Faith [NOOK Book]

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Faith

Dorchester Publishing

Chapter One

It was rather disconcerting, and not in the least fashionable, thought Faith, for a couple, however newly wed, to behave in such a manner.

She was watching her sister Grace play impish children's games with her new husband, Trevor Caldwell, the Earl of Huntwick. This was definitely not the manner in which a countess should comport herself. But then, Grace had never been one to bow to the dictates of Society. And they did seem rather happy.

Still, the hour was growing late, and Faith was becoming weary. She looked across the crowded ballroom from her place at the head table and noticed other people stifling yawns. Fewer and fewer couples seemed to be seeking the dance floor.

Searching the room for her elder sister, Faith finally caught sight of Grace slipping into a shadowy alcove. She pondered her sister's action and realized precisely what was going on as Trevor walked past the darkened alcove a scant second later, also obviously looking for Grace. Faith thought she recognized the hands of her fifteen-year-old twin sisters in this. A moment later her suspicions were confirmed, for all three of her laughing, red-haired siblings emerged from the hiding place and scurried off in the opposite direction.

Faith sighed and propped her elbows on the table in a decidedly unladylike way, dropping her chin into her hands and wearily closing her eyes. It could be hours before the groom caught his wayward bride and they retired, thus allowing the assembled guests to follow suit. It seemed she was doomed to a late night.

"If I were to hazard a guess, I'd say Grace will certainly pay for this in the bedchamber tonight."

Shocked that anyone would say such a thing within earshot of herself or any other gently bred young lady, Faith frowned. She turned and found herself caught by the gaze of a young man with laughing brown eyes. He stood at the end of the long table at which she sat, and Faith recognized him immediately, as she knew he did her, though they had never been formally introduced. She fixed him with a glacial stare, fully intending to give him a cool setdown, but was surprised to find herself drawn in by his open, friendly face. Firmly, she repressed the unbidden urge to smile back.

Her new conversational companion was Gareth Lloyd, the younger half brother of the Earl of Seth, and he was known throughout the ton as a notorious prankster and womanizer far more interested in the pleasures of the flesh than in responsible behavior. Rumor had it that he was on strained terms with his rather staid elder brother, who thought even a second son with little hope of inheriting either title or fortune still had responsibilities to the family title, if only by extension. Gareth, it was clear, thought different. He felt life should be lived a moment at a time, embraced and enjoyed as though there were no tomorrow. Further gossip held that his days were spent in languorous inactivity, and that he could be found most evenings at one of any number of social events in Town. This in itself was not unusual, as most of the ton behaved in precisely the same manner, but Gareth, people whispered, was just as comfortable in a brothel as in a Society drawing room, as much at ease in a gambling hell as he was in White's, and would enjoy himself more at a courtesan ball than at the premier event of the Season.

He was, in short, everything the correct and proper Miss Faith Ackerly despised.

Schooling her features into a stern frown, Faith turned back around in her chair and fixed her gaze on the dance floor, summarily dismissing the owner of the compelling brown eyes without comment. Seconds later, she heard the chair next to hers being pulled out. She drew in a shocked breath at this impropriety and immediately prepared to rise and remove herself from his presence.

Gareth read her intention. "I don't believe we've been properly introduced," he said.

With great calm, Faith swung her cool gray eyes back to his. "Nor shall we be, sir. If you'll excuse me, please."

She pushed her chair away from the table and stood, abruptly turning her back on the rake to make her way across the ballroom to the place she had last seen Grace. She felt his eyes upon her every step of the way until, thankfully, the crowd closed around and swallowed her up. Only then did she allow herself to look back.

Gareth had been joined at the table by an attractive older woman Faith did not recognize. She watched as Gareth stood up, stepped close, and bent down to whisper something in the woman's ear. The brunette laughed and placed a familiar hand on his chest. There was something oddly intimate about the way they were interacting, almost as though they had forgotten they were at a wedding reception, in full view of all assembled guests. With a start of comprehension, Faith realized they must be lovers. She blushed and turned away. Fighting a strange, inexplicable sense of loss, she resumed her search for Grace.

You've scarcely looked in my direction all evening, Gareth Lloyd." Evelyn Hedgepath, the recent and very-well-provided-for widow of the elderly Viscount Blakely pouted, her full lips pursed and intentionally inviting, a reproachful look in her startling green eyes.

Gareth glanced down at the hand she'd placed on his chest. She curled her fingers into her palm and withdrew it, but kept her eyes on his.

