The Rake (3 page)

Edwina patted her arm. "You are not a poor example, Georgiana.
Milly
and I never married, and we have never suffered from the lack of a husband."

"Not that we ever lacked beaux, of course,"
Milly
broke in. "Just never found the right ones. I don't miss marriage one bit. Though I admit that with this bad foot, I do miss dancing."

"That's why I'm here, really." Georgiana sat forward, taking a deep breath. This was it; the first move on the chessboard to begin the game. "I thought you might like having someone here to help you get about, and I would like to feel at least a little useful, so I—"

"Oh, yes!" Edwina interrupted. "Another female in the house would be splendid! With all the
Carroway
boys in London until Midsummer's Eve, believe you me, it would be a relief to have someone civilized to chat with."

Georgiana smiled, taking
Milly's
hand. "So,
Milly
, what do you say?"

"I'm sure you have better things to do than follow an old, gouty spinster about."

"Nonsense.
I would make it my task to see you dancing again," Georgiana answered firmly. "And it would be my pleasure."

"Oh, say yes,
Milly
. We'll have such fun!"

Milly
Carroway
smiled, color touching her pale cheeks. "Then I say yes."

Georgiana clapped her hands together, hiding her relief in enthusiasm. "Splendid!"

Edwina stood. "I'll have Dawkins prepare a room for you. I'm afraid with all the brothers in town, the west rooms are occupied. Do you mind the morning sun?"

"Not at all.
I rise early." Not that she would do much sleeping, knowing that devil Tristan
Carroway
was under the same roof. She was insane, to do this. Yet if she didn't do this, who would?

While her sister bustled from the room,
Milly
remained in her well-cushioned chair amidst an imposing pile of overstuffed pillows, one foot bandaged and resting on an equally well padded stool. "I'm so pleased you're coming to stay with us," she said, sipping her tea. Dark eyes regarded Georgiana over the porcelain
rim. "But I was under the distinct impression that you and Tristan didn't get on well. Are you certain you wish to do this?"

"Your nephew and I have had our differences, yes," Georgiana admitted, choosing her words with great care. Dare would no doubt be after his aunts for information about her visit later, and she needed to begin spinning the threads of her trap. "That is no reason, though, for me to avoid spending time with you and Edwina."

"If you're certain then, my dear."

"Yes, I'm certain. You've given me a purpose again. I hate feeling useless."

"Do I need to write your aunt to ask her permission for your change of address?"

Georgiana drew a quick breath.
"Oh, of course not.
I am four-and-twenty,
Milly
. And she'll be pleased to know I'll be here with you and Edwina." With a last smile, she stood. "In fact, I need to tell her, and to take care of a few things this morning. Do you wish me here this evening?"

Milly
chuckled. "I still wonder if you have any idea what you're getting yourself into, but yes, this evening will be lovely. I'll inform Mrs. Goodwin to lay another place at table."

"Thank you."

Georgiana collected her maid and made her way back to her aunt's coach.

Milly
Carroway
hobbled to the window to watch the dowager duchess's carriage depart.

"Sit down, Millicent!" Edwina exclaimed, as she slipped back into the room. "You'll ruin everything."

"Don't worry,
Winna
.
Georgie's
gone to get her
things,
and Tristan's at
Tattersall's
."

"I can't believe it was so simple."

Resuming her seat in the cushioned chair,
Milly
couldn't help smiling at the pleased, eager look on her sister's face, despite her own reservations. "Well, she's saved us the trouble of going to Frederica and asking to borrow her for the Season, but try not to get your hopes up."

"Oh, nonsense.
That fight
Georgie
and Tristan had was six years ago. Would you rather he settled for one of those simpering debutantes? Those two are a perfect match."

"Yes, like a flame and gunpowder."

"Ha. You'll see,
Milly
. You'll see."

"That's what I'm afraid of."

That had gone so smoothly, Georgiana could scarcely believe she'd actually done it. She'd barely suggested that she'd move in; then they'd done the rest for her. As she returned to Hawthorne House, however, reality began to seep back in.

