A Scot in the Dark (Scandal & Scoundrel #2)(15)

The Scottish Brute.

So big. So beastly. Only for working days.

The memories burned. How many Englishwomen had denied him anything more than sex? Held themselves for another when it came to marriage? Even if he were interested in the girl. Even if she were more than a troublesome beauty keeping him from home . . . He shook his head. “I am not the husband in question.”

King watched him, he knew. But he did not look to the man who had known him since their days in school. Not even when the marquess said, “What then?”

“I am a duke, am I not?”

King lingered over the last of his scotch. “With the patent to prove it.”

“And dukes are allowed to do their will.”

West smirked. “It is a perk of the title, I am told.”

Alec nodded. “The man who ruined her. He marries her.”

A wild cheer from the faro table nearby punctuated the words. Alec looked toward the noise, noting the man in the white coat and trousers once more. It appeared that the peacock had lost a massive round, if the shock on his face were any indication.

So it was in gaming hells. One moment up, the next, down.

So, too, it was when it came to women, Lily’s scoundrel would soon discover.

Alec turned back to his friends. “He marries her if I have to put a pistol to his head and force him to do it.”

King blinked. “You might have to.”

“Well, being a brutish Scot will help with that. The plan is impenetrable.” He turned to West. “A name, if you please.”

“I shall do one better,” West said, finishing his drink and indicating the card table. “Name and location. You seek Derek Hawkins, artist and theatrical genius. The vision in white currently nursing his loss.”

It was not possible.

Alec could not imagine this man conversing with Lillian, let alone . . . No. There was no way that too-honest woman would be caught dead with such an obvious peacock. He looked to King for confirmation. “No.”

King nodded. “Indeed. Artist, theatrical genius, and proper ass.”

He didn’t know what he’d imagined. Someone stronger. Less of a dandy. Alec wouldn’t have been surprised by someone devastatingly handsome, or someone with incredible wealth, or a man who oozed disgusting charm. But this man—this pompous peacock—this man didn’t seem fit to cloak a puddle and aid Lily’s walk through town.

Do you love him?

Alec had expected someone deserving of her.

Suddenly, his plan did not seem so perfect.

He looked to his friends and asked the only question that came to mind. “Why?”

Before they could answer, the card table erupted in another commotion. From what Alec could see, the Hawkins character was attempting to negotiate a loan with the casino. The majordomo had been summoned, and Hawkins was saying, “My name will soon be known throughout the world! How dare you refuse me?”

The casino employee adjusted his spectacles and shook his head.

“I assure you,” Hawkins blustered. “Your employers will be livid if they discover that you’ve denied me funds. I shall be the most famous Englishman there ever was! Newton? Milton? Shakespeare? They will pale in comparison to Hawkins. They will beg to honor me here in this place, and I will decline because of your”—he waved a hand at the majordomo’s eyewear—“obvious shortsightedness.”

“Good Lord. He’s worse than I imagined,” Alec said.

“He’s only warming up,” West said, calling for more drink.

“If you don’t have the blunt, you don’t play, Hawkins,” one of the other men said, obviously eager to return to the game.

“I have the blunt. I simply don’t carry it with me.” He turned to the majordomo again. “Are you deaf, as well as blind? Do you not understand that I am the greatest artist of all time?”

The table erupted in jeering hoots, and Alec could not stop himself from laughing at the insufferable man. He looked to his friends. “You’ve the story wrong,” he said. “No way in hell is this man her scandal.” Lillian wouldn’t be able to stomach more than a minute with this pompous ass. She would see the truth of him immediately.

The ass continued, entirely sure of himself. “I’m Derek Hawkins! I do not exaggerate the quality of my work! My genius is more than any the world has ever seen!”

Alec looked to King. “Is he always this way?”

“If by ‘this way’ you mean a pompous prick, yes,” came the dry reply. “He courted my sister-in-law for a time. I cannot imagine why she refused his suit.”

“I can’t force Lillian to marry him.”

“I thought she loved him?”

“I don’t care,” Alec said. And he didn’t. There was no possible way he was wedding her to this clown.

He was going to have to deal with the situation in a different way.

“I demand an audience with an owner,” Hawkins insisted.

And as though he had been willed into being, one of the owners of the casino appeared. The tall, ginger-haired financier of the club spoke with utter calm. “Hawkins, how many times must we tell you, you are too unlucky for us to bank you without collateral.”

“You haven’t any understanding of art, Cross,” Hawkins declared. “Bring me someone with an eye.” He fairly begged for another owner. “Bourne. Or Chase. He’ll see reason. My collateral is my name. My work. I am the star of this year’s Exhibition. Did you not know that?”