How To Build The Perfect Rake (27 page)

Miss Houghton… for a moment the two of them
paused to contemplate what was still the talk of the town; the
scandalous elopement of Carisse Houghton with the poetically
eccentric – some would say challenged – Mr. Falstaff. Apparently
both families were putting the best possible face on the matter but
Society could hardly wait for the first glimpse of the couple when
they finally reappeared in London.

‘How do you think he did it?’ Freddy
mused.

‘Short of bashing her on the head and
dragging her off to Gretna? I think he convinced her that it would
be wildly romantic. An elopement in the dead of night. Frankly, I
didn’t think he had the gumption but there you are.’

‘But why an elopement?’

‘Because neither of their mothers wanted the
marriage, of course. All the world knows it is far easier to go
through the bother of running away and facing the censure of
Society than to defy a pair of unyielding mamas.’ Miss Gaffney
grinned. ‘The funny thing is, I think they are both going to be
very happy together. He shall spend his days sitting at her feet
and penning dreadful verbiage to her glorious beauty and she will
lap it up like the ninny that she is.’

Freddy shook his head. ‘She’s jolly pretty
but for some reason I never took to Miss Houghton.’

‘Possibly because you like a glimmer of
intelligence in your females?’

Freddy waggled his eyebrows. ‘My females,
hey? I like the sound of that.’

Miss Gaffney smiled again
and reevaluated the situation. It was possible that any offspring
from a union with Freddy Featherstone wouldn’t be
too
bad. After all, he
did not have freckles, which surely boded well. And he had an
unassuming way about him that she rather enjoyed. Besides, in the
past week or so he seemed to enjoy spending time in
her
company, an
aphrodisiac for any girl.

‘Well I still think it’s a damn shame. St
James has more money than he’ll ever be able to spend, half a dozen
houses and lord only knows what else and he nabs the most eligible
heiress of the Season right out from under our noses. It’s cheeky,
that’s what it is.’

‘Are you after an heiress, Mr.
Featherstone?’

Freddy shrugged. ‘Not specifically, although
I wouldn’t say no if one fell in my lap.’

‘I have a very respectable dowry.’
Evangeline had learned that it didn’t do to be subtle with males.
‘And I might be inclined to trip up and fall. For the right sort of
man.’

Freddy gave her a startled look. ‘I
say!’

‘I know,’ she returned serenely, ‘females
nowadays. Quite dreadfully forward.’

Despite himself, Freddy began to smile.

On the dance floor, Luc was finding it hard
not to bend his head and kiss his wife. It had become a habit of
late to do exactly that and the fact that they were both very much
in public was curtailing his natural inclinations. He had been
resisting for at least half an hour but the temptation was very
strong. The problem was, Olympia was such a bewitching creature.
The longer he spent in her company – and the longer he was married
to her – the more incredulous he was that he hadn’t seen it long
before he had.

‘Do you know I love you, Mrs. St James?’

‘I do know. You showed me how much you loved
me this morning. And last night. In fact, you have become very
adept at showing me how much you love me,’ Olympia assured him
demurely.

He chuckled. ‘You did not seem at all
reluctant to show me how much you returned my love.’

‘No,’ she agreed, thinking that she would
never tire of showing him. It was extraordinary how what she had
once thought of as merely friendship could have deepened so quickly
into something so much more… volcanic. But then, Luc had this
little trick of playing the rake in the bedroom, which managed to
drive her to distraction. She thought that females everywhere were
missing out on what was probably a natural born rake and to not
have him ply his talents in public was a genuine loss but there
were limits. He was only allowed to play the rake for her; it was
strictly a one-woman performance. ‘Later, perhaps I might show you
again.’

‘Wicked,’ he whispered, pulling her a little
closer.

‘Would you have me any other way?’

Looking into those deep brown eyes, Luc
shook his head. He was possibly the happiest man in England. Having
teetered on the edge of a dreadful mistake, he had staggered back
from the edge to discover the kind of contentment most men could
only dream of. He had fallen in love with his best friend and the
future was glorious.

‘Nobody deserves to be as happy as I do
Ollie,’ he observed ruefully.

‘On the contrary. Nobody deserves it more,’
she replied softly. And oblivious to how outrageous it might look,
she kissed him full on the mouth, causing them both to loose their
steps and come to a halt in the middle of the dance floor.

‘She’ll have nothing but trouble with that
one,’ Lady Mortimer, one of Flora Richmond’s dearest friends and
most fervent whist partners predicted, watching the scandalous
display take place in the middle of a waltz.

Her companion Mrs. Hanniford, another
devotee of the game, nodded cheerfully. This was just her kind of
party; the food was excellent, the company was entertaining and
there was the promise of a little ladylike gambling ahead. ‘He’s a
rake, of course. All the girls like a rake.’

‘I wonder what her mother thinks?’

Both women looked across the room at where
Mrs. Granger was in conversation with Mrs. St James. Both women
were looking indulgently at their children who remained oblivious
of what was going on around them.

‘She seems quite resigned to the matter,’
Mrs. Hanniford said thoughtfully.

‘Oh well then,’ Lady Mortimer shrugged. It
would all end in tears, no doubt. But then, young St James was a
good looking devil and no doubt his new wife would have some fun
along the way. She returned to her dissection of the previous
evenings cards while the happy couple continued to remain
oblivious, wrapped up in each other while the world danced on
around them.

\