The Rake (8 page)

Dare looked very somber as he stepped up to the refreshment table and demanded a whiskey. Georgiana scowled. She'd meant only to flirt tonight, yet instead she'd argued with him again. She was so used to it by now that
not
fighting with him was difficult.

"You and Tristan make a lovely couple, my dear," Edwina said, taking her arm and pulling her down onto one of the chairs beside the hearth. "I'm no meddler, of course, but now that you're getting along, well, anything could happen."

"Surely not," she protested, forcing a disbelieving laugh and wishing they'd chosen a spot not quite so close to the oppressive heat. After the exertion of dancing, it was sweltering.

"Oh, I know you had that fight all those years ago, but you were just a child then, and he was so wild."

"Very wicked, he was,"
Milly
joined in, "before Oliver died and left such a mess for him."

"I
.. ."
Across the room, Amelia gestured to her. "Will you excuse me for just a moment?" Georgiana said quickly, rising again and doubly thankful for the distraction.

"Of course, dear.
Go see your friends."

"I'll be right back."

Glancing in Dare's direction to make sure he wasn't looking, she slipped around the edges of the room, following Amelia as the younger girl ducked into the hallway. Miss Johns had some sense, anyway. If the viscount caught the two of them together, he would suspect something. Georgiana couldn't let that happen— not now, when she finally seemed to be making an impression in his thick skull.

"Miss Johns?"

"How is this helping me?" the girl asked, pouting as she pulled at one of her brunette curls. "He's practically ignored me for a week."

"I'm teaching him to realize that other people have feelings, too, and that he can't just stomp on them whenever he chooses." Georgiana stepped closer, lowering her voice. "When he saw you during the dance, did he act any differently than usual?"

"Well, he did look almost guilty for a moment. I have to admit, he's never done that, before."

"Then it's working already. Trust me, Miss Johns. When I'm finished, he'll want nothing more than to marry you and be a very pleasant husband."

"All right," the girl said slowly. "Perhaps you could look as though you weren't having quite so much fun in his company, though."

Georgiana blanched.
Good heavens.
She looked as though she were having fun? Something was terribly wrong, then. Or perhaps in her innocence, Amelia had misread what she saw. That must be it.

"I'll do my best," she agreed. With a quick squeeze of the girl's hand, she returned to the ballroom.

Tristan looked as though he was halfway through his second whiskey. That would never do. She'd said too much, and she'd meant never to tell him how much he'd wounded her. She didn't want him to know how much
of her affections he'd owned. Squaring her shoulders, she strolled to the refreshment table. "My lord, I think your Aunt
Milly
is probably very tired after all the activities of the past few days," she ventured.

He nodded, handing his glass to a footman. "I'll see her home, then. Stay if you wish. Edwina and I will manage."

"I confess," she said, following him as he strode toward his aunts, "I'm quite ready to leave, myself."

Tristan slowed. "Are you certain? I don't want to ruin anything else for you, Georgiana."

"Don't be surly. I do as I please."

"Surly. That's a new one."

If there was one thing about which she could compliment Lord Dare, it was that he always paid attention to what she was saying. "You know I hate to repeat myself."

Milly
seemed only too happy to depart the ball, and Georgiana swallowed a twinge of guilt. The aunts had never wronged her, and she needed to pay better attention to them. If they became merely an excuse, even for a moment, then she was as
blackhearted
as Dare.

At the front door she held the chair steady while Tristan lifted
Milly
out of it and carried her into the coach.
Milly
was not a small woman, yet the viscount never seemed to have any trouble carrying her about. And the way his muscles played beneath his tight-fitting black jacket... Georgiana drew a quick breath and looked away.

Obviously this evening had completely worn her
out, as well. Otherwise, she would never have been thinking about his muscles, or the way his blue eyes had become so serious when she'd stupidly spoken about not trusting anyone.

"After you, my dear."

Georgiana started as Edwina nudged her toward the coach's open door. Tristan stepped back down, holding out his hand to her.

"Are you certain you don't want to stay?" he murmured, curling his fingers around hers.

She nodded, alarm bells going off in her head. She'd seen that dark, seductive look in his eyes before. It was a very dangerous look; it had once slain her virginity. Seating herself in the corner of the coach, she folded her hands in her lap. Dare sat opposite her, beside Edwina. All the way back to
Carroway
House he was uncharacteristically
quiet,
and she could feel his gaze on her, half-hidden in the dark.

What had she done to warrant so much of his attention, other than take her flirting up a notch and then lose her concentration and snap at him? He was
supposed
to be flattered, and his interactions with her were bound to become more pleasant.
None of which explained why her mouth had gone dry, or why her heart beat so fast.

"I hope we didn't tire you out too much, Aunt
Milly
," he drawled, as they rolled to a stop outside
Carroway
House.

