Taming the Rake (18 page)

That’s what she was afraid of. And she wasn’t just talking about gambling.

“I won! I won!” Gina jumped up and down as blue led the colorful stampede of horses across the finish line. In her exuberance, she unthinkingly threw her arms around Lord Rockingham’s neck.

Surprisingly conscious of propriety, Lord Rockingham carefully peeled her arms off before anyone could notice. In the excitement it seemed that no one had. “You certainly did. Congratulations. CWRW was an inspired choice. You can collect your winnings in town tomorrow morning. The horse was a long shot; I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised.”

When her excitement died down, she caught Coventry glowering at her. He apparently hadn’t missed her mortifying breach of propriety.

Embarrassed, she turned back to Lord Rockingham. “How thoughtless of me, what of your own wager?”

He shook his head with mock gravity. “I’m afraid green was not as lucky as blue today. But I have learned, next time I will follow your lead.”

She giggled. Conscious of the eyes still on her, she asked, “And Lord Coventry?”

“Neither was red.” He looked at his friend pityingly. “Though my paltry five hundred does not compare to ten thousand.”

Gina paled. She felt as if the breath had been knocked out of her. “Ten thousand guineas? On a horse race? It is a fortune.”

He shrugged. “That’s Coventry. Win big, lose big.”

“But it’s so irresponsible. What of his sisters? His mother?”

She could tell from his tone that he thought she was being naïve. “It is not all that uncommon, Lady Georgina. Don’t give it another thought. He’ll win it back tomorrow or the next. He always does.”

But what if he didn’t? She had to put a stop to such blatant irresponsibility. Before he lost everything.

Coventry was in a foul mood. And not just because he’d lost ten thousand guineas on a blasted filly. A filly who’d run more like an old mare. No, it was more than the results of the race that infuriated him.

It was Lady Georgina, of course. The beautiful source of all his recent woes. What the hell did she think she was doing with Rockingham?

She’d end up causing a scandal if she didn’t conduct herself with more decorum. The bitter irony of the situation did not escape him. He couldn’t believe that he was the one thinking about propriety.

After she’d thrown her arms around his friend, he’d almost done something rash. Like storm over there, rip her arms from around his neck, and throw her over his shoulder. The intensity, the viciousness of his emotion shook him.

He shouldn’t care.

In fact, he should be happy. If she was besotted by Rockingham, she wouldn’t be pursuing him.

But the thought of such inconstancy
did
bother him. He never held her affection, just her interest. And now, apparently, not even that. Why he was surprised by her flightiness, he didn’t know.

This was what he’d wanted. Wasn’t it?

Tomorrow, he’d see the advantages. Right now, he couldn’t see anything beyond the haze of jealousy. He recognized the emotion for what it was, and despised himself for a fool.

Afraid what she or others might see, for the rest of the afternoon he didn’t trust himself to look at her.

When they’d returned to Greenbrook, he’d headed straight for his study and for his whisky. He needed something harder and faster than port.

Later, a soft knock on the door jolted him out of his stupor. At his direction, Rockingham entered. He was the last person Coventry wanted to see right now. Or rather, the second to last.

“Sorry about the race, old boy.”

Coventry nodded. “I’ve had better.”

“I thought there might be something else that upset you today. Which brings me to why I’m disturbing your solitude.”

“I’ve had a lot on my mind. This week has hardly turned out as I expected.”

Rockingham grinned. “Not as any of us did. Not with all those high-flyers hightailing it back to London. But, all in all, it hasn’t turned out so bad.”

Coventry shrugged indifferently.

Rockingham cleared his throat. “You don’t mind if I court her, do you?”

Rigid, Coventry gripped his glass so hard his fingers turned white. He knew what was coming, and didn’t want to hear it. He fought to control the shaking in his voice. “I’m not sure I understand.”

“Lady Georgina. She’s not at all what I expected.”

“What do you mean?”

Rockingham shrugged. “I like her.” At Coventry’s expression he continued, “No one is more surprised about it than me. I’d begun to worry that I’d never find a suitable wife. But I need blunt, and she’s an heiress—it’s a match made in heaven.” He leaned closer. “And that mouth.” He shuddered, both men aware what he was thinking. It was the same thing Coventry thought about every time he looked at her mouth. “She’s lush and beautiful. It wouldn’t be too hard to bed her.”

