The Rake (16 page)

She was as bound by her guardian’s decision
as if she’d chosen it herself, and she was willfully dishonoring
it.

She’d told herself she didn’t care and it
didn’t matter, but she knew very well that she wouldn’t have had to
if it didn’t. She realized though, as the evening progressed, that
she was willing to accept the consequences later of her actions
now.

She silenced the clamoring of guilt and
shame. She couldn’t altogether silence the voice of fear. Her
conversation with Jonathan Flemming returned again and again, and
each time his words returned to her mind they frightened her more
powerfully.

Garrett had known that she hadn’t been with
a man. Flemming would know that she had. What he might do when he
learned of it didn’t bear thinking of. He would almost certainly
figure out that it had been Garrett she’d lain with.

Would he publicly denounce her? Call Garrett
out? Beat her?

It was a terrifying thought, but
unfortunately, not something that she could change now. Whether she
went to Garrett one more time before he left or not, that couldn’t
be changed.

As fearful as she was of the possible
repercussions, she couldn’t be sorry for it, and when she realized
that she did not wish it undone, she pushed the fear to the back of
her mind determined not to allow it to torture her. She would face
the consequences when she had to. She wouldn’t allow her dread in
the meantime to govern her actions or prevent her from making the
most of the time she had left to her.

When she retired for the evening, she went
about preparing for bed as usual. Sarah studied her suspiciously,
but she was far too wrapped up in trying to behave ‘normal’ to
really notice. In any case, she was certain that not asking Sarah
to help her would be enough to allay Sarah’s suspicions about her
plans.

If she hadn’t been so
swamped with guilt and so nervous, she would have realized that
that was exactly what
did
arouse Sarah’s suspicions. Is she’d asked, and
then argued and allowed Sarah to talk her out of it, Sarah would
have left her with the feeling that she’d ‘talked some sense into
the girl’. As it was, Sarah left her feeling nearly as uneasy as
Demi did.

She was too nervous to sleep. In any case,
she was fearful that if she tried to doze for a little while that
she wouldn’t wake until morning and she would discover she’d missed
her chance.

She had no clock in her room to tell her the
time, and no certainty, in any case, of what time she should make
the attempt. She worried over it for some time and finally recalled
that it had been very dark in Garrett’s room when she’d gone the
night before. The single lamp, turned low, had barely spilled
across the room and virtually no light had filtered in from
outside. Since Garrett’s room was on the same side of the house as
hers, that could only have meant that the moon had at least reached
its zenith by the time she’d arrived in his room.

Climbing from the bed, she went to the
window to check the moon’s progress. Clouds scudded across the sky,
but she could see the moonlight filtering through high above the
horizon. She studied it for several moments, wondering how long it
would take to reach the midpoint and finally moved away from the
window to the door to listen.

Lord Wyndham had still been downstairs with
Lord Moreland when she and the others had come upstairs and she
wondered if she shouldn’t give up the idea altogether. Perhaps he’d
forgotten he’d asked her to come back? Or maybe he’d changed his
mind?

Despite her fears/hope to the contrary,
she’d seen nothing in his eyes to make her think he realized that
it had been her the night before in his room. Perhaps a sense of
guilt had prompted him to rethink the matter? Few gentlemen worried
about dishonoring lowly maids, but she knew that Garrett was not
like that. Perhaps he’d been overcome with his needs the night
before, but then worried that he might get the girl dismissed or
pregnant if he pursued it?

She’d been pacing the distance between the
door and the window for hours it seemed before she heard the
telltale rap of his cane on the floor that told her he’d come
upstairs at last. She listened until he’d gone into his room and
closed the door, then moved back to the window.

The moon, she saw, was beyond her
vision.

He’d stayed downstairs long past the time
when she should have gone … to warn her away, she knew. He’d told
her not to risk it, but she knew what the risks were. If she was
willing to chance it, surely he wouldn’t send her away?

He was leaving tomorrow. Even if they
allowed her to go down to see him off, she would not have a moment
alone with him.

