Conspiring with a Rogue (9 page)

Sally harrumphed and shot Whitney a withering glance. “All my plans seem to be going awry lately. If you won’t be reasonable, then at least explain how you came to be engaged to the unpredictable Lady Audrey.”

“It’s complicated,” Whitney mumbled clambering off the bed.

“Perhaps, but I deserve an explanation since I consented to hoodwink my husband for you.”

“
Hoodwink
?” Whitney sputtered. “You begged me to let you help.”

“Useless details,” Sally said with a wave of her hand.

Useless details, indeed. They were only useless because they proved Whitney’s point and not the duchess’s. Still Sally, being Sally, was staring at Whitney as if she could not believe an explanation would not be forthcoming immediately. “The explanation will take more time than we have at the present.” That was true, but it was also true that the thought of going into it made Whitney’s head ache.

Sally pursed her lips. “Yet an explanation, a quick one, is in order if I’m to continue to play my part. As it is, a good night’s sleep convinced Peter my old friend Mr. Wentworth has duped me and I’m afraid the duke has been up to mischief.”

“What’s Peter done?” Whitney wanted to scream the question, but she forced her voice to remain serene.

“Shortly after your betrothed arrived, Peter dashed out to see Mr. Sutherland, just as I told you he would.”

Whitney studied Sally. She had always been able to tell when the duchess was leaving out something, because her lips twitched, just as they were now. “If he did just what we wanted, then I fail to see the disaster.” Sometimes, with Sally, it was better to lead her to tell the whole story rather than demand it. The duchess despised demands.

Sally shook her head. “You misunderstand, as unfortunately I did when the blasted man told me cheerfully he was going. I would never have let him leave, even if I had to throw myself against the front door to prevent it.”

As the Primwitty estate had to have at least a dozen exits with which Peter could leave by, Whitney thought Sally was being a bit dramatic, but the gesture of friendship was appreciated. With a deep breath, she tried to maintain her patience. “What exactly are you trying to tell me?”

“Apparently, Peter has taken it into his head that though Mr. Wentworth may be looking for a missing girl, as we told my dear husband, he has also decided the man has other nefarious purposes for becoming a member of the Sainted Order.”

“Such as?”

“Peter thinks you, er, I mean Mr. Wentworth—” Sally stopped midsentence and frowned. “It’s tiresome, darling, your pretending to be a man.”

“Apologies,” Whitney snapped, wanting to shake the rest of the story out of Sally.

“Accepted.” Sally smiled one of her graciously false―
I know you’re angry at me, but I don’t truly care’
―smiles. “Peter has decided Mr. Wentworth wants to enjoy a last minute scandalous liaison before marching down the aisle of matrimony.”

“Oh, dear God,” Whitney groaned. Peter would be a stickler for propriety, considering his first intended had consumed too much laudanum and died after finding him in bed with a notorious ladybird. Peter had been left with a hefty amount of guilt, though everyone knew the betrothal had been forced on him by his father.

“What’s Peter done?”

Sally bit her lower lip. A sure sign the duchess was worried. “Peter has agreed on Mr. Wentworth’s behalf to change the boxing match to a game of cards.”

Whitney would have swooned if swooning was at all in her nature. Instead, she broke out into an instant, sticky sweat. She had never played cards in her life, but Peter would not know that. But the duke had to know, as everyone did, what an extraordinary card player Drake was. Disbelief thickened her tongue. “Peter knows of Drake’s reputation with cards, doesn’t he?” It was more a statement than a question.

“He knows,” Sally replied, her lips drawn together as if she had just sucked on a lemon. “It’s vexing to admit, but he’s outmaneuvered us. I had no inkling he wasn’t going to do as he had promised. Lady Audrey apparently told Peter she’s desperately in love with you, and Peter believes there is no higher cause than desperate true love.”

“Where is she?” Whitney demanded, flinging open the door. She would throttle Audrey. Had she not told her to stay put at Wentworth Investigations? Had she not explained in no uncertain terms that she did not need or want the woman’s help in locating Lillian? The little conniver thought to out-connive her, did she? Whitney took a step into the hall but Sally grasped her arm, pulled her back into the room and shut the door.

