How to Marry a Rogue

by Anna Small

  “I can see you no longer desire my company.” Her lower lip trembled, but her eyes glinted icy blue. “By all means, deposit me at Lady Priscilla’s immediately. I have no wish to forestall any of your wild adventures, Jack.”

  “Adventures?” He laughed. He should placate her, or, at least, reassure her of his brotherly responsibility to both her and Lockewood. Instead, he was almost relieved she’d read him wrong.

  Even though she would never know how far from the truth she really was.

  ****

  It was late afternoon when she emerged from the guest chamber, telltale smudges beneath her eyes. He pretended not to notice and bowed when she descended the staircase to the foyer below, where he waited.

  “Do not worry, Jack,” she said sweetly, breezing past him toward the open door where his carriage stood at the ready. “I left my chamber exactly as I found it. None of your…” She paused delicately, in an exact imitation of her brother. “…guests will ever deduce another female spent the night. Your reputation is securely intact in that regard.”

  “How very thoughtful of you, Miss Lockewood.”

  He took his hat from a servant and clapped it on his head before following her into the carriage. She ignored any help and clambered inside, her gaze focused on the view from the window so she wouldn’t have to see him. He allowed her to stew for a few minutes.

  “I will speak to Aunt Adele and inform her of your desire not to remain cooped up in the chateau during the remainder of your trip. You just name the days, and I will come and rescue you from the fortress of ennui.”

  The pinched lips loosened, and she turned to face him so quickly a long curl draped over her shoulder bounced.

  “Do you promise?”

  “Yes.” His heart began pounding, and he cleared his throat. Uncanny how just a look from her rounded eyes had an unsettling effect on him. “In truth, I have an entertaining day planned for you this very afternoon, at the end of which I will deposit you at the door of said fortress.”

  She clapped her hands. “How exciting! What are we going to do? Where are we going? Paris?”

  He snorted. “Not Paris. As if I would take an innocent child like you to Paris! There is a fête at a village just outside Bolbec. I thought you might like to dance with some more handsome Frenchmen and see the town. There will be fire-eaters and perhaps a gypsy to tell your fortune. Best of all, it is unlikely we shall meet anyone we know, so people will not question your being out alone with me.”

  “I detest the lowly way people think. You are as good as family.”

  “I agree, Georgie. However, I would like to keep your reputation secured, regardless of your opinion to the contrary.”

  “I do not mean to imply I enjoy flouting the rules of society.” Her brow furrowed. “No matter how ridiculous people can be.”

  “Ridiculous or not—” he began, but she cut him off with a wave of her hand.

  “Please refrain from lecturing me again, Jack. You’re as bad as Jonathan with your endless lectures.”

  “Then change the subject, by all means.”

  Her smile returned. She indicated her gown, one of Danielle’s favorites. She’d spent a few days with him the last time he visited, and this dress had been lost behind the bed after a rousing evening. “Am I overdressed, do you think?”

  He took in the tight burgundy silk bodice, the loose skirt of dove gray edged with black velvet. It was the most respectable of the lot, but she’d been pleased to have something new.

  “You will be fine.” He hated to tell her that every male eye above the age of fourteen and under the age of…well, no limit, he supposed…would be on her no matter what she wore.

  “And you look the very image of a successful winery owner, Jack.” Her gaze swept approvingly over his buckskin breeches and polished black top boots. He’d ignored his usual convention and chosen a starched white shirt and neck cloth and hadn’t realized until now that his waistcoat was also burgundy silk, matching her.

  “Successful winery owner’s grandson.”

  “But it will all be yours in your inheritance, will it not?”

  He nearly guffawed at her mistake. “Should my grandfather ever remember he has a grandson who is supposed to inherit, then, yes, it will be mine.”

  Those penetrating Lockewood eyes were fastened upon him, and he could not escape her gaze. “Are you not close?”

  He eased his fists open and clutched his knees. “No.”

  “Just, no?” She imitated him, but he could not return her mirth. Her smile quickly faded. “I’m sorry, Jack. I assumed….”

