How to Marry a Rogue (20 page)

She frowned, her heartbeat quickening. She’d never thought he’d actually take her up on it.

Before this week, her experience was limited to the few, fumbling kisses with Edward, which she’d bestowed mostly due to her excitement at the dramatic enchantment of the whole elopement, and not for any real desire to kiss him. She’d actually found kissing repellant, with the rasp of a rough chin on her cheek, the reek of another person’s breath in one’s nose, and the foreign invasion of a probing tongue.

But that was with Edward. She’d almost dreaded kissing Jack on their wedding night, much as his breath was quite pleasing and the shape of his mouth intriguing enough she’d wondered what it would feel like pressed against hers. She’d worried kissing one man was the same as kissing another. What a relief to discover kissing Jack and kissing Edward were two entirely different things.

She leaned her face against her palms as she stared almost blindly into the mirror. What did Jack see when he looked at her? He was used to more experienced women. The sort who wouldn’t blush when he came to them and who probably didn’t lie motionless beneath him, afraid to make a sound in case she sounded wanton.

The hairstyle Marie had arranged suddenly appeared too girlish, innocent. Frowning, she tugged at a few hairpins and allowed a long curl to drape over her shoulder. Jack seemed to like twining his fingers in her hair, and she enjoyed being petted by him, almost as if she were a lazy cat sitting on his lap. She met her gaze in the mirror. Did she look more worldly now she’d shared his bed for a week? Did her newfound experience show in her face, in her eyes? If another man beheld her, would he know she was no longer a virgin, but a girl who’d crossed the invisible line into the world of men and women?

She pinched her cheeks to redden them but need not have bothered, since her thoughts alone were enough to make her blush. Was she enough for Jack, or had he quickly tired of her? He might be out now, seeking the company of women he was used to, before she’d practically coerced him into marriage. A worldly man like him would not be content to remain at home with a novice like her. He was probably relieved to be away on some semblance of business, no matter how contrived it sounded.

A ball, indeed.

Her cheeks reddened again. She frowned at herself in the mirror as if she could tell the girl looking back at her not to worry. The girl apparently didn’t understand. The blush spread from her collarbone to her hairline. There was no other choice. She would have to enhance his pleasure while at home, so he wouldn’t seek it elsewhere.

Marie’s laughter reached her through the open window. Rising from her chair, Georgiana leaned on the casement to look for her. Standing over a flowerbed, Marie leaned close as Philippe stooped to kiss her.

Georgiana ducked back inside her chamber before they noticed her. She left her chamber to seek Marie, who, being French, was surely an expert on love and all things related to it.

Not that she intended to fall in love with Jack, but learning a few things to amuse him in bed would be good for a laugh.

So why did she feel not the least bit amused?

Philippe bowed quickly when she came upon them in the garden, but Georgiana hoped her smile was reassuring. He left on some pretext or other to do with locks and latches, and Marie regarded her suspiciously.

“Does madame require anything else?” Her gaze took in the mussed hairstyle over which she’d taken such pains.

“Oh, no. I mean, I came to ask you something.” Her throat suddenly dried up. Perhaps she was overstepping. Marie was not much older and possibly lacked the same knowledge as she did. She might be offended Georgiana had assumed…

“Yes?” Suspicion changed to curiosity.

“I was wondering…” She chewed her lip, trying not to stammer. “I mean, if you happened to know…”

Marie took Georgiana’s hand and led her to a marble bench surrounded by a rose bower. Swatting at a bee, Georgiana sat beside her.

“What is it, madame?” Something in her round brown eyes told Georgiana she already suspected what she was going to ask.

“A…a friend of mine, back in England, was recently wed. She asked me some questions before I left, but I did not know how to respond.” Gulping, she pressed on. “Questions of an intimate nature.”

“I see.” Marie arranged the folds of her linen work dress around her. “She wanted to know how to please her husband.”

Georgiana bit her lip to fight back a blush. “Yes. But I thought…” She indicated Marie with a weak hand. The rosy cheeks flushed, but the older girl merely nodded.

“I have been in love with Philippe Bertrand for two years. He refuses to marry me until he has enough money to buy a house. My father is crippled and depends upon me.” Her slim shoulders rose in a shrug. “That does not mean I keep Philippe at a distance. We will be married someday.”