"Oh, a little, but I feel as if I've been shut up for years. This was wonderful." She chuckled. "I'm certain you'll all tire of me before I'm back on my feet."

"Nonsense," Georgiana said. "I want to see you dance again, remember?"

While the footmen set the wheeled chair at the top of the shallow steps, Tristan lifted
Milly
and carried her up. Georgiana helped Edwina into the house, but the elder
Carroway
sister balked at the foot of the stairs.

"I'm not at all tired," she said. "Join me in the library, Georgiana. I'll have Dawkins bring us some tea."

That sounded better than hiding under her bed and hoping Tristan didn't stop by. He would never broach any delicate subject in Edwina's presence. "That's a splendid idea. I'll come down as soon as I help
Milly
."

"No, you won't," Tristan's other aunt said from over his shoulder. "I do employ a maid, dear. Have some tea. I'll see you in the morning."

"Good night then."

Georgiana and Edwina settled in the library, though it took several minutes for her to calm down enough to read the book she clutched in her hands. Tristan hadn't said anything about joining them. More likely he would go out to one of his clubs for the rest of the evening. The hour was still early, by his standards. After he left, she could safely go upstairs without worrying about encountering him in the hallways.

Georgiana scowled. She was being silly. Everything was progressing exactly as she'd planned. He'd been nice tonight, and she simply wasn't comfortable with it yet.

"I don't think you're reading."

The voice was barely more than a warm whisper of
air in her hair. Georgiana leapt out of her chair, a shriek catching in her throat as she twisted to face the viscount. "Don't do that!"

"
Shh
, you'll wake up Aunt Edwina." Dare chuckled.

She whipped back around. Edwina was asleep, her head back and her mouth hanging open, a delicate snore emanating from her chest with each breath. Georgiana frowned. "You should go, then."

"Why?" He came around the back of the chair toward her.

"Because our chaperone is asleep."

"You need a chaperone? I thought you weren't afraid of me any longer."

"I was never afraid of you, Dare."

Tristan folded his arms across his chest. "Good. Then we can chat."

"I don't want to chat," she protested, backing toward the door. "I want to go to bed."

"I
am
sorry, you know."

She slowed her retreat, her heart pounding. "Sorry about what?"

"About misleading you.
There were things I wasn't—"

"I don't want to hear it. You're six years too late, Tristan."

"You wouldn't have listened six years ago. And I was very stupid. So now I wanted to at least apologize. You don't have to accept it; I really don't expect you to."

"Good."

Georgiana turned on her heel and stalked out of the room. She'd barely gone two steps, though, when his hand clamped down on her shoulder and spun her back around.

"What—"

He leaned down and touched his lips to hers, and then he was gone. Georgiana leaned back against the wall,
then
sank
bonelessly
to the floor, trying to rally her breath. Brief though the touch had been, she could still feel the warmth of his mouth on hers.

For some reason, she'd thought she would feel pain, physical pain, if he ever touched her like that again. But the kiss had
felt.
. . pleasant.
Very pleasant.
And she hadn't been kissed in a very long time.

Slowly, she pushed back upright and climbed the stairs to her bedchamber. Somehow she hadn't realized that her scheme would have such an effect on
her.
Thank goodness she knew better than to trust her heart over her head.
Especially where Tristan
Carroway
was concerned.

Even so, she locked her bedchamber door before she crawled into bed. A minute later, she rose again and pushed one of the heavy overstuffed chairs against the door. "Much better," she muttered, and climbed back under the covers.

In the library, Edwina waited until everything quieted upstairs. Once she felt assured that Georgiana had gone safely to bed, she sat up straight and resumed reading.

Milly
might have reservations about matching Tristan with
Georgie
, but she had none. They all enjoyed Georgiana's company, and she was warm, witty, and kind—much better than those simpering young things Tristan felt obligated to pursue.

Edwina gave in to a smile. Whatever had happened between the two of them all those years ago, they seemed to be resolving it, thank goodness. If
Milly
could manage to stay in her wheeled chair for another few days, they might very well succeed in making a match that pleased everyone.

Despite his reputation, Tristan always enjoyed attending the sessions of the House of Lords. It was somewhat reassuring to see that, careless as he'd been in his private life before he'd inherited the title, in public and politics he stood up well against some of the abject idiots helping determine the course of the country.

This morning, though, as he took his seat between the Duke of Wycliffe and the rarely present Marquis of St. Aubyn, he couldn't even concentrate enough to remember which country they were voting to raise tariffs against. He hoped it wasn't America, since he was attempting to sell them his wool. He raised his hand and said "aye" when Wycliffe nudged him in the ribs, but other than that his thoughts were on Georgiana.

