A Lady's Guide to Kiss A Rake: Misadventures of the heart

by Wilde, Tanya

  “A China man who trades in England will speak some English,” Westfield pointed out.

  “True,” James murmured. “But they’ve no love for us and once on their ship, you may as well be on their land. They won’t give two shits about him or his whining. Cartwright will be lucky if they don’t toss him overboard.”

  Damien leaned back against the wall to regard the four men with mild interest while they debated the merits of shipping Cartwright off to China. Derek Shaw, a cocky bastard, was as level headed and analytical as they came. He could see now why Josephine trusted the man. He never once made a move, a decision, without calculating the risk and the outcome. Even the words that left his mouth seemed first to be weighed and decided upon.

  His brother on the other hand appeared to be the exact opposite. James Shaw exhibited smooth charm, yet raw strength few men possessed. He struck Damien as the more impulsive of the two brothers, and a veritable risk-taker.

  Craven was the most unpredictable of the bunch. Cold calculation glinted in his eyes and made it impossible to predict his actions. He would have calculated any advantage that concerned him and would never do anything that did not benefit him in some way.

  Westfield and Damien themselves possessed stealth and precision. Westfield more doubtful and cautious than most, and Damien, well he did not care about anything except to keep Josephine from harm’s way. Where others would just accept, they would doubt and question.

  “Do we know if Cartwright has learned the truth?” Damien heard Craven ask.

  “We cannot be certain, but my informants tell me he inspected the building that caught fire and had witnesses detail everything they saw leading up to that moment,” Derek murmured.

  “Which leads to discovery,” Damien muttered.

  “So the Middletons will be first to be discovered,” James stated, his form straightening even more.

  “It seems that way,” Derek confirmed.

  “If the Middletons are discovered, Cartwright will deduce who the other participants are, beginning by their cousin, Lady Belle and right over to her friend, Lady Josephine,” Craven said.

  The tension in the room was palpable after Craven’s logical deduction, which had stabbed like tiny knives into Damien’s chest. For the second time that day his heart sped up to an alarming pace and the fear of suffocation came over him.

  “So the first order of detail is to protect the women and ensure they remain safe at all times,” Westfield said, his complexion white.

  They murmured their agreement.

  “Not a difficult task at all,” Damien muttered through his tightened chest.

  “They’re only women, how hard could it be?”

  Both Damien and Westfield shot Craven a knowing stare, while Derek and James only smiled.

  An impossible task.

  “You do not know them as well as we do. They thrive on defying the word of men,” Damien said before his eyes narrowed on Craven. “Although you should be aware of this, since these women already made you the source of a wager…one Lady Josephine won.”

  Craven scowled at that, his eyes lighting up in realization. “Bloody hell.”

  Westfield’s head perked up at the exchange. “What wager? And why did I not know about it?”

  Damien shrugged, knowing why his friend appeared annoyed by the news.

  “Even I knew about it,” James said, gazing at Westfield, no doubt baiting him on purpose.

  “The point remains, while we are protecting them from Cartwright, we will need to keep them out of trouble as well,” Damien said before Westfield throttled James, which by his reddened face, was not far off.

  “I’ll talk with Josephine. The women will stay out of trouble and not object,” Derek interjected.

  The hair on Damien’s neck rose at Shaw’s declaration. Listen to Derek Shaw will she? Like hell. She did not even listen to him. It started to become all the more apparent he would have to tolerate the Shaws for a long time to come.

  “Not to worry,” Damien cut in before James could speak, “I will manage Josephine.”

  Four skeptical eyes trained on him and he shrugged. “We’ve come to a sort of understanding.”

  Eight brows rose. What possessed him to say such a thing?

  “Very well, we must come up with a plan and a timeline,” James suggested. “Cartwright must not suspect anything if we are to succeed.”

  Derek shifted forward in his chair. “First order of business is to retrieve a list of every ship expected to dock in England in the next week and we need eyes watching to tell us if one docks and does not appear on the logs.”