She'd agreed to become a resident for an indefinite stay at
Carroway
House, where she'd see Tristan every day. And she'd put into motion a plan that she wasn't entirely certain she would have the courage to see through to its end.
A plan to put Dare in his place and to teach him the consequences of breaking hearts.

"Well, no one deserves it more than he does," she muttered.

Her maid, seated on the opposite side of the coach, blinked.
"My lady?"

"Nothing, Mary.
Just thinking aloud.
You don't mind a change of residence for a while, do you?"

"No, my lady.
It'll be an adventure."

Getting her maid to acquiesce to her plan was one thing; however, convincing her aunt would be another entirely.

"Georgiana, you've gone mad." Frederica
Brakenridge
, the Dowager Duchess of Wycliffe, set down her cup of tea so hard the steaming liquid sloshed over the rim.

"I thought you were fond of
Milly
and Edwina
Carroway
," Georgiana protested, trying to maintain her expression of innocent surprise.

"I am. I thought you were distinctly
not
fond of Lord Dare. For six years you've been complaining about how he stole that kiss from you to win a wager, or some such nonsense."

It took all of the control Georgiana had not to blush. "That seems rather trivial after all this time, don't you think?" she said lightly. "And besides, you have no need of me, and my parents have even less need of me. Miss
Milly
could use a companion."

Aunt Frederica sighed. "Whether I need you or not, Georgiana, I enjoy your company. I'd hoped to lose your companionship to marriage; with your income, there's no reason for you to go from one old lady to the
next until you're infirm enough to need a companion yourself."

There was a powerful reason for that—but it was not one she intended to disclose to anyone.
Ever.
"I don't wish to marry, and I can't very well join the army or the priesthood. Leisure doesn't sit well with me. Being a companion to a friend seems the most tolerable occupation—at least until I'm of an age where Society will accept that I truly have no desire to marry and intend to devote my time and money to charitable works."

"Well, you seem to have it all planned. Who am I to interfere?" Frederica asked, with a wave of her fingers. "Go, then, and give my best to
Milly
and Edwina."

"Thank you, Aunt Frederica."

To her surprise, her aunt grabbed her hand and squeezed it. "You know you're welcome here whenever you wish to return. Please remember that."

Georgiana stood and kissed her aunt on the cheek. "I will. Thank you."

She still needed to speak with Amelia Johns at the
Ibbottson
ball on Thursday. But in the meantime, she had a plan to put into motion.

As Tristan went downstairs for dinner, the house seemed uncommonly quiet. True, his family was gathered in the dining room to eat, but the silence didn't seem to be the usual chaos-removed calm. Rather, it almost felt as if
Carroway
House was holding its breath.

Or more likely, he decided as he straightened his coat and pushed open the dining room door, Lady Georgiana Halley's visit had set his perceptions out of kilter. He stepped inside the room—and stopped.

She
sat there, at his table, chuckling at something Bradshaw had said. The surprise must have shown on his face, because Georgiana lifted an eyebrow as she met his gaze.

"Good evening, my lord," she said, her smile unaltered, though her green eyes cooled.

He doubted anyone but he had even noticed the
change. Tristan snapped his jaw closed. "Lady Georgiana."

"You're late for dinner," his youngest brother, Edward, piped up. "And
Georgie
says that's rude."

The Runt had never met the chit before today, yet they were already on a first-name basis. Tristan took his seat at the head of the table, noting that some idiot had placed Georgiana just to his right. "So is staying for dinner without being invited."

"She
was
invited,"
Milly
stated.

As she spoke, he realized that both his aunts were present for the first time in days. Cursing Georgiana under his breath for taking his attention away from his family, he stood again.
"Aunt
Milly
.
Welcome back to the chaos." He rounded the table to kiss her on the cheek. "But you should have called for me. I would have been happy to carry you in here."

Blushing, his aunt flipped a hand at him.
"Oh, nonsense.
Georgiana came back with that wheeled contraption over there, so she and Dawkins just rolled me into the dining room. It was quite fun."

He straightened, returning his gaze to Georgiana.
" 'Came
back?'
" he
repeated.

