Taming the Rake by Monica McCarty
With the first few notes, Gina forgot her disquiet. The magic of the music took over, and the power of song filled her voice.
Hell and damnation, would the torment never end? Coventry felt like something had struck him square in the chest.
She sings like an angel.
If he’d thought to unbalance her, to make her feel uneasy by foisting an unexpected performance upon her, he’d failed. Miserably.
It was he who was unbalanced.
First at dinner when he’d caught Rockingham—or Rock as his close friends called him—gazing too persistently at her revealing décolletage, he’d felt the unmistakable rage of the green-eyed monster and now, hearing her sing. The beauty of her voice nearly felled him. Watching her face increasingly enraptured by the music, he thought he’d never seen anything more lovely. And innocent. Beautiful, kind, intelligent, and accomplished, Lady Georgina was everything that he’d dreamed of… once.
But not any longer.
Angels, he knew, did not exist.
Her voice belied his thoughts, rising with each octave as clear and pure as the song of a bird soaring through the heavens. He didn’t want to look at her, but he found himself unable to look away. She was simply too beautiful.
No matter how much he yearned to take her into his arms and succumb to the passion that he knew they’d share, he wouldn’t. If he were another man, he might be tempted. But he’d learned long ago how to shut out his desires, how to close off the part of him that made him vulnerable. Disappointment and betrayal had made him stronger. He’d become invincible, no longer susceptible to the siren call of a beautiful woman.
His harlot of a wife had shown him the danger in that.
Comparing his wife to Lady Georgina sounded disingenuous, even to his own jaded ears. No matter. Even if Lady Georgina was not like Serena, he was not the man for her. She deserved more than a debauched rake. He was not proud of the man he’d become, but neither was he ashamed. He was simply who he was. A man who’d learned to take his pleasure where he could find it, and not be beholden to anyone. Life was far simpler that way.
Though perhaps not as simple as he thought, remembering Lady Georgina’s suspicions about Simone.
In truth, nothing had been simple since Lady Georgina had forcefully interjected herself into his life. The question was how to rid himself of the unwelcome complication? Clearly he’d failed to intimidate her with anger and disdain, or she wouldn’t be here disrupting his party, with his extremely proper and decorous Aunt Eudora, no less.
All of his elaborate plans for naught. The cyprians had been turned back to London and the bacchanalian feast had transformed into a hopelessly conventional light supper and musicale. Fortunately, his Hellfire guests had been surprisingly accommodating.
Which gave him an idea.
What if he were just as accommodating?
He might not be able to rid himself of his uninvited guests, but he could make her victory not nearly as sweet by acting the perfect gentleman—assuming he could remember how, that is. If Lady Georgina thought to make him the subject of one big week-long reprimand from his aunt, she would be very disappointed.
It wasn’t just spite that drove him to such extremes. Perhaps if he could convince her of his reform, she would halt her determined pursuit and move on to another poor sod.
And Coventry could return to the haven of his clubs and whores, finding peace in the familiar emptiness.
When the applause had died down, Gina glanced up to find Coventry at her side. If she hoped to impress him, she was disappointed. He wore the same indifferent, controlled expression as he always did.
But his words gave her hope.
“Tell me, Lady Georgina, is there nothing you can’t do?”
He’d said it sardonically, but the backhanded compliment pleased her nonetheless. He had admired her voice. She grinned mischievously. “Not that I can think of, but I’ll be sure to let you know if I do.”
Her pert reply brought a smile to his lips. The sudden flash of white teeth and unexpected appearance of two dimples nearly shocked her senseless. A small gasp slipped out between her gently parted lips. Smiling, his face had transformed from handsome to breathtaking. A shiver of awareness spread over her, crawling along her prickled skin. He could capture her heart with that smile.
And break it when it turned, as it inevitably would.
“You don’t smile enough.” She spoke her thoughts aloud.
