How to Marry a Rogue

by Anna Small

  “I daresay she has her own friends to keep her occupied.” He cleared his throat and tugged on his neckcloth in the same manner Jack had when he was nervous.

  “Yes, Jonathan, let us introduce ourselves.” Georgiana rejoiced in his discomfort. Although she could not deduce why he would hesitate to meet such a personage, she wanted to punish him.

  His eyes narrowed, but Sophie would not be swayed now she had a fellow conspirator. He sighed and shook his head.

  “I can see we shall not have a pleasant evening until my two girls are satisfied.” He pushed ahead and cleared a path for Sophie and Georgiana. They reached Mrs. Leister, who was entertaining the group around her with a story about an inebriated theatre patron who’d jumped from his box down to the stage.

  Her laughter stopped abruptly when she noticed Jonathan. Georgiana could not mistake the flicker of surprise and recognition in the other woman’s eyes. If Sophie noticed, she made no indication. Mrs. Leister sank into a graceful curtsy. Georgiana couldn’t help but stare. Sophie, too, was mesmerized.

  “Mr. Lockewood. How lovely to find you here.”

  Sophie gaped while Jonathan bowed. “Mrs. Leister, may I present my wife, the former Sophie Mallory?”

  The women curtsied, and Mrs. Leister smiled at Georgiana. “This must be your sister, Mr. Lockewood. My, she is all grown up now.”

  “And a married woman,” Jonathan added. He nodded at Georgiana. “She is now Mrs. Jack Waverley.” He punctuated each syllable of Jack’s name in an odd way.

  Mrs. Leister’s finely drawn black brows quivered against her ivory skin for a second. “Congratulations, Mrs. Waverley. I hope you will be very happy.”

  “I will…I am.” She glanced at Sophie to see if she had noticed anything amiss with the other woman’s reaction, but Sophie merely clapped her hands to her chest as if she had received the most marvelous present.

  “We will not detain you further,” Jonathan said after an uncomfortable silence.

  Mrs. Leister gave Georgiana a little smile. “Perhaps we will meet another time.”

  “I would like that, Mrs. Leister.” She returned the smile, but her face felt frozen. She clutched the edges of her skirt with stiff fingers. As she walked away with her brother and sister-in-law, Georgiana couldn’t help but wonder if Jonathan had been hesitant to introduce her to the actress for a particular reason. A reason that had to do with Jack. Before she could question him, the group in front of her parted.

  “There he is! Over by the punch.” Her knees wobbled a bit at the sight of her husband’s broad-shouldered form, bedecked in gaudy attire from a curly black-haired wig that reached his waist to the shiny tips of his leather boots.

  Jonathan’s lip curled. “A pirate. I should have expected as much. Go to your husband, then, my dear, grown up sister. We will finish our conversation another time.”

  Georgiana hurried across the ballroom. She concealed a frown behind her fan. Why would he surround himself with beautiful women rather than seek her? She took a quick breath and tapped his shoulder with her fan.

  “I’ve been waiting for you, sir,” she said breathlessly.

  He turned around, his lips curled into a smile from the previous joke. The sapphire blue eyes gleamed at her. Too late, she realized the straight, Roman nose was not the crooked one she knew and loved so well on her husband’s face. His costume was magnificent, but she doubted Jack was so skillful as to be able to change the curve of his cheekbones or the color of his eyes.

  Edward Mitford swept the buccaneer hat from his head and bowed. “I’ve been looking for you, my lady.”

  She nearly fainted at the reach of her mistake. To confront a gentleman—to confront him in such a public manner—oh, God, if Jack were inside the ballroom and came across her speaking to Edward—

  She hastily curtsied. “Forgive me, sir. I mistook you for someone else.” She clutched the full skirts of her costume and swept it out of the way so she could make a quick exit. The layers of petticoats were unyielding and she stumbled.

  Edward caught her hand. “I know that voice! Wait, my dear goddess. Do not go.”

  He led her to the middle of the floor, while she tried vainly to remain fixed in place. She looked around frantically for Jonathan and Sophie, but they were admiring the statuary along the walls. One statue depicted a mother and child, and she knew her brother would not turn his attention from the marble infant soon enough.

