How to Marry a Rogue (32 page)

She sniffed with disdain, but her heart had begun hammering in her ears. “You mean the view
from
my house. You can stand all day by my window and look at the pretty girls strolling through the park.”

“No, I meant
in
your house.” His hand left her pendant, and he twisted his finger around one of her long curls that draped over her shoulder. “There is a living, breathing statue right in this very room. I must inform the British Museum immediately and advise them of its location. Some blackguard has stolen their most prized possession and supplanted it in Kensington.”

“Such a pretty speech. Tell me, Jack—have you always had to resort to lying in order to have your way with women?”

She hadn’t meant to sound so brusque, but the entire arrangement seemed so sordid and troubling now. Her mentioning of his household filled with willing servant girls only added to her heartache. She wondered if he really did keep a bevy of maidens for that very purpose.

His brow furrowed though his smile remained intact. “You don’t want me to go. Just say the word, and I’ll stay.” His voice was so low she wondered if she’d heard him correctly.

Her breath caught in her throat. “I don’t care what you do. Go or stay, it matters not. As you said before, we are merely friends helping each other in a mutually satisfactory situation.” Her hands remained on his chest. She glanced at his torso. She’d twisted her fingers in the fabric of his waistcoat.

“
Friends
. Well, when you explain our relationship like that, it does seem unpleasant. Hmm.”

His breath warmed her cheek. His eyelids lowered, and she gasped her objection, but no words came. Against her will, her feet rose on tiptoe and she leaned into his solid frame, his desire evident in the pressure against her thighs. She’d released his waistcoat and now gripped him around the neck, desperate for his lips, which seared hers when they met.

The clock chimed loudly behind her, and she jumped. He licked his lips, sealing in her kiss.

“I do have to leave, my charming friend with whom I’m pleasurably linked in name and bed only. But, if you like”—he stepped out of her embrace and straightened his coat—“we can meet at Lord Hetherington’s masque this evening. Lockewood told me you were going with him and the missus.”

She bristled, although she was secretly relieved her brother had invited him. She’d thought of making an excuse to Sophie about preferring to stay home, but now Jack was going, she wanted to go with him. It would be their first appearance as a married couple. She nodded.

“I’ll see you at nine, then. Try not to miss me too much.” He kissed her before she could object to his presumption.

She remained against the wall, her body aching with frustrated passion. “If I’m not otherwise preoccupied, I may come.” She frowned. “But how will I find you if it’s a masque?”

He paused at the door. “You will know me. I’ll be the one with his heart on his sleeve.”

She ran to the window to watch his carriage depart. What a strange costume he would have, with a heart decorating the sleeve! What manner of disguise was that? And what would she wear? Nothing in her wardrobe was suitable for a masque. Perhaps Sophie had a costume she could borrow.

As the carriage rounded the corner, he leaned out and waved. She waved back, frowning when she realized he’d known she would watch for him. Even so, she waited until he was out of sight before she turned from the window.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Georgiana entered Lord Hetherington’s home on Jonathan’s left arm, with Sophie on his right. The noisy chatter and laughter of the other guests distracted her from the restless feeling she’d had since Jack’s departure. Her beaded mask tilted over her face, and she straightened it with a shove. Sophie had insisted on costumes reminiscent of the ousted French aristocracy, and Georgiana didn’t know how she would maneuver the powdered wig reaching a good foot above her head. Not to mention, the wide panniers made entering a room the same time as the similarly costumed Sophie out of the question.

“Where is Jack?” Jonathan asked, too loudly.

Sophie patted Georgiana’s hand. “Ignore him, dearest. He’s irritable ever since he kissed Sebastian good night.”

“I am not. I agree with you we need to separate ourselves from the bonny boy from time to time.” His tone belied his words.

Georgiana would have returned Sophie’s grin, but she was too anxious herself to be concerned with the new father’s problems.

She searched the room, holding onto her brother’s arm to rise on tiptoe, but there were too many people to find one man amongst the crowd. None of the men present matched him in breadth and height, nor were any costumed with hearts or any other organ on their sleeves. She wanted to abandon her party to search him out, but Jonathan detained her.

“I saw Jack at White’s this afternoon. Is he not staying at Kensington with you?”

