Taming the Rake by Monica McCarty
“I’m sure it is.”
He jerked the arm still clasped in his hand so that she was forced to look up at him. Cautiously, she met his gaze. His face was taut. Tiny white lines were etched around his nose and mouth. But it was his eyes that made her breath catch deep in her throat. How could such beautiful blue, fringed with such delicate, long lashes, reflect such callousness?
He continued. “Just as I was surprised when I came home to find that I’d hired three new servants and my private study was in the midst of an unplanned ‘redecoration.’”
“Do you like it?” The devil prompted her to ask. “It’s not finished yet, of course—” She stopped when she noticed his expression.
His face had turned thunderous. His nostrils flared and the bulging vein in his neck pulsed. She drew in her breath, waiting, knowing that he was perilously close to losing control. She bit her lip. Taunting him probably wasn’t such a great idea. But it was fun. It was nothing at all like needling the usual milksops that frequented Almack’s.
“I thought I’d warned you that I do not play games, Lady Georgina, nor am I interested in finding a wife.”
Gina shrugged off his hold, surprised when he released her. It gave her just enough confidence. “Even though you clearly need one? Your servants were overworked and your study could use a bit of freshening. I simply did what needed to be done.” She sniffed at the brandy on his breath. “And you drink too much.”
“Your impudence is astounding.”
“I was only trying to help,” she said defensively. She breathed deeply and took a gamble. “Do you deny that you needed to hire more servants or that your study could use some sprucing up?” Or that you drink too much? she added silently.
He studied her. Gina tried not to shuffle under the intense scrutiny. When he did not answer right away, she knew she’d scored her point.
“It was not your place to make the decision. Do not interfere with my business again.”
He turned to leave, but Gina couldn’t resist. “Or what?” Her words fell like the slap of a glove in the darkness.
He stopped and swung around to meet her challenge. A wicked gleam appeared in his eye. His hand reached toward her and Gina forced herself not to flinch. But he didn’t intend to strike her. No, he had something far more nefarious in mind.
Trapped by anticipation, she wasn’t sure what he meant to do, but she was equally unable to break away. She sucked in her breath at the first touch. The back of his finger slid down her shoulder along the bare skin of her arm. She shivered, the fine wisps of hair standing on end. Every nerve ending fired as awareness surged through her body.
Sensing her reaction, a slow, cruel smile curved his lips.
Her pulse quickened, but she stood there, paralyzed by an invisible force that held her captive. Slowly, so slowly she thought she was going to die from holding her breath, the back of his finger traced the heavy curve of her breast. Her skin tingled and a wave of something hot crashed over her. Her nipples hardened under the heavy weight of his gaze and desire fluttered low in her belly. The feathery graze was the most deeply erotic moment of her life.
And he knew it. He bent toward her and whispered huskily in her ear, “Or I’ll show you just what kind of man I am.”
He spoke so matter-of-factly that Gina knew it was not a threat, but a promise.
This time he got the last word. “And Lady Georgina, when I take what I want from you—the only thing I want from you—I won’t need a wedding ring to get it.”
He left her there standing in the moonlit garden, wanting. It wasn’t fear that made her shiver, but something far more dangerous. The horrible suspicion that he could be right.
He’d won the battle, but Coventry departed Almack’s feeling as if he’d lost the war. Touching her, teasing her had been a mistake. The softness of her skin, the heavy curve of her breast, her lightning quick response. She’d burst into flames at his merest touch.
God save him from twenty-year-old virgins. All that repressed energy just waiting to be unleashed. The temptation to be the one to unleash it was crushing.
He wanted her, and after touching her, his desire was far stronger than before. For now he knew what it was like to watch her quiver under his fingertip. To watch her lips part with surprise and her breath hitch with desire. He’d seen her eyes widen then glaze with arousal. He’d felt the generous curve of her breast and seen the bead of her tiny nipple outlined under the sheer fabric of her gown.