Self-conscious, the smile slipped and he shrugged. “I never learned.”
He’d meant it to sound flippant, but Gina realized that it was also the truth. The candid remark revealed so much. Indeed, it might be the most personal thing he’d ever shared with her. His words recalled the vulnerable youth, not the hardened man. Her heart went out to him.
Perhaps it would be better if he didn’t smile after all. Cold, he was easier to resist. Honest, he was dangerous. Smiling, he was lethal.
Still, she couldn’t stop from probing. “Did you have nothing to smile about at all?”
He thought for a moment. “Occasionally. My sisters. The dogs.”
“But it wasn’t enough?”
“No,” he admitted. “It wasn’t.”
Gina understood that he’d wanted what she’d always taken for granted: the love of his parents.
She’d lost her mother when she was young, but not too young to remember her love and cherish it. Her father’s love had always been there, like a fiery beacon on a stormy night, lighting her way through the perilous twists and turns of childhood.
From what Gina had learned from Augusta about their father and from what she’d observed on her own of his mother, Coventry had never held his parents love. What would it be like to grow up without parents who loved and protected you?
A twinge of compassion twisted in her chest. It would be horrible.
She put her hand on his arm. “I’m sorry.”
She’d expected him to shrug it off, but instead he stared at the pink satin glove resting against the dark blue of his coat as if it were the most peculiar thing in the world.
Had no one ever offered him comfort? Gina felt an overwhelming urge to wrap her arms around his shoulders and squeeze him until he acknowledged that he felt her. That he was indeed capable of feeling at all.
Standing there looking at this cold, hard man who projected such indifference, Gina wondered if perhaps aloofness was the armor he wore to protect himself. By holding himself apart from his sisters, from true involvement with a woman, and from society, he did not risk rejection. Or disappointment.
The twinge in her heart began to soften and a warmth of understanding spread over her. Gina was treading on a dangerous path. It would be too easy to forget the wager, and why she was here.
God help her, she hoped she hadn’t developed a tendre for him.
Clearly uncomfortable with how much he’d revealed, Coventry led her from the music room and back into the front reception room, where they’d gathered before supper. Lady Augusta, Mrs. Persimmons, Lord Ashley, and Mr. Carrington were setting up for a game of whist. Beaufort, Lord Rockingham, and Mr. Dashwood had settled with their port before the fire. Gina took a seat on the proffered divan, while Coventry went to fetch some refreshment.
She was glad for the break. It gave her a moment to compose herself, putting aside all thoughts of an emotional attachment to a man who would only make her miserable. A man she pursued only to teach him a lesson.
Expecting him to join his friends in their drink, Gina was pleasantly surprised when instead he took the seat next to her. They sat for a moment in uneasy silence before Gina offered, “It’s been a lovely evening.” It wasn’t just a polite observation; Gina truly had enjoyed herself tonight.
When he didn’t answer right away, she felt a tug of conscience for ruining his plans—sordid or not. “I’m sure it wasn’t exactly what you had planned, but is this really so horrible?”
He took a sip of brandy and watched her over the rim of the glass. Gina took his
silence as a positive sign—it wasn’t an outright denial. When he did speak, instead of answering her directly he asked, “Did you have to bring along Carrington?”
Gina furrowed her brow, taken aback by the derision in his tone. “What is the matter with Mr. Carrington?”
“I don’t like him.”
The bald declaration surprised her. Her back stiffened, personally affronted by his implied criticism of a man of whom she approved. “Why, because he’s not debauched enough for you? Because he’s not a member of your ridiculous Hellfire Club?”
“Of course not,” he scoffed. Eyes narrowing, he peered at her with sudden intensity. “And what do you know about the Hellfire Club?”
“Enough,” she said primly, lifting her chin. “You should be thanking me for including a gentleman like Mr. Carrington. His manners are above reproach, and I’ve never heard a hint of scandal linked with his name, which can hardly be said about any of the other gentlemen in this room. He is certainly preferable to Lord Ashley.”