  “Assumed the old curmudgeon who sired my father should dote on me as much as he did his son? Why do you think I was always at Fairwood Hall on school holidays and not at Stoughton Park?”

  “I am sorry.” The color deepened in her cheeks. “Have you no other family? I always assumed you must have somebody.”

  “There’s no one.” He sighed. “Please, change the subject back to my dreadful lectures. I’ve no wish to open a door to my darkened and mostly uneventful past.”

  “You’re all alone,” she murmured.

  He did not respond and glanced out the window. His fist clenched on his knee quite by accident, and he did not look up when she reached across and covered his hand briefly with hers.

  The rub of her glove on top of his made a chafing sound, but he fancied he could feel her warm skin through the layers of kid.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Do not leave this spot. I will inquire as to where the gypsy carts might be.” Jack walked away, whistling beneath his breath.

  Georgiana was unable to help her broad smile as she looked around the decorated village square. Vines and wildflowers entwined in a hodgepodge of color adorned shop doors and windows, and even the cobblestone streets looked polished. A maypole stood in the village square, and she hid a smile at the confused children, who scampered in the wrong direction and got tangled in the long ribbons that shimmered in the sunlight.

  A barefooted girl ran up to her and thrust a yellow rose into her hands. Georgiana curtsied, laughing as the girl’s knobby knees dipped in perfect imitation.

  “You are so pretty, mademoiselle,” the girl said in French and skipped away before Georgiana could answer.

  She held the rose to her nose and inhaled deeply. The scent flooded her mind with thoughts of home, of Fairwood Hall’s lush gardens, and of her mother. What would Mamma have thought of Jonathan’s pestering her to marry? Doubtless, she’d have allowed her to stay at home another year, ensconced in her music room with her pianoforte to keep her company. Why have a husband come along to spoil it all?

  She should not frown upon marriage. She forced the guilty thought from her mind. Were not Jonathan and Sophie blissfully wed, and with a baby on the way? Her parents had also been a love match, and she’d always fantasized of meeting a wonderful man like her father or brother or…

  Jack.

  The rose trembled in her hand. Why would Jonathan not consider Jack as a potential suitor for her? He had wealth and station, and had not caused too many scandals. At least, none that lingered past the time he’d kissed Clementine Forbes during a Christmas party at Fairwood Hall. Luckily, he was underage, so nothing more than a box on the ear by Clemmie’s older brother had sufficed, rather than a forced engagement.

  So why not Jack? She stiffened. What if Jonathan had asked him, and he’d refused? Perhaps he did see her only as a young girl who’d always fallen into one scrape or another. He was tired of helping her out of sticky situations, or always taking care of her when there was nobody about. Had he not looked eager to depart the last time they’d met, when she was fifteen? She’d practiced his favorite piece for hours on her pianoforte, but he’d hardly stayed still long enough to listen. The childhood friend had become a stranger.

  “Georgiana Lockewood! What a surprise to find you in Bordeaux! I should think you’d be enjoying yourself in town.”

  Georgiana spun around as Lady Ric
hmond, one of Aunt Adele’s acquaintances, approached and kissed her on the cheek, followed by a fond embrace before Georgiana could react.

  “My son, Herbert, and I are joining the rest of the family in Paris, but we’ll be in London by month’s end. Are you here with your brother and his wife?” The woman scanned the crowd with an interested air.

  Georgiana glanced around for a glimpse of Jack. Why had he chosen now of all moments to abandon her? Lady Richmond might take the wrong idea and spread some malicious gossip about her being without a chaperone. She regained her composure. “Jonathan and Sophie are back in England. I came to France with Aunt Adele.”

  “How is that dear creature? I have not seen my old friend in months. Is she having a rest inside one of the shops? It is very warm today.”

  Before Georgiana could answer, a well-dressed, big-boned young man sauntered over to them, a pastry clutched in his hand. He stared unabashedly down the front of her bodice before meeting her startled gaze.

