meant to confront Redfield about the questionable nature of the wager. ‘Rigging’ a wager was not honourable conduct among those who gambled and Merrick, as one who wagered rather often, knew it. He was not going to let Redfield slip by on this one. Redfield’s attempt at rigging the wager had nearly jeopardised a lady’s reputation. It had most definitely jeopardised the lady’s future.
Not all of his attentions had been diverted to the ‘Redfield situation’. The lady in question had done her share of distracting, too. Many of his thoughts had, in fact, been diverted to the ‘Alixe conundrum’. On more than one occasion, his eye had been drawn to her across the room where she’d taken his advice and joined a group of young ladies. Why had she refused Redfield’s attentions? Her past association with Redfield put an entirely different cast upon the wager, one that suggested the wager hadn’t been about himself, but about Alixe and quite possibly retaliation.
Revenge seemed a long way to go merely because a lady rejected the man’s attentions. But perhaps there was more to it. Alixe had seemed loathe to discuss the situation in detail. Originally, he’d attributed her reticence to their circumstances. A drawing room full of people was hardly conducive to divulging secrets. Now, he was starting to wonder if the reticence didn’t come from something more.
Merrick strolled towards the wide bay of French doors leading out to the spectacular Folkestone gardens. Games were breaking up and people were starting to mill as they waited for the end-of-evening tea cart. Once he caught Alixe’s eye, it would be easy to slip outside unnoticed and wait for her.
* * *
Waiting was the harder part. He’d been about ready to go inside and detach her from the group when she finally came out. ‘This is dangerous.’ She scolded. ‘What if someone sees us?’
‘I hope they do. There’s nothing to hide. I’d have to be completely foolish to try to steal a kiss with the entire house party looking on.’ Merrick scowled, tossing a hand to indicate the long bank of French doors. ‘I thought you were never coming out.’
‘I didn’t think we had anything urgent to discuss.’
‘I disagree. We aren’t done talking about Redfield.’
He recognised defiance. Her chin went up a slight fraction, just as it had at the villa.
‘I’m starting to think he made the wager on purpose, that perhaps he wanted revenge. The wager was meant to land you in the suds. I was merely a tool.’ Merrick laid out his hypothesis, noticing that she didn’t rush to deny the claim. ‘Is there merit to that? What might have transpired between you that would cause him to take such drastic measures?’
Alixe smoothed her skirts, another gesture he was coming to associate with her when she was not certain what to say. ‘I don’t think it has any bearing on our current circumstances,’ she replied coolly.
‘I do.’ Merrick crossed his arms over his chest, studying her in the light thrown from the drawing room. He wished he could see her eyes more clearly. They would tell him if she was as cool as she sounded. ‘Redfield tried to fix the bet and not for his benefit. He knew you’d be there; if I succeeded, he would lose money, not to mention the money his friends would lose. Have you thought about why a man would set himself up for a likely failure?’
‘Perhaps he thought I’d resist your attempts.’ She squirmed a little at that. ‘For that matter, how do you know he knew I’d be there?’
‘He brought your father, hardly someone who’d be interested in who I was kissing unless it was his own daughter. Your father wouldn’t care two figs if I was in there kissing Widow Whitely. Besides, Ashe told me Redfield was boasting he knew someone would be there.’
‘Oh.’ It came out as a small sigh and her shoulders sagged just the tiniest bit, the only acknowledgement she’d make that he was quite possibly right. ‘I refused him when he put the question to me. Needless to say, he was stunned. He should not have been. The daughter of an earl is quite a reach for a man of his modest antecedents. We did not discuss it, but I had reason to believe his intentions were not as true as he represented them to be.’
Merrick believed that. It was how polite society conducted its business. Redfield would never know the reasons she’d refused him. He would have hidden his disappointment just as she’d hidden her true reasons. It did not take great imagination to envision them sitting properly in the Folkestone receiving rooms, voicing polite platitudes of having been honoured by the other’s attentions and regretful the outcome could not be otherwise. Then they’d gone about the business of being courteous neighbours because there was no other choice. Neighbours must first and foremost always maintain a veneer of politeness, which often precluded being able to speak the truth.
The situation with Archibald Redfield was untidy beneath the placid surface. It made her anxious to speak of it. Even now, her gaze was drawn towards the doors, looking for distraction. She found it in the tea cart’s arrival. ‘We should return inside.’
‘You go in first and I’ll follow after a decent interval.’
He’d wait five minutes before returning and then he’d stay at her side for what was left of the evening. He counted off the minutes, letting his mind wander, mulling over what Alixe had revealed and even what she hadn’t.
Redfield’s former relationship with Alixe put an entirely different cast on his motives for the dangerous wager he’d made. Redfield had been taken aback by her refusal—so stunned, in fact, that he wanted revenge enough to plan a compromising situation, to see Alixe Burke ruined. But to want revenge seemed an uncharacteristically harsh action.
More questions followed. Alixe had hinted she’d discovered something unsavoury about Redfield’s intentions. Did Redfield suspect she’d made such a discovery and did he fear she might expose it? What would Redfield have to hide?
All of it was supposition. But if any of it were true, Alixe Burke might be in danger from more than an unwanted marriage. Whether she realised it or not, she was in need of a champion.
Ashe would be the first to point out the hero did not have to be him. Merrick was not required to champion Alixe Burke against jilted suitors. Yet he could not help but feel a need to champion this woman who had dared to carve out a life contrary to society’s preferences. Her daring had left her alone. Perhaps that was the kinship he felt with her. In spite of his notorious popularity, Merrick St Magnus knew what it meant to be alone.
* * *
Archibald Redfield considered himself a man who was rarely surprised. Human nature held little mystery for him. Yet St Magnus had managed to surprise him. He had not expected to see the devil-may-care libertine that morning. St Magnus had stayed. Not only had he stayed, he’d played his role to the hilt at the picnic, never once leaving Alixe Burke’s side. It was not what he had expected and that made him nervous.
What made him even more nervous was the sight of Alixe Burke slipping back in to the party, trying hard not to be noticed. No doubt she’d been sneaking out to see St Magnus. He didn’t like that in the least. The last thing he needed was for Alixe to decide she actually liked the rogue or for St Magnus to do the deciding for her. It would be death to his plans if anyone caught St Magnus and Alixe being indiscreet.
Redfield knew rogues. He feared that the reason St Magnus hadn’t left was that St Magnus wanted to woo Alixe for himself, compromise her if need be and the dratted man was now perfectly positioned to do that, having been given carte blanche to act the role of an interested suitor. This was a most unlooked-for complication. Redfield would have