“What are you talking about?”
Gina glanced meaningfully over to the foursome playing whist. Augusta was giggling at something Lord Ashley had said, and from Mrs. Persimmons’s frown, it hadn’t been entirely proper. “If you paid any attention to your sister these past few weeks, you would have noticed that Lord Ashley has been dancing attendance upon her for quite some time.”
Coventry appeared genuinely surprised. “Really?”
“Didn’t you think it odd that he has suddenly appeared at almost every party and ball to which your sister has accepted an invitation?”
Coventry stroked his chin, obviously intrigued by the possibility. “Actually, I hadn’t. But now that you mention it, it does seem strange.”
Gina harrumphed, indicating her disapproval for his lack of attention to his sister. “Well, then you will agree that I’ve done the right thing by including Mr. Carrington.”
“I’ll do no such thing. Carrington is an ass.”
Gina hissed. “How dare you use such crude language in my presence!”
Coventry chuckled. He leaned toward her, cutting her off. His voice taunted her. “What are you going to do, Lady Georgina? Run over and tell my aunt?”
Gina pursed her lips. Apparently, their temporary truce was over. “You’ve spent so much time around rakes that you don’t recognize a man of superior sensibilities. Mr. Carrington would make an excellent suitor for Augusta, and he is not without connections.”
His face darkened. “Is that what game you are playing? You think to make a match between my sister and that pompous peacock? I’ll never permit it. And there is no practical comparison between the two men. Do you forget that Ash will be the next Earl of Shaftesbury?”
Gina gasped. “You’d see her seduced by a rake instead?”
“You don’t know Ash at all,” he dismissed. “You’re prejudiced against him simply because he is my friend.”
“I knew him as a youth,” she corrected him, unable to believe his lack of concern for his sister’s reputation. “Are you suggesting that there is nothing to worry about?” she asked indignantly.
He shrugged. “I’m saying that it is none of your business.”
“Augusta is my friend.”
“And she is my sister. She needs my permission to marry, and you can be sure that I will never allow a match with Carrington.”
Her cheeks heated with anger. “And what if Augusta loves him?”
He sneered. “Then I’d be doing her a favor.”
He must have read the defiance in her expression. “I don’t know what foolish plans you have hatched in that beautiful little head of yours, but forget it.” Oblivious to the others in the room, he took her chin and lifted her gaze to his. “Do not interfere, Georgina. I’m warning you, this time I will not be so forgiving.”
The darkness of his voice sent a shiver down her spine. She jerked her head free and looked away. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Bright and early the next morning, Gina sought out Augusta, finding her in the south sitting room bent over pen and parchment diligently attending to her correspondence.
“Here you are, Augusta. I wanted a chance to speak with you before we depart for the race.”
Augusta’s welcoming smile was quickly replaced by a frown of concern. “Is something wrong?”
“I hope not,” Gina said, taking a seat near the writing desk.
“What is it? You have such a grave expression on your face.” She gave a small nervous laugh. “I confess you’re making me quite anxious.”
“I am worried, Augusta,” Gina said in earnest. “About Lord Ashley.”
A blush crept up Augusta’s pale cheeks. She bit her bottom lip like a chastened child. “I know it was wrong of me to not tell you that Lord Ashley would be here, but I gathered his presence would upset you, and I was afraid you would not come if you knew. Please, don’t be angry with me.”
She looked so pathetically woebegone that Gina smiled and gathered Augusta’s hands in hers as a parent would a child. Coventry’s voice warning her not to interfere echoed in her head—which she promptly ignored. “Of course I’m not angry. I only want what’s best for you. I hoped your brother would step in, but as he has not, and as your mother is not here, as your friend, I feel I must say something.”
“Of course you must.”
“It is obvious that you are quite taken with Lord Ashley, but surely you know the type of man he is?”