  Edward’s hand possessed her waist. She was grateful her mask prevented him from recognizing her.

  “Are you not the delightful younger sister of Lord Aubrey? You caught my eye at Vauxhall last week.”

  She was nearly dizzy from the waltz. His hand clutched hers in an iron grip. Even through the layers of both their gloves, she fancied she could feel his heated skin.

  “No, I am not.” She fought for control while her mind tossed around ideas of how to break away without his being the wiser.

  “Ah, you are going to play the coquette.” His fingers caressed her shoulder just above the line of her protecting stays. She shivered and he mistook her trembling for something else. The blue eyes leered at her. “I know I have seen you before, sweeting. Pray, remind me, and let us renew our acquaintance.”

  They reached the edge of the dance floor. Before she could reply, a gloved hand tapped Edward’s shoulder. His smile vanished, and they stepped to the side. Jonathan glowered at them from behind his face paint and mask.

  “Unhand my sister, you scoundrel.”

  Edward stepped back, his face blanched. Georgiana nearly laughed at his cowardice. “Forgive me, Aubrey,” Edward began.

  “I am not Aubrey, you damned fool.” Jonathan stepped closer.

  Edward’s head bobbed from side to side as he examined first Jonathan and then Georgiana, and back again. His lips split into a grin. “Lockewood! And his engaging sister. What a delight to see you both this evening.” He bowed to Jonathan, who refused to return the courtesy.

  Sophie tugged on Jonathan’s sleeve. “Please, my dear. Not here.”

  His gaze remained fixed on Edward. “Sophie, please take my sister and go to the exit. I will join you shortly.”

  “Georgiana sought me. Did you not, Georgie?”

  His hand dropped from her waist. Georgiana took refuge beside Sophie. “Jonathan, I wish to go home.” She glanced around the crowded ballroom for a sign of Jack, her face on fire. How would she ever explain to Jack she had mistaken Edward for him?

  “I will have words with you, sir,” Jonathan said, his voice tight.

  “You will ignore our agreement?” Edward clicked his tongue against his teeth. “How unlike the imperturbable Jonathan Lockewood.”

  “Our agreement be damned, Mitford,” Jonathan hissed. The seams of his white evening gloves strained against his knuckles. “Stay away from Georgiana, or I swear to God, I’ll…”

  “What’s all this? Come, come, gentlemen.” Lord Hetherington’s jovial voice interrupted Jonathan’s threat. He offered his arm to Sophie. “I came to seek a dance with your lovely wife, Lockewood. Do you mind?”

  Edward took the opportunity to walk away while Jonathan glowered after him. He turned his gaze to her. Something shriveled inside her. His lips pinched shut and he gave a slight shake of his head.

  “I did not know it was him,” she protested.

  He closed his eyes for a few seconds and when he opened them, smiled gently at her. “It matters not. The man is a toadstool among roses, no matter where the garden may lie. You are pale, my dear. Let us find Sophie and return home. You may stay with us tonight.”

  She almost heard the unspoken words he wanted to say. Because your husband is not here to protect you. She followed him to the farthest salon away from Edward, who pointedly ignored them. Sophie caught her eye as she whirled around the ballroom with Lord Hetherington. Georgiana gave her a tremulous smile, and her sister-in-law appeared relieved.

  “What did he mean by an agreement with you?” She hadn’t meant to speak so
suddenly. Jonathan’s jaw clenched.

  “I have not the slightest idea what you are talking about.”

  Georgiana picked at a tiny morsel of cake. Sophie’s doctor had assured her the daily nausea would pass. She’d sworn him to secrecy, assuring him she would inform her brother and his wife of her not-so-surprising news, but first wanted to tell her husband. In truth, she wanted to create a home with Jack before introducing a baby into their odd little family, but wasn’t sure how to go about it.

  She glanced at her brother. Jonathan’s cheeks bore two red spots like apples. She recognized from childhood the telltale sign he was lying. “Edward said something about an agreement. Why would you have any dealings with him at all?”

  “I have none. There are none. Change the subject, or keep quiet.”

  “I must have heard incorrectly.” Her voice betrayed her hurt.

