Free A Lady's Guide to Rakes by Kathryn Caskie Page A

to admit, something about her face looked vaguely familiar.
    “Ah! I thought not. Well, it doesn’t matter, anyway. She is married now. Always deserved better than the likes of a London gallant, anyway.” At the conclusion of her words, she poked his chest one more time for good measure, then spun around and quit the house with her daughter.
    “Wait! You need not leave, Lady Delphine.” Lady Letitia, followed closely by her sister, forced her way through the crowd in pursuit of the distraught pair of guests.
    Alexander exhaled; then, belatedly remembering that Miss Merriweather stood behind him, he whirled around.
    “Dreadfully sorry about that” He shook his head. “Obviously had me confused with some other chap.”
    “Obviously.” Miss Merriweather lashed him a wry smile, but her voice sounded strangely high and strangled, almost as though an invisible hand had wrapped around her throat and squeezed. “Lord Lansing, my aunts had not mentioned that you, sir, would be our guest this eve.”
    “Didn’t they?” Alexander looked over Miss Merriweather’s shoulder at the two old ladies who had just reentered the parlor and were now peering at them over matched lavender fans.
    Well, that was certainly interesting. Had a couple of allies, did he?
    He glanced at the blond gentleman who’d been sitting beside Miss Merriweather earlier, and saw him chatting with the songstress.
    Yes, this eve was suddenly becoming most intriguing indeed.
    ———
    Heavens, the rake was staring right at Chillton— right at him!
    Most unwisely, Meredith ventured a glance at Chillton too. He returned a bright smile, and then—oh no—he started for her. She had to get the rake out of here, even if only for a few moments, so she could redirect Chillton.
    “Lord Lansing, I do not see a footman anywhere. Would you be ever so kind and bring me a .glass of sherry?” She batted her lashes, in fair approximation-—at least so she hoped—of Giselle, the French courtesan. “I confess, the room has grown rather stuffy and I have become unsteady on my feet.”
    The rake peered down at her.
    Gracious me, he’s tall.
    “As you wish, Miss Merriweather.” He tipped his head, excusing himself, then set out in search of refreshments.
    And it was none too soon, for the instant Meredith turned around, Chillton was upon her.
    “Who was that you were speaking with?” he asked. Suspicion was keen in his eyes. “I don’t believe I’ve made his acquaintance.”
    “What, that gentleman who was just here a moment ago?” Meredith scrabbled for more time to come up with an answer that would please Chillton—rather than cause him to doubt her intentions toward him. Though it couldn’t hurt to share his name now, could it? “That was Lord Lansing.”
    “Lansing?” A deep scowl etched all sorts of lines, ones she’d never seen before, in Chillton’s otherwise handsome face. “Why he’s a… Well, I shall just come out and say it—a scoundrel. Your aunts surely were completely unaware of his dark reputation when they made their invitation to him. For otherwise, I daresay, they would not have extended their hospitality to such a man.”
    Oh, this is not going well at all. “Dear Mr. Chillton, then you have not heard.”
    “Heard? Heard what?”
    Meredith surveyed the music room quickly, to be absolutely sure Lord Lansing was not yet about. “He has reformed . Yes, it is the talk of Society. Lord Lansing has completely reformed. “
    Clearly dubious—as well he should be—Chillton opened his mouth… no doubt to argue Meredith’s claim. She raised her hand. “Now, now, I was not inclined to believe it either, yet from all tearoom reports, he has not set foot inside White’s, frequented a racetrack or dined with an… actress for nigh on three months. It’s true, I tell you.”
    The tenseness in Chillton’s face seemed to break, for the smocked lines at the comers of his eyes became suddenly smooth again. “Why the sudden change?