Augusta’s blush intensified. “I’ve heard the rumors, of course, but he’s not like that with me, he is a perfect gentleman.”
Gina shook her head, regretting the need to explain. “Don’t you see? That is all part of the game to men like Lord Ashley. He is not a gentleman, he is a rake. Rakes are dangerous because they make you believe that you are special, but their intentions are rarely honorable.”
Augusta paled. “I’m sure you are wrong about him.”
Gina looked straight into her eyes, wishing she could do something to wipe the stricken sadness from her friend’s gaze. “I wish I was.”
“But he’s one of my brother’s closest friends, surely James would warn me off Lord Ashley if there were cause for alarm.”
“Your brother is blinded by friendship. And compared to Coventry’s own reputation Lord Ashley is a saint.”
Perplexed, Augusta studied her. “If that is so, then shouldn’t you be heeding your own advice?”
Touché. Gina felt her cheeks heat, caught by the canny observation. Augusta was right, but Gina could not tell her that she was only pursuing her brother for a wager. “I am only trying to help your brother become more respectable, I have no other interest in him.”
From her amused expression, Gina could tell that Augusta did not believe her. Eager to turn the conversation from herself, Gina addressed the other purpose for her visit. “Mr. Carrington also seems quite taken with you.”
Augusta wrinkled her nose. “He’s amiable enough, but I confess his considerable attentions make me a bit uncomfortable.”
It was hardly the enthusiastic endorsement Gina had hoped for. Perhaps Augusta didn’t realize his many attributes? “Mr. Carrington is a fine gentleman of fortune and not without connections as the younger son of a baron. He has been nothing but a perfect gentleman in every respect. His manners are commendable, and he is handsome in a pleasant, unassuming fashion.”
“I suppose,” she said, unconvinced. “Though he is not very tall. And don’t you think his eyes are a trifle… beady.” Augusta leaned closer as if she feared being heard. “They remind me of a rat.”
“Augusta Coventry! To not give a man a chance because his eyes are a shade small? You should be ashamed of yourself.”
“Small and close together,” Augusta mumbled under her breath.
Gina started to admonish her, but something held her back. Weren’t the eyes the window into the soul? That was one of the first things she’d noticed about Coventry. His eyes were col
d and bleak, like a frozen pond in the dark of winter. Nonetheless, Gina would not be dissuaded.
“Mr. Carrington would make an excellent suitor.”
Augusta was not so easily convinced. “Don’t you think he’s a bit of a dullard? The entire journey in the carriage I do not think I heard him speak of anything other than the weather or food. Even my aunt seemed quite put out by the limited conversation.”
Gina brushed off her concerns. “You make him nervous, that’s all. He so wants to impress you.”
“Do you think so?”
“I know so,” Gina said confidently.
Gina congratulated herself on a job well done. Augusta had forsaken the opportunity to ride in her brother’s carriage with Lord Ashley for a ride in Mr. Carrington’s carriage with Gina and Lord Rockingham. Although Lord Rockingham had dominated the conversation on their short journey to Newmarket with his humorous anecdotes of his previous racing adventures, Mr. Carrington had acquitted himself well, venturing safely beyond the realm of food and weather. Augusta had even managed a smile or two of encouragement in his direction.
As they strolled along the beautifully manicured green waiting for the race to begin, Gina was pleased to see Augusta continuing to curry Mr. Carrington’s favor, under the increasingly watchful eye of Mrs. Persimmons.
Surprised by how much she’d enjoyed herself on their journey, Gina agreed to accompany Lord Rockingham to watch the race in the grassy area that Coventry had secured directly below the judges’ box along the famous Rowley Mile—so named for Charles II, the king who’d made the races at Newmarket famous. Of course, sticking close to Lord Rockingham also enabled her to avoid the questions of a scowling Coventry.
