Taming the Rake

by Monica McCarty

  Augusta nodded. “Mother wrote the servants of our ‘surprise’ arrival. They are expecting us shortly after the end of the festivities today.” Surprisingly, the countess had readily agreed to their venture. Probably simply to spite Coventry and to foil any scandalous plots that he may have cooked up for the week. Which, of course, was exactly Gina’s intention. In that, Gina and the countess were in accord.

  Gina’s smile turned smug, thinking of Coventry’s reaction when he discovered that his escape to Newmarket for the annual two-thousand-guinea horse race had been thwarted. Or of how his raucous house party for a gaggle of promiscuous, hell-raising rakes would be significantly curtailed by the addition of three ladies.

  Or rather, she corrected, three very proper ladies.

  “Then as we are in agreement, I shall see to the carriage.” Mr. Carrington bowed and started to walk away.

  Gina moved around trying to avoid the buzzing little devils bouncing around her head.

  “It’s your bonnet.” Augusta giggled at her awkward maneuverings. “The roses are beautiful, but perhaps too fragrant.”

  “I think you’re right.” A bee buzzed by her ear, eventually landing on the ribbon-trimmed rim of her hat. She whisked it away with her hand. “Annoying little creatures. I wish they’d leave me alone.”

  “My sentiments exactly.”

  Gina gasped at the unexpected deep voice. She peeked out from under the edge of her parasol into the blazing blue eyes of Lord Coventry.

  Was it her imagination or did the bees seem to vanish?

  “Lord Coventry,” she swallowed, “what a surprise.”

  “That makes two of us.”

  He was furious. It was what she expected, but no less intimidating for its predictability.

  Her pulse quickened under his fierce gaze. She should be frightened, but instead she couldn’t stop thinking that he’d never looked more handsome. Something tugged uncomfortably in her chest just looking at him.

  The sun caught the tawny strands in his dark hair, emphasizing his lightly tanned skin. Rather than the black evening clothes she’d seen him in before, he was informally garbed in a dark green morning coat and buckskin trousers. The casual clothing suited his rugged masculinity. With his size and physique the man should have been born a laborer. The same hot sun that wilted her appeared to invigorate him, giving him an element of strength heretofore unseen. The overall effect was dazzling.

  Gina felt drawn to him in an unfamiliar way. It was more than just attraction; Lord Coventry appealed to her on a base level that she’d never experienced before. The strange pull troubled her… deeply.

  Mrs. Persimmons’s harrumph broke the trance.

  “Well, nephew. It appears your manners have not improved any since the last time I saw you.”

  Coventry broke his stare and turned to his aunt. “Aunt Eudora,” he said, leaning over to give her a peck on the cheek. “Forgive me, I forgot that you had not been introduced. Mrs. Persimmons, may I present the Duke of Beaufort.”

  Completely fixed on Coventry, Gina hadn’t noticed that he was not alone.

  Beaufort took Mrs. Persimmons’s hand as she executed a perfect and very formal curtsy. “Your Grace.”

  Cursory greetings complete, Coventry eyed his sister. “Augusta, you didn’t tell me that you planned to attend the race.”

  Augusta shrugged. “You didn’t ask.”

  Gina smiled, pleased with Augusta’s pert reply. Coventry did not take enough interest in his sister’s life. He deserved the reprimand. Her aunt must have felt the same because for once she did twist her mouth into a pickle and give Augusta a disapproving look.

  “We’d hoped to surprise you,” Gina added. “But it appears we have been discovered.”

  Mr. Carrington re-appeared. “Ah, our host.”

  “Host?” Coventry asked, obviously displeased to see Mr. Carrington.

  “Did they not tell you of the surprise?” Mr. Carrington asked.

  Coventry’s eyes bore straight into her. Gina tried not to wiggle.

  “We were just getting to that,” he said.

  “Why that we’ll be staying at Greenbrook Hall, of course,” Gina said airily. “The countess has made all the arrangements. Surprise!” Her eyes grew wide and innocent as if something had just occurred to her. “I hope that will not cause you any inconvenience?”

