Rogues Gallery (42 page)

Another flurry of whispers caught her attention. She craned her head to see who had supplanted her, feeling a moment's sympathy for the poor unfortunate soul, even while she was relieved to be replaced by Society's voracious quest for new gossip.

Everyone was transfixed by the guest entering the ballroom. The crowd instantly parted, as if the Prince Regent himself had appeared.

Only it was not royalty, it was Simon, and he was headed her direction.

Georgiana's heart fluttered at an alarming rate. He should merely give her a polite bow, or a discreet nod from across the room. Their social obligations would be met and they could carry on with chilly politeness, as if they had not nearly plighted their troth mere weeks ago.

Instead, Simon strode across the ballroom, bold as you please, his gaze holding hers. She nearly faltered at the blatant determination in his eyes. He wanted her. There was no doubting that. But what, precisely, did he want?

She watched, along with the rest of the guests, as he made his way across the room. He slowed his gait, knowing full well it emphasized his elegant carriage, as well as his muscular legs in black silk breeches. A lock of hair fell across his forehead, and he brushed at it, negligently, never taking his eyes off Georgiana.

A secret part of her was thrilled at his audacity. He was giving her time to melt into the crowd and disappear, if she chose to. The gleam in his eyes dared her to stay, though, taunting her with passionate memories of being in his arms, promising future intimacies, if she were brave enough to weather this current situation.

If she could find the courage to overcome her fears of a future with this beloved rogue.

Yet how could Georgiana trust that this was not yet another conquest? Perhaps he was intent on winning her submission, and demonstrating to all of London how she could never hope to resist Lord Rakehell.

The only thing she knew with any certainty was she would not suffer another public heartbreak. She still loved Simon, and most likely always would, but surely she could recover from that character frailty if she did not succumb to his wiles this evening.

Simon finally halted in front of her, his gaze lingering everywhere, making her skin tingle as he openly admired her. She could not stop the heat from flooding her entire being, but at least the gossamer satin of her dress shielded the most unruly of her body's responses.

Georgiana knew everyone was watching, eager to know how she would react. Wagers were likely being placed at that very moment in the card room.

How many were betting that she would chastise him publicly? It was a tempting notion, giving her heartache a chance to vent itself.

In the next instant she heard the people nearest to her stepping back a few paces, giving her room to faint.

Georgiana stifled her exasperation. Clearly they had placed their money on the wrong marker if they considered her so fainthearted as that.

"Lord Winbourne," she said with a welcoming smile. He had always claimed it devastated him, her smile, and she was willing to use everything available in her arsenal to deflect his devilish charms.

He chuckled and lifted her hand. It was a caress, the way his eyes watched hers while her fingers sailed upwards, waiting to meet his lips.

"Miss Kirkwood." His voice was too smooth, sliding over her skin in a most improperly intimate fashion. She shivered, unable to halt it in time, but she could at least try to disguise the reason for it.

"Such a chill this evening." She drew her net shawl closer.

"Quite." He glanced at the women nearby, fanning themselves in the overheated ballroom. "I can only pray you do not catch a cold."

"Oh, I am much more stalwart than that," she answered.

His lips curved up, a little too knowingly. "Indeed you are. Which makes my task so much more difficult."

"Your task?" She arched an eyebrow.

Simon gulped, but quickly hid it. "I misspoke." He glanced at her, his expression softening. "I can hardly think properly anymore. Ever since my wedding was unexpectedly cancelled."

"If it was unexpected, you have much to learn about females." She nearly blushed, remembering the ones who had accompanied him to the chapel. "At least, those you might consider wedding."

Not bedding.

Neither of them said it, but both were thinking it.

Georgiana had to fight off the urge to flee. She could not make a decision about Simon when her body was clamoring for his touch, tempting her to choose the option that could be complete ruination for her heart's future. Simon must have sensed her intent, because he squeezed her fingers, reminding her he had never relinquished her hand.