Augusta’s sudden transfer of attentions had not gone unnoticed by her brother. When Gina caught Coventry staring in her direction with particular menace, as if he’d guessed what she’d done, she innocently shrugged her shoulders and turned her attentions back to her handsome escort.
“Have you picked a favorite for the race, Lady Georgina?”
Hell and damnation, would the torment never end? Coventry felt like something had struck him square in the chest.
She sings like an angel.
If he’d thought to unbalance her, to make her feel uneasy by foisting an unexpected performance upon her, he’d failed. Miserably.
It was he who was unbalanced.
First at dinner when he’d caught Rockingham—or Rock as his close friends called him—gazing too persistently at her revealing décolletage, he’d felt the unmistakable rage of the green-eyed monster and now, hearing her sing. The beauty of her voice nearly felled him. Watching her face increasingly enraptured by the music, he thought he’d never seen anything more lovely. And innocent. Beautiful, kind, intelligent, and accomplished, Lady Georgina was everything that he’d dreamed of… once.
But not any longer.
Angels, he knew, did not exist.
Her voice belied his thoughts, rising with each octave as clear and pure as the song of a bird soaring through the heavens. He didn’t want to look at her, but he found himself unable to look away. She was simply too beautiful.
No matter how much he yearned to take her into his arms and succumb to the passion that he knew they’d share, he wouldn’t. If he were another man, he might be tempted. But he’d learned long ago how to shut out his desires, how to close off the part of him that made him vulnerable. Disappointment and betrayal had made him stronger. He’d become invincible, no longer susceptible to the siren call of a beautiful woman.
His harlot of a wife had shown him the danger in that.
Comparing his wife to Lady Georgina sounded disingenuous, even to his own jaded ears. No matter. Even if Lady Georgina was not like Serena, he was not the man for her. She deserved more than a debauched rake. He was not proud of the man he’d become, but neither was he ashamed. He was simply who he was. A man who’d learned to take his pleasure where he could find it, and not be beholden to anyone. Life was far simpler that way.
Though perhaps not as simple as he thought, remembering Lady Georgina’s suspicions about Simone.
In truth, nothing had been simple since Lady Georgina had forcefully interjected herself into his life. The question was how to rid himself of the unwelcome complication? Clearly he’d failed to intimidate her with anger and disdain, or she wouldn’t be here disrupting his party, with his extremely proper and decorous Aunt Eudora, no less.
All of his elaborate plans for naught. The cyprians had been turned back to London and the bacchanalian feast had transformed into a hopelessly conventional light supper and musicale. Fortunately, his Hellfire guests had been surprisingly accommodating.
Which gave him an idea.
What if he were just as accommodating?
He might not be able to rid himself of his uninvited guests, but he could make her victory not nearly as sweet by acting the perfect gentleman—assuming he could remember how, that is. If Lady Georgina thought to make him the subject of one big week-long reprimand from his aunt, she would be very disappointed.
It wasn’t just spite that drove him to such extremes. Perhaps if he could convince her of his reform, she would halt her determined pursuit and move on to another poor sod.
And Coventry could return to the haven of his clubs and whores, finding peace in the familiar emptiness.
When the applause had died down, Gina glanced up to find Coventry at her side. If she hoped to impress him, she was disappointed. He wore the same indifferent, controlled expression as he always did.
But his words gave her hope.
“Tell me, Lady Georgina, is there nothing you can’t do?”
He’d said it sardonically, but the backhanded compliment pleased her nonetheless. He had admired her voice. She grinned mischievously. “Not that I can think of, but I’ll be sure to let you know if I do.”
Her pert reply brought a smile to his lips. The sudden flash of white teeth and unexpected appearance of two dimples nearly shocked her senseless. A small gasp slipped out between her gently parted lips. Smiling, his face had transformed from handsome to breathtaking. A shiver of awareness spread over her, crawling along her prickled skin. He could capture her heart with that smile.
And break it when it turned, as it inevitably would.
“You don’t smile enough.” She spoke her thoughts aloud.