  Before he could reply, Sophie joined them, breathless and bright-eyed, but concerned for them both. “I think we may leave now,” she said.

  Georgiana could not have agreed more.

  ****

  The smoke-filled room made his eyes water and his throat scratchy, but Jack remained at his table, watching with pretended boredom as the dealer distributed the cards. Inwardly, he cursed the late hour. Georgiana was probably dancing the evening away, enjoying her time with Lockewood and Sophie. He should be with her. But a man could not keep a roof over his head nor settle his debts with his tailor when he relied on a pittance from a grumbling old miser. Nor would he rely on the charity of the bewitching little wife he’d somehow acquired.

  He paused a second before looking at his cards. The queen of hearts stared mutely up at him. Her golden hair tumbled down her bosom, so like Georgiana’s. Scowling, he sorted the cards in his hand, tucking the queen to the back.

  “Tough luck there, old man,” Lord Winston murmured, drawing on his pipe before washing down the smoke with a gulp of brandy.

  “Pardon?”

  “You looked dismayed for a moment. I wondered if it was your cards, but you never lose. Must be that delectable bride you took a few months ago. Lockewood’s sister, am I right?”

  “What about her?” Jack leaned back into his chair and slowly twirled the stem of his glass between his fingers.

  Winston placed his hand on his chest. “Nothing, Waverley. I wonder why a man so newly wed into a fortune would choose to gamble every night as if his life depended upon it.”

  “Lockewood has his sister’s fortune on a tight leash,” another man muttered.

  Heat rose rapidly up Jack’s throat, settling somewhere between his eyebrows and his hairline. “Wonder all you like. I see no need in changing my old habits.”

  “Forgive me, Waverley. I meant no disrespect.” Winston mirrored Jack’s pose. He was nearly as big as Jack, which didn’t worry Jack in the least. But it was Winston’s penchant for revealing a cleverly hidden knife at the last minute of fisticuffs that did unsettle him.

  “Fortunately, Winston, I am not of a mind to fight this evening. I came here to lose the remainder of my fortune.”

  “Then, I am your man.” Winston settled in his chair and loosened his cravat. An hour passed, and then another. Lord Winston finally pushed back from the table and stretched, yawning elaborately. “Well, I’m off to my own lovely bride, though it’s been a good twenty years since I called her so. Waverley, should you not also attend your wife? She’s probably been weeping lo these many hours in your absence.”

  “Probably weeps when he’s at home,” Viscount Atherton, another player at the table, said with a smirk.

  The others laughed, and Jack allowed the corner of his mouth to curl into the semblance of a grin.

  “She doesn’t weep at all, if you must know.” He tucked his winnings into his purse, stuffing it inside his coat. “I have a marvelous understanding with her.”

  “She allows you to do as you please?” Atherton drained the last of his brandy. “My own wife promised just the same, and that was…oh, five years ago. I could gamble as I wished, and she would turn a blind eye to any…” He twirled the stem of his glass and winked at Jack. “...indiscretions.”

  “They are always accommodating in the beginning, Waverley,” Winston interrupted. His eyes widened in sudden hilarity. “Aha! I see it is so! Have you advised your paramours to stay away? Paid off any Cyprians who may cause trouble at your hearth?”

  The other men in the room had taken an active interest in the conversation. Some looked amused, while others shook their heads in sympathy. Flushing, Jack pulled at his neckcloth for air.

  “Fortunately, I do not entertain half the poxied mistresses as you, Winston, so it was fairly easy to accomplish.”

  “Well, he hasn’t had to give up gambling,” Atherton remarked.

  Winston nodded. “That will be next week. And wait until she’s carrying one of his brats! I’ll eat my hat if he doesn’t vanish from all the gaming hells in the city before next Friday.”

  “I’ll provide the broth to boil your hat, Winston.” Jack rose from his chair, preparing to leave. Atherton guffawed.

  “I will take that bet! Good luck, Waverley! Kiss your bride for us.” He leered at Jack. “On second thought, do not bother. I’m sure she’ll be most appreciative of companionship outside the marital bedchamber after a few more weeks of marriage to you.”