Blood pounded in his ears, Coventry felt like he was going to explode. He gripped the arms of his chair to prevent him from landing a vicious punch on his friend’s leering face. He took a minute, allowing the rage to dissipate. Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to remain calm, reminding himself that he didn’t care.

“Why ask my permission?”

Rockingham studied him carefully. “I’m not asking your permission. But I thought you might want her for yourself.”

Coventry held his face impassive. Invincible. Detached. But the blood still raged through him. He quieted the voice inside that was desperate to bellow a denial.

“Lady Georgina means nothing to me.” He forced the usual derision back into his voice and ignored the sharp lance of pain slicing through his chest. “Happy hunting.” He lifted his glass. “Or should I say, happy fortune hunting?”

“She walks in beauty, like the night. Of cloudless climes and starry skies.” He stood below her, admiration shining in his handsome face as Gina carefully made her way down the grand staircase. One treacherous step at a time. After hours of preparation, she intended to do her utmost not to trip down the stairs. But preventing the billows of soft dark blue silk from twisting around her ankles while simultaneously not revealing too much of her legs didn’t make it easy.

Pride safely intact, she made it to the bottom and looked around, noting that everyone was present. She smiled graciously to the gentleman who’d spoken. The sentiment could easily be returned; he looked incredibly handsome in his black evening clothes. “Thank you, Lord Rockingham. A pretty verse. Is it yours?”

Coventry made an abrupt, snickering sound.

Lord Rockingham shot him a glance before he turned back to Gina, a roguish grin spread across his gorgeous face. “Alas, I wish I could lay claim, but it is actually something new of Byron’s.”

Gina wrinkled her nose. “I haven’t heard it before?”

“It’s not yet finished.” He leaned down and winked conspiratorially. “But if he could see your beauty tonight, I can’t but think that it would inspire him to completion.”

Gina giggled. He was a charming rogue, and she couldn’t help being flattered. But conscious of the eyes upon them, she lowered her gaze.

Gina didn’t quite know what to make of Lord Rockingham’s attention. Since the day of the race, he’d turned his considerable charms toward wooing her. A very proper wooing. Not the attempt at seduction that she would have expected from the affirmed rake. In truth, she didn’t quite know what to make of it. Certainly, it wasn’t difficult enjoying such a handsome man’s attentions, but Gina couldn’t help wishing Lord Rockingham was someone else.

Her gaze drifted over to Coventry. He, too, looked resplendent all set out for the evening’s festivities in his black evening clothes.

She stilled.

For a fraction of an instant, their eyes met before he deliberately looked away. Just as he’d done all week. Disappointment fluttered in her chest. A week ago, she’d thought she’d achieved a breakthrough. She’d thought Coventry might be jealous. But after that first day, he barely seemed to notice Lord Rockingham’s prodigious flirting.

Forcing Coventry’s attention back to her, she asked, “Shall we go?”

He bowed his head. “If everyone is ready?”

Excited murmurs of assent filled the hall as Gina quickly set about assisting the ladies with gathering their wraps and helping everyone into the waiting carriages. Tonight was the annual race-week ball; their week in the country was coming to an end. Tomorrow they would return to London, and Gina was no closer to Coventry proposing. If anything, it seemed more unlikely.

Even after an entire week of hands-on demonstration, he seemed blissfully impervious to her charms.

Anxious to prove her worth, and much to the delight of Augusta, who had little experience with such matters, Gina had taken over many of the hostess duties that would have fallen to Coventry’s sister. She approved the menus, instructed the servants on cleaning and other household matters, arranged suitable entertainment for the guests and like tonight, made sure the group made it to their destination in a timely and comfortable manner.

Her execution had been flawless. An enjoyable time was had by all (except perhaps Lord Ashley who moped about all week and Beaufort who’d mysteriously returned to London the day after the race). Coventry’s unplanned house party had been an unmitigated success.

But if Coventry was aware of her accomplishments, he did not let on.

