried. She could feel the fury in Trevor’s body, felt it vibrating through him as he stood over Mr. Rausch.

“Name your seconds,” he growled.

“What?” Mellie cried. “You are not going to fight another duel!”

Trevor turned to look at her. “He offered you carte blanche,” he said as if that explained everything.

“Yes. So?” she pressed. “He offered it to me, not you. Damnation Trevor, how can you punch a man like that?”

“He offered you carte blanche ,” he repeated.

“I know! And you have offered me nothing. So forgive me if I find his offer appealing.”

“Mellie!” he cried. “I came here to propose, and I find him offering you—”

“Yes, yes,” she interrupted. “But…what?”

He turned to face her more fully, though he clearly kept an eye on Mr. Rausch. “I had to get a special license. I had to make sure the money was there to support us.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “Mellie, we need to get married.”

She looked at him. She’d been caught off guard—by his punch and by his proposal—so she hadn’t thrown herself into his arms. And now she stopped to take a breath. Now she waited for him to complete his proposal. And she waited.

And waited.

Until he frowned. “Mellie?”

Good Lord, did he think he’d just proposed? She wasn’t expecting Ronnie’s effusive poetry, but he had to know that she wanted more than “we need to get married.”

“Why?” she asked.

He gaped at her. Then his gaze dropped significantly to her belly. “You know why.”

Oh. He was afraid she was pregnant. That was it. That was the reason he was here before her, special license in hand. Then she looked at Mr. Rausch who was pushing to his feet, his jaw swelling and his eyes narrowed. But he didn’t seem like he was about to attack. Instead, he was watching them closely.

“Do I understand this correctly?” she asked, her voice tart as she turned to both men. “You, Mr. Rausch, are offering me the world in exchange for my formula, assuming I become your mistress—”

“Mellie!” Trevor hissed. “People are coming.”

Of course they were. And she didn’t give a damn. “And you, Mr. Anaedsley, are proposing marriage because you feel an obligation, and a duel because Mr. Rausch just insulted your possible fiancée?”

Mr. Rausch arched a brow at her phrasing, but he did nod his agreement. Trevor, on the other hand, took a threatening step toward the man.

“He was offering carte blanche .”

Well, there it was. Her choices lay before her and not a word about love. She’d thought Ronnie ridiculous, but now she saw he had the right of it. Love was a great deal more important to her than she’d guessed. But in the absence of love, she would take…either of these two idiots and then make the best of it.

“Fine,” she said coldly. Loudly, even, as she heard the rustle of people around them. They were staying out of sight, but she knew they were there. “Name your weapon, Mr. Rausch, but let’s make this a bit more exciting, shall we? The winner gets me.”

Both men turned to stare at her. “What?” gasped one. She didn’t really care who.

“I am done with this Season, the dancing, and the courtship. That is all nonsense anyway. I will go with the winner. No matter whom.”

They stared at her, stunned that she was calling their bluff. Did they not think that women could descend to their level? If they hinged their sacred honor upon a duel, then why not a woman? She could be an honorable, unloved wife with Trevor or a dishonorable, unloved mistress with Mr. Rausch.

“Mellie,” Trevor said, his voice hushed, and then another man came forward.

Just like before, she recognized him long before her brain registered a name. She knew the size and shape of him and recoiled on instinct. Though that might be because of the large bird that fluttered to the ground in his wake.

It was Ronnie, rushing forward, his fists raised and…

Bloody hell. He punched Mr. Rausch on the chin, knocking the man flat again.

“I accept!” Ronnie cried. “A duel for Mellie’s hand!”

“Are you insane?” bellowed Trevor. Mellie wasn’t even sure if the words were aimed at her or at her cousin, but it didn’t matter. Ronnie didn’t matter in the least, except that she felt bad for poor Mr. Rausch who had been decked twice. Meanwhile, she was staring at the strange bird fluffing its feathers in irritation and emitting a strange “gobble” sound.

“Ronnie, what is this bird?” And why had he brought it to a garden party? But the minute she thought the question, she already knew the answer: his quest.

“I found it!” he cried dramatically, puffing out his chest as he turned to face her. “I have fulfilled my quest and brought you a rare and hitherto extinct dodo bird.”

She stared at the bird as it stretched out its neck, shook a bright red comb that waggled under its chin, and trilled an annoyed, “gobble, gobble.”

“That’s not a dodo bird!” snapped Trevor.

To which Ronnie responded by decking him. Her cousin was fast, and Trevor had been glaring at the bird, so her former fiancé was soon sprawled in the dirt.

“You two do realize that dueling is illegal, don’t you?” Mr. Rausch said from his place in the dirt. Apparently, the man had chosen to stay down as he fingered his jaw.

“And I’m already dueling him,” added Trevor as he glared at Ronnie.

Mellie gaped at the men, wondering how seemingly rational gentleman could descend to such depths of idiocy so quickly. “Why not all three of you scramble together? Whomever comes out on top of the pile can have me.”

She meant it as a joke. Her tone was laced with sarcasm as a way to point out how silly this whole affair had become. And yet, Ronnie took her words for complete truth.

“Exactly!” he cried. “A three-way duel!”

“Is still illegal,” said Mr. Rausch. “Is it not, Barrister Creshe?” he said.

Mellie looked to where he gestured, and sure enough the barrister stood watching, his ponderous chins nodding their agreement. A half dozen others stood staring as well, and each one nodded. Yes, dueling was illegal. Sadly, Ronnie was a romantic, not an idiot.

“Which is why we shall do this duel the correct way.”

“Ronnie, stop this now,” she said, momentarily distracted as the possible dodo bird strutted toward Mr. Rausch. Good Lord, she hoped it wasn’t dangerous.

“To the death is traditional,” Trevor said as he pushed to his feet.

“And—” began Mr. Rausch, but he needn’t have bothered. Trevor finished it for him.

“And illegal.”

“Not if it’s a fight of yore. A fight of superiority not murder. A fight—”

“That’s a fistfight, Ronnie—” Mellie said.

“With quarterstaves.”

“And that’s an American turkey,” Mr. Rausch added.

“Lies!” Ronnie said as he prepared to punch the man again. But Mr. Rausch wasn’t a fool. With a sudden kick, he knocked Ronnie’s legs out from under him. Her cousin was now the third man to be sprawled in the dirt.

“Gobble, gobble,” exclaimed the turkey.

“Unfair,” moaned Ronnie as he clutched his ankle.

“You’re an idiot,” groused Trevor. “That’s a turkey.”

At which point, Mellie had enough. She had been moaning about the lack of love, and here providence had provided her with her last and final choice. A man who professed to love her to the depths of his poetic soul.

Very well then. Hadn’t she said this entire Season would be a farce played out with her in the center? So why not allow fate to have its way?

“Agreed!” she cried. “I shall be at Hyde Park tomorrow morning at dawn. A melee duel with quarterstaves. The man left standing wins me.” She looked at the three men in turn, daring them to contradict. “And the turkey gets to compete as well!”

Then she spun on her heel and stomped away.