The experience had affected him much more than he wanted to admit. He adjusted his breeches. He was still painfully rigid. But he instructed his coachman to take him home, not bothering with Simone. He knew that she would not sate his lust. Not tonight. Not ever.
Right there and then Coventry vowed to find a new mistress. And if she happened to have delectable round breasts, ivory skin as soft and velvety as a peach, silky golden brown hair, deep-sea green eyes, a tiny turned up nose, and a wide, sensuous mouth, so much the better. Oh, and a well-placed freckle wouldn’t hurt.
Perhaps then he could dismiss the slip of a girl who inspired her.
It had taken a few minutes for her pulse to slow and her body to relax before she could return to the assembly room. She glanced around the room for Augusta, eventually finding her laughing shyly with Lord Ashley. That would never do. Gina frowned in her direction and Augusta appeared quickly at her side.
“Are you all right? Did he hurt you?”
Only my pride, Gina thought. For the last few minutes had revealed a shameful weakness in Gina’s character: She was susceptible to a handsome face—even if that handsome face was completely devoid of honor and integrity. What other reason could explain the intensity of her response? He’d lit the fires of her passion as easily as if he’d struck a match.
If a handsome face was so important to her, why couldn’t she have picked Lord Ponsonby? But instead Gina said, “I’m fine. He was furious, but not violent.”
“I was so worried,” Augusta said anxiously. “When I saw his face, he looked so much like my father…” Her voice dropped off. “I was scared.”
There was so much torment in Augusta’s face Gina had to ask the question. “Was your father a violent man?”
Augusta nodded. She looked like she wanted to cry. “I was very young when he died, but I can still remember.” She shivered. Looking around to make sure no one was listening, she lowered her voice. “My father would beat James for the smallest infraction. Any excuse that he could find.” Tears appeared in the corners of her eyes. “But the worst part was that I think Father enjoyed it.”
Revulsion swept over her. And pity. Pity for the young boy that Coventry had been. “And your mother did nothing to stop him?”
Augusta shook her head. “James was always a disappointment to mother. I think she hoped that the beatings would set him right.”
Gina fought to control her outrage. She didn’t want to feel sorry for him, but the thought of what Coventry’s childhood must have been like earned her unwavering sympathy. Still, it was difficult to reconcile the hard, angry man with the vulnerable boy.
“Maybe this is not such a good idea,” Augusta continued. “I never meant for you to be in danger. I just wanted to find someone who could make him happy. If only you could have seen him as a boy. He was so different. He used to carry me around on his back and play with me—even though I was so much younger. I remember him reading me stories at night and pressing a kiss on my forehead when he thought I was asleep.” She sighed wistfully. “But that was when he was a boy. In truth, I hardly know him now.”
Augusta looked so miserable that Gina was beginning to feel uneasy. A twinge of guilt needled her conscience. Perhaps becoming Augusta’s confidante had not been such a good idea. Gina was learning more about Coventry than she wanted to know. And she didn’t like the hope that Augusta had fixed upon her. Salvation was not part of the wager.
Apparently Augusta still harbored illusions as to the nature of his character and Gina
“And you think a wife would make him happy?” Gina asked gently.
Augusta blushed, obviously embarrassed. “You’re so beautiful and smart. I thought he might fall in love with you.”
Gina smiled at her naïvety. “I’m flattered, but I don’t think your brother wants to fall in love.” Nor did she think he was capable of such sentiment, but she kept that thought to herself.
It was just as well, Augusta looked crestfallen. “Then you are finished with him?”
The question hung in the heavy air of the crowded room for a long moment. Was she finished? Was she ready to give up? Gina was half tempted. The incident in the garden had shaken her. But not completely dissuaded her. She was still determined to win, she would just have to be more careful. But she didn’t want to give Augusta any false hope. “I think we can make him a bit more respectable, but I’m not making any other promises.”
