How to Marry a Rogue (13 page)

“Not stone. You would not be happy loving a man like me.”

She nearly sighed with relief. “Then you have nothing to worry about. I am not in love with you, and I promise not to fall in love with you, ever.”

“Good.” He cracked a wry grin. “And I swear never to fall in love with you.”

She’d hoped the very thing. Love and its wicked twin, jealousy, carried too much sorrow and despair. Besides, who needed love when one could live as free as one chose, able to come and go as she pleased? She wanted to leap for joy she would be spared any further heartache.

She would never have to endure the pain a man like Edward Mitford had caused. She would not have to sacrifice her soul by marrying someone like Herbert Richmond, either.

Jack was fun and full of life, and understood her heart and mind. What better husband could there be? Meeting Lady Richmond was the best possible answer to their mutual problems.

“So, Jack,” she said at length, relief pouring over her as fresh and bountiful as the tea in the pot, “are there any more gowns upstairs that would pass for a wedding dress?”

Chapter Fourteen

Georgiana waited for the elderly woman to regain her composure before releasing her hand. She’d only told Aunt Adele moments before about their sudden betrothal, and the poor dear looked as if she were about to faint. Not that she blamed her. Just hearing herself say the words aloud was madness.

After what seemed an interminable amount of time, Aunt Adele nodded slightly. “Forgive me, my dears. My head is spinning. I thought you were ill, and staying at Mr. Waverley’s because you were not strong enough to travel. I was in quite a dither when Alphonse returned home without you.” She fanned herself with a handkerchief. “Dear me, I hope I did not do wrong when I did not send for you directly.”

Her worried look turned into suspicion. Georgiana shook her head. “Jack was a complete gentleman, if you are concerned I was compromised. Indeed, my visit at the chateau only prompted feelings that have lain dormant for ever so long.” She gave Jack a meaningful look and he hastily agreed with her, although she wished he could refrain from giving such a sardonic smile.

Aunt Adele patted her chest as if she had to catch her breath. “You wish to marry Mr. Waverley, Georgiana?”

“Yes. Shall I send for some tea?”

“Thank you. I do feel a little out of sorts.”

“I’m not surprised,” Jack said wryly. “I confess I nearly fainted myself.” Georgiana gave him a warning look, but he only grinned.

“But why now, why here? Can you not wait until we return to England? Your brother will be most…” Aunt Adele hesitated, and Georgiana imagined all sorts of descriptive phrases regarding her brother’s reaction when he heard. “Disappointed.”

“Do not worry, Aunt Adele,” Georgiana said with more bravado than she felt. “Jonathan will not mind. After all, he wishes me to marry soon, and Jack is an old friend.”

“Which is why my death will be nice and slow, rather than swift and to the point,” Jack muttered.

“In any case,” Georgiana said, shooting him a warning look, “I must have your permission, since I am underage to marry in France. Will you help me?”

The older woman twisted her hands together and glanced around the parlor, as if help were on its way. “I…I do not know if I should.”

“I do not know which will alarm Jonathan more,” Jack said, smiling pleasantly as he sat beside Aunt Adele, “how you permitted Georgiana to go without a proper chaperone to a fiasco of a ball where she was nearly ravished, or that she has married a respectable gentleman.” He hesitated for only a moment. “Meaning myself, of course.”

“Oh, dear,” Aunt Adele murmured.

Georgiana pressed her from the other side. “Jonathan need never be told what happened at the ball. Will you grant your permission, Aunt Adele? It will mean the world to me.” If she had become too theatrical, she tried not to notice.

Aunt Adele glanced from one to the other and finally placed her hands over each of theirs. “Are you so in love you cannot wait? I know your mother would have wanted a fine wedding for you, Georgiana. Here, you have no friends, no relations, except for my sister and me.”

“It will be splendid,” she said quickly. “I have a lovely gown and bridal clothes. Besides, with my brother’s child on the way, I wouldn’t have time to plan something extravagant. All the attention is on the baby.” She hoped this final plea would work. Aunt Adele gave a drawn out sigh, and Georgiana couldn’t help but feel a little guilty about her part in duping the poor woman.

“What about love?” Aunt Adele glanced at Jack and appraised him with a sharp eye. “Do you protest your love for my niece? As much as I do like you, Mr. Waverley, you must admit this is highly irregular.” She chewed her lower lip, and the hand covering Georgiana’s trembled slightly. “Highly irregular.”

