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“Rules?”
“A rake must have rules, Ana,” he said. “Otherwise, we let ourselves be fooled into thinking the lives others lead can be ours as well.”
“You’ll not be revealing those rules, will you?”
“No,” Gabriel replied. “I do not want to abuse your sensibilities, and you’ll be insulted by the unprincipled words.”
“Is it enough to have my mind contaminated beyond repair?” Anastasia asked.
“Undoubtedly,” he offered his arm. “Perhaps, in another time or setting, I may share my rules but not tonight. I think we should return to the ball as someone might have noticed your absence by now.”
Taking his arm, she headed back to the house. Mounting the steps to the terrace, he inquired, “I want to help you. What sort of man are you seeking to marry?”
“And I suppose you have a list of eligible suitors in your pocket?” Anastasia replied wryly. “Ones who are not rakes?”
“I may have some in mind,” Gabriel replied.
As they stepped into the room, Anastasia realized her fatal mistake—she should have gone in alone. It did not help that there was a break in sets as well. With her hanging on Gabriel’s arm like a limpet on a ship, every eye in the room turned to them.
Her cheeks flamed, a few matrons gasped, horrified, while a glass shattered somewhere in the back. Gabriel, however, looked unaffected. She supposed it was an everyday occurrence for a rake but not for her, new to society and all.
If the floor opens and swallows me, it would be a kindness.
Fans fluttered out to poorly hide people’s smirks as they whispered behind fans. The rest of the room stared after them in silence until Lady Crescentwood descended on them with the righteous fury of an avenging angel.
“Your Grace,” she said brittlely. “Anastasia? Care to inform me what is happening here?”
As she opened her mouth with an excuse—God help her if she knew what it was—a voice stopped her.
“Oh, there you are.” A man, Lord Gladhame, Gabriel’s friend, came hurrying to them. “I am sorry I could not keep up with you. It’s a bit difficult fixing your shoe with only moonlight to help you.”
Lady Crescentwood pinned him with a glare. “You were with them?”
“Of course,” David smiled. “Do you not know? I was their chaperone as His Grace has offered to court Miss Porter.”
CHAPTER3
Rule Three: Always be careful
Getting caught means a trip to the Parsons’ snare; always avoid it.
— Gabriel Williams
A Rake’s Rules
The word ‘court’ echoed through the room, and a few debutantes fainted, mamas looked ill, and the Dowager’s gaze widened. Gabriel fumed; could David not have come up with some other explanation besidescourtship?
“Well,” the Dowager cleared her throat. “I suppose.”
Gabriel did not have to look around the room to know the story was flimsy at best. He could feel the skeptical gaze digging into the side of his neck like heated prongs.
He’d fallen straight into the one trap he had avoided like the plague, like a blinking fool. Was it not an hour before he had been mocking a lord for falling into the same corner that he was now neck-deep in? He had not really had a story, just speculation. Now, he had a scandal.
“No supposition about it,” he replied calmly while swiftly making up his mind to play along. If they dragged this out long enough, Anastasia would not marry him, but a fake engagement could save her reputation from ruin, and when they parted ways, no one would be the wiser. “Gladhame is right.”
“And you accepted, dear?”
Anastasia looked up at him for permission, and when he gave the tiniest of nods, she replied, “Yes, with a few conditions, Aunt.”