  Craven glanced over to Derek. “I’ll take care of that. I know someone who owes me a favor.”

  Derek gave a curt nod. “Meanwhile we must come up with a way to separate Cartwright from his men. I have a man on the inside, he may be enough but I’m not confident.”

  “I’ll take care of that, dear brother.”

  Derek nodded once again. “Good. Once we receive the ship details we can meet to discuss the final preparations.”

  “It’s settled then,” Westfield said, his relief evident.

  Derek snorted. “Not bloody likely. Too many things can happen between now and then, too many lose ends.” The last was directed to James.

  “I see you haven’t forgiven me yet,” James drawled, not intimidated by his brother’s stare.

  “There’s nothing to forgive, since as you so aptly put it, you did not need my permission.”

  James rolled his eyes, his gaze flicking to Damien. “Do you see what I have to put up with?”

  Damien may have laughed, if he had forgiven James for including Josephine in such a dangerous project. “I would beat you to a bloody pulp myself, but that would mean I’d have to put up with him,” he said with a nod in Derek’s direction.

  “Should we not inform Grey?” Westfield asked to know one in particular. “After all, Evelyn had been party to a previous adventure.”

  “He knows, but those two have no shame, frolicking about in public. No one would suspect them of doing anything but each other.”

  Craven’s lip curled. “Caught them in the gardens myself one or two times.”

  “Oh? And what were you doing in the gardens?” Damien snapped, causing every eye to turn toward him.

  Craven’s smile turned predatory. “Does it kill you not knowing?”

  “You son of a—”

  “Now wait just a moment,” James interrupted, stepping in between the men. “All of that is in the past now.”

  “What’s in the past?” Westfield asked, also stepping forward. “What’s going on and why don’t I know anything?” he directed to Damien. His eyes then narrowed on James. “And why does he know everything?”

  “That my friend,” Damien said his eyes on James, his voice cold, “is a very good question.”

  James held up his hands in surrender. “It’s not what you think. Look who you’re talking to, I am surrounded by women most of the time. One hears things.”

  Damien would have stomped his foot if it wasn’t such a childish gesture. He was feeling childish though, not something a man of thirty years should feel.

  Derek stood from behind Damien’s desk, shooting his brother a pointed stare. “Well now that our business is settled, we will gather again when all is in place. Try not to kill each other in the meantime.”

  “What about the protection for the women?” Craven asked.

  “Oh, I believe it’s safe to assume that we’ve got that covered,” Derek murmured.

  Craven and Derek exchanged a look that would have set all the other men’s hackles rising if they saw it. As it was, Westfield was too busy glaring at Damien, who was too busy glaring at James. James, however, enjoyed being the recipient of these daggers.

  After everyone left, Damien sank into his chair, plopping his feet on the desk, and thought of Josephine and their passionate night. Perhaps he should take a page from Grey’s book. Lure her outside into the gar
dens, where hopefully Craven would catch them and see that Josephine was his. The thought made him smile.

  Chapter 16

  Josephine sauntered through the ballroom with confidence in one of Madam De La Frey’s daring sleeveless gowns, violet satin swirling around her feet as she smiled at the gentlemen whose eye she caught.

  Somewhat nervous, her heart fluttered in her chest. She hadn’t seen Damien for three whole days and two nights. Not since their passionate encounter in her bedroom. The memory still warmed her cheeks with fire. About two hours after he left her room, she’d made quite the spectacular exit with her luggage in tow, informing her brother (in what she hoped had been a calm voice) that she planned to visit Belle for a week. Thus, she’d been able to avoid Damien, though not for the lack of trying on his part.

  He had even gone so far as to send her a note, demanding she attend this affair and threatened to drag her out of Belle’s home if she did not. So Josephine decided to attend, even though the memories of him and his wicked kisses consumed her thoughts.

