The Rake

by Suzanne Enoch

  “Yes, I had a bit of a headache. What brings you here, this afternoon?”

  “Actually, I came to see you, my lady.” Stepping forward, he took her hand and brought it to his lips.

  Nodding, she ran her appointment book through her head, but she didn’t recall making any plans with the marquis for this afternoon. “May I offer you some tea, then? Or a glass of claret?”

  “Claret would be splendid.”

  Her aunt stood. “I’ll see to it. Excuse me, my lord.”

  Georgiana frowned in suspicion, wiping the expression away with a smile as she met Westbrook’s gaze. Aunt Frederica acted like a mother bear when Tristan was anywhere in the vicinity, yet she volunteered to depart with Westbrook’s arrival.

  “Her Grace is very generous, to share you with me,” the marquis said, smiling.

  He still gripped her fingers. This was beginning to feel familiar, though she couldn’t place Westbrook in the same category as most of her other suitors. John didn’t need her money; and in a sense that made his presence much more problematic. Unless she was misreading his intentions, which was entirely possible. The havoc Dare created within her seemed proof enough that most of the time she had no idea what she was doing.

  “Why did you want to see me, John?” she asked.

  “Because I’m unable to resist doing so.” He squeezed her hand, then released her, an uncharacteristic sheepish look crossing his handsome features. “I’m not certain how to say this without sounding like a…nodcock, but I do need to say it.”

  “Do so, then, by all means.”

  “Yes. Georgiana, as you know, I am a single gentleman with a considerable fortune. I don’t say that to brag, but only because it’s the truth.”

  “A well-known truth, my lord.”

  “Even so. Because of my circumstances, I have been given my choice of young ladies to marry. I have met them all, and studied their character, prospects, and appearance. What I am here to say is, I am…desperately in love with you, Georgiana, and I ask you to be my wife.”

  She waited for a flutter of her pulse, a speed in the beat of her heart. All she felt, though, was doubt that Westbrook had ever been desperate about anything in his life—much less her.

  “John, I—”

  “I know you may not feel the same way about me, but I am willing to wait.” He grimaced. “I also know that Dare has been forcing his presence on you the past few weeks, and that with his influence you may be…uncertain of the course your future should take.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I am trying to speak as a gentleman regarding another gentleman, but for your sake I’ll be blunt. I have become suspicious that Dare is still obsessed over the wager he made six years ago regarding your virtue, and that he may be attempting still to lead you astray.”

  Oh, dear. If Westbrook only knew the truth about how far astray she’d gone, he would be appalled. He would also withdraw his proposal in an instant. “Do you have any proof of this?”

  “I am relying on my intuition and my personal knowledge of Dare. He is a known blackguard and a rake. In addition, his properties are nearly bankrupt, which leads me to further doubt his motives regarding your person.”

  “You mean you believe he intends to ruin me and then marry me for my money,” she said.

  “That is my fear.”

  If she’d been left with one thing over the past six years, it was a severe dislike of rumors, especially those that concerned herself or Tristan. “Are you promoting your own cause, John, or sabotaging Lord Dare’s?”

  “I am only concerned for your well-being, and I know your judgment may not be entirely sound where Dare is concerned. Logically, you know I am the better choice.”

  Her head knew he was correct, even if her heart said otherwise. “John, you said you would wait. Will you give me a few days to consider my answer?”

  “Yes, of course.” The marquis approached her again. “May I request a kiss, to signify that my intentions are serious?”

  Shaking off the annoying idea that she was somehow being untrue to Tristan, she nodded. Other than his statements that he wanted more than just her body, Dare had never made any sort of direct declaration to her. She owed it to herself to have all the facts necessary to make an informed decision.

  With a slight smile Westbrook placed a hand on either side of her face, leaned down, and touched his lips to hers. The kiss was brief, civilized, and very polite, a chaste kiss as befitted the chaste young lady she was supposed to be.

  “May I call on you tomorrow, Georgiana?”