The delight in Augusta’s smile ate further at her conscience. Gina reminded herself of what had happened to Lady Alice and all the others like her. If Gina was not careful, she knew that Coventry would not hesitate to do the same to her. He had as good as promised it.
The Earl of Coventry did not deserve her pity.
CHAPTER SIX
The Duchess of St. Albans dismissed her lady’s maid with a light wave of her hand and settled down on the chaise before the smoldering fire. Normally, she would wait in bed, but tonight she had something else on her mind. Something that needed to be discussed. Chilled, she burrowed her bare feet under the embroidered silk of her dressing gown. Thankfully, it didn’t take long for the door to open.
A sharp thrill shot through her when her husband stepped into the room. She loved the way his tall, broad form seemed to fill the room with his presence. An aura of power surrounded him. Marriage had not diminished her attraction to her handsome husband, if anything it had only intensified. The thick, dark brown hair, brilliant blue eyes and chiseled features still caused her pulse to race and her breath to quicken, the way it had the first time she’d seen him.
Theirs hadn’t been an easy beginning. The duke was almost twenty years her senior. And though the age difference had never mattered to her, it had to him. He’d been dreadfully stubborn, but eventually he’d come around. She smiled at the erotic memories. It had taken some “persuading,” but it had been the happiest day of her life when this amazing man had finally asked her to marry him.
“Ah, my love, not waiting too long I hope?”
She shook her head. “No. I was thinking.”
He looked at her face and frowned. “What is it, darling?”
It amazed her how he always seemed to know when something was bothering her. “It’s Georgina.”
He sighed wearily, sitting down next to her and taking her hand, bringing it to his lips. “Please, be patient with her. I know she’s been difficult, but she’ll come around. Just give her some time.”
She smiled wryly. “It’s not that.”
His brows knit together. “Who did she offend? And what did she say this time?”
The duchess giggled. “No, for once she did not speak out of turn.” How could she put into words what was bothering her? The duke loved his daughter and she did not want to offend him, nor put him on the defensive. It was a treacherous path she walked. “There has been some talk.”
His frown deepened. “Talk?”
She took a deep breath. “About Georgina and Lord Coventry.”
His brows shot up in surprise. “The Earl of Coventry?”
She nodded. “I’m worried. Although personally I like the man, he does not have the best reputation.” She hesitated. “A connection with him will not be good for her reputation. Nor do I want to see Georgina have her heart broken.”
To her surprise, the duke burst out laughing.
“You don’t need to worry about that. Gina would never set her cap for a man like Coventry.”
She put her hand on his arm. “But that’s just it. There is talk that she has done just that.”
He shook his head in disbelief, but did not appear concerned. “Well if that’s true, there is a reason. Mark my words, I know my daughter and if she is pursuing Coventry, she has a reason, and it doesn’t involve marriage.”
The duchess wasn’t convinced. She intended to look into it. But not right now. Right now there were other things on her mind.
The duke swept her up in his arms as if she weighed no more than a child and carried her to the bed. Her wrapper fell open and she could feel the heat of his gaze caress her full breasts. Desire shadowed his face and her heart pounded with anticipation.
His voice grew husky. “Now if we are done discussing my daughter, I think there are other matters that you need to attend to.”
His mouth covered hers in a passionate embrace that sent a shock of desire bolting through her body. And when his tongue slid down the length of her body to delve between her thighs, all thoughts of her stepdaughter fled. For now.
The late afternoon sun had begun to wane as the fashionable hour in Hyde Park neared its end. Gina had forsaken her usual carriage ride in favor of a promenade, trying to avoid the unusually inquisitive duchess, who would never dream of walking when a perfectly good barouche was at hand. Anxious to see her friends after what seemed like weeks, though it was only a few days, Gina hustled her step, oblivious to the huffing maid straggling along behind her.
She didn’t have much time before she was expected back at St. Albans House to begin preparations for tonight’s entertainment at the new Royal Opera House in Covent Garden. They were to see a rare performance of Macbeth by the great Sarah Siddons.