Self-conscious, the smile slipped and he shrugged. “I never learned.”
He’d meant it to sound flippant, but Gina realized that it was also the truth. The candid remark revealed so much. Indeed, it might be the most personal thing he’d ever shared with her. His words recalled the vulnerable youth, not the hardened man. Her heart went out to him.
Perhaps it would be better if he didn’t smile after all. Cold, he was easier to resist. Honest, he was dangerous. Smiling, he was lethal.
Still, she couldn’t stop from probing. “Did you have nothing to smile about at all?”
He thought for a moment. “Occasionally. My sisters. The dogs.”
“But it wasn’t enough?”
“No,” he admitted. “It wasn’t.”
Gina understood that he’d wanted what she’d always taken for granted: the love of his parents.
She’d lost her mother when she was young, but not too young to remember her love and cherish it. Her father’s love had always been there, like a fiery beacon on a stormy night, lighting her way through the perilous twists and turns of childhood.
From what Gina had learned from Augusta about their father and from what she’d observed on her own of his mother, Coventry had never held his parents love. What would it be like to grow up without parents who loved and protected you?
A twinge of compassion twisted in her chest. It would be horrible.
She put her hand on his arm. “I’m sorry.”
She’d expected him to shrug it off, but instead he stared at the pink satin glove resting against the dark blue of his coat as if it were the most peculiar thing in the world.
Had no one ever offered him comfort? Gina felt an overwhelming urge to wrap her arms around his shoulders and squeeze him until he acknowledged that he felt her. That he was indeed capable of feeling at all.
Standing there looking at this cold, hard man who projected such indifference, Gina wondered if perhaps aloofness was the armor he wore to protect himself. By holding himself apart from his sisters, from true involvement with a woman, and from society, he did not risk rejection. Or disappointment.
The twinge in her heart began to soften and a warmth of understanding spread over her. Gina was treading on a dangerous path. It would be too easy to forget the wager, and why she was here.
God help her, she hoped she hadn’t developed a tendre for him.
Clearly uncomfortable with how much he’d revealed, Coventry led her from the music room and back into the front reception room, where they’d gathered before supper. Lady Augusta, Mrs. Persimmons, Lord Ashley, and Mr. Carrington were setting up for a game of whist. Beaufort, Lord Rockingham, and Mr. Dashwood had settled with their port before the fire. Gina took a seat on the proffered divan, while Coventry went to fetch some refreshment.
She was glad for the break. It gave her a moment to compose herself, putting aside all thoughts of an emotional attachment to a man who would only make her miserable. A man she pursued only to teach him a lesson.
Expecting him to join his friends in their drink, Gina was pleasantly surprised when instead he took the seat next to her. They sat for a moment in uneasy silence before Gina offered, “It’s been a lovely evening.” It wasn’t just a polite observation; Gina truly had enjoyed herself tonight.
When he didn’t answer right away, she felt a tug of conscience for ruining his plans—sordid or not. “I’m sure it wasn’t exactly what you had planned, but is this really so horrible?”
He took a sip of brandy and watched her over the rim of the glass. Gina took his
Gina furrowed her brow, taken aback by the derision in his tone. “What is the matter with Mr. Carrington?”
“I don’t like him.”
The bald declaration surprised her. Her back stiffened, personally affronted by his implied criticism of a man of whom she approved. “Why, because he’s not debauched enough for you? Because he’s not a member of your ridiculous Hellfire Club?”
“Of course not,” he scoffed. Eyes narrowing, he peered at her with sudden intensity. “And what do you know about the Hellfire Club?”
“Enough,” she said primly, lifting her chin. “You should be thanking me for including a gentleman like Mr. Carrington. His manners are above reproach, and I’ve never heard a hint of scandal linked with his name, which can hardly be said about any of the other gentlemen in this room. He is certainly preferable to Lord Ashley.”
“What are you talking about?”
