Taming the Rake (12 page)

Madame Simone grabbed Gina’s arm, stopping her. “Don’t you understand? It is unnecessary. What you have come for is as we say a fait accompli.”

Gina’s brows drew in across her nose. “How do you know why I have come?”

“I hear the rumors.” The cyprian wobbled a smile through her tears. “You intend to marry Lord Coventry and you do not wish his attentions otherwise occupied, no?”

“No, uh, I—” Gina stopped. She blushed, suddenly ashamed. That was exactly what she had intended. Had her intentions been so obvious?

“But you see,” Madame Simone continued, “Lord Coventry has already done as you wish. After the play he made it very clear that my ‘services’ are no longer needed.” Her voice trembled. “He has no further use for me.” She made a small choking sound and burst into tears.

Feeling helpless, Gina fumbled around in her reticule and handed her a handkerchief. The woman’s anguish was real. It had never occurred to Gina that someone who sold her body for money and jewels could form an attachment of the heart. “You love him very much?” Gina asked tentatively.

Unable to speak with the sobbing racking her body, Madame Simone simply nodded.

It was impossible to watch such an outpouring of emotion and not be moved and outraged on her behalf. Lord Coventry had carelessly discarded the poor creature as a useless plaything. But Gina’s anger at him was also tinged with guilt directed toward herself. Hadn’t she been just as unfeeling? She’d marched in determined to be rid of his mistress, heedless of the other woman’s feelings. She’d been taught from a young age to revile such women, but seeing her pain had made Gina realize that Madame Simone deserved her sympathy—not her condemnation. Ashamed, Gina rose again to leave. This time Madame Simone made no move to stop her.

“I am sorry my presence has caused you such distress,” Gina said. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

“No,” she answered, shaking her head. “He will not change his mind.”

That isn’t exactly what she’d meant. “Is there someone I can call?”

“There is no one.”

Gina opened up her reticule and drew out the notes. “Here, take this.” She grasped Madame Simone’s hand, unfurled her fingers and folded the money in the palm of her hand.

Madame Simone stiffened. “It’s not necessary.” She started to hand it back. “He may be coldhearted, but Lord Coventry is not parsimonious.”

“Please,” Gina urged softly, considerate of the woman’s pride. “Take it. I feel horrible about coming here like this. I want you to have it. Perhaps it will give you some added time…” Gina left off, not knowing how to finish. How did one broach the subject of needing to find a new protector?

Madame Simone studied her face, weighing her sincerity, and nodded, quietly slipping the notes into the voluminous folds of her skirts.

Gina walked to the door. “My coming here was wrong. But you are mistaken if you think that Lord Coventry’s actions had anything to do with me.”

Madame Simone stared at her, as if she felt sorry for her. “Oh, but they did. He wants you.” Her voice barely sounded above a whisper. “Though perhaps neither of you realizes how badly.”

Gina wanted to argue, but thought better of it, leaving Madame Simone to repair her broken heart.

By the time Gina arrived at the Blakemore’s soirée, to characterize her as incensed would be a prodigious understatement. How could any man share intimacies with a woman and then so heartlessly cast her aside? Coventry’s conduct with Lady Alice and the countless others who had come before her was truly abhorrent. Did he not realize the pain he left in his rakish wake? Or worse, did he simply not care?

She intended to find out.

But her visit to Madame Simone had taught her a harsh lesson in what fate comes from giving your heart to a man like Coventry. One that she would be sure to avoid.

The enjoyment of her game had quickly hit a sour note. Much like Lady Penelope’s singing. She winced as the piercing sound rattled her teeth. Thankfully, the girl soon finished her aria and Gina rose from her chair to stretch her legs, while sending her enthusiastic partner, Mr. Collins, off to procure a glass of ratafia.

“Are you enjoying the recital, Lady Georgina?”

Gina’s discomfort quickly transformed into a full-fledged smile as her hostess approached. “Yes, it’s delightful, Lady Blakemore,” she lied graciously. Gina had always admired the Countess of Blakemore. A few years older than herself, she too had taken her time in choosing a husband. And from what Gina could tell, it had been an exemplary decision. The earl was unfashionably devoted to his bride.

Lady Blakemore’s eyes twinkled. “She’s dreadful. But don’t let my mother-in-law hear me say so,” she whispered. Lady Penelope was Lord Blakemore’s youngest sister and she was making her come out this season. “I think if Penelope wants to find a husband, she might well consider mummery.”