  She blinked. “You may.”

  “Then I shall take my leave. Good afternoon, my lady.”

  “Good afternoon.”

  Minutes after he departed, Aunt Frederica swept into the room. “Well?”

  “Very subtle, Aunt Frederica.”

  “Never mind that. Did he propose to you?”

  “Yes, he did.”

  “And?”

  “And I told him I would think about it.”

  The dowager duchess sank into a chair. “Oh, Georgiana.”

  “Well, what did you expect? I don’t love him.”

  “What does that signify? You don’t follow the advice of your lungs or your kidneys, do you?”

  “What—”

  “Then don’t listen to your heart so much. Dare is not someone a proper lady with magnificent prospects marries.”

  Georgiana put her hands on her hips. “Did you put Westbrook up to this?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Good. If there’s one thing I don’t need, it’s one of the few people whose counsel I rely on turning into a matchmaker.”

  “I only want you to be happy. You know that.”

  With a sigh, Georgiana relented. She certainly didn’t want to be at odds with her formidable aunt, of all people. “I know that. Come help me choose a gown to wear to Grey and Emma’s dinner.”

  The evening felt like one of the magical ones Georgiana remembered from when Tristan had first begun his pursuit of her, when she’d been a naive debutante fresh out of finishing school. Those dinners had been at Aunt Frederica’s rather than Grey’s, and not all of the Carroway brothers were usually in town at the same time, but it still felt familiar.

  She and her aunt were the first guests to arrive at Brakenridge House, and went upstairs to find Emma attempting to teach Grey how to play the harp. From the high color in Emma’s cheeks that hadn’t really been what they were doing, but given her own recent behavior, she wasn’t about to comment on it. At least Grey and Emma were married.

  Grey released his wife and the harp and strolled over to kiss Frederica, and then her. “Now tell me,” he said, taking her hands and guiding her away from the other ladies, “do I allow Tristan into the house this evening or not?”

  His gaze was both curious and concerned, and she couldn’t help smiling at him. “At the moment, we are friends,” she said. “Whether that will last through dessert or not, I have no idea.”

  Her cousin tucked her arm around his and escorted her to the garden window. “Did you hear he was banned from White’s?”

  “Yes, he told me.”

  “And he told you why?”

  Georgiana nodded. “Don’t feel as though you have to protect me from him, Greydon. Your friendship shouldn’t suffer because of me. And I assure you, I am quite capable of taking care of myself.”

  “You aren’t as jaded as you pretend, my dear. Nor am I as obtuse as you and my mother like to think.” The duke sent a warm glance at his wife, who sat chatting with Frederica. “Ask Emma. I figured her out.”

  “Yes, and nearly ruined fifty schoolgirls in the process.”

  “‘Nearly’ being the operative word, Georgie. Don’t change the subject.”

  “All I can tell you is that if I need help, I will ask.”

  “You’d better. Never forget that I’m larger and meaner than you are.”

  “I couldn’t possibly forget. I still have ni
ghtmares of leeches attached to my nose.”

  The duke laughed, the sound rolling warm and rich from his chest. She couldn’t help grinning in return, and squeezed his arm. “I’m glad you’re happy,” she said. “You deserve it.”

  His smile faded. “Are you happy?”

  She shrugged. “At this moment I’m mostly confused.”

  “Confused isn’t all bad, cousin. You’re too used to thinking you know the answer to everything, anyway.”

  “I don’t know about th—”

  With the timing of a playwright, Tristan strolled into the room, Milly on his arm and the rest of the Carroways trailing behind him. Even Robert had come, she noted with some surprise. True, their two families had known one another for years, and they would be the only guests tonight, but it still warmed her heart to see him.

  As Tristan approached her, though, the warmth skittered into something hotter. “Hello,” she said.

  “Hello.”

  He took her hand, brushing his lips across her knuckles, and straightened again. His eyes met hers, and along with the tingling arousal she always felt in his presence, something colder touched the edges of her heart. “What’s wrong?”