“Are you mad? Peter’s valet lurks everywhere. He’s as loyal as an Old English sheepdog. Whatever you say, he’ll report directly to Peter. Tell me exactly what transpired between you and Lady Audrey.”

“She figured out I was a woman and threatened to expose me to her father unless I let her help me at Wentworth Investigations. In my haste to control her, I blurted out a proposal of marriage.”

Sally narrowed her eyes. “That little minx. She sat pretty as you please in my drawing room acting as if she was in love with Mr. Wentworth. She never even hinted that she knew the truth, and she claims to be my friend.”

Whitney gripped Sally’s arm. “What shall I do? I can’t send her home. I’ve no doubt she’d tell her father everything.”

Sally smiled broadly. “Leave her to me. I’ve the perfect weapon to teach Lady Audrey a well-deserved lesson. I should have seen that Peter had been duped by her. I’m ill that I missed the sympathetic glaze in his eyes. You should have seen her.”

“I can imagine,” Whitney said. “I’ve seen her in action. She’s quite the little actress.”

Sally nodded. “She practically confirmed that you had declared your intention to sow your wild oats in Town and taunted her that there was nothing she could do to prevent it. I was shocked.” Sally fanned herself, displaying her own dramatic acting skills. “You know I’m hard to shock.”

Whitney nodded obediently and forced herself not to point out that Sally was only hard to shock because she was always the one doing the shocking.

Sally tapped a finger to her chin. “I must have lost my usual observant nature. She arrogantly thinks to manipulate any man to do her bidding. Well, let’s just see how she fares against your cousin.”

“Sin?”

“Mm-hmm. Come, Lady Audrey is in the drawing room still.” Sally grabbed Whitney’s hand and pulled her into the hall. “I’ve got to pen a note requesting Sin’s presence, and you need to learn to play
Vingt-et-un
before tonight.”

Descending the spiral staircase in a dizzying fashion, Whitney kept a firm grip on the dark wood handrail as she tried to keep pace with Sally. “Sally, stop,” Whitney huffed as they neared the bottom of the stairs. She dragged Sally closer to whisper, “You can’t involve my cousin. Sin sees things others don’t. I swear he would recognize me, even in all this garb.” She touched her wig to make certain her disguise was in its proper place.

“Drat it all. You’re probably right.” Sally turned to stare up at Whitney. “I’m sure I can come up with an acceptable replacement to put Lady Audrey in her place. I’ll work on that, and you work on learning
Vingt-et-un
. If you don’t win tonight…”

“I know.” Whitney gripped the rail, until her fingers ached. “But how can I learn the game? Peter surely won’t help me.”

The duchess shook her head as she descended the stairs and moved through the hall. “I’m afraid you’re out of favor. Perhaps we should tell him who you really are?”

Whitney paused at the closed door of the drawing room. “No.” Sally had no idea the terror her simple suggestion ignited. “He’d never let me continue my search. Men always think of us as so frail.” Sally’s eyes narrowed, just as Whitney had known they would. The duchess hated nothing more than being considered the weaker sex.

“You’re right. We can accomplish this on our own.” Sally snapped her fingers. “The footman knows cards.”

“I’m not even going to ask how you know your footman plays cards.”

Sally smiled slyly. “That’s probably best. We’ll go see him after we deal with Lady Audrey.”

“Perfect. Now all I have to do is learn the game by tonight, so I can trounce Drake, a renowned
Vingt-et-un
player.” Simple as threading a tiny needle with a fat piece of yarn. “Where’s the game to take place?”

“Oh, darling. That’s the best part. You’re to meet him at the Vagabond Club.”

“Surely you jest?”

“I never jest where my own amusement is concerned.” Sally fanned herself. “I’ve always wanted to see the inside of that club. The tales I’ve heard.” The duchess frowned. “Peter’s such a stuffed shirt. He won’t let me within fifty feet.” Sally’s gaze lightened and she grabbed Whitney’s arm. “You must promise to tell me every detail when you finish the game tonight. I’ll wait up for you.”