“I have always loved her,” he said firmly.

Georgiana gave a little start. She glanced at him, shyness striking her as if she were a wallflower at a ball.

His jaw seemed to tense for a second. He winked. “And she loves me. You may have no doubt of that, dear, dear Aunt Adele.” He lifted the woman’s hand and kissed it loudly.

At last, she nodded. “I suppose I cannot dissuade either of you. Georgiana will not bend once her mind is set.” Georgiana held her breath until she nodded again. “I grant my permission.”

“Thank you.” Georgiana flung her arms around her.

Aunt Adele returned her embrace, while Jack rose to order tea. “I only hope you do not have any regrets.”

“I won’t.” Georgiana looked quickly at Jack. “And neither will Jack.”

“Tomorrow at noon, then,” Jack said, and Georgiana beamed at him.

“Tomorrow.”

They sat with Aunt Adele for the remainder of the afternoon, discussing her plans to remain in France with her sister.

“You will have no further need of me once you have Mr. Waverley to protect you.” She dabbed her eyes with a lace handkerchief.

“But who will protect me from the charming Miss Lockewood?” Jack murmured, low enough so only Georgiana could hear.

She wanted to return his teasing, but his eyes glittered back at her like diamonds in a crystal bowl. The full realization she was about to tie herself to him for the rest of her life silenced her.

The remainder of the hour passed with Aunt Adele’s pleasant chatter about her future life in France, but Georgiana heard little. She couldn’t help but study Jack, noticing every tiny detail about him that had evaded her before. The curve of his ear was barely visible beneath his shaggy curls. His scarred hands were more noticeable when poking out from his white cuffs. She’d always thought him well built but had never noticed the muscular line of his legs, taut in his buckskin breeches.

A wedding day would mean a wedding night. Even if they were to maintain a companionable relationship rather than one based on love, they would not be truly married unless…

Something in her middle quivered, and she nearly faltered when Aunt Adele asked her a question.

“Yes,” she murmured in reply, staring at Jack’s bicep flexing beneath the taut wool sleeve of his coat when he reached for the teapot.

“Really?” Aunt Adele replied, sipping from her cup. “I thought you’d rather wait a year before starting a family.”

Chapter Fifteen

“Are you ready, Georgie? The priest won’t wait forever, you know.”

Jack paced the wide corridor, while tapping his fingers on his thigh and glancing at her door every few seconds. What could be keeping the girl? It wasn’t as if this were a state affair, or hundreds of guests were awaiting their arrival. She didn’t even have a proper wedding gown, just something one of his paramours had left behind.

She’d found the peach-colored silk gown hanging in the back of the wardrobe and had fallen in love with the plunging neckline and yards of Belgian lace around the hem. Had it belonged to Danielle or Francine, another lady whose company he’d briefly enjoyed? He shook his head, slightly ashamed he could not remember the delicious creature with whom he’d spent a memorable fortnight.

He glanced at his reflection in a large mirror hanging in the corridor. Deep lines marked his forehead, which was a burnished golden color from careless years of outdoor sport. His coat was a little tight around the shoulders, and he knew it was from lack of exercise since being away from his boxing club. He slapped his hand on his abdomen and sucked in his stomach.
Too much rich food.
He
spun around as a familiar giggle broke the silence.

“I never fancied you for a dandy.” Georgiana emerged from her chamber in a rustle of silk. Her ivory skin, flawless as an alabaster statue, glowed as if lit from within. The lowcut gown revealed more than a hint of cleavage, but she had tucked a lace-trimmed handkerchief in the front.

Marie apparently possessed the skills needed to arrange a lady’s hair, and she’d done a marvelous job on Georgiana, twisting her long, golden curls into a mass of spirals. Some were piled high on her head, fastened with his own jewelled stick pins, as she hadn’t travelled with any of the Lockewood jewels. He couldn’t help but stare at her; the full red lips, smiling at him with confidence and her eyes holding the slight look of adoration he’d noticed when he’d met her for the first time. She hadn’t given him a moment’s peace since.

“Have you lost your ability for speech?”