He'd thought before of simply walking up to her and kissing her, but better sense had always prevailed. Last
night, though, the memory of her taste, of her sweet, soft mouth, had been overwhelming. And so he'd kissed her, for the first time in six years. Even more surprising, she had let him do it.

"How goes your pursuit of Miss Johns?" Wycliffe murmured, sitting back as the Tories began arguing over trade alliances, and St. Aubyn began sketching the blustering old Duke of
Huntford
in his wife's favorite evening gown.

"I keep hoping she'll suddenly turn interesting," he said, sighing. She hadn't seemed so bland when he'd first met her. Now, though, every female seemed
..
.
lifeless
.
Except for one.
Perhaps that was the problem; he needed to stop comparing poor Amelia to Georgiana. Naturally the naive, polite chit would pale in comparison.

"Just remember that you aren't the only one in pursuit, my boy. She's quite the heiress."

"Hence my persistence in the chase."
Tristan frowned. "If my father had managed to die two or three years earlier, I might have been able to pull the family out of this muck without resorting to something as heroic and tragic as self-sacrifice."

St. Aubyn chuckled, glancing up from his artwork. "You might try selling off your brothers."

"I've thought about that. But who would buy Bradshaw?"

"Good point."

"What are you doing here anyway, Saint?" he pursued, looking for anything that would distract him from
thoughts of Georgiana's lithe body. "Parliament isn't exactly your usual haunt."

"I registered to vote at the beginning of the Session. If I don't appear every so often, they try to declare me dead and confiscate my property. It gets to be annoying."

"I'm off to Gentleman Jackson's this afternoon," Wycliffe cut in again. "Care to join me?"

Tristan shook his head. "I've been attempting to ask Amelia out on a picnic for a week. I thought I'd give it another try today."

"What's the difficulty?"

Georgiana.
"Lingering thoughts of self-preservation."

"If you're that skittish about her, you'd best proceed with less recklessness than usual. If you compromise her, you'll
have
to marry her. No escape possible."

"I'm not likely to forget that."

Wycliffe looked at him a bit strangely, but if there was one person Tristan never intended to tell about his true relationship with Georgiana, it was her mountain-sized, boxing aficionado cousin. How odd that it hadn't worked out that way with her, though. She'd been so angry when she'd learned about the wager that all he'd thought of was keeping the tale quiet. Otherwise he and Georgiana might be married now. Of course, she would also have shot or poisoned him well before today, so the point was a moot one.

As soon as the morning session ended, he stopped by Bond Street and then returned home to have a picnic packed. No doubt he wasn't the only bachelor thinking of dining in the park today. Dawkins pulled open the
front door for him, and after only five knocks. Leave it to the
Carroway
butler to lock the door during the day and to neglect to do so at night.

"Is everyone home?" he asked, pulling off his hat and gloves. He wasn't concerned about "everyone's" presence, but he couldn't inquire if Georgiana was about without raising even Dawkins's thick eyebrows.

"Masters Bradshaw, Andrew, and Edward have gone riding," the butler said. "Everyone else is present."

And the best rider among them remained holed up in the bowels of the house. Robert would come around in his own time, though.
Hopefully.
"Splendid. Have Mrs. Goodwin prepare a picnic luncheon for two, will you?"

"Of course, my lord."

He pounded upstairs to change. As he emerged from his room, he nearly ran into Georgiana, heading down the hallway. "Good morning," he said, putting out a hand to keep from knocking her into the wall.

"Good morning."

Unless he was mistaken, her color was high, and her green eyes focused on his mouth. Good God, had she enjoyed the kiss? He couldn't think of anything else, either. The fan he'd bought her as a peace offering bumped in his pocket. He hadn't expected that he wouldn't need it. "Were you looking for me?"

She cleared her throat, taking a belated step backward. "Actually, yes, I was. I spoke with
Milly
this morning, and she would like to attempt a walk in the park. I thought perhaps a picnic there to celebrate her efforts would be ... appropriate."

Tristan scowled,
then
wiped the expression away before she could notice. "What made you think of a picnic?"

"It's just so lovely today."

He met her gaze, and after a moment she looked toward the vase on the side table. She'd always been a terrible prevaricator. "So this suggestion of yours has nothing to do with the fact that I was already planning a picnic with someone?" he pursued.

Georgiana lifted an eyebrow.
"Heavens, no.
I hadn't realized. If you have an engagement with someone more important to you than your aunt, by all means go
. I
will supply a picnic for those of us who give a damn."

"Very subtle.
Are you thinking of my aunts, or are you trying to keep me away from Amelia Johns?"

"Am ... So that's who you're after, the poor girl.
Do as you please,
Dare
." She turned on her heel, striding for the staircase. "You always do."