  Jack had never liked Viscount Atherton. Couldn’t stand him, if truth be known. So he hardly minded at all when the viscount pretended to stumble against him when he rose to leave. He nearly sighed with satisfaction when the man raised his fist to strike, as it gave him an excuse to bury his fist into Atherton’s stomach, dropping the man to the ground.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Jack appeared ghostlike in the misty garden. Georgiana blinked a few times until her vision cleared. The gravel crunched beneath his feet as he approached her, and she hastily swiped at the tears on her cheek.

  “Did you receive my note? I sent word I’d miss the ball. I’m sorry I wasn’t there.” Jack unwound his neckcloth and stuffed it in his pocket. “It’s beastly hot out here, Georgie. Why are you sitting outside with all the buzzing creatures of the night?” To prove his point, he swatted at a moth.

  He sat beside her on the stone bench, but she rose a second later, taking a few steps away and keeping her back to him.

  “I wasn’t expecting you before midnight, and thought I would take a walk.” She was glad her voice sounded steady. Involuntarily, she placed her hand lightly on her abdomen. Whether it was to reassure the tiny being within her or her own tattered nerves, she didn’t know.

  “I will join you, then.”

  She quickly faced him, wiping all traces of misery from her face. “No, please. You’ve been busy all day and probably wish to rest. I will be inside shortly.”

  He gazed down at her, the moonlight reflecting off his eyes until they resembled pools of mist. She fiddled with the edges of her skirt, her breath catching in her throat. Why would he not walk away but continue to stare at her like that? His hair was mussed, and she wondered if it were from his own restless fingers or one of his many paramours.

  Miserable, she lowered her gaze and stared at the front of his chest. She pointed at his waistcoat.

  “You’ve blood on your clothes, Jack.”

  “It isn’t mine.”

  She lifted her eyes, questioning him with her silence. He brushed a strand of hair from her face, a smile touching the edge of his lips.

  “Were you boxing again?”

  “I never look this pretty when I’ve been boxing, my dear.” His laugh faded when she turned and started for the bench again. “Are you in such a hurry to be rid of me, Georgie?”

  She hissed through her teeth, her nerves shattered. “I do wish you’d stop calling me that. I have a proper name, you know.” She clenched and unclenched her hands. No doubt, he’d been fighting over a woman. Again.

  “I do know. In fact, I have made good on my promise to you in France to come up with
a name more befitting the proper married woman you’ve become.”

  He wrapped the end of one long curl hanging down her shoulder around his finger and gave it a little tug. She tried to pull away, but he reached for her waist with his other hand, drawing her close even though she stumbled to remain where she was. She pressed her fists against his chest, but she might have been pushing against an oak.

  “Do you not want to know what it is?” His voice was husky and low. She fought the quivering sensation rolling through her limbs.

  “Most probably a variation on some embarrassing exploit you remember from my childhood. Perhaps you’re going to remind me of the time I cut the whiskers off the stable kittens, and the spanking I received afterwards.” She was horrified to hear the tremor in her voice. Even though she wanted to push away, she was drawn to him. It was inevitable as the moon controlling the tide.

  He brushed his thumb across her cheek without commenting on her tears. “No, I think you will like this one. Although that story about the kittens is rather amusing. I’d forgotten until you reminded me.”

  She sighed with exasperation, though it was more to do with her own feelings than with him. “Please, do hurry and tell me. I wish to go back inside.”

  “I thought you were taking a walk.”

  “I’m…I’m done with my walk.” In another moment, she would make a dreadful scene. She gulped quickly. “Tell me the ridiculous name so we may both have a laugh, and then we’ll go into the house.” Until sunrise, when you’ll leave me again and go to God knows whom. Perhaps the actress with the violet eyes.

  “I must whisper it in your ear.”

  He wore a decidedly smug grin on his face, which only deepened her agony. Another joke. Another endless string of teasing. This was her reward for marrying a man who was her older brother’s friend. A man who remembered her in ruffled petticoats and her hair tied up in bows.

  A man who could enjoy her company in bed but would never take her seriously as his wife.

  She closed her eyes, heaving an irritated sigh as his head lowered. His breath fanned her cheek, and she felt the lightest touch of his lips against the outer shell of her ear. Her heart thudded dully as she waited for him to speak.