  Coventry muttered a curse, probably louder than he intended.

  “Coventry,” Mrs. Persimmons sniffed. “Please refrain from uttering such indelicacies in our presence again. Such crude language might be tolerated in those clubs and gaming halls that you frequent, but it is entirely inappropriate for the tender sensibilities of these impressionable young ladies.”

  Coventry gritted his teeth. “My apologies, Aunt. I shall endeavor to be more careful not to offend these ladies’ impressionable sensibilities.”

  Gina placed her glove over her mouth to hide her giggle, but her eyes must have given her away.

  He growled, white lines appearing around his mouth. “Do you find something amusing, Lady Georgina?”

  “Nothing in particular, Lord Coventry.” Gina tried to sober, but the mirth still bubbled inside her. This was even better than she could have hoped. Not five minutes in his company and Mrs. Persimmons had already scolded him twice.

  And Gina had an entire week of this to look forward to.

  Yes, Gina had much cause for amusement. Her intention to spoil his week of debauchery had gotten off to a promising start. A very promising start, indeed.

  Coventry ached to throttle her. Or devour her, he couldn’t decide which. Perhaps both. Anything to erase the taunting sparkle in those beautiful green eyes and stop her tiny upturned nose from twitching so enchantingly with mirth.

  Devil take her, she was laughing at him.

  His face heated. From anger, he told himself, not from embarrassment at being bested by a twenty-year-old society miss, who’d somehow managed to outmaneuver him—again.

  “We were just leaving,” she said. “There will be plenty of time at Greenbrook to discuss our plans.”

  “May I?” Beaufort bowed gallantly to Coventry’s smitten Aunt, offering his arm to escort her to the carriage. Mr. Carrington followed suit, moving quickly to secure Augusta’s arm. Leaving the termagant to him.

  “Allow me,” Coventry snarled, grabbing Lady Georgina’s arm. He pulled her close against his side, ignoring the way she seemed to fit right against him, and dragged her toward the waiting carriage.

  He was furious. His plans for a spectacular week of sordid depravity would be ruined with his sister and aunt at Greenbrook. And he knew exactly who was to blame. With no mistress to pay off or liquor to confiscate, he should have guessed Georgina would find another source of annoyance. The past week had been entirely too quiet.

  This was the last time she’d interfere. Desperate times, it seemed, required desperate measures. He wasn’t sure yet what he was going to do, but he wouldn’t sit back and let her dictate his life. He was tired of being bested by an innocent miss. At every turn, she seemed to be one step ahead of him.

  “You can’t stay at Greenbrook,” he said in a low voice.

  She looked up at him from under the wide brim of her entirely too fetching straw bonnet. Her eyes seemed to fill her tiny heart-shaped face. The innocently coy glance made something flip high in his chest.

  Damn her, she was enjoying this. Her eyes were still twinkling when she responded. “We most certainly can. Your mother has made all the arrangements.”

  “My mother overreaches herself. Greenbrook is my estate.”

  She quirked a finely arched brow. “And you would deny your sister and aunt your home? Surely you are aware that there is nowhere else to stay, that all the suitable accommodations within miles are booked for the race.”

  When he did not respond, she sighed dramatically. “Very well, I’m sure Augusta and Mrs. Persimmons will understand. Your aunt does seem to be quite fond of you.”

  He clamp
ed his mouth closed. Just to spite her, he was tempted to continue with his plans, driving his uninvited “guests” away in an indignant huff. He’d like to see Georgina’s face when she entered a drawing room set out with a bacchanalian feast replete with half-naked cyprians. And if it were only her, he’d think about it. But he knew the scandal would hurt his sister and his aunt, whom he cared for despite her devotion to etiquette. And even he would not escape condemnation for such outrageous behavior.

  He scowled, trapped. “You know very well that I will do no such thing.”

  She shrugged as if to say she hadn’t been sure. “I’d hoped you would not turn us from your doorstep.”

  Despite his fury he was reluctant to let go of her as they approached the coach. He liked the way she nestled against him. It was strangely calming. He held her hand for a moment too long as she stepped into the coach.