Gina glanced meaningfully over to the foursome playing whist. Augusta was giggling at something Lord Ashley had said, and from Mrs. Persimmons’s frown, it hadn’t been entirely proper. “If you paid any attention to your sister these past few weeks, you would have noticed that Lord Ashley has been dancing attendance upon her for quite some time.”
Coventry appeared genuinely surprised. “Really?”
“Didn’t you think it odd that he has suddenly appeared at almost every party and ball to which your sister has accepted an invitation?”
Coventry stroked his chin, obviously intrigued by the possibility. “Actually, I hadn’t. But now that you mention it, it does seem strange.”
Gina harrumphed, indicating her disapproval for his lack of attention to his sister. “Well, then you will agree that I’ve done the right thing by including Mr. Carrington.”
“I’ll do no such thing. Carrington is an ass.”
Gina hissed. “How dare you use such crude language in my presence!”
Coventry chuckled. He leaned toward her, cutting her off. His voice taunted her. “What are you going to do, Lady Georgina? Run over and tell my aunt?”
Gina pursed her lips. Apparently, their temporary truce was over. “You’ve spent so much time around rakes that you don’t recognize a man of superior sensibilities. Mr. Carrington would make an excellent suitor for Augusta, and he is not without connections.”
His face darkened. “Is that what game you are playing? You think to make a match between my sister and that pompous peacock? I’ll never permit it. And there is no practical comparison between the two men. Do you forget that Ash will be the next Earl of Shaftesbury?”
Gina gasped. “You’d see her seduced by a rake instead?”
“You don’t know Ash at all,” he dismissed. “You’re prejudiced against him simply because he is my friend.”
“I knew him as a youth,” she corrected him, unable to believe his lack of concern for his sister’s reputation. “Are you suggesting that there is nothing to worry about?” she asked indignantly.
He shrugged. “I’m saying that it is none of your business.”
“Augusta is my friend.”
“And she is my sister. She needs my permission to marry, and you can be sure that I will never allow a match with Carrington.”
Her cheeks heated with anger. “And what if Augusta loves him?”
He sneered. “Then I’d be doing her a favor.”
He must have read the defiance in her expression. “I don’t know what foolish plans you have hatched in that beautiful little head of yours, but forget it.” Oblivious to the others in the room, he took her chin and lifted her gaze to his. “Do not interfere, Georgina. I’m warning you, this time I will not be so forgiving.”
The darkness of his voice sent a shiver down her spine. She jerked her head free and looked away. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Bright and early the next morning, Gina sought out Augusta, finding her in the south sitting room bent over pen and parchment diligently attending to her correspondence.
“Here you are, Augusta. I wanted a chance to speak with you before we depart for the race.”
Augusta’s welcoming smile was quickly replaced by a frown of concern. “Is something wrong?”
“I hope not,” Gina said, taking a seat near the writing desk.
“What is it? You have such a grave expression on your face.” She gave a small nervous laugh. “I confess you’re making me quite anxious.”
“I am worried, Augusta,” Gina said in earnest. “About Lord Ashley.”
A blush crept up Augusta’s pale cheeks. She bit her bottom lip like a chastened child. “I know it was wrong of me to not tell you that Lord Ashley would be here, but I gathered his presence would upset you, and I was afraid you would not come if you knew. Please, don’t be angry with me.”
She looked so pathetically woebegone that Gina smiled and gathered Augusta’s hands in hers as a parent would a child. Coventry’s voice warning her not to interfere echoed in her head—which she promptly ignored. “Of course I’m not angry. I only want what’s best for you. I hoped your brother would step in, but as he has not, and as your mother is not here, as your friend, I feel I must say something.”
“Of course you must.”
“It is obvious that you are quite taken with Lord Ashley, but surely you know the type of man he is?”
Augusta’s blush intensified. “I’ve heard the rumors, of course, but he’s not like that with me, he is a perfect gentleman.”