Not that he’d been cross or rude. Indeed, it was just the confounding opposite. Through it all, through every staid picnic, soirée, and dinner, Lord Coventry had acted the perfect host. Much to Gina’s continued amazement, his behavior was beyond reproach. Not once did the pontificating voice of his aunt reach out in proprietous reprimand.

Devil take the blighter! He’d robbed Gina of all her fun. She’d been rather looking forward to a week of scolding.

His sudden removal to the realm of respectability should make her happy. She’d wanted him to act the gentleman and not the reprobate. But if anything, his formal politeness created an added distance between them. It almost, just almost, made her miss his fiery temper.

Nothing she did seemed to rattle him. If he was still furious over the disruption of his plans, he hadn’t let it show.

As much as she could, Gina sought him out, asking his opinion on something or another. But much to her chagrin, she hadn’t been able to find any time alone with him. For once she berated her own efficiency in insisting on such a proper chaperone.

She settled into her seat next to Mrs. Persimmons across from Lord Rockingham and Lord Ashley. The voice of the coachman rang out, a flick of the ribbons and they were on their way.

The entire week had been an exercise in frustration. Gina had begun to think that irrespective of how efficient or organized she was, Coventry would never heed the benefits of a wife. Nor could she imagine him hopelessly besotted. In retrospect, the wager seemed doomed to fail. But she wasn’t willing to admit defeat just yet.

There was always tonight.

Hell. This is what it must feel like. The torturous twisting of emotions that clawed at him, refusing to let go. Over the last week, Coventry had been plunged into the fiery pits of the eternally damned, and he couldn’t wait to climb his way out.

Tomorrow it would all be over. Tomorrow would be the end to the charade of propriety, the end of his unplanned house party, and the end of being forced to stand witness to the courtship of Lady Georgina.

Watching Rockingham fawning all over her this past week had been pure torture. Torture that was slowly driving him mad. His body fired just thinking about the two of them together. Was she aware how his friend’s eyes shadowed with lust whenever she appeared, how Rockingham boldly admired her breasts and backside, how he touched her whenever he could find an excuse? Coventry was finding it harder and harder to not intervene. Harder and harder to hold himself apart. He took a long hard drag of his cheroot, filling his lungs with the calming smoke before slowly exhaling.

Tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough.

He stretched his legs out in front of him, sinking deeper into the leather back of the chair as if he could escape from the turmoil surrounding him. The festive din of the crowd made it impossible, but while the other guests made their way to the dining room for a light supper, he removed to the card room, enjoying the sanctuary of solitude if only for a little while. Idly he cracked his jaw, watching the circles of smoke rise above his head and fade into the ornamental plaster ceilings above him.

His absence would be remarked upon, but he didn’t care. He’d had enough propriety this week to last him a lifetime. But he might as well go back to his usual helling around, as his proper behavior hadn’t deterred Lady Georgina any. She still pursued him relentlessly, taunting him with her sweet beauty. Oblivious to the desire she sparked in him.

He couldn’t take it much longer. She was like an itch that couldn’t be scratched, an itch that prevented him from thinking of anything else. He was utterly bewitched, taunted daily by the very thing that he wanted above all else, but could not have. Even the blatant offer by the sensuous Lady Darby earlier tonight had not tempted him.

Something was definitely wrong with him.

He had to do something to get her out from under his skin. And more and more he’d begun to realize that it would not be a simple matter of finding another woman.

The soft patter of dainty feet and a gentle perfume of roses alerted him to her presence—he hadn’t heard the door open. He forced himself not to move, even though every nerve ending immediately fired to attention and every muscle in his body tensed. Yet she was blissfully unaware of how close she was to danger.

“You are alone,” she said.

He thought he heard a faint trace of relief. “Shouldn’t I be?” He dared not raise his eyes to look at her. He knew how she looked. Beautiful. Desirable. Like she needed to be ravished.

“I w…wasn’t sure,” she stammered.

Ah. Lady Darby. Georgina thought he was having a tryst. If only she were right.

Her tone changed. “It’s quite boorish of you to skip supper.” She looked down her nose at his cheroot disapprovingly. “Your aunt will be furious.”