Shaking her doubts, she moved to the door
once more and waited until she heard it open again and Fitzhugh’s
tread as he retired for the evening.

Moving to the armoire, she unearthed the
maid’s clothing, pulled her night gown off and struggled into the
gown without bothering to don a chemise. When she’d stuffed her
hair under the mob cap, she went to the door and eased it open,
peering down the hallway.

She saw no sign of the footman who’d stood
in the hallway since her confrontation with her aunt. Pulling the
door open a little further, she leaned out to take a better
look.

Either her aunt hadn’t told him to watch
this night, or more likely, he’d decided to take a break and had
left his post.

She’d worry about that when the time came,
she decided. Slipping out the door, she closed it carefully, and
ran on tiptoe down the hallway to Garrett’s room, tapping lightly
on the panel. The door was snatched open almost at once. He was
wearing nothing but his breeches and she wondered if she’d
interrupted him as he undressed for bed.

Leaning around her, he glanced quickly up
and down the hallway. “You should go,” he said in a harsh whisper,
“before you’re seen here.”

Demi’s heart dropped. “I just wanted to tell
you good-bye.”

He shook his head. “Last night I was drunk.
It seemed perfectly reasonable to take what I wanted when you
didn’t protest. I’m not nearly drunk enough tonight to take that
kind of chance.”

Humiliation flooded her cheeks with pounding
color. Nodding, she turned away. Before she could take more than a
step back, however, she heard a slight sound from the direction of
the stairs. Even as she whirled to look, it connected instantly in
her mind that it must be the footman … and from the proximity of
the sound he must already have reached the upstairs landing. She
would never make it to her room before he saw her.

Apparently, Garrett realized that, as well.
Grasping her arm, he hauled her inside his room and closed the
door.

They waited, listening tensely as he took up
the position he’d assumed for the past several nights in the
hallway near the head of the stairs.

Demi didn’t know whether she was more
frightened or more embarrassed. Garrett didn’t even want her and
now she was trapped in his room and unable to flee her shame. She
glanced around the room. As it had been the night before, only one
lamp was lit. The one beside the bed had been extinguished.

After a moment, she moved quietly away from
the door. Things had gone badly enough as it was. She didn’t want
Garrett to see her well enough to realize that she wasn’t one of
the maids. As humiliated as she was, it was some comfort that at
least he didn’t know it was her.

Moving to the window, she pulled the curtain
back and stared down at the darkened lawn. The moon had moved far
enough across the sky that the area directly below was in darkness,
but a little further, it lit up the lawn almost like day.

Or, perhaps, it was only the sharp
contrast?

She didn’t realize that
Garrett had followed her until he placed his hands lightly on her
shoulders. “You are trapped now, until he falls
asleep--
if
he
falls asleep. If not, we shall have to think of something
else.”

Demi stiffened at his touch. “It would be
better, I think, my lord, if I gathered the laundry … or took a
tray if there is one … and took my chances now. If he says
anything, I could always say I’d been asked to bring something. If
I stay longer, I’ll not have even so flimsy an excuse as that.”

“
I have the gravest of
doubts that your disguise will fool him even for a second. It did
not fool me, and I was dead drunk. Of course, I would know you if I
were blind, and we can hope that his little excursion downstairs
was to have a little nip.… In which case, he is bound to go back
for another before long.”

A deluge of conflicting thoughts and
emotions went through her at his words. Foremost among them was a
sense of deep hurt. It was almost better to think that he hadn’t
known who she was than to think that he had and the only reason
he’d made love to her was because he was too drunk to consider the
consequences. “You did not seem drunk,” she said cautiously.

He snorted. “Because I was in bed, instead
of staggering around on my bum leg? Trust me. I was three sheets to
the wind.”

Demi cleared her throat. “But … you didn’t
even slur your words.”

“
Unfortunately, your timing
was all too perfect. A little earlier, and I’d have had the sense
to send you away. A little later, and I’d have been too far gone to
be a threat to you.”