  For the last three days, she’d done nothing but remember, and pine, and after she almost snuck out to climb through his bedroom window, she decided it was time to stop. The final conclusion being that in no life of hers, previous or present, would an affair with Damien be smart. It would be pleasurable and intense—of that there was no doubt—but it would also be foolish. For the most part Jo prided herself on being smart, but the trouble of it was caring enough about it being foolish to say no.

  So in a campaign to remind herself of why an affair would be disastrous, she developed a mantra, so to speak, which she repeated on an hourly basis.

  Damien is notorious, irresistible, sinful, tempting and entirely off limits. Because he is arrogant, bossy, deceitful, manipulative and domineering.

  Jo believed if she began her mantra positive and ended on a more negative note it carried a more lasting and permanent impact. A presumption she was about to put to the test tonight and why she truly agreed to attend this event. Not because he had demanded it, but because she needed to discover whether her mantra worked.

  Lord Craven suddenly appeared in front of her, out of nowhere. “Lady Josephine,” he murmured on a bow.

  “Lord Craven, what a pleasant surprise,” she replied, her smile broad. They had formed an unlikely friendship of sorts ever since she won the wager.

  “You are breathtaking as usual,” he commented, taking her hand in his and placing a kiss on her wrist.

  “Thank you. Might I say you look dashing this evening?”

  Amusement flared in his eyes as he placed another kiss on her wrist. “I assure you, my lady, dashing is the last thing I am feeling at the moment.”

  “You’re incorrigible.”

  “Only when St. Aldwyn is looking.”

  Lyrical laughter escaped her as she stared at him with renewed admiration. “You should stop poking the bear with a stick.”

  “I’m having too much fun.” He leaned closer, his brow creasing. “How is Miss Middleton fairing these days? I trust she is well.”

  “She’s doing much better though quite put out at not being able to voice her grievances—her throat is still raw from all the smoke.”

  “I’m glad to hear it.”

  He tilted his head so suddenly Jo’s curiosity perked. “Is all well?”

  “Do not look, but your cave man is heading our way,” he drawled, his gaze flicking beyond her just as the orchestra started a waltz. “Shall we make him green with jealousy?”

  Her face a mask of mischief, Jo replied “As always, the temptation is too great to say no.”

  He chuckled and guided her into the dance, his amusement never wavering as he pulled her into his arms. Aware that Damien stared daggers their way, Josephine enjoyed herself.

  “What are you smiling about?”

  “I am puzzled how no one is paying attention to us, which either means you are not so debauched or my reputation is much more unprincipled than I envisioned,” Jo teased.

  “I suspect their attention is on the tension between the Duke and Cartwright these days.”

  “No doubt it’s a good thing.”

  In a subtle movement he pulled her a touch closer than proper. “This is the part where we make St. Aldwyn envious.”

  “That cannot be good for your health?”

  His tilted his head back and laughed, which gave Jo the perfect opportunity to study his face in a unguarded moment, an impression forming in her mind. Craven would make someone a good husband. “Why have you never married?”

  The question sobered him up and he faltered in his step, causing Jo to trip over his feet.

  Jo tilted her head back and laughed when they recovered. “I am merely wondering why you never married. You would make a good husband.”

  “Whatever you are plotting, don’t.”

  “Whatever do you suspect I am plotting?” she asked innocently.

  “The type of plotting that leads to trouble. I have no wish to be at the end of your match making schemes.”

  “You may meet your one true love,” Jo pressed.

  “Do not attempt to match for me, my lady. You will find it not only futile, but you may even administrate the ruin of an innocent miss in your attempts.”

  “Oh very well, but only if you’d tell me why you’ve never married.”

  “I suppose for the same reason why any man my age has not. I haven’t found a woman worth keeping.”

  “I suppose one cannot fault you for your reasoning. But you are missing out on a lifetime of bliss.”

  “I could say the same about you,” he pointed out.