  “We need to talk sometime this evening.” Emma and Bradshaw approached, and he released her hand. “Not now, though.”

  That was enough to set her mind flying in all directions. Knowing Tristan, anything might have happened. Someone had pieced together the wagering sheet, and the mess had begun all over again, or someone had realized that more than personal affront had caused Lord Dare’s angry reaction to the wager, and by morning she would be completely ruined. Or he’d learned of Westbrook’s proposal, and had killed the marquis.

  All through dinner and their subsequent games of Commerce and charades, she worried. Tristan seemed his usual charming, witty self, and even drew reluctant laughter from Aunt Frederica. This was too hard. Being in love wasn’t supposed to be so difficult. Of course, that was probably only true when the two people in question were completely unspotted and had never hurt, argued with, or deceived one another. Georgiana sighed. Westbrook had offered her that, and she had the feeling it would be deathly boring.

  She was seated on the floor helping Edward sketch Bradshaw’s ship, which he’d decided to call the Storm Cloud, when a hand touched her shoulder. Even though she’d been expecting it all evening, she jumped.

  “Excuse me, Runt,” Tristan drawled, “but I need to speak with Georgie for a moment.”

  “But we’re drawing Bradshaw’s new ship,” Edward protested.

  “Did I lose my old ship?” Bradshaw asked, leaning over to view the picture as Tristan helped Georgiana to her feet.

  “This is the one for you to captain,” his youngest brother explained.

  “Then might I suggest more lifeboats?” Shaw returned, sending a glance at Tristan as he slid down to take Georgiana’s place on the floor.

  She felt the eyes of all the room’s occupants on her back as she and Tristan exited the drawing room, but no one said anything. She wondered how much they really knew about her convoluted relationship with Lord Dare. By now they had at least to suspect.

  Her heart began thumping even harder when Tristan led her into Grey’s billiards room and latched the door behind them. “Please tell me what’s happened before I have an apoplexy,” she asked, trying to read his expression.

  He strode up to her and took both her shoulders in his hands.

  “What—”

  Tristan leaned down and kissed her, tilting her head back with the ferocity of his embrace. Her hips went back against the edge of the billiards table, reminding her that she’d been thrown from a horse recently, but she didn’t want him to stop. No one but Tristan made her feel so…possessed, and made her enjoy the sensation so much.

  He devoured her, left her breathless and weak-kneed, as though he’d embraced her with his entire being instead of just his mouth. When he finally drew back, she leaned into his chest, wrapping her fingers into his lapels. “My goodness,” she breathed. “And I thought all your secrecy meant something ill was afoot.”

  “Something ill is afoot,” he said quietly. “You won’t like it, or me, after I tell you, and I wanted to kiss you this one last time, at least.”

  “Now I’m worried,” she said, still clutching him. Dread wrapped cold fingers around her heart. “Tell me.”

  Tristan drew in a deep breath. “I had a visitor last night. Early this morning, actually.”

  “A visitor?”

  “In my bedchamber.”

  “Oh.” He’d found another lover. Deep, sharp jealousy stung her, and she let him go. “Thank you for telling me. At least you did it in private, which is more than I exp—”

  “Wh…No! No. That’s not…” He took another breath. “It was Amelia Johns, Georgie. She pounced on me while I was dead asleep.”

  “Amelia? I can’t believe that! She’s just a child.”

  “No, she isn’t.”

  “But—”

  “Trust me—I can lay that misconception to rest. She’s very much full-grown.” He ran his fingers along the neckline of her gown, as though he couldn’t stop touching her, as if he didn’t even realize he was doing it.

  “What happened, then?”

  “I shrieked in a very ungentlemanly manner and threw her out of the house.”

  Thank God. Georgiana tugged him forward, touching her lips to his. “Good.” She’d never felt she had much in common with Amelia, other than Tristan, and found she didn’t like the girl very much at all. She wondered how he would react, if she told him about Westbrook’s proposal.