Demi bowed her head, fighting the urge to
weep. She wished fervently that she had not come now. His refusal
to let her in was humiliating enough, but to find that what had
happened between them the night before was merely the result of too
much drink, too much carnal need, and not enough judgment was far
worse. Despite everything, she’d been overjoyed by the knowledge
that Garrett had been her first and that no one could take that
away from her, whatever else she was powerless to prevent. She drew
in a deep, shuddering breath. “I’m sorry. It was unconscionable of
me to put you in such an uncomfortable position, especially when
you’ve been so kind to me.

“
I didn’t mean for that to
happen. Truly. I just wanted to be certain that you were all right.
You’d been so ill. I was afraid that Sarah had only told me you
were getting better to keep me from worrying.

“
As for tonight … well, I
only came to tell you good-bye, in case I didn’t see you before you
left tomorrow. And … well, because I didn’t want to have to behave
as a polite stranger because of Aunt Alma.”

He removed his hands from her shoulders,
moving slightly away from her. “The regrets have set in I see.”

She flicked a glance at him, but she didn’t
actually make eye contact. Instead, she looked away again, put a
little more distance between them as she moved toward the
chair.

The unfortunate truth was that she didn’t
regret it, but he, obviously, did. It hurt that he did, and because
it hurt, it also made her angry. Despite the urge to tell him the
unvarnished truth, the temptation to wound him in return was
stronger still. She shrugged, moving away from the chair. She would
have to look at him if she sat down, and she didn’t think she could
look him in the eye and lie to him.

“
I expect Jonathan will
make me regret it, but it is a fitting revenge, all things
considered. Don’t you think?”

“
You made love to me to
spite Jonathan Flemming?”

Faintly, the smell of strong spirits wafted
warningly past her nostrils. He’d been downstairs for hours, no
doubt with Geoffrey, imbibing freely. She knew from seeing Geoffrey
in his cups that men were prone to dangerous and very unpredictable
mood swings when they imbibed. She should have been warned by the
tone of his voice, but she was too hurt and angry to pay any mind.
“He is my aunt’s choice, not mine. I may be powerless to stop them,
but I will at least have the satisfaction that he will realize on
our wedding night that someone has been before him. And then there
is the strong possibility that I might even now be with child. He
will hate me as I hate him each time he has to look at another
man’s child.” Always assuming he didn’t kill her for her perfidy
and disguise it to look like an accident … or beat her until she
lost the child and all chance of ever conceiving again.

At that moment, she almost relished the
thought that Garrett would have to live with her death on his
conscience … assuming he had one or even suspected Flemming had
killed her because of him.

“
I have misjudged you. You
are a cunning little jade,” he growled in a harsh
whisper.

The comment sent another
shaft of pain and anger through her. Demi flushed. She turned to
face him but found she still couldn’t meet his gaze. “You are angry
because you think I used you, when you were only using me to slake
your lust?” she gasped, outraged. “How very
male
of you! But as it happens, your
opinion of me is of no consequence. I’m just surprised you didn’t
call me a slut, but I expect that’s next. I suppose I am, for I
thoroughly enjoyed it. You are very good, even drunk. I must
suppose it comes from a great deal of practice.”

He caught her in two strides, jerking her up
against his body. “That’s enough, Demi.”

She struggled to pull away. Realizing almost
immediately that she couldn’t free herself unless he was willing to
release her, she glared at his bare chest. “I suppose I should
apologize for my clumsiness. I’ve had no practice myself, but that
can certainly be remedied. Married women, I understand, have far
more freedom for this sort of thing. How long should I wait, do you
think, before I can take a lover?”

Gripping her shoulders, he set her far
enough away from him that he could look down at her. Demi refused
to lift her head to meet his gaze, however. “Have it your way,
then. I’ll give you what you came for,” he growled. Gripping her
chin almost painfully, he tilted her face up, lowered his head and
covered her mouth angrily, silencing her at last in a kiss that was
meant to be punishing and hurtful.