  Valid point. “Which is why I won’t subject you to my match making attempts. I will be horrid at it.” Besides, she had no right to meddle in anyone’s life, with firsthand knowledge of how bothersome it could be. One person in particular, no doubt, planned to meddle as soon as their dance ended.

  Damien is notorious, irresistible, sinful, tempting and entirely off limits. Because he is arrogant, bossy, deceitful, manipulative and domineering.

  From across the ballroom Damien watched Josephine’s head tilt back and laugh at something Craven had said. What could be so bloody funny coming from him? Worse, she had let Craven kiss her hand, twice. Did she have no thought for her reputation?

  A swift glance revealed not a nary soul paid attention to them. Bad enough Josephine conversed with Craven in public, no one seemed to pay them any heed. For years mammas had warned their daughters, one smile in their direction from Craven would ruin them. He was that much of a libertine. How had he managed to pull the wool over society’s eyes?

  Rage, swift and fierce, exploded inside him. Was Craven the reason she had avoided him for the past two nights? Was she done with him? The thought left a bitter taste in his mouth. With her avoidance she expressed her hope to bring their liaison to an end. Yet after their night together she’d been happy to wake up next to him. He hadn’t imagined her smiles and sighs of pleasure that morning. If her maid had not been expected, she would have let him make love to her again. Now? Now she steered clear of him.

  Well too damn bad. No one avoided the Marquis of St. Aldwyn. He rolled his eyes at his own musings—hell, most people tended to avoid him to be honest, but not the women he bedded. More often than not they fell over backwards to keep his attention. Literally.

  Confounding wench.

  He started to wade his way in her direction when the orchestra commenced the waltz, and stopped short when he saw Craven lead her into the dance. What in the blazes? He was further appalled to find no shocked onlookers. No one took note of what transpired under their snobbish noses.

  “You look as though you’ve swallowed a dead rat. The look suits you, by the by.” James Shaw came up beside him, his gaze on Jo as well.

  “Sod off. You’re ruining my black reputation with your presence.”

  “That dark?” James chuckled. “Yet, still not as dark as Craven’s reputed reputation.” The smile never wa
vered from his face.

  “Apparently you and I are the only ones who noticed that,” Damien snapped.

  “It appears everyone’s attention lies elsewhere.”

  Damien snorted. Craven was the blackest of the black, yet he passed unnoticed. It occurred to Damien then, that out of all of their newfound team, Westfield may be the only one with a sterling reputation. That said a lot about his friend.

  Apparently James thought the same. “I’ve always considered you and Westfield an unlikely pair.”

  “Is it not the unlikely bonds that make for the strongest of friendships? I have always been drawn to unusual and peculiar people, while Westfield, well he’s drawn to the more depraved beings, it seems.”

  “You sound positively fun.”

  “I’m as shallow as they come.”

  James chuckled. “At least you are entertaining.”

  James no doubt referred to his doomed pursuit. Not to mention things were about to get infinitely entertaining if Josephine did not stop laughing with Craven.

  “I have my moments,” Damien replied.

  “You look as though you are about to do something you should not.”

  “Perhaps I am.”

  Just because they’d formed a common alliance did not mean they had to become friends. Although, glancing at James, he seemed not such a bad chap, all things considered. He had risked his own life to save the Middleton chit. That should count for something.

  The waltz ended and Damien straightened. It was time for Josephine to explain herself. He would be damned if he allowed her to avoid him any longer. With determined strides and without so much as a by your leave, he waded through the crowd and set course directly for the one woman who could end his misery.

  As soon as he reached her side he snatched her by the arm, confident that if the ton hadn’t noticed her blatant flirting with Craven they damn well better not notice him dragging her to a more private setting. He noted her shock with satisfaction as he led her rather forcibly away from the crowd.

  “What the devil you doing?” she hissed at him. “Let me go.”

  Damien stopped to glare at her. “I want to know why you’ve been avoiding me.”