Page 26 of Lady Frederica and the Scot Who Would Not
Gabe didn’t give a damn about that, really, except it would make securing a match for Blythe that much easier. He appreciated both men’s show of support, but he didn’t need another’s confirmation that he had worth. He’d defeated that demon long ago.
Blythe set her glass down and leaned forward in her chair. “You don’t seem in a celebratory mood. It’s the debacle involving Freddy, isn’t it?”
They hadn’t talked of Frederica yet. Blythe had tried and Gabe had glared her into silence every time, but his sister was not one to be put off for long. “Yes,” he said, dragging a hand through his hair. He could not quit thinking upon what the scene at the ball meant for her, how his own part in it, the strange desire that had pushed him to announce in front of thetonthat she was his, had undoubtedly made matters worse, and unquestionably made Brooke’s claim that Frederica and Gabe had carried on a sordid affair appear true. She was not his, but when he’d seen Brooke with her, he’d felt a possessiveness and a protectiveness like nothing he’d ever experienced before.
“Let’s talk about it, then,” Blythe said.
Gabe slid his teeth back and forth, struggling to order his thoughts. Everything related to Frederica was disorderly. Unpredictable. Unplanned. She was like the wind. She’d whirled into his life all of a sudden, and he was having trouble getting her out. “There’s nothing to talk about,” Gabe finally managed.
“Oh yes, quite right.” Blythe’s smirk deepened. “We should definitely not talk about how you nearly beat Lord Brooke in defense of Freddy, or how you declared that she was yours.” He glared at his sister, and in return, she grinned, kicked her feet up on the desk, and crossed them at the ankles. “We’ll circle back to you. Let’s talk about me for a moment.”
“What about you?” he asked.
“I see no reason I should wed now. Carrington and Lionhurst can now openly cajole their rich nob associates to invest in your club. You’d be respectable by association, so I no longer need to wed and leave Covent Garden.” She offered a smug, self-assured smile.
God save him from strong women who didn’t seem to give a damn about their safety. He had let Blythe stay with him for too long, but her latest escapades were a sharp reminder that it was time he took control of his sister’s safety. “You will still wed a lord and go to live in Mayfair. That has not changed.” He rose, went to the sideboard to pour another whisky, then faced his sister once more.
She arched her eyebrows at him. “I can die just as easily in Mayfair as Covent Garden, Gabe.”
He stiffened and struggled not to show a reaction to her words, though it had hit dead center on his unstated fears, but his sister knew him too well. She rose and came to stand before him. Reaching around him, she grabbed the whisky decanter and poured herself a finger. She clinked her glass to his, then took a long swig.
“I’m staying,” she said. “I only agreed to your harebrained idea because it fit my purposes, but now my purposes have changed.”
Hadn’t he basically had the same thought? He thought quickly about how he could obtain what he desired for Blythe without his sister feeling like she’d been forced into something, which it was clear she would not go along with.
“You win,” he said, and she grinned, thinking she had, which suited him perfectly. “But if I’m going to acquire men of thetonto invest in my clubs, they’ll come to see the club. They won’t just forget where we come from and where we live. It would help me greatly if you would act as a lady when my prospective business associates come around.”
“Why does it matter now?” she asked, looking very suspicious. “It never mattered with Carrington or Lionhurst.”
“Carrington and I were close friends before we were business associates, and Lionhurst has views on men of thetonbeing in business that are not typical for Society.”
She snorted at that. “You mean they’re a bunch of soft dandies who think they’re too good to work or associate with anyone who does.”
“For the most part,” he agreed, though he intended to find her a husband who wasnotlike that. “And because of that, when these men eventually come to look at my clubs, you need to be the perfect hostess. You need to make them feel that the club is a natural extension of their privileged life, and the best way to do that is by behaving exactly as a Society lady would. I need you to do this for me, if you are staying.” It was a dirty trick to use Blythe’s love for him to get what he wanted, but he would do whatever was required to ensure her safety.
“Fine.” She sighed. “If you need me, I’ll do it, of course, but I do feel guilty.”
“About what?”
“Well, I did practically promise Freddy she would get the job as bookkeeper.”
“No.” He couldn’t have Frederica here. It would be impossible to keep his hands off her, and not keeping his hands off someone like Frederica would only lead to marriage. Not only would she be in danger from Hawk if she became Gabe’s wife but she’d be in danger of being hurt by Gabe when he couldn’t give her the proper affection.
Blythe blew out a hard breath, and the hair dangling in front of her face fluttered. She shoved it unceremoniously behind her ears. “I figured you’d say that. Well, if you won’t let her be the bookkeeper, at least let her be the one to teach me to be a lady.”
“No. Put your association with Frederica out of your mind. It’s done nothing but cause her, you, and me trouble.”
“You caused yourself trouble,” Blythe said, eyeing him. “Just what were you doing dancing with Freddy at Carrington’s ball anyway?”
His eyes widened. “Was that in the gossip sheet?”
“No. Bear told me.”
“Bear? How the devil does Bear know?”
“You and Freddy are the talk of theton, and the men who frequent this club are often of theton.” She gave him a look that said he should have known that. “Bear overheard some nobs discussing the fact that they thought Freddy must be exceptional in the bedchamber—”
“Blythe,” he growled, his temper surging that men would talk about Frederica so.