"You forget yourself, Evelyn. Would you have me simply announce our arrangement? It is not my reputation that would suffer, you know." Though his words were harsh, his voice was warm with affection.

Evelyn's eyes narrowed. "Of course not. Ridiculous rules. One would think that after burying a husband, a woman might find herself exempt from scrutiny. It is a freedom men like you take for granted."

Gareth raised a brow and stepped marginally closer to the lush brunette. "You do enjoy freedoms, Evelyn. They just require more ... discretion."

She caught her breath and looked up, eyes smoldering with practiced, calculated desire. "Come visit me tonight," she purred suggestively. "I want to taste freedom."

Gareth's eyes lifted and swept the crowd. Nobody had noticed their conversation. The members of the weary crowd were mostly interested, at this point, in wrapping up the evening and finding their way home to their individual beds.

His eyes landed on Faith Ackerly again. She was just turning away, an odd expression on her lovely face. It was a combination of regret, disappointment, and something else-disdain, perhaps? Whatever it was, it had the effect of a bucket of ice water on his ardor.

"Not tonight, Evelyn," he replied, and to soften the blow, lifted her hand for a kiss. "Perhaps another time. I'm going to step outside for a moment. Excuse me, please."

Evelyn, who did not like being dismissed, cleared her throat. "Gareth."

He turned back and waited, a polite expression on his face.

She quirked a single eyebrow. "You and I understand one another, don't we? Our arrangement is about one thing, and one thing only. Your skills in that area are considerable, so your lack of social standing is something I have chosen to overlook. But that means, when you choose to deny me our one shared interest, there's simply nothing left." She watched him carefully. "Perhaps you wish to reconsider my invitation."

His face betrayed nothing, though his heart experienced a sharp pang at her words. Despite their rather sordid arrangement, he actually cared for Evelyn, would even have considered spending his life with her, had he anything to offer a wife. She clearly recognized that he did not.

After a long moment of silence, he bowed. "Well, my dear," he said finally. "I shall certainly give it every consideration. Good night." Then he turned and walked toward the doors opening out onto the terrace.

Evelyn followed his exodus with narrowed eyes. She pursed her lips and looked around. Insolent, untitled pup, she thought. If he was not willing to share her bed tonight, she could most certainly find someone who would.

Out on the shadowy terrace, Gareth lit a cheroot and strolled up to the stone balustrade, looking out into the dark gardens in brooding silence. After a moment, he felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle, warning him that he was no longer alone.

"It wouldn't do to trifle with the Ackerly girl, Gareth."

Gareth clenched his jaw in irritation and deliberately failed to turn; he made no physical effort to acknowledge his half brother's presence. Smiling angrily into the darkness, he said, "Ahh, the ever-present, ever-vigilant Earl of Seth. To what 'trifling' incident do you refer?"

Jonathon Lloyd stared inexorably at Gareth's back, wishing not for the first time that such a wall of resentment did not hinder their communication. "The incident about which I am the most concerned is the one that will undoubtedly occur between yourself and Hunt, should you toy with her affections. Do not forget she is the sister of his new countess."

Fury made Gareth turn. "Do you think I'd actually endanger that friendship in such a way? Or is it that you think me so selfish, the only reason I'd converse with a woman is to prepare her for a tumble in the sheets?"

"I have only recent history upon which to base my judgments, Gareth." Jonathon's voice was severe.

Gareth smiled with scathing contempt as he flicked his cheroot away into the inky blackness of the gardens below. "At the risk of sounding trite, my lord, I'll remind you it is not always wise to judge a book by its cover." Then he stepped neatly around his brother and returned to the ballroom.

Inside, he swept the room with angry eyes, looking for Evelyn. Her invitation was suddenly more attractive, despite the bitter sting of her clarification regarding their agreement. When he didn't find her, he decided to leave, fed up with the social protocol of waiting for Trevor and his bride to say their good-nights. He retrieved his hat and cape from the underbutler.

Stepping outside, he was just in time to see Evelyn being handed up into a coach by a gentleman he did not recognize. He glanced at the seal on the door but could not quite make it out. When he looked at Evelyn again, he found her eyes upon him. She smiled a cold, dangerous smile, then with deliberate intent looked away and disappeared into the interior of the coach. Her escort followed.

Gareth watched the coach pull away, then walked down the steps to summon his own conveyance, swearing under his breath. Evelyn, he decided, was free to enjoy the eager fumblings of her new and titled lover for as long as she wished. Eventually she would discover she missed his skill.

(Continues...)

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Excerpted from Faith by Deneane Clark Copyright © 2010 by Deneane Clark. Excerpted by permission.
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