"I am truly delighted to see you this evening," he murmured. His eyes twinkled when he saw the matrons and debutantes lean in to hear their conversation. "You are by far the most stunning woman in the ballroom."

"Thank you, my lord. I see you have not lost your knack for flattery."

"The only thing I have lost," he said, his eyes genuinely sad, "is the woman who was to be my bride." He paused and then said in a low voice, almost pleading, "Dance with me."

As the musicians began to play, Georgiana gripped his hand, feeling unbalanced all of a sudden. He led her to the center of the ballroom. If she had wanted to be the shy retiring sort this evening, he was ensuring that was not a viable option.

Simon slid his arm around her waist, reminding her why she had always loved to waltz with him. He felt protective, the way he was wrapped around her, as well as devilishly seductive.

"Perhaps you will find another woman to be your bride," she said, as dispassionately as if they were discussing the weather.

A soft chuckle near her ear informed her he was not deceived by her attempts to remain impassive. "I have found the woman I want as my bride, and do not intend to lose her a second time."

"How do you propose to accomplish that?"

He twirled her in his arms, masterfully, and confidently. "I shall demonstrate the strength of my devotion. The constancy of my heart. The depth of my love."

Georgiana could not speak for several moments. She desperately wanted his impassioned words to be the truth, but her bruised heart refused to succumb so easily. "It seems you shall be in your dotage before you can convince her of that."

"I am a patient man." He smiled and pulled her closer, scandalously so. Georgiana was surprised the attendees did not extinguish every single chandelier with their outraged gasps.

"You are also determined to shock all of London this evening."

"That is a bonus," he admitted with a grin.

She gave him a look filled with exasperation. "I hope you cannot believe one dance shall put everything to rights."

He stopped abruptly, in the middle of the ballroom, and kept her hands clasped in his. She blinked, her heart beating fiercely at the determination in his expression.

"Georgiana, I have been counseled to come here with my heart in hand. It is yours. It always will be. My love for you is unchangeable. I understand you doubt my sincerity, or my constancy, and with good reason. I truly regret being the cause of that."

Her eyes filled with tears. She wanted to believe him, but fear stepped forward, setting aside her hopeful feelings.

"I am afraid," she whispered.

"I know. I am frightened, too."

She hadn't expected such a confession. "What frightens you?"

"That your fears shall prove stronger than my love, and then I shall have to face the future without you. I wish, on a daily basis, that I could change the events of our wedding day, but since I cannot—"

Simon released her hands and reached inside his jacket. Georgiana gasped when she saw what he held in his fingers.

"My handkerchief." She must have dropped it when she fled the church, and to her surprise, Simon had retrieved it.

"I have held onto this the past fortnight as if it were a talisman, praying it would somehow bring us together again." He hesitated a moment before holding it out to her. "When you are ready to embark on a future with me as your husband, bring this to me."

Her fingers trembled as she took the handkerchief from his outstretched hand. "And if I am not prepared to take such a leap of faith?"

His shoulders sagged, as if unwilling to acknowledge such a possibility. "Then simply return this, via a servant. And I will call myself the grandest fool until the end of time."

Before she could respond, Simon grimaced. "I see the Dowager heading this way, and her glare is beyond frightening. Since she rang a peal over my head from Lord Wastrel's scandals, I can only imagine what she will do from the ones I have so recently caused."

Georgiana managed a smile, surprising herself. Simon returned a brilliant one before pressing a lingering kiss to the inside of her wrist.

"Never doubt that I love you, Georgiana. When your heart is ready for that leap of faith, know that mine will be there to join with it."

He spun on his heel and took his leave.

The entire ballroom was silent, the only sound Simon's heels clicking on the floor as he headed for the exit. Clearly the assembly had anticipated a different ending, perhaps one where Georgiana turned away from him in disdain, or, judging by some nearby wistful sighs, the pair of them leaving together.

Along with the rest of the attendees, she watched him stride across the ballroom floor, determined and graceful and, finally, gone.