As if she expected censure from Georgiana, she crossed her arms over her chest. Georgiana patted her hand.

“I hope you will be able to marry soon, Marie. I will speak to my…to Jack about it. Perhaps he may do something. There must be a little house around here you could have.”

Marie’s eyes lowered. “
Merci
, my dear madame. I would not ask for myself, but….”

“Say no more about it,” Georgiana said, her heart swelling with generosity. She could afford to be generous when she was so happy. Correction, she thought, the nagging hint of fear and uncertainty creeping back into her mind.
Could
be so happy.

“About your friend’s situation,” Marie said, after clearing her throat and blinking back what Georgiana realized were tears, “she should be as open and loving to her husband as he is to her.”

Georgiana leaned forward, as if being closer would make the words stick in her mind. “What do you mean?”

“She should not wait for him to come to her. She can be…” She hesitated, as if her next words were too daring to speak. “Seductive.”

“Seductive?” The word slipped from her mouth, foreign and strange. “How so?”

Marie arranged the long curl over Georgiana’s shoulder, flipping up the end. “She should greet him like Delilah, adorned in flowers.” She plucked a rose from the bush beside her and tucked it into Georgiana’s hair. “Your friend should abandon her nightrail…and wear something…” Her eyes skimmed Georgiana’s body, as if determining what sort of clothing would best fit the situation. “Something alluring. Such as his shirt.”

“I see.” Hadn’t Jack mentioned his shirt looked better on her than it did on him? Her pulse raced with excitement. “What else?”

“Philippe likes the windows open, and candlelight. Not the darkness.” Her blush returned, but she laughed when Georgiana smiled. “I think it is the same for most men. The fresh breeze on the skin and being able to see what lies waiting for them.”

Georgiana wished she had something on which to write Marie’s advice. Hopefully, she would retain most of it. “Seduction, then, is the key.” It seemed almost too simple. Of course! Had not Jack seduced her right from the beginning? Starting out slow and then dragging her along with him into a pleasurable world she had never known?

“Yes.” She brushed her fingertips across Georgiana’s cheek. “But you have nothing to worry about, madame. Monsieur is madly in love with you.”

“I…what? Who? I was speaking about my friend.” She shook her head. “And you are mistaken, Marie. Jack is not in love with me. Nor I with him.” The shock of what she’d just said tasted bitter. She’d made her marriage sound like a joke, a sacrilege. “I merely sought your advice, because…”

Marie stood, pulling Georgiana’s hand as she went. “Come, madame.”

“Where are we going?”

“To your chamber, to find a dress for the ball tonight. Philippe will escort you and help you find monsieur.”

Her steps faltered. “He is at a business meeting. I should not disturb him.”

“Yes, you should.”

Georgiana regarded her with new admiration. “What will I do when I find him?”

Marie squeezed her hand. “You’ll know.”

****

A few minutes later, Georgiana was knee deep in gowns and petticoats, tearing through her selection of evening gowns for the perfect dress. She held up a silk gown the color of fresh cream and tossed it back into her growing pile with a muttered oath. Virginal white was not what she wanted tonight. She would confront him at the ball and then…

And then she knew not what.

She sagged among the sea of silks and lace, drawing her knees up and pressing her head to them. How could he have predicted this exact thing would happen? What piece of her heart had betrayed her into falling in love? She neither wanted nor expected it to happen and had given her assurances—nay, protestations—to the contrary. She’d assured him he was free to seek out the company of whomever he wished. Now that he had, she wanted to take back everything she’d said.

Their arrangement was perfect for Jack. She’d said so herself. What man wouldn’t take her up on her offer? In a five-minute ceremony, he’d gained freedom from his grandfather, the freedom to do as he pleased, and all while receiving the full blessing of a wife with a dowry of thirty thousand.

The clock chimed the hour. Nearly five, but she was not the least bit hungry. She wondered if she could ever eat again. Jack would not be home until very late, if not until breakfast. Perhaps he was postponing his return because he couldn’t bear her company. Worse, he was too busy enjoying the company of someone else.

Gulping back her misery, she decided to forget Marie’s plan and simply have a light supper and go to bed. As she pulled free of the pile around her, a dark blue gown caught her eye. She shuffled through the garments until she grasped it.