  Noticing, she furrowed her brow and stared at him. Their eyes met and held. Something strange passed between them. She seemed befuddled—something he might have enjoyed had he not been feeling the same.

  Taking her seat next to Aunt Persimmons, she arranged her skirts around her.

  “This discussion isn’t over,” he promised.

  “There will be plenty of time to finish our conversation, Lord Coventry,” she reminded him. A jaunty smile turned her sensuous mouth as she parried her parting shot just as the footman closed the door. “I do hope you have some amusing entertainment planned for the week?”

  He swore he could hear the gentle tinkle of her laughter as the coach pulled away, leaving him swearing in a cloud of dust.

  But even as he stood there watching the coach disappear around the bend, he realized that lurking beneath the anger at being outwitted was admiration. And even more disturbing was that he found himself looking to the week ahead with outright anticipation.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Refreshed by a sinfully steamy bath after a short late-afternoon nap, Gina made her way to the drawing room eager to see just what sort of proper “entertainment” Coventry could devise on such short notice. Smiling, she wondered what improper entertainment he’d had to cancel. It really was wrong of her to bait him, but he proved quite irresistible. And the thunderous expression on his arrogant face as her coach had pulled away from Rowley Mile was positively priceless.

  The excitement she’d been missing in her exchanges with men the past few years literally crackled in her conversations with Coventry. There was an undeniable thrill in taking on an elusive man, cornering him, and matching wits with him. Perhaps when this was over, he would realize that ladies were not merely challenging as conquests, but could be challenging also for their wits. She knew better than to invest so much effort into such a hopeless endeavor as earning his esteem, but over the last month, proving her value to him had become important.

  Not only did she want to show him the benefit she could bring to him as a wife, she wanted him to appreciate it. It was a tall order, but she was determined to try. Not only for the wager, but for herself.

  She followed the maid down the grand stone staircase. Bereft of daylight, the halls were dark and Gina was grateful that the lamps had been lit along the corridors. Large oil paintings of humorless ancestors interspersed with an occasional tapestry lined the thick walls. The old Tudor house was every bit as lovely as Lady Augusta described, but much larger than Gina had expected—and a bit more drafty. Even on a pleasant spring day, the rooms were quite cold. In the winter, she imagined Greenbrook would be bone-chilling. The furnishings were appropriately old and substantial, typical of the large stately pieces that filled her father’s many country residences.

  The maid led her to the front reception room, which must have at one time been the main hall. Heavy wooden beams lined the high ceiling and two enormous fireplaces, tall enough for Gina to stand in, flanked either side of the room. A faded Aubusson carpet in deep rusts and blues covered the stone floors. She surveyed her surroundings. Some new upholstery and fresh paint, and the large cavernous room would seem much more inviting. The same could be said of her bedchamber, and most of the other rooms she’d passed through, she thought.

  “Ah, Lady Georgina. You appear quite refreshed.”

  Mrs. Persimmons was standing near the entry and addressed her as she came in. “Thank you, Mrs. Persimmons, I am.”

  “As you can see, it will be a quiet evening.” She nodded to indicate the new arrivals lounging in armchairs before the fire sipping port. “Only ourselves and a few of Coventry’s friends.” Her lips pursed with disapproval. “My nephew claims to have been caught quite unprepared for our arrival, so the numbers for supper will be uneven. I suggested the vicar, but the stubborn boy wouldn’t hear of it.”

  Along with the duke, Gina noticed Lord Ashley—hardly a surprise—Lord Rockingham, and Mr. Dashwood. A veritable bastion of rakedom, though she did not know the latter two gentlemen very well. Knew of them was probably more accurate. With his jet-black hair and cobalt eyes, Lord Rockingham could easily give Ponsonby a challenge as one of the most handsome men she’d ever seen.

  Including Coventry and Mr. Carrington, there would be six men to the three ladies.

  Gina tried to keep a straight face. “Perhaps, given the circumstances, we can forgive him his oversight this once?”