  “This is my eldest, Herbert. We’ve been speaking with your brother about your future, my dear.” She prodded Herbert forward, and Georgiana had to control the revulsion clamoring inside her at the crumbs and bits of food on the side of his cheek. His bleary eyes never left hers, and she wondered if she should risk insulting the Richmonds by running away as fast as her flimsy little slippers would carry her.

  “My future…?”

  What possible reason could Jonathan have with the Richmonds?

  Oh.

  “Georgie, I’ve found the gypsy tent.” Jack was beside her before she’d noticed. His hair was blown about his face, and he’d loosened his neckcloth according to his habit. He stared at Lady Richmond and Herbert, seeing them for the first time. “I beg your pardon, ma’am.” He bowed, and she dipped into a slight curtsy, her brows knit together.

  Her silence spoke volumes. Glancing from one to the other, the woman finally settled upon Jack, her upper lip twitching into a sneer she didn’t bother to hide. “I am Lady Richmond, an old friend of Georgiana’s family. This is my son, Herbert. And you are…?”

  Frozen into silence, Georgiana watched Jack’s jaw clench a few times.

  His lips parted to speak, and he glanced down at her as if she held the answer.

  Frantic, she clutched his sleeve, picking at the fabric in a desperate attempt to provoke some sort of reasonable response from her brain, but she was helpless. How could she explain her presence at the fair without the accompaniment of Aunt Adele? How to explain being in the sole company of a man like Jack Waverley, with his openly teasing air and his unfastened neckcloth? A man who’d been born into an honorable family of means, yet who gambled and boxed whenever he chose?

  “Jack Waverley, your ladyship,” he said at last. “I am also an old friend of Miss Lockewood’s family.” His hand fidgeted toward his loosened neckcloth, but fortunately, he dropped it at his side when she gave him the slightest nudge in the kidney.

  Georgiana held her breath. It was too much to hope the simple response was all Lady Richmond required. They should say goodbye then leave before the woman could tell if they were figments of her imagination or flesh and blood.

  “An old friend?” Lady Richmond’s eyes seemed to penetrate through Georgiana’s forehead as if she could see into her thoughts.

  Lady Richmond was powerfully connected to the patronesses of Almack’s. One wrong word, one innocent slip, and Jonathan and Sophie would be ruined. It wouldn’t do her any good, either.

  “He’s…we’re…Jack is….” Her stuttering did more harm.

  Lady Richmond’s breath caught, and Georgiana wondered if her lips could pinch together any tighter.

  Jack pressed his hand over hers, but panic rose inside her until she thought she would burst.

  Herbert forgot his pastry for the moment and appeared somewhat interested in the conversation. He leered at Georgiana and she shrank into Jack’s side. He clasped her hand tightly.

  “Forgive my silence,” he said abruptly. “Miss Lockewood and I are recently married. We are on our honeymoon.”

  Too terrified to look at Jack lest her amazement betray his lie, Georgiana’s breath left her in such a rush the lace trim on her bodice fluttered against her skin.

  Lady Richmond’s eyes widened until Georgiana wondered if they would pop out of her head.

  “You…are…married?” A tremor vibrated through her, visibly shaking the ends of her spencer. She swallowed a few times, her throat working against the hat ribbons tied beneath her chin. “Well, I must congratulate you both.” She nudged her son in the ribs, and he bowed, showing none of his mother’s anxiety. “I had no idea there were…other arrangements. Your brother made no mention of this in his last letter.”

  “My…my brother?” Again, she was unable to complete a full sentence. Jack’s outrageous statement was shock enough for one day.

  “Your brother and I have been discussing your future, Miss Lockewood.” Her graying brows drew together. “Of course, nothing was set in stone, as it were.” She threw back her shoulders, then, with a short curtsy, took Herbert’s arm. “Good day to you both.”

  Georgiana bounced on the balls of her feet, her earlier impulse to run far away coming back. “Good day, your ladyship.”