Gina shook her head, regretting the need to explain. “Don’t you see? That is all part of the game to men like Lord Ashley. He is not a gentleman, he is a rake. Rakes are dangerous because they make you believe that you are special, but their intentions are rarely honorable.”
Augusta paled. “I’m sure you are wrong about him.”
Gina looked straight into her eyes, wishing she could do something to wipe the stricken sadness from her friend’s gaze. “I wish I was.”
“But he’s one of my brother’s closest friends, surely James would warn me off Lord Ashley if there were cause for alarm.”
“Your brother is blinded by friendship. And compared to Coventry’s own reputation Lord Ashley is a saint.”
Perplexed, Augusta studied her. “If that is so, then shouldn’t you be heeding your own advice?”
Touché. Gina felt her cheeks heat, caught by the canny observation. Augusta was right, but Gina could not tell her that she was only pursuing her brother for a wager. “I am only trying to help your brother become more respectable, I have no other interest in him.”
From her amused expression, Gina could tell that Augusta did not believe her. Eager to turn the conversation from herself, Gina addressed the other purpose for her visit. “Mr. Carrington also seems quite taken with you.”
Augusta wrinkled her nose. “He’s amiable enough, but I confess his considerable attentions make me a bit uncomfortable.”
It was hardly the enthusiastic endorsement Gina had hoped for. Perhaps Augusta didn’t realize his many attributes? “Mr. Carrington is a fine gentleman of fortune and not without connections as the younger son of a baron. He has been nothing but a perfect gentleman in every respect. His manners are commendable, and he is handsome in a pleasant, unassuming fashion.”
“I suppose,” she said, unconvinced. “Though he is not very tall. And don’t you think his eyes are a trifle… beady.” Augusta leaned closer as if she feared being heard. “They remind me of a rat.”
“Augusta Coventry! To not give a man a chance because his eyes are a shade small? You should be ashamed of yourself.”
“Small and close together,” Augusta mumbled under her breath.
Gina started to admonish her, but something held her back. Weren’t the eyes the window into the soul? That was one of the first things she’d noticed about Coventry. His eyes were col
“Mr. Carrington would make an excellent suitor.”
Augusta was not so easily convinced. “Don’t you think he’s a bit of a dullard? The entire journey in the carriage I do not think I heard him speak of anything other than the weather or food. Even my aunt seemed quite put out by the limited conversation.”
Gina brushed off her concerns. “You make him nervous, that’s all. He so wants to impress you.”
“Do you think so?”
“I know so,” Gina said confidently.
Gina congratulated herself on a job well done. Augusta had forsaken the opportunity to ride in her brother’s carriage with Lord Ashley for a ride in Mr. Carrington’s carriage with Gina and Lord Rockingham. Although Lord Rockingham had dominated the conversation on their short journey to Newmarket with his humorous anecdotes of his previous racing adventures, Mr. Carrington had acquitted himself well, venturing safely beyond the realm of food and weather. Augusta had even managed a smile or two of encouragement in his direction.
As they strolled along the beautifully manicured green waiting for the race to begin, Gina was pleased to see Augusta continuing to curry Mr. Carrington’s favor, under the increasingly watchful eye of Mrs. Persimmons.
Surprised by how much she’d enjoyed herself on their journey, Gina agreed to accompany Lord Rockingham to watch the race in the grassy area that Coventry had secured directly below the judges’ box along the famous Rowley Mile—so named for Charles II, the king who’d made the races at Newmarket famous. Of course, sticking close to Lord Rockingham also enabled her to avoid the questions of a scowling Coventry.
Augusta’s sudden transfer of attentions had not gone unnoticed by her brother. When Gina caught Coventry staring in her direction with particular menace, as if he’d guessed what she’d done, she innocently shrugged her shoulders and turned her attentions back to her handsome escort.
“Have you picked a favorite for the race, Lady Georgina?”