Her heart deflated, and it took all her strength not to drop to the floor in a sad heap. Instead she found her way to Wallflower Row, and sat down next to her mother, in her usual spot with the spinsters and widows. Lady Aphrodite and several other women gathered around, shielding her from the gossips passing by. Someone pressed a cup of punch into her hands.

Georgiana only half listened to the spirited conversation going on around her. Instead, she glanced at the handkerchief Simon had given her. Was she brave enough to throw caution to the wind and marry the rake who owned her heart?

Or would her fears continue to hold sway, making the handkerchief a forlorn memento of the Season she had nearly wed the notorious Lord Rakehell?

She bit back a groan at the thought of spending the rest of her days like the Dowager, scolding the latest rogues' gallery while chasing away hopeful young misses with her sad tale of woe.

"He certainly is a handsome devil," Georgiana heard one of the women say, and it sounded suspiciously like the Dowager.

"Too handsome for anyone's good," another one commented, as if Simon had committed the most grievous of sins by having a beautiful face.

"Well, I for one prefer the handsome devils. Especially the rakish ones."

Georgiana nearly spilled her punch in her lap. Her own mother was the one who had made such an outrageous pronouncement!

"Everyone loves a rake," Aphrodite said. Her expression made it clear that nobody could possibly argue with such a statement.

"But nobody actually weds one," another of the women replied with a haughty sniff.

The silence lasted so long that Georgiana was tempted to break it by actually spilling her punch, or by dashing it in the speaker's face.

Her mother cleared her throat and then announced in a tremulous voice, "I did. I wed a rake."

"Mother," Georgiana chided. She appreciated her mother's attempts to deflect embarrassment from her wedding scandal, but this was too much. "Papa was the furthest from rakish as anyone could possibly be. But now I understand why you warned me against falling for one. I wish I had heeded your counsel. I should have chosen someone stable, like Papa."

"But he
was
a rake," her mother cried. "An even more scandalous one in his day than Lord Winbourne is." She blushed, but continued with her chin at a stubborn angle. "I have warned you against them because they make the most dreadful husbands. They transform into precisely the opposite of what you found irresistible in the first instance."

Georgiana's jaw nearly dropped. She could not have been more shocked if her mother had announced she had grown wings and would fly home instead of taking the carriage. She glanced at the other ladies, expecting to see outrage and dismay at her mother's words. Instead, every one of them nodded sagely, all while sipping delicately at their negus punch.

Lady Aphrodite smiled at Georgiana. "Each generation believes it is the inventor of outrageous behavior."

"Probably because the younger ones are afraid to learn the details of their elders' scandals," Georgiana replied. It would take some time to adjust to the idea of her father wooing her mother in a rakish fashion.

Another thought nearly stopped her heart. She had rakish blood coursing through her veins. No wonder she had felt such an intense connection to Lord Rakehell. There was good reason—her ancestry—for those delicious stirrings Simon had elicited.

She had spent too long denying her urgent feelings for him. She stood, ready to depart, before it was too late.

Lady Aphrodite stood, too, and touched her gloved hand to Georgiana's arm. Instantly Georgiana felt something akin to lightning racing along her skin, firing through her entire being, making her heart race with a combination of excitement and hopefulness and overpowering love.

Georgiana blinked, nearly faltering at the sensations surging through her. Fortunately Lady Aphrodite clasped her arm to steady her, reassuring her with the compassionate expression in her eyes.

"Go," she whispered. "Find your rakehell. While the rest of us reminisce about ours."

***

S
imon waited for his carriage to be brought round, his heart heavy, aching in a way he had not anticipated.

"I had hoped for a different outcome," Hugh said, mirroring Simon's thoughts. He shook his head, genuinely distressed. "In truth, I was certain you would be leaving with Georgie on your arm, a special license tucked in your waistcoat pocket."

Simon tried to laugh, but it was too difficult. Perhaps in the morning he could view this evening's events with a lighter heart. But at present he wanted nothing more than an evening alone, with a bottle of his finest brandy, and the chance to ponder if he had truly lost his only chance for happiness.