  She could not look at Jack. What unspeakable horror would she see on his face? What wild lunacy had possessed him? Just as she’d been about to introduce him as her cousin, the shocking words had issued from his lips like rain from thunderclouds.

  They were alone. Georgiana counted to five before risking a glance at his face. Besides one eyebrow arched to the point where he resembled a lopsided owl, he looked very much the same as before.

  “We should go now. Yes, that’s the best thing. We will go to Aunt Adele.” The exposed inch of skin above his collar was as crimson as his waistcoat.

  “Whatever you say.” She almost stammered her reply.

  Her hand remained on his sleeve as they walked away from the center of town.

  The gypsies had settled on the outskirts. Their ponies grazed nearby, shaggy and soft looking, their hair thicker than English horses. Were this any other occasion, she’d have gladly gone to them, to explore the enticing area that was the gypsy camp. But she dared not leave Jack’s side.

  His face resembled an aubergine. In another moment, she feared his eyes would burst from his sockets.

  He appeared to be struggling to say something, but no sound escaped him. With a sudden, muttered oath, he seized her hand and pulled her behind a sheltering wall. He placed both hands on her shoulders and peered into her face.

  “What in all that is sacred possessed me? I expected you to have said something ridiculous, but for me to have...” He pushed away from her, pacing in a quick circle before clasping her shoulders again and shaking her once.

  Georgiana pulled from his grasp and tried to regain some of her dignity. “I was going to say you were my cousin, if you don’t mind.”

  “Why did I not think of that?” He grabbed a handful of his hair and tugged it to stand on end. “God, Georgie! I do not know how I lost my sensibilities. This will not bode well, mark my words.”

  He closed his eyes and lowered his head, pressing his forehead against hers so firmly she had to break away before she fell backward. She clutched his waistcoat for balance, his heartbeat thudding against the backs of her hands.

  “It matters not,” she began, but he pressed his finger to her lips.

  “It does matter, Georgiana. I should have said I was your…your uncle, for God’s sake, but the thought left my head when I saw her son.” His eyes were wild. His cheek muscle twitched, and a large vein throbbed upon his brow. “I can stand many things, but at that moment, I could not stand the thought...” He ground his teeth and pulled sharply away to strike the wall behind her. “Lockewood was wrong, wrong! I should have put an end to his plans to throw you away to a tosspot like Richmond!”

  Wincing in pain for him, Georgiana seized his hand and pressed her lips to his knu
ckles while he groaned.

  “Oh, Jack…”

  Shaking his head, he groaned again. “Tosspot or no, I’ve ruined your chances! Your brother…Oh, God, your brother! Lockewood will kill me, and deservedly so.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Part of the reason your brother desired me to escort you to France was to convince you of your duty.” He grimaced, but the scorn soon vanished from his face.

  Why did he and Jonathan always speak in riddles? “What duty, Jack?”

  He gently pulled his hand from her grip. “You were meant for…for that loathsome oaf, Richmond. And now, because of me, you will have no one, once he and his mother return to England and tell your brother what has happened.” He stared at her in silence.

  She gave him a reassuring pat on the chest. “Do not worry so. I’m certain Jonathan will understand.” She didn’t want to admit she was partly to blame. If she’d only listened to him and gone back to Bolbec without a fuss, they wouldn’t have bumped into the Richmonds.

  Sighing, he took her hand and threaded it through his arm. “Let us go. I’ll try to solve this dilemma whilst we ride.”

  She forced a downcast look on her face, although she sensed her horizons had just widened considerably. She would not have to marry a pig like Herbert Richmond. Had they not been in public she would have kissed him for thanks. How utterly brilliant Jack was! He’d saved her from a fate worse than death, twice in as many days.

  “I’m sure you will think of something,” she said. It probably would not be too maidenly for her to rejoice in the fact Jack had singlehandedly destroyed all her brother’s future prospects for her. With any luck, Lady Richmond would inform Almack’s patronesses that Georgiana Lockewood was not suitable for marriage. She could live her days the way she wanted: in perfect freedom without any limitations imposed by a dreadful husband.