She’d always detested Jonathan’s direct approach. With an airy shrug, she gave him her brightest smile. “He is keeping his set at the Albany to keep him close to his grandfather’s affairs.” Even to her ears, it sounded contrived.

Jonathan sniffed. “How convenient. I wanted to speak to him about it this afternoon, but…”

“Oh, please, Jonathan, do not!” She shook his arm. “Why can you not let us be?”

Sophie silenced them with a look that was neither critical nor censuring. Georgiana always marveled at her sister-in-law’s ability to calm any situation, especially when it involved two of the hottest tempers in the family.

“Very well.” Jonathan accepted defeat. He led them toward the main ballroom where a waltz already played. “Are you certain Jack is meeting you?”

“He must have been detained.” Her face burned at Jonathan’s direct stare. She shrugged, hoping to lighten his mood. “He will be here. He promised.”

“Oh, well, then! Since he promised, he’s sure to come.”

“Why so surly, darling?” Sophie patted his cheek, giving a wink to Georgiana. “This is our first night away from the baby. Let us enjoy it.”

“Speaking of babies, Georgiana, I wanted to ask you about your plans.” His eyebrow arched.

Georgiana glanced around the ballroom. Everyone else was dancing, eating, or drinking. Why could her family not have one pleasant evening? Ever since she came home from France a married woman, she’d had nothing but trouble.

“What are you implying, my dear brother?” she asked sweetly.

“I am still trying to reconcile the fact you are a married woman now. You declined having a season because of your supposedly fragile state after that despicable affair. You swore you would never fall in love, and I heard the same such affirmation from Jack. Yet, here you are, married, after a few months together in France. A pair of babies, both of you. Playing at a fantastic game.” He shook his head and glanced at Sophie. “You remember, Sophie. Threatening to join a convent rather than consider marriage.” He turned to Georgiana again. By now, she wished she could sink into the floor. “I don’t know how you convinced Jack to throw off the mantle of bachelorhood, Georgiana.”

“Why must I have convinced him of anything? Why could he not have come up with the idea himself?”

“They are in love, Jonathan,” Sophie interjected.

Jonathan raised his hand. “My old friend has always done exactly what Georgiana wants him to do. She’s dangled him from her little finger since the first time they met.”

“In that case,” Sophie said gently, taking his arm and linking her fingers around it, “let him continue to be swayed by the woman he loves.”

Georgiana wanted to rage against their observations. Jonathan’s ideas were too extreme. Sophie’s were a fantasy she only wished were true. If she could control Jack, as Jonathan surmised, why was he not here, as promised? Lord knew whom he was with at this very moment, while she faced her brother’s accusations.

Sophie’s excited gasp broke the silence growing between them. “My dear, do you see the woman who just arrived? The one in the feathers and flounces?” Her voice rose in delight. “Is she not Mrs. Leister, the famous actress?”

Relieved the conversation had turned from her, Georgiana followed Sophie’s gaze.

If she were not an actress or someone equally as flamboyant, the woman certainly had an intriguing sense of fashion. She was dressed from head to toe in violet silk, a headdress of black feathers gleaming against her raven-wing hair. A small crowd engulfed her. Jonathan’s face flushed as scarlet as his waistcoat. He looked as if he’d walk away, but Sophie prodded him.

“I wonder if we may say hello. I did so admire her in
Agamemnon
last year.”

“I daresay she has her own friends to keep her occupied.” He cleared his throat and tugged on his neckcloth in the same manner Jack had when he was nervous.

“Yes, Jonathan, let us introduce ourselves.” Georgiana rejoiced in his discomfort. Although she could not deduce why he would hesitate to meet such a personage, she wanted to punish him.

His eyes narrowed, but Sophie would not be swayed now she had a fellow conspirator. He sighed and shook his head.

“I can see we shall not have a pleasant evening until my two girls are satisfied.” He pushed ahead and cleared a path for Sophie and Georgiana. They reached Mrs. Leister, who was entertaining the group around her with a story about an inebriated theatre patron who’d jumped from his box down to the stage.

Her laughter stopped abruptly when she noticed Jonathan. Georgiana could not mistake the flicker of surprise and recognition in the other woman’s eyes. If Sophie noticed, she made no indication. Mrs. Leister sank into a graceful curtsy. Georgiana couldn’t help but stare. Sophie, too, was mesmerized.