He marvelled at how much she had changed in the few years since they’d last met. She’d been all sugar and sweetness then, ready to bring him his favorite pudding when he and Jonathan returned from riding or some other sport. Once, she’d swiped a taste of the almond-flavored cream on a cake, leaving a smear on her face. He’d called her Pudding Face ever since. Where had the girl gone? In her place was a goddess, for all that she was unaware of the spell she cast on those around her.

He straightened his collar in the mirror. “I hardly notice my appearance, unlike some. I seem to have sprouted more silver at my temples, and the creases around my eyes multiply daily. You, however, probably enjoy the dazzling sight of your own visage every time you pass a mirror. I’ve noticed you never fail to glance at your reflection.”

She reached up before he could stop her. She brushed his unruly hair from his eyes, and he jumped as if her nearness had sparked something in him. A blush spread rapidly across her face, but she laughed.

“You are a schoolboy no longer, Jack. I rather like the look of you now—all respectability and properly tied neckcloths. You could be a responsible landowner and not a celebrated fighter.”

He snorted. “Believe me, it is only for the next hour. The moment the priest leaves, I’ll be back to shirtsleeves and boots.”

“What a shame.” She clucked her tongue. “You look very dashing all cleaned up. I’m surprised women aren’t crawling all over you.”

“They were, before you insinuated yourself into my chateau.”

She laughed, and it was the loud, hearty laugh of the Lockewoods, though rare in her brother.

At the thought of Lockewood’s reaction when he found out what they had done, Jack was tempted to utter a prayer. He offered his arm in a grand gesture. “My lady, our very drunk and overpaid priest awaits in the rose garden. But you’ll have to walk through an overgrown patch of weeds to get there, and I’m afraid there’s a rather large puddle we have to cross.”

She took his arm, linking both hands around it as she used to when she was a little girl. It was her way of making him stay for just one more game, one more story, when cards and brandy beckoned with Lockewood and his friends. One more ride on his shoulders, because Lockewood never would. And Jack always did.

“Is Aunt Adele downstairs?” she asked.

“Yes, along with Lady Priscilla and a rather sallow-looking fellow I can only assume is the ignoble Alphonse. She spoke to me privately.”

Georgiana fidgeted with a button his cuff. “What did she say?”

“She is having second doubts, Georgie. Despite our protestations, she is not convinced of our sincerity. She intends to write your brother, and I fully expect an inquisition upon our return that will make the Spanish one look like a garden party.” He scowled. “Presuming, of course, Lockewood is not already on his way here to slit my throat. A letter from Lady Richmond might have reached him by now.”

Her brow furrowed. “Why should Aunt Adele object? She likes you well enough.”

“She thinks I’ve seduced you.” He could not recall blushing since he was in school but felt uncomfortably warm. He’d blame it on the sun, dazzlingly hot this fine summer day, but they were still indoors. “As if I came all the way to France to take the innocence of my friend’s sister.”

“I shall write Jonathan today and inform him otherwise.”

“You shall do no such thing. Better to return to England in a few weeks, rather than the months we’ve planned. Of course, Aunt Adele may not write to him after all. I was rather—vocal—about her trusting that fool, Alphonse, to escort you to a ball, wherein he abandoned you the moment you arrived. I told her I rescued you from an unsavory situation, which might have resulted in your death, or ruined reputation, which is quite the same thing to her.”

“Oh, Jack!” She clapped her hand over her mouth, but he heard her escaped laughter. “You didn’t frighten the poor thing, did you?”

“I simply told her the prospect of your being ravished by two scoundrels was infinitely worse than attaching yourself to me for the rest of your life.”

“But not much worse.”

He glanced sideways at her. “No, not too much worse than that.”

They walked outdoors, blinking at the invasion of bright sunshine hitting their eyes. She lifted her skirts to avoid a muddy patch, and he had to force himself to turn away from the enticing sight of her trim ankle as she leapt across.

“Your grandfather’s chateau is rather a mystery. One finds the most curious things. To whom did these clothes belong?”

He didn’t want to tell her about the gown’s owner, although earlier he’d thought to tease her for wearing a courtesan’s gown. For some reason, the idea of teasing her no longer appealed. Especially when those great blue eyes were turned up at him.

“I’m not certain. My grandfather used to allow guests to stay here if they were passing through.” A little lie would never hurt. He couldn’t recall the last time his grandfather set foot in Bordeaux, and the old man was not known for his hospitality.