But before she could enjoy her evening at the theater, Gina needed to see her friends. She missed them terribly. Thus far the Society for the Hindrance of a Rake’s Progress was not much of a club.
There was one great flaw in their plan to divide and conquer. Gina was spending so much time with Augusta, chasing after Coventry that there was little time left with Cecelia and Claire. Gina was most anxious to hear about their progress with the Duke of Beaufort and Mr. Ryder.
Thus, it was with great anticipation that Gina rounded the corner and caught sight of her friends waiting at their appointed meeting spot under the giant oak tree between Serpentine Lake and Rotten Row. Claire as pretty as a picture in a pale-yellow sprig muslin walking dress with rows of delicate ruffles along the hem, and Cecelia, as gorgeous as always, in a plain but perfectly form-fitting periwinkle muslin.
“There you are,” Cecelia said impatiently. “I’d begun to despair of you joining us.”
“I’m sorry I’m late, but the duchess detained me for an extended inquisition after tea.” Gina frowned. “She suspects something.”
“What makes you think so?” Claire asked.
Gina shrugged. Arm in arm they started down the walking path that ran parallel to Rotten Row where London’s most fashionable cruised by in their carriages. “I don’t know, but she’s been looking at me oddly, and she watches me too closely. Much closer than before. Obviously she’s noticed my conversations with Coventry, and my friendship with Lady Augusta isn’t enough of an explanation for ‘Her Grace.’” Gina said the last with more sarcasm than she intended.
Cecelia gave her a reproachful look. “You will have to be careful.”
“I’m well aware of that, Cecelia,” Gina said sharply. “If our little game reaches the wrong ears, it will be over before it has begun.”
“Did you hear about the near disaster at Lady Jersey’s ball?” Claire asked.
“No, what happened?” Gina asked anxiously. But an answer was delayed for a few minutes by the untimely approach of Mrs. Meriwether and her four giggling daughters. Pleasantries exchanged, the ladies moved on and Gina turned back to Claire for an explanation.
“Lady Anne Spencer and Lady Frances Villiers were overheard laughing about the Rake Slayers.” Claire leaned closer and added in hushed tones, “By Lady Jersey herse
Gina’s hand covered her mouth. “Oh, no!” she exclaimed with true horror.
Claire nodded. “One could only imagine what would happen if the dragon discovered our game. We would never be able to show our faces at Almack’s again.”
“I don’t know,” Cecelia interrupted. “Perhaps she would approve. And assuming one of us is successful, she’s bound to find out at some point. And why does everyone persist in calling us the Rake Slayers, when I came up with a perfectly good name.”
“It’s a wonderful name, dearest,” Gina said with a placating pat of the hand, knowing how disappointed Cecelia was that her clever name had not caught on. “What happened?” she asked Claire.
Claire grinned. “They told her they were referring to a new play that was to appear at Covent Garden based on A Rake’s Progress.”
“And she believed them?”
“Apparently so,” Cecelia said. “Either that or she chose to believe them.”
“What do you mean?” Claire said.
“Lady Jersey is no fool. She knows everything that goes on in the ton. I would not be surprised if she knew exactly what we were up to but chose to look the other way. A silent nod of approval, if you will.”
Gina thought for a minute. “Perhaps you are right. There has been virtually unanimous feminine approval of our endeavor. The other ladies are having about as much fun as we are trying to think of ways to corner the elusive rakes. But I still think we must be careful. If my stepmother gets wind of what we are about, you can be sure she will tell my father, and he will put a stop to it immediately.”
Gina tipped her head to acknowledge a passing carriage carrying the Duke of Bedford, a longtime friend of her father.
In between frequent stops by the numerous acquaintances they passed along the path, Gina filled them in on her encounters with Coventry—leaving out the scandalous parts.
“I wish I could have seen his face when he went to open his liquor cabinet,” Cecelia said.