“Mr. Lockewood. How lovely to find you here.”

Sophie gaped while Jonathan bowed. “Mrs. Leister, may I present my wife, the former Sophie Mallory?”

The women curtsied, and Mrs. Leister smiled at Georgiana. “This must be your sister, Mr. Lockewood. My, she is all grown up now.”

“And a married woman,” Jonathan added. He nodded at Georgiana. “She is now Mrs. Jack Waverley.” He punctuated each syllable of Jack’s name in an odd way.

Mrs. Leister’s finely drawn black brows quivered against her ivory skin for a second. “Congratulations, Mrs. Waverley. I hope you will be very happy.”

“I will…I am.” She glanced at Sophie to see if she had noticed anything amiss with the other woman’s reaction, but Sophie merely clapped her hands to her chest as if she had received the most marvelous present.

“We will not detain you further,” Jonathan said after an uncomfortable silence.

Mrs. Leister gave Georgiana a little smile. “Perhaps we will meet another time.”

“I would like that, Mrs. Leister.” She returned the smile, but her face felt frozen. She clutched the edges of her skirt with stiff fingers. As she walked away with her brother and sister-in-law, Georgiana couldn’t help but wonder if Jonathan had been hesitant to introduce her to the actress for a particular reason. A reason that had to do with Jack. Before she could question him, the group in front of her parted.

“There he is! Over by the punch.” Her knees wobbled a bit at the sight of her husband’s broad-shouldered form, bedecked in gaudy attire from a curly black-haired wig that reached his waist to the shiny tips of his leather boots.

Jonathan’s lip curled. “A pirate. I should have expected as much. Go to your husband, then, my dear, grown up sister. We will finish our conversation another time.”

Georgiana hurried across the ballroom. She concealed a frown behind her fan. Why would he surround himself with beautiful women rather than seek her? She took a quick breath and tapped his shoulder with her fan.

“I’ve been waiting for you, sir,” she said breathlessly.

He turned around, his lips curled into a smile from the previous joke. The sapphire blue eyes gleamed at her. Too late, she realized the straight, Roman nose was not the crooked one she knew and loved so well on her husband’s face. His costume was magnificent, but she doubted Jack was so skillful as to be able to change the curve of his cheekbones or the color of his eyes.

Edward Mitford swept the buccaneer hat from his head and bowed. “I’ve been looking for you, my lady.”

She nearly fainted at the reach of her mistake. To confront a gentleman—to confront
him
in such a public manner—oh, God, if Jack were inside the ballroom and came across her speaking to Edward—

She hastily curtsied. “Forgive me, sir. I mistook you for someone else.” She clutched the full skirts of her costume and swept it out of the way so she could make a quick exit. The layers of petticoats were unyielding and she stumbled.

Edward caught her hand. “I know that voice! Wait, my dear goddess. Do not go.”

He led her to the middle of the floor, while she tried vainly to remain fixed in place. She looked around frantically for Jonathan and Sophie, but they were admiring the statuary along the walls. One statue depicted a mother and child, and she knew her brother would not turn his attention from the marble infant soon enough.

Edward’s hand possessed her waist. She was grateful her mask prevented him from recognizing her.

“Are you not the delightful younger sister of Lord Aubrey? You caught my eye at Vauxhall last week.”

She was nearly dizzy from the waltz. His hand clutched hers in an iron grip. Even through the layers of both their gloves, she fancied she could feel his heated skin.

“No, I am not.” She fought for control while her mind tossed around ideas of how to break away without his being the wiser.

“Ah, you are going to play the coquette.” His fingers caressed her shoulder just above the line of her protecting stays. She shivered and he mistook her trembling for something else. The blue eyes leered at her. “I know I have seen you before, sweeting. Pray, remind me, and let us renew our acquaintance.”

They reached the edge of the dance floor. Before she could reply, a gloved hand tapped Edward’s shoulder. His smile vanished, and they stepped to the side. Jonathan glowered at them from behind his face paint and mask.

“Unhand my sister, you scoundrel.”

Edward stepped back, his face blanched. Georgiana nearly laughed at his cowardice. “Forgive me, Aubrey,” Edward began.