Dangerous Liaison (Lords of Whitehall Book 2)

refused to examine his motive. He pulled even with Gillian and stayed with her until the last second when he urged Paladin ahead to beat her by a nose.
Breathless and smiling, Gillian shook her head. “My compliments. I am always ready for a ripping ride. Well played. Allowing me a head start so I could harbor a hope I would prevail, only to overtake me at the last minute. Now, you have me in your debt. What boon will you demand from me?”
“Shall we delay the payment until this business is behind us?”
“Very well, once I have cleared my uncle of any wrongdoing, I shall honor my debt.”
A vision of Gillian lying on his bed with his sheets draped over her body, barely covering her lovely breasts filled his mind. Suddenly, he wanted this business done. He wanted to be free to indulge all his senses in discovering the many layers of Gillian Browning—which was truly the worst idea he’d ever entertained.
An hour after leaving Moreham in the park, Gillian handed off her horse to her groom and raced up the front steps into Whitney Place without breaking her stride. She’d left Hyde Park behind and rode home through Green Park adding a half hour to her ride. If she’d timed her arrival correctly, her aunt would be above stairs, resting before she dressed to receive her afternoon callers.
Her aunt was a true duchess who enjoyed the nuances of her lofty station. Tuesday was the duchess’ day for at home to receive her closest friends. Gillian dreaded the tedious visits over numerous cups of tea. She sorely wished today was Friday. Aunt visited an orphanage she sponsored on Fridays. Gillian never took sick on Friday mornings. She adored spending time with the children at the Whitney Home for Orphans.
Gillian gave her outdoor things to a footman then hurried up the stairs. She froze at the sight of her bedchamber door ajar. Her maid normally remained below stairs until she rang. No doubt one of Aunt Isadora’s bosom bows also rode in Hyde Park early in the morning. Gillian pushed the door open, hoping this once Maisy was tending to some chore.
“Did you enjoy your assignation with the Earl of Moreham?” Aunt Isadora sat by the fire in Gillian’s favorite chair, a tea tray on the table at her side. Her aunt must have been waiting for some time, there was only one biscuit on the pastry plate. Her aunt enjoyed her biscuits. She never ate just one.
Gillian resisted the urge to beg her aunt’s understanding. She was far too old to be treated like a child. “Aunt, a ride in the park with my groom and a good number of gentlemen watching my every move is not an assignation. I assume I have one of your dear friends to thank for sharing the details of my morning. I’m impressed. Who managed to ride in the park and pen a note to you before my return?”
“Lady Millicent saw Moreham riding up and down Rotten Row, obviously waiting for someone. Imagine her surprise when you appeared and joined the scoundrel. Her note said you seemed to be enjoying yourself.” Aunt Isadora shook her head. “Gillian, the man is no gentleman. You know there was a bit of scandal.”
“I’m no longer a little girl in pinafore and braids who needs to be cosseted. I’ve heard the gossip about Moreham and Miss Phillips. The silly girl cried foul to anyone who would listen hoping to force Moreham’s hand. Badly done of her I say.”
Her aunt picked up that last biscuit and broke it into two pieces. “Neither Miss Phillips nor Moreham should be of any concern.” She took the smaller half of biscuit and nibbled. “Do not cross me on this matter, Gillian. Do so and I’ll have Whitney deal with Moreham.”
Gillian knew her Aunt Isadora meant every word she uttered. The duchess regarded the family’s place in Society as sacrosanct. The irony of her current situation was not lost on Gillian. Her concern for her aunt was part of her reasoning for dealing with Moreham herself. Should she learn of Moreham’s allegations, Gillian feared how her aunt would react to the scandal. Aunt Isadora presented a stern countenance to Society, but Gillian knew how fragile the woman’s constitution really was. She dropped to her knees in front of the duchess.
“You must trust me on this. Moreham has done nothing untoward. A chance meeting in the park and a race down Rotten Row isn’t anything to fret over. I am two and twenty years old. I’ve received numerous marriage proposals and thought myself in love with the worst sort of a cad. I can manage the Earl of Moreham.”
The duchess’ voice broke with emotion. “You could not be dearer to me if I had given birth to you. You are the daughter of my heart. Whitney feels the same. No matter how old you are we will always ensure you are happy.”
Gillian winced at the sentiment in her aunt’s voice. “You are fretting over nothing. Moreham and I are friends. Nothing more.” She said a prayer for Heavenly intervention. She must not stir up her aunt’s suspicions. For her plan to be successful, her aunt and uncle had to attend those balls. There was too much at stake. “Promise me you won’t charge your legion of friends to stir up that old gossip,” she demanded.
The duchess heaved a dramatic sigh, surrendering. “I give you my vow.” The duchess managed a ghost of a smile as she tucked a loose strand of hair behind Gillian’s ear.
After a quick kiss to her forehead, the duchess motioned for Gillian to stand. Once standing, her aunt awkwardly hugged her. Her aunt did not show affection often. She was a dear, but physical touch unsettled her.
The duchess released her and made for the door with urgency as if she needed to escape. The lady hesitated in the doorway. “Gillian. I hope you know what you are about