Hm
.
That had been fairly obvious.
And uncharacteristic of Georgiana.
She had to know by now whom he was courting; everyone else in London did. Perhaps she
was
trying to keep him away from Amelia. Knowing her, she would consider it her duty to protect the chit from his evil attentions. On the other hand, perhaps— just perhaps—she was jealous.

"Dawkins," he called as he started down the stairs, "make that a picnic for four, if you please. Those of us who give a damn will be in Hyde Park this afternoon."

"Very good, my lord."

Spending the afternoon with Amelia would have
been torture, anyway. A picnic with Georgiana was another kind of torture, but one he at least could look forward to.

They set out in Dare's coach, the only vehicle he owned that could accommodate the two aunts, Tristan, Georgiana, a picnic lunch, a footman, and the wheeled chair. Georgiana allowed herself a moment of guilt over the fact that poor Amelia would be stuck at home on such a lovely afternoon. On the other hand, she was saving the girl from a lifetime of pain and humiliation at the hands of an unrepentant Viscount Dare. One afternoon of solitude seemed a fair trade.

Not that an unrepentant Tristan was
entirely
bad. She could stand a kiss or two from him, she supposed, if that was what it would take to ensure that he would fall in love with her.

Georgiana looked across the coach at him, seated with his Aunt Edwina's knitting basket across his thighs and chatting with his eager aunties about who had been absent from Parliament. She'd never imagined him this way; domesticity and Tristan
Carroway
had always seemed polar opposites. Something about it was enticing, especially with the memory of his kiss warm on her lips.

"I meant to tell you, my dear," Edwina said, catching her attention, "I've never seen you in that dress before. It's lovely."

She glanced down at the silver-and-green muslin. "I saw the material at Willoughby's at the beginning of the
Season, and practically had to wrestle it out of Lady
Dunston's
hand. Madame
Perisse
works wonders, doesn't she?"

"I don't know whether it's the dressmaker or the dress wearer,"
Milly
said. "Don't you agree, Tristan?"

He nodded, a slow smile curving his mouth. "It brings out your eyes."

"I've been longing for a dress from Madame
Perisse
." Edwina sighed, "Something in blue, I think."

Georgiana locked gazes with Tristan, who leaned forward. "Blue? Did you say 'blue,' Aunt Edwina?"

"Well, dear Tigress has been gone for a year, now. And Georgiana always looks so stunning. I'm inspired."

" 'Tigress
?'
" Georgiana
mouthed.

"Her cat," Tristan murmured back at her.

She nodded. "You know, Edwina, Lucinda Barrett's black cat just had kittens. It's up to you, of course, but if you'd like, I could inquire if any are available."

Edwina was silent for a long moment. "I will think about it," she finally said.

The coach bumped to a stop. "Are you ready, Aunt
Milly
?" Tristan asked, handing the sewing basket to Georgiana so he could rise.

"Oh, dear.
Is it very crowded out there?"

The footman, Niles, opened the door and flipped the step down. Tristan exited,
then
helped Edwina to the ground. "I told
Gimble
to pick an isolated spot," he said, leaning back inside.
"Just a few horsemen across
the pond and a governess with some infants throwing bread to the ducks."

"Then I suppose I'm ready."

With Georgiana steadying her from behind, and Tristan and the footman on either arm,
Milly
descended to the grass. "Hold there, my butterfly, and I'll get Georgiana and your cane," Dare said, giving her hand over to Edwina.

Georgiana handed out the basket and
Milly's
cane. As she took Tristan's hand and stepped down from the coach, he grinned at her. Before she could stop herself, she smiled back at him. "I hope this goes well."
Lud
, she wasn't supposed to be smiling at him accidentally. "I don't want
Milly
to be discouraged."

"She's difficult to discourage," he said, keeping his light grip on her fingers.

"And I'm sorry to take you from your engagement today," she added, slipping her hand free.

"I'm not. Not with such lovely company."

Heat rose in her cheeks. A week or two ago she would have had a witty, biting response for him. Now she had no idea what to say to him at all.

They'd been at odds for so long that when he said something nice or complimentary, she felt as though he knew what she was thinking and plotting, and that he was only humoring her until the moment he laughed at her and said that he could never fall in love with her, and that she was worse than foolish to think he might do so.

"
Georgie
?"

She shook herself. "What?"

He wore an alarming look of quiet speculation she'd never seen before. "Where did you go?" he asked.

She shrugged, moving away from him. "I was just remembering that I try not to repeat my mistakes."

"So do
I
, Georgiana." Before she could decipher that, he turned to his aunt. "Shall we, my dear?"

With her cane in one hand and a firm grip on Tristan's arm with the other,
Milly
took a single wobbling step across the grass. Georgiana and Edwina, along with Niles and
Gimble
, cheered, and she took a second and a third step.