London's Most Wanted Rake. Bronwyn Scott

consequences. It will not look good if you are too forward with him. You know what people will say.’

      He meant the gossips—anyone looking for her to behave inappropriately would say she was throwing herself at Seymour. She knew Channing was right. She’d thought the same thing herself. It was why she’d decided to bring Amery to the house party. But the risk of Channing becoming too involved had outweighed her need for caution.

      Alina shook her head. This was how he’d got to her the last time, pretending all this concern. ‘Don’t do this, Channing. One minute you’re castigating me for a little flirtation, the next you’re my sincere adviser. I have hired you to be neither.’ She tried to step away, but he held her fast. ‘The truth is, I’d rather not have you involved in this business I have with Seymour. You and I aren’t good together.’

      ‘Except in bed,’ came Channing’s answer, ‘and Lady Medford’s gardens, the Duke of Grafton’s library, that little closet in Lady Stanhope’s town house—do you remember the one, it was at the end of the hall on the second floor?’

      ‘Except in bed,’ she echoed, refusing to be goaded. He was simply mirroring her technique from last night of mixing business with reminders of pleasure, reminders of a time when she’d thought he was more than a hired escort. She held his hot eyes, letting his gaze burn her. What was in the past needed to stay there except for the lessons it had taught her.

      ‘I’m afraid, in this case, it won’t be enough.’ She had to be firm here or she’d regret it. She could not afford to let those lines blur again. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go back and change out of these clothes.’

      ‘No, you don’t.’ A smile played across Channing’s mouth. ‘I had a spare outfit sent ahead to the picnic.’

      ‘When did you do that?’ The gesture touched her unexpectedly, but she couldn’t think of when he’d have had time to do it. He’d been in the drive with everyone else long before she’d arrived.

      ‘Do you remember that I had something to do before I could leave this morning?’ Channing was grinning now as he boosted her into the saddle. He swung into his own and winked. ‘I suspected you might be over-horsed.’

      ‘I was not over-horsed,’ Alina protested. But yes, she recalled he’d mentioned something about an errand. She remembered it just as clearly as she remembered that closet at Lady Stanhope’s.

      Chapter Five

      Channing was as good as his word. By the time Alina sat down at the tables for cards after dinner, all was in order. Channing had arranged to partner her while they played against Roland Seymour and a Mrs White from Richmond. It was the most subtle of organisations from which natural conversation and association could grow. She couldn’t have asked for a better opening. Seymour would have no reason to be suspicious of her motives.

      But that didn’t make sitting down next to such a man any easier. It galled her that she had to sit there, concentrating on cards, laughing and pretending to have a good time, while all she wanted to do was strangle him, or call him out and expose him to the present company for the fraud he was. Strangling was unfortunately against the law. She wasn’t sure about ball-ripping though, there might be some potential there. Either way, torture would have to wait. She didn’t have the proof she needed, not yet. But she would soon. The house party was just the beginning of what she intended for Mr Roland Seymour, deceiver of widows and unsuspecting families. Under the table, Channing’s foot kicked her leg. ‘It’s your play, comtesse.’

      ‘Thank you, my mind must have wandered.’ She gave Seymour an apologetic half-smile and fingered the pearls at her neck while she studied the current trick in play. ‘Perhaps you could remind me what was led?’

      ‘Your partner has led the ten of hearts, Mrs White has followed with the jack,’ Seymour supplied helpfully with a touch of the patronising in his tone.

      Alina kept her tongue in check. There were things she’d like to say to that tone, but demure was the watchword for tonight. If last night had been more dramatic, tonight was about showing a slightly softer side to the comtesse. Seymour might be more open to the tragic, exposed French comtesse. Goodness knew he had a penchant for helpless women.

      Channing kicked her again under the table. This time it had nothing to do with wool-gathering. He knew she was out of hearts and wanted her to trump the trick so she could lead back with a spade that played to his voided suit. Alina would have sluffed a club just to be irritating if she thought he wouldn’t risk another kick. Her shin was likely to be black and blue tomorrow if he kept it up and she was already sore from her fall in the stream. But Channing was competitive and she was, too. If she had to choose between giving in to Channing or losing to Seymour, she’d choose the former. Alina tossed down the trump.

      * * *

      ‘That gives us the second game,’ Channing declared an hour later, setting down the pencil beside the score pad. They’d won the first game, too, although it had been close. Mrs White and Seymour had played well, or perhaps, Alina thought, she and Channing had played well enough to give the illusion of closeness. Around them, other games were breaking up and people were beginning to mill about the room, waiting for the evening tea cart.

      Alina rose and smoothed the aquamarine folds of her skirts. ‘I thought I might take a stroll before tea. I’ve wanted a moment to admire the painting on the far wall.’ She gave Seymour a hopeful glance and played with her pearls, drawing the eye to her discreetly displayed expanse of bosom.

      ‘Might I accompany you?’ Seymour predictably offered.

      ‘I would like nothing better.’ Alina smiled coyly through her lie. There were a million things she’d like better, starting with seeing him deported for his crimes, both those he’d committed and the ones he’d meant to commit. How many young women had there been before he’d tried to marry her sister?

      ‘Are you enjoying the house party, comtesse?’ Seymour began with the usual small talk as they strolled the perimeter of the room. Others had followed suit, perhaps exploring potential new relationships formed at the picnic that afternoon.

      ‘Yes, very much. It’s a blessing to be away from town for a while.’ Alina sighed. ‘There’s so much business to take care of and I often fear I haven’t the head for it. What do I know of rents and crops? I know fashion and parties.’ She forced herself to brighten. ‘But those are my troubles, not yours. I should not burden you with them. It’s just that I didn’t think being alone would be so difficult.’ She let her words drop off, infused with a reflective tone while she waited to see if he would bite.

      ‘My dear comtesse, I know we are but new acquaintances. Still, I would offer my services. I cannot bear to see a lady in distress. I have some knowledge of land matters. If I could help, I would be glad to do so.’

      Alina smiled softly as if she couldn’t believe her good luck. ‘I would be grateful. Your offer is most generous.’

      The tea cart arrived shortly after that and Alina made sure to mingle carefully, not spending any more time in Seymour’s company although he was certainly willing to continue their association. It would be best to leave him wanting more. There was no need to appear too clingy, too desperate. Even snakes like Seymour appreciated a small show of strength. It served to make the appeal for assistance all the more sincere—here was a woman who didn’t ask for help often, but she’d asked him. He would be feeling quite assured. She was careful also to avoid Channing. No good would come of being too closely associated with him. It would make Seymour wonder why she’d simply not asked Channing for help, why seek out a stranger when Mr Deveril was prepared to dance attendance on her?

      Channing was among the first wave of guests to head upstairs. She waited and exited with the last so that Seymour could clearly see she was unattached. Not that such visual evidence meant anything at house parties when one dissected the logic of it. Everyone knew there would be several furtive journeys in the dark to various bedrooms not one’s own before the sun rose.

      Alina