  Mrs. Persimmons looked quite put out. “I suppose.” She shook her head. “Though it will be quite inconvenient for conversation.”

  Coventry, who’d glanced in her direction when she first entered the room with affected indifference, rose from his seat beside the duke to join them when Augusta came in the room behind her. Rather than the fury storming his face earlier, his expression had returned to the inscrutable. Like her, he’d also bathed and changed into his evening clothes. He hadn’t bothered to shave, for a dark shadow appeared around his jaw. He’d made an attempt to slick his damp hair back over his ears, but the uncooperative dark chestnut waves were tumbling loose as they dried.

  She forced her gaze from his face, uneasy with her recent propensity to study every minute detail about his appearance.

  “I hope you find the accommodations to your liking, Lady Georgina?”

  Her mouth twitched, trying not to smile at the heavy sarcasm in his tone. Obviously, he was still annoyed by their unannounced arrival. Not that she blamed him—it really was quite bad form. “Greenbrook is delightful, Lord Coventry. It was so kind of you to extend such a warm welcome to our surprise party.”

  Augusta made a soft noise that sounded remarkably like a snort. Seeing a dark expression cross her brother’s face, she quickly scooted away, joining the others by the fireplace.

  “I hope it is not inconvenient, but I thought we would dine early tonight. A light supper followed by a short musicale.”

  Gina raised her brows. “You did arrange entertainment for this evening?”

  A slow, lazy grin lifted one side of his mouth. “Perhaps it would be more accurate to say that you arranged the entertainment?”

  Suddenly wary, she asked, “What do you have in mind?”

  He looked like he wanted to say something depraved, but probably out of consideration for his aunt, he refrained. “I’ve decided that you should be the entertainment. Surely, a lady of your vast accomplishments can play the pianoforte or sing a few arias?”

  If the wicked curl of his lips was any indication, he was absurdly pleased with himself. But if he hoped to catch her unaware or embarrass her, he was very much mistaken. He might mock her drawing room accomplishments, but they were not insubstantial. Years of music lessons had not gone for naught. If he expected another Lady Penelope, Coventry would be in for a surprise.

  “Of course Lady Georgina will sing for us,” Mrs. Persimmons interjected. “I’m sure she sings beautifully.”

  Bolstered by the vote of confidence, she met the challenge in his gaze. “I would be honored to perform tonight, Lord Coventry.”

  He seemed disappointed by her lack of argument.

  “Then I shall look fo
rward to it.” He turned to his aunt. “May I have the honor of escorting you to supper, Aunt?”

  It was said with such unusual gallantry that Gina looked at Mrs. Persimmons to make sure she’d heard him correctly.

  Two high spots of color appeared upon his aunt’s cheeks. “I would be delighted.”

  The charm of the gesture surprised her. Apparently, he was not completely devoid of social niceties—even if he’d ignored the order of precedence.

  The rest of the group followed, making their way to the dining room, and Gina found herself on the arm of the Duke of Beaufort. Not surprisingly, Augusta had managed to secure Lord Ashley, leaving a very disgruntled Mr. Carrington fighting for a seat on her left.

  If the other gentlemen had been disappointed by the change of plans for the house party, they had sufficiently improved by the time supper was served, and the meal passed with surprising ease. The duke was an affable dinner partner, as was Lord Rockingham, who’d taken the seat to her left. Only once was there an awkward moment when Gina casually mentioned Cecelia and the duke’s handsome face turned to stone. He recovered quickly, however, and soon supper was over and it was time for the ladies to withdraw.

  As the time for her performance drew near, Gina grew increasingly nervous. It wasn’t that she doubted her abilities. She’d performed many times throughout the past few seasons. But she’d never performed for him, and she couldn’t deny that she wanted to impress the seemingly unimpressionable Lord Coventry.

  By the time the men rejoined the ladies in the music room thirty minutes later and settled in their seats, Gina’s heart was fluttering wildly. She dared not look at Coventry. Taking a deep breath, quickly before she could lose her courage, she discreetly wiped her hands on her gown, and nodded to Augusta, who’d agreed to accompany her on the pianoforte.