Rogues Gallery (39 page)

He moved his arm out of range of the Dowager's fan, clasping his hands behind his back and frowning as though deep in thought. Georgiana could not halt her merriment this time, though she covered her smile quickly, coughing into her gloved hand.

If she were lucky, Lord Rakehell would not have noticed. . .

He tossed a wink her direction. Georgiana felt her cheeks heat at being caught enjoying his predicament. He might not know she was a permanent resident of Wallflower Row, but she was well aware he was the impossibly attractive, wildly adventurous, dashingly roguish Simon Blakely, Lord Winbourne.

He had long been a favorite topic of the widows and spinsters and bluestockings, providing them many hours of entertainment the past several months. For some reason, this evening the Dowager felt it necessary to take him to task for it.

"Lady Thornham." His lips twitched but he continued in a grave voice. "I can appreciate the amount of time you have devoted to the eradication of scandalous behavior. But I fervently believe you have mistaken me for another."

"That is impossible." The dowager's neck shook with her barely-contained rage. "I may be ancient, but I am quite capable of determining which rake is doing what these days." She glanced around, needing reinforcements. Georgiana did her best to disappear into the shadows before she could be dragged into the conversation, but to no avail. "Miss Kirkwood! I have need of your advice."

"Of course," Georgiana answered, dreading the dowager's glare if she were to refuse the summons. "I would be happy to assist."

The dowager harrumphed, for no good reason other than that is what she always did. "Allow me to introduce Miss Georgiana Kirkwood."

Georgiana discovered that while Lord Rakehell was handsome from a distance, he was even more remarkable up close, what with his shiny chestnut hair in a careless style, and his mischievously sparkling eyes trained on her. She decided against a curtsy, for her knees were inexplicably wobbly at that moment.

He lifted her fingers toward his lips, and she could do nothing but watch, captivated. What might it be like to have that sinful mouth against hers?

"Pleasure, Miss Kirkwood," he said in an intimate voice, before depositing a brief kiss on her hand.

Pleasure
. Yes, that is indeed what it would be, were they to ever kiss. His touch practically promised it.

Georgiana shook her head at such foolishness, hoping her wayward thoughts were not plastered across her features. She could feel heat blossoming from her neckline to her hairline. Yet for some reason she shivered at the same time.

She gave him a brief nod, hoping to escape before she could make a complete fool of herself. "Lord—"

"They call him Lord Wastrel," the dowager said with a sniff, "but he is actually Lord Weyson."

Georgiana bit back a smile. "Lady Thornham, you have indeed confused this gentleman with another. This is—"

His eyebrow lifted as he waited for her to finish. Georgiana would be forced to admit she knew of his exploits, and was even able to distinguish them from those of his best friend, Lord Wastrel.

The dowager frowned as she examined him through her lorgnette. "No, I am confident this is Lord Wastrel. I discuss his dalliances and peccadilloes every day when I have tea with Lady Aldersley."

"We rakes and rogues do share several similar qualities," he offered. "But I have been abroad the past fortnight, so I cannot claim credit for my friend's scandals."

The dowager narrowed her eyes at the man, before turning to Georgiana for confirmation.

"It is not difficult to see why you confused them." At the dowager's deepening frown, Georgiana hastened to add, "I am certain they discuss this knavish behavior at their club. It is akin to a finishing school, for rogues."

Lord Rakehell coughed. "Quite. We have standards to which we must adhere. Rakish rules and all that."

Georgiana fought to keep her smile at bay. "So it appears Lord Wastrel is the culprit. Not—" She held her hand out towards the rake in question.

"Lord Rakehell." He bowed, with more flourish than was necessary. When he straightened, he caught Georgiana rolling her eyes.

She did her best to ignore the broad grin he shot her direction.

The Dowager harrumphed again, setting the ostrich feathers in her cap to bouncing. "Well, mind your manners. And you should see about the rascals with whom you associate." She gave him another warning tap from her fan. "It is not amusing to confound your elders in this fashion."