“I can’t spend the night here again. How would I explain not going to my own home?”

Sally waved a hand at her. “Leave it to me. You just win that game and bring me all the exquisite details. Simple.”

“Yes, simple,” Whitney murmured, her mind racing. All she had to do was learn the game, beat the man she loved, keep Audrey silent and avoid Sin. Her life was a house of cards. One wrong gust, and everything might come crashing down. She turned the doorknob, stepped into the room and stared dumbfounded at the scene before her.

Sin sat on the settee facing her, his legs crossed, his arm thrown over the shoulder of the blushing Lady Audrey, a rapturous look plastered on his face. Sin’s gaze found Whitney’s, and her heartbeat skittered with fear. She had to get away from him and the added complication he presented as quickly as possible.

Whitney spun about. “Excuse me,” she mumbled in the gruffest voice possible as she hurried to exit the room.

“Not so fast, Mr. Wentworth,” Sin boomed. “Sutherland sent me to find you, and I didn’t waste an hour of my life only for you to flee the room. I want to speak with the man who means to take down my friend.”

Disaster was closing in, and Whitney could see no way out. She turned to face her cousin on shaking legs and prayed Sin would not recognize her.

“Rogie!” Audrey jumped up from the settee and flew across the drawing room to fling herself at Whitney. The unexpected force of Audrey’s body stole Whitney’s breath and threw her off balance. She reached blindly behind her for the support of the wall, but instead knocked over the flower vase sitting on the pedestal by the door. The vase crashed against the parquet floor and sent a spray of glass and water flying over Whitney’s shoes and trousers.

Audrey’s slippers crunched in the glass as she drew Whitney near. “I’m so happy to see you safe and sound that I’ve made a mess.
How embarrassing
.” Audrey buried her head in Whitney’s shoulder and pressed her mouth near Whitney’s ear. “Careful what you say, sweetikins. Your cousin is not only sinfully handsome, he’s extremely suspicious of Mr. Wentworth. One word from me, and your ruse is up.” Audrey drew back, her eyes gleaming daggers. “Partners as you promised?”

“Till death us do part,” Whitney ground out in a strangled whisper between clenched teeth. She untwined Audrey’s hands from around her hips and moved the girl to the side. Sally threw her an amused smirk before crossing in front of Whitney to draw Audrey to her.

“Darling, you’ve soiled your beautiful poplin and that material takes
forever
to dry. Do come with me and I’ll see you set to rights.”

“No, I couldn’t,” Audrey protested.

“I insist, Lady Audrey. My lady’s maid will find you something of mine to wear, and we may have a nice chat while these two fine men discuss the
private
business that has brought Lord Davenport to us.”

“But Rogie may need me,” Audrey protested again, her neck craned backward, her eyes demanding intervention as Sally dragged her through the door of the drawing room and into the hall.

Whitney gave a helpless shrug and pressed her lips together against the smug smile she itched to give Audrey.

“Don’t be vexing, Lady Audrey. I need you. I simply must hear all the salacious details of Mr. Wentworth’s courtship of you.” Sally turned, gave Whitney a wink and firmly closed the door.

If not for her own pressing problem, the one staring at her with one eyebrow cocked and his arms folded across his chest, Whitney might actually have felt sorry for Audrey. Sally was likely going to make Audrey squirm terribly before the duchess let the girl off the hook and told her she too knew who Mr. Wentworth really was. As it stood, Whitney had no time to feel anything but concern for how she was going to get away from Sin as quickly as possible.

She strode across the room and chose the cushionless Windsor chair placed farthest away from where Sin sat. It was better to be uncomfortable than chance sitting closer, where her cousin might recognize her. “Lord Davenport, I believe there has been a misunderstanding. I have no desire to ‘bring your friend down,’ as you say. Mr. Sutherland and I are merely at cross-purposes.”

“I sure as hell hope not,” Sin retorted, sitting forward to brace his hands on his knees and frown at her.