The bodice was far too low to be respectable.

The fabric so sheer one would appear exposed.

Anyone foolish enough to wear it in public risked censure.

It was the perfect choice.

She struggled to her feet and shook out the dress. A faint whiff of garlic and heady perfume clung to the fabric. It was one of the many gowns left to molder away in the wardrobe by its mystery owner.

“And he has absolutely no idea to whom this belonged,” she muttered. She stood before the mirror and held the dress up to her bosom, turning from side to side to appreciate all angles of what she might look like wearing it. The sharp blue brought out the color of her eyes. The silk would float like gossamer against her skin.

Although not conceited, she was very aware of her effect on men. Of her effect on Jack. He could tease with silly nicknames and tug her hair all he wanted. She knew the look in his eyes was not that of a boy teasing a girl. Marie’s words filled her with renewed hope. She would surprise him for a change, until he was begging for release. He would never desire to go back to any of his paramours.

She would make herself as irresistible to him as he was to her.

Damn him.

Chapter Twenty-Two

“Your luck is appalling, my dear fellow. If it does not spend itself quickly, I fear you will have to accept my wife as payment for my debts.” Le Comte d’Oursy tugged at his lace cuffs before taking a pinch of snuff.

Jack leaned back into the stiff brocade chair and cracked his knuckles. “Your wife is too thin. I would prefer your eldest daughter, monsieur. Clarice, is it?”

“Careful, monsieur. My sense of humor is as fickle as your mistress’s affections.”

He snorted. “Which one?”

“I know you have many.” A nod of his head indicated the door. “Here comes one now. I have not seen this one before, but she must be new, as she appears to be spitting daggers at you.” He smirked. “She’s quite fresh and lovely, Jack. I applaud your exquisite taste. When you tire of her, please send her my way.” He gave an extravagant bow and tossed a roll of banknotes at Jack. “I bid you adieu, until the next time we meet.” The comte pushed away from the table and straightened his coat.

“Perhaps you will win it all back from me, though I doubt it.” Jack tucked his winnings inside his coat before he prepared to face Danielle. He ran his hands through his hair and half rose from his chair, a silent curse on his lips. He’d meant to write her, informing her of his newly wed status, but had been distracted of late to do so.

Calling Georgiana distracting was like calling the sea enormous.

Which was why he’d invented the excuse of dining out to spare her another night of passion. He’d sensed their growing closeness, despite both of their protestations they were merely friends. But it was hard to be friends with a woman who clung to his neck while she squirmed deliciously beneath him half the night. Impossible to remember they were friends, not lovers when her lips parted for him the moment they kissed. He was alarmed at how often he came up with a new excuse every night to escort her to her chamber. He’d checked the lamps, the chimney flue, and even a suspicious damp spot on the ceiling so many times she surely saw right through him.

“I would have called on you sooner, my dear…” His words broke in mid-sentence as he turned to face his scorned lover.

“Indeed? Then I have come at a most opportune time.” Georgiana’s clipped tone was contrary to her garish costume.

He almost laughed at his audible gulp, hiding his gleeful surprise she’d found him. God, he’d missed her, even if it had only been half a day since he’d seen her last. He’d wanted to put some distance between them but had spent most of the day lamenting her absence and counting the seconds until he was in his carriage heading home. He straightened to his full height, and she had to tip her head back to glare at him.

“What the devil are you doing here, Georgie? Has the house burnt to the ground, and you’ve come to fetch me?” He scanned her figure and did his best to look nonplussed. “Apparently, all your clothes are lost, and this is the best you can do.”

“The house is fine.” She spoke evenly, but it was through quivering lips. “You can come and go as you please, and I should have the same allowance.”

“I never said you were chained to the hearth, Mrs. Waverley.” He chewed his lip to restrain himself from laughing. The only thing worrying him more than Lockewood’s sister at a soiree of the most questionable kind was meeting Danielle at the same locale. She knew d’Oursy well and was a familiar guest. A quick scan of the ballroom assured him of her absence. The strange feeling he was walking blindly into a trap pervaded the air around him, even though the woman doing the trapping was an innocent little thing he could master at his will.