A Gentleman's Honor Read Free

one with every chance of success. I saw no reason to do other than wish you well. As my admiration for your astuteness grew, my interest in you on a personal level firmed.
    “However”—his voice hardened—“when I offered you my protection, you refused. On reflection, I decided to do the honorable thing and offer for your hand. Again, however, you turned up your nose—quite why I have no notion. You seem uninterested in attaching a husband, solely concerned with watching over your sister as she makes her choice. Presumably, given you transparently have no need of funds, you’ve determined to make your own decision in your own time.”
    His gaze returned to her face. “I would suggest, my dear Mrs. Carrington , that your time has run out.”
    Alicia fought down the faintness, the giddiness that threatened; the room seemed to be whirling. She drew a slow breath, then asked, her tone commendably even, “What, precisely, do you mean?”
    His expression remained intent. “I mean that your performance as a hoity widow in dismissing my suit was so convincing I checked my information. Today, I received a letter from old Dr. Lange. He assures me that the Pevensey sisters— both Pevensey sisters—remain unwed.”
    The room gyrated, heaved, then abruptly stopped.
    Disaster stared her in the face.
    “Indeed.” Ruskin’s predatory smile dawned, yet his self-deprecation remained. “But fear not—having concluded that marrying you would be an excellent notion, nothing I’ve learned has changed my mind.”
    His gaze hardened. “So let us be clear, my dear. Mrs. Carrington cannot continue in the ton, but if you consent to become Mrs. William Ruskin, I see no reason the ton should ever learn that Mrs. Carrington did not exist. I’m renewing my offer for your hand. Should you accept, there’s no reason your plan to establish the lovely Adriana will suffer so much as a hiccup.” His smile faded; he held her gaze. “I trust I make myself plain?”
    Triumph had turned to ashes; her mouth was dry. Moistening her lips, she fought to keep her tone even. “I believe I understand you perfectly, sir. However…I would ask for a little time to consider my reply.”
    His brows rose; his untrustworthy smile returned. “Of course. You may have twenty-four hours—there isn’t much to consider, after all.”
    She sucked in a breath, frantically gathered her wits to protest.
    His gaze, hard, trapped hers. “Tomorrow evening you can formally accept me—tomorrow night, I’ll expect to share your bed.”
    Shock held her immobile, staring at his face; she searched his eyes but found no hint of any emotion worth appealing to.
    When she made no reply, he bowed punctiliously. “I’ll call on you tomorrow evening at nine.”
    Turning, he left her, strolling into the crowd.
    Alicia stood frozen, her wits careening, her skin icy, her stomach hollow.
    A burst of raucous laughter from the dowagers, ineffectually smothered, jerked her back to earth. She glanced across the room at Adriana. Her sister was holding her own, but had noticed her distraction; their gazes met, but when Adriana arched a brow, Alicia shook her head.
    She had to regain control—of their plan, of her life. Marry Ruskin, or… she could barely take it in.
    Faintness still gripped her; she felt hot one minute, cold the next. Seeing a footman passing, she requested a glass of water. He brought it promptly, eyeing her warily as if she might swoon; she forced a weak smile and thanked him.
    A chair stood against the wall two yards away. She walked to it and sat, sipping her water. After a few minutes, she flicked open her fan and waved it before her face.
    She had to think. Adriana was safe for the moment…
    Blocking out all thought of the threat Ruskin had made, she focused on him, on what he’d said—on what he knew and what he didn’t. Why he was acting as he was, what insights that gave her, how she might press him to change his mind.
    They—she, Adriana and the