Gina giggled and winked conspiratorially. “I will not say a word. Your secret is safe with me.”

Lady Blakemore laced her arm through Gina’s and ushered her away from the crowd. “Just as yours is safe with me,” she said.

Not understanding, Gina tilted her head to the side.

Lady Blakemore lowered her voice even more. “You know. The Rake Slayers.”

Her eyes widened. News of their game had indeed spread throughout town if a respectable married woman such as Lady Blakemore had heard. Gina would need to have a serious talk with Cecelia. Their circle of a few “trusted” friends had indeed grown wide.

“Don’t worry,” Lady Blakemore continued. “I think it’s marvelous. Lord Coventry deserves to get his comeuppance. Did you know that he tried to interfere with my marriage to Blakemore?”

“No,” Gina said, aghast. “I had no idea.”

Lady Blakemore nodded. “Well, he did. He tried to seduce me and arranged for my husband—though he wasn’t my husband at the time—to happen upon us in the garden.”

“How horrible,” Gina exclaimed, a sick feeling quivering in her stomach. Would the stories of Coventry’s despicable deeds never end?

Lady Blakemore patted her hand, soothing her obvious mortification. “Don’t worry, nothing happened. Lord Coventry is a handsome man, but I’ve always sensed something cold about him. And I was much too in love with my husband to dally with anyone else.” She smiled dreamily. “I still am.” She sighed contentedly. “I think it was some kind of test on Lord Coventry’s part. But in any event, I shan’t forget his trickery. If you need anything, just ask.”

“I will,” Gina said, still absorbing the latest gash in Coventry’s unknightly armor.

The countess led Gina back to the drawing room. “Blakemore was hoping Coventry would come tonight, but I suppose our entertainment is too tame for the likes of him.” She returned Gina to her chair. “Perhaps it is for the best. I’m not sure I could muster a civil tongue.”

Thinking of all she had learned about Coventry today, Gina felt much the same.

The countess moved on to speak with her other guests and Gina looked around the room for Mr. Collins, wondering where he’d disappeared to with her punch. She frowned, catching sight of Augusta across the room. She was seated on a small settee flanked by Lord Ashley and Mr. Carrington, though all of her properly maidenly demure attention was fixed on Lord Ashley.

As no one else seemed to notice what was going on, Gina had a mind to pull the girl away from the Hellfire Rake and give her a severe chastising. Lord Ashley was a thoroughly improper suitor—almost as bad as Augusta’s brother. Gina had known him since she was a girl. But there was more to it than that. As a young girl she’d once fancied herself besotted with him, until she’d stumbled upon him tupping a serving maid in the barn. Though he was probably no more than eighteen at the time, he’d hardly seemed to have matured any in the past few years. Mr. Carrington, on the other hand, had an exceptional gentlemanly manner; Augusta would be wise to save her attentions for him.

When Augusta giggled at something Lord Ashley whispered in her ear, Gina decided that she’d had enough. But something—or rather someone—stopped her from moving. She felt his presence, knowing immediately who it was, before she saw him. Or perhaps she recognized the now-familiar scent of warm spice and port. He’d come up behind her while she had been focused on Augusta. A dark, looming presence that seemed to suck the air right out of her.

Thankfully, Mr. Collins picked that moment to return with her ratafia, saving Gina from forced conversation. In truth, she did not trust herself to speak.

Her neck prickled with the heat of his gaze, but still she refused to turn and acknowledge him. Instead, she spent the better part of an hour barely able to breathe as a succession of young ladies took their turn demonstrating their varied accomplishment in singing, the harp, and the pianoforte.

Yet she was excruciatingly aware of him the entire time.

Following the polite applause that signaled the end of the recital, Gina stood with the assistance of Mr. Collins.

“Did you enjoy the performances, Lady Georgina,” he asked, releasing her hand.

“Very much, Mr. Collins.” He really was a pleasant man, with his soft brown eyes. He was fashionably lean and only half a foot taller than her. Not at all imposing or overwhelming. Why couldn’t she be attracted to someone like him?

“It’s quite warm,” he continued. “Would you care to take some air in the garden?”