"I agree wholeheartedly." He brought the Dowager's hand to his lips, lingering a bit too long, enough for her to pretend being the object of his attention discomfited her. He stepped back before he could be the recipient of her fan once more.

"I must fetch a cup of punch," she announced.

Georgiana breathed a sigh of relief. She would be happy to accompany Lady Thornham to her destination, so that she might begin to think clearly again once out of the sphere of Lord Rakehell's wicked influence.

Just as she stepped forward, the Dowager halted when she saw an acquaintance passing by. "Lady Aphrodite Carramont. I have not seen you in an age!" She began the introductions, but then blurted, "Why do you have such an impossible name?"

Lady Aphrodite chuckled, clearly used to the Dowager's abrupt ways. "My father was a great admirer of Greek stories, and gave me the name as an homage. Yet I cannot tell you how often I have wished for a simpler moniker."

Georgiana was struck by the woman's rare and otherworldly beauty, as well as the numerous bracelets, silver locket, and pearl drop earrings she wore. She could not begin to guess Lady Aphrodite's age, but there was a serenity about her that belied her youthful appearance. Lord Rakehell smiled pleasantly, yet, unlike the other gentlemen nearby, he did not seem besotted by the woman.

"Oh, yes, I remember your father!" The Dowager smiled at a distant memory. Georgiana braced herself in case the Dowager decided to share it in mixed company. Fortunately she merely added, "Such a fascinating man."

The Dowager and Lady Aphrodite began chatting with each other, ignoring Georgiana and Lord Rakehell. She smiled at how she thought of him by his nickname rather than his actual title.

"Such a secretive smile," he said in a teasing voice. "I envy the one who is the reason for it."

"Such an accomplished flirt," she said with a laugh. "You have no reason to envy anyone."

"Can I at least admit I am gratified I am not Lord Wastrel? He has earned several black marks against his name as far as the Dowager is concerned."

"Oh, never fear," Georgiana said cheerfully. "You are bound to join him on her list soon. Once she determines the extent of your blameworthy behavior."

His grin was a wicked one, causing her heart to dance in a riotous fashion. "It seems you are already aware of the rumors attached to my name. Yet, unlike the Dowager, you are not at all scandalized."

There was no mistaking the humor in his expression, along with a great deal of interest as to why she was not fainting to the floor from conversing with a notorious rake. How could she confess she found him utterly fascinating, and had for quite some time? It was not what a proper miss should do, as he well knew.

"Perhaps it is because I have been tasked with cataloguing the various rakes and rogues of London."

"Indeed? I had no idea there was an official cataloguer."

She laughed at his feigned surprise. "It is an unofficial role, I can assure you. And one I did not seek out."

"Yet it appears you have done exceedingly well. I must commend you on your devotion to such an arduous task."

"And I am overcome with joy at your praise," she said in a mocking tone. "I can continue my work with renewed vigor."

His appreciative laughter warmed Georgiana more than she could have imagined, and in places she never thought would be affected by humor. Her mother would have swooned long before now if she had known how much her only daughter relished this time with a rake of the first order.

She was only sorry it had to end soon.

"Lady Thornham," Lady Aphrodite said, linking arms with the Dowager. "We must continue our comfortable coze over a glass of punch. It has been much too long since our last visit."

"That is an excellent idea." Lady Thornham turned toward Lord Rakehell. "I expect you to heed my warnings about the company you keep."

"I shall keep your counsel close to my heart," he answered with a hand to his chest, and a mischievous smile playing about his lips.

The Dowager frowned but it did nothing to curb his amusement. She turned to leave, but Lady Aphrodite said, "Miss Kirkwood, I believe you dropped your handkerchief."

Georgiana and Lord Rakehell both reached for the linen on the marble floor at the same time. They managed to prevent knocking their heads together, but his fingers brushed against hers, and this time Georgiana would swear something sparked where their hands touched. Her eyes blinked furiously, and his did as well, and nothing could have compelled her to break the contact with him.

They both straightened at the same time. The attraction she had felt for him previously intensified to an almost unbearable level. She could scarcely breathe. He rubbed the area near his heart, almost absentmindedly, keeping his eyes on her the entire time.