  “It doesn’t end there. She took something from my room.”

  Georgie shook him, though she might as easily have moved a mountain. “What, for heaven’s sake?”

  “Your letter. And your stockings.”

  “My…” She blinked, a sudden roaring in her ears so loud she couldn’t hear, couldn’t think. Her knees buckled.

  Cursing, Tristan caught her up against him, lifting her so she sat on the edge of the table. “Georgiana,” he whispered urgently, “don’t faint. Please don’t faint.”

  Resting her head against his shoulder, she drew in a shaking breath. “I won’t. Oh, no. Oh, no. Why would she do that, Tristan?”

  “Because she wants me to marry her.”

  Georgiana looked up, light-headed and dizzy and beginning to think that safe, dull love might have some advantages, after all. “I don’t understand.”

  “Who would have thought I was such a desirable catch?” he asked with a grim half smile. “She intends to reveal your—and my—indiscretion to the world unless I make her Lady Dare.”

  “Why would she think she had to threaten you—me—like that?”

  “Probably because I told her that I have no intention of marrying her.” He kissed her again, soft and slow, as though the embrace was something precious. “How could I tell her anything else, when you and I…when…I don’t want to ruin this?”

  Tears welled in her eyes. She had her answer for Westbrook now.

  “I have three days before I give her an answer, but you needed to know,” he continued.

  Georgiana shook her head, searching madly for any logical reason that would mean this wasn’t happening. “She knows I was trying to help her. Even if you’ve changed your mind about her, she has to know that I didn’t intend for any such thing to happen.”

  “I don’t think she cares about that, Georgie.”

  “Of course she does,” she insisted. “You probably threatened her or something, didn’t you?”

  He frowned. “Not at first.”

  “You see, you just frightened her. She must have felt she had to keep those…items to protect herself from further injury by you.”

  Tristan began to look annoyed. “I did not—”

  “I’ll go see her, and explain that they don’t mean anything, but that I need them back to protect myself from scandal.”

  “They don’t
mean anything?” he repeated, tilting her chin up so she had to meet his glittering gaze.

  Georgiana swallowed. “That’s what I’ll tell her. She’s female; she’ll understand.”

  “She’s closer to a dragon than a female, but I don’t suppose I can talk you out of this.”

  “No, you can’t.”

  He kissed her again. My goodness. She could become very used to having him touching her and holding her. Sighing, she kissed him back, sliding her hands around his waist, under his jacket.

  “You’re not angry with me?” he asked, kissing her again, more deeply.

  “I’m not happy with this, of course, but I’m not mad at you. And I have something to tell you, too.”

  “What?”

  “Lord Westbrook proposed to me.”

  His expression darkened. “Today?”

  “This afternoon.”

  “And you turned him down.”

  “Tris—”

  He kissed her again. “And you turned him down,” he repeated, again making it a statement rather than a question. “Tell me.”

  He’d told her about Amelia, and she had to be equally honest. “He didn’t want an answer. He wanted me to think about it.”

  “And will you?”

  Georgiana swallowed. “I have a few other things to worry over, at the moment.”

  He smiled a little grimly. “You’re right, of course. I still don’t like it.”

  “And yet no threats of violence. You almost sound like a proper gentleman.”

  Tristan chuckled. “We’ll have to remedy that.” He pushed her knees apart and stepped in close against her. Everyone was just two doors down the hall, but as he slid her long skirt up past her knees, there was no mistaking his intentions.

  “Someone will hear,” she said, gasping as his warm hands caressed the insides of her thighs.

  “Not if we’re quiet.” He grinned. “And quick. The door’s locked. See how cautious I am now?”

  “This is not caution. This is—”

  “A very good idea.”

  She wasn’t so certain of that and would have protested again, mostly because she didn’t want to have to hurry. As she opened her mouth, though, his knowing fingers dipped between her thighs and inside her. She arched her back, her protest becoming a barely stifled moan.