“I would be delighted—”

A firm hand gripped her elbow. The broad shield of his chest pressed against her shoulder. “Sorry to interrupt, old boy, but Lady Georgina has promised me a turn about the garden.” His fingers increased their pressure on her arm. “Haven’t you, Lady Georgina?” The challenge in his voice dared her to deny him.

“I hardly think it’s proper…,” Mr. Collins started.

Gina’s mouth pursed into a flat line. Mulishly, she wanted to argue. But something in his voice told her he’d make an even bigger scene if she did. Conscious of the many eyes turned in their direction, she forced a captivated smile to her lips. “Lord Coventry, I’d thought you’d forgotten all about me?” she asked with mock playfulness.

He returned her sarcasm in spades. “I find it
impossible
to forget about you, Lady Georgina.”

Good. It was hardly the reaction he’d been hoping for, and Gina couldn’t help but be pleased.

Leaving a sputtering Mr. Collins behind, Coventry steered her toward the garden. Gina looked to Augusta for a reprieve, but found her utterly enthralled, in too deep a conversation with Lord Ashley to notice Gina’s plight. Gina thought about resisting—remembering what had happened the last time she went into a dark garden with him—but she stole a quick glance at his expression and thought better of it. He had something other than seduction on his mind.

He was livid. Whatever it was that had him all in a twist was probably best said away from the inquisitive ears of the ton.

He dragged her across the gravel paths, heading toward the hedgerow maze that dominated the garden, modeled on the larger version at Hampton Court. Sharp rocks pocked the soles of her satin slippers.

“Slow down,” she said. “The stones hurt my feet.”

“Stop complaining,” he hissed. “If it hurts that much, I’ll toss you over my shoulder and carry you.”

Gina pressed her lips together. She did not doubt that he meant it. Of all the indignities. Deeper and deeper they wound their way through the maze until there was no chance that anyone from the party would be able to see them. He spun her around to face him. The hazy moonlight cast a sinister shadow across his face, sharpening the soft angles of his features.

“I thought I warned you not to interfere.”

He was drunk and furious. Not the most promising of combinations.

She squared her shoulders. What did he have to be angry about? “If you don’t like the divan, just say so. There is no need to be so rough,” she said, trying to pry her elbow out of his hand.

“It’s not the blasted divan,” he seethed. “And if you think this is rough, you haven’t seen anything yet.”

A shiver of awareness slid down her belly. The wicked tone of his voice made it clear that he wasn’t talking about her elbow.

Focus,
Gina reminded herself. He was getting to her again with his naughty innuendo. “Then what?” she asked. “The curtains?”

He growled in response.

Too bad they hadn’t chosen to make a wager about who could make a rake the most furious; she’d have won in a heartbeat. But oddly enough, despite Augusta’s misgivings, Coventry’s anger didn’t frighten her. If anything, it gave her a strange sense of accomplishment. In some perverse way, she’d managed to crack through his shell. No longer was he detached and indifferent. Angry, teeming with emotion, he came alive.

Baiting him, it turned out, was invigorating, and as much fun as she’d had in years. “Then what is it that has you in such a dither,” she asked haughtily.

At the word “dither,” she thought he might have an apoplexy. There was nothing cold about him now. His eyes were no longer hard as marble, but were burning a deep blue midnight. His face truly was magnificent with the lean lines, angular cheekbones and squared masculine jaw. But that tic in his jaw had really grown quite pronounced. She yearned to reach out and smooth it with her finger.

“Why do you suppose my carriage was parked on Curzon Street when I was blocks away at Brooks’s?”

Gina blanched. That was not what she expected. How could he have found out about her little visit so quickly? She hesitated. “I don’t know.”

“Neither did I,” he said bluntly. “That’s why after Ponsonby’s strange remark that he’d seen my carriage across town, I returned home to speak with Mr. Jennings. Do you have any idea what he told me?”

“I couldn’t conceive—”

“Oh, I’m sure you could,” he said, pulling her closer until the top of her head rested just under his chin. Dear God, she could feel the entire muscled plane of his rigid body. Her body instantly responded to his undeniable raw sexuality. The heat that seemed to radiate from him engulfed her. His voice lowered. “Jennings said that you borrowed my carriage for a short errand.”

Gina couldn’t find her tongue. His hand was resting on the small of her back and with her head dipped back, she feared that he intended to kiss her. Her pulse raced frantically.