"I apologize, Miss Kirkwood. Your handkerchief."

Georgiana accepted the offering, realizing belatedly it was not hers. She glanced around but Lady Aphrodite and the Dowager had been absorbed into the crowd. "I suppose I can return it to her later."

"She may appreciate the respite from the Dowager," he said with a laugh. "Though I cannot remember when I have enjoyed a scolding so much as this one."

Georgiana glanced up at the merriment in his voice. This time there was more than mischief in his expression. It was filled with heat, and longing, and a passionate intent that mirrored her own.

For the first time in her life, she was flustered, and lightheaded, and unable to think rationally. She did not know how to respond to this strange turn of events. So she did the only thing she could.

She fell instantly in love.

***

S
imon was besotted. Immediately, and irrevocably.

He could not keep his eyes from detailing every delightful feature Miss Kirkwood possessed. Luscious blonde curls barely subdued in a topknot. Green eyes filled with humor and intelligence. A bow-shaped mouth seemingly designed for his kisses.

For some unknown reason the young beauty was usually ensconced with the spinsters and widows on Wallflower Row. How had she managed to escape the notice of all the young bucks in Town? Had they no idea of her wit and grace, not to mention the passion barely hidden beneath the surface?

How had
he
not noticed her before now?

She tilted her head, quizzically, and Simon realized he had not said anything for several minutes. He had lost track of the time, knowing only that he wanted to spend every moment of the future with her.

What an unexpected evening this had turned out to be.

Simon grinned. And what great good fortune, being chastised by Lady Thornham. He would send Hugh a lavish gift to thank him for whatever riotous action had made the Dowager mistake the two of them, for it had brought him into contact with Georgiana.

He would always consider this the luckiest day of his existence. The day he found the woman meant just for him.

Miss Georgiana Kirkwood.

The love of his life.

***

A
phrodite watched the young couple across the ballroom, smiling and laughing with each other. She could not halt the contented sigh from escaping her lips. "I adore helping people fall in love."

Ares gave them a brief glance. "We can return home then?"

"So soon?" she asked with a pout. "I have scarcely set things in motion."

He tugged at his neckcloth, growling. "These clothes are much too confining." He flexed his arm, the muscles nearly bursting the form-fitting sleeve. "It would be impossible to swing my sword in here, and not merely because of the number of people stuffed into this ballroom."

Aphrodite bit back a smile at her warrior's frustration. "Surely you found something to amuse yourself while I brought these two together."

His irritation evaporated, replaced by an infectious grin. "There was a lively dustup in the card room. A chap accused another one of cheating, so he was honor-bound to challenge him to a duel." He rubbed his hands together. "Looks like it will be pistols at dawn."

Aphrodite nearly groaned at her bloodthirsty lover's enthusiasm. Still, he had his interests, and she had hers, and it made them the perfect pair.

"I want to stay a bit longer." She stroked Ares' hair from his forehead, unable to resist any opportunity to touch him. "At least until after the wedding."

"You are certain there will be a wedding?"

She nodded toward the couple, who were so obviously smitten with each other. It had been too long since she had played matchmaker, and she was delighted with her instant success.

"Oh yes," she answered proudly. "I am certain there will be a wedding. And I predict it will be the wedding of the century."

Several weeks later

St. George's Church, Hanover Square

It was the wedding debacle of the century.

Georgiana sniffled, hiding her distress in a weak smile and her lawn handkerchief. The very handkerchief from the evening she had fallen instantly in love with Simon. She had insisted on having it today, for purely sentimental reasons, while she plighted her troth.

Unfortunately, the groom was not present.

Nor was there any indication he was planning on being at the church anytime soon. If he was, surely he would have sent a servant to relay the news, along with a basketful of apologies. She was torn between wishing something dreadful had befallen him, and wishing he would arrive so she could be the one who caused something dreadful to befall him.

It had been such a whirlwind romance. During the past weeks she had become the darling of the gossips, since it was unheard of for a Wallflower Row miss to receive an offer of marriage from a genuine London rake.