"Yes," she said sweetly. "I'm moving in."

His mouth started to fall open again, and he clenched his jaw against it. "No, you're not."

"I am."

"You're n—"

"She is," Edwina interrupted. "She's come to help
Milly
, so be quiet and sit down, Tristan Michael
Carroway
."

Ignoring the snickers from his younger brethren, Tristan slid his gaze back to Georgiana. The minx smiled at him again.

Evidently, the evil that he'd done in his life was so excessive that his eternal punishment was getting started early. Eternity simply wasn't long enough in his case. Pasting an uncaring smile on his face, he dropped into his chair again. "I see. If you think she can truly be of assistance to you, Aunt
Milly
, then I have no objection."

Georgiana scowled. "You have no objection? No one asked—"

"I would like to point out, though, Lady Georgiana," he continued, "that you have decided to stay in a household with five single gentlemen, three of them adults."

"Four," Andrew broke in, coloring. "I'm seventeen. That's older than Romeo was when he married Juliet."

"And it's younger than I am, which is what counts," Tristan countered, sending his brother a stern look. The lack of discipline usually didn't bother him, but damn it all, Georgiana didn't need any more ammunition to use against him. She'd already collected bucketfuls.

"Don't worry over my reputation, Lord Dare," Georgiana said, though he noted that she avoided his gaze. "The presence of your aunts provides me with all the respectability I require."

For some damned reason, she was determined to stay. He'd figure out why later, when he didn't have a
half dozen people hanging on every word he and Georgiana exchanged. "Then stay." He sent her a dark look. "But don't say I didn't warn you."

Though he was far from immune to Georgiana's considerable charms, he had developed the talent of appearing to be unmoved. Bradshaw, two years younger and with a reputation vying for the blackness of his own, wasn't nearly as skilled. On the other side of the spectrum, Robert, twenty-six, might have been dining alone for all the response he made. Andrew simply drooled, while Edward suddenly seemed fascinated with learning table manners.

Tristan made it through dinner without suffering an apoplexy,
then
escaped to the billiards room to smoke and curse. Anything between himself and Georgiana was finished; she'd made that abundantly and repeatedly clear. Whatever in damnation was going on, he didn't like it. And he liked even less that he was going to have to go to Georgiana to get his answers—unless he could pry them from
Milly
and Edwina, who had no doubt succumbed to the chit's charms as well, and had no idea what she might be up to.

"She's gone up to bed."

Tristan jumped. Bit leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, and Tristan scowled at him, wondering for a brief moment how long his brother had been there. "What? Robert the Sphinx has decided to speak, unasked? Is it a miracle, or are you trying to make trouble?"

"I just thought you should know, in case you were
tired of hiding. Good night." Robert pushed upright and vanished back into the hallway.

"I am
not
hiding."

He simply had rules for himself where Lady Georgiana Halley was concerned. If she attacked, he would respond in kind; if she insinuated herself into a group of which he was already a part, he would not object. And she could break her damned fans across his knuckles whenever she pleased, because it was his private opinion that for some reason she continued to want to touch him. The contact rarely elicited more than a wince, and it gave him the opportunity to purchase replacements for her, which, of course, annoyed her even more.

But this insistence of hers on living under his roof was different. There were no pages in this rule book, and he bloody well needed to make some before anything happened.

Tristan resignedly snuffed out his cheroot and headed upstairs.

Georgiana sat before the fire in her bedchamber, an unopened book on her lap. She hadn't slept at all last night; contemplating her plan had kept her up and pacing until dawn. Tonight, though, was even worse.
He
was in this same house, perhaps only a floor away, perhaps only a hallway away.

A quiet knock sounded at her door, and she nearly leapt out of the chair. "Calm down, for heaven's sake," she muttered to herself. She'd asked Dawkins the butler for a glass of warm milk; it wasn't as though Dare
would come calling at her private rooms in broad daylight, much less at this hour of the night. "Come in."

The door opened, and Dare strolled into her bedchamber. "Comfortable?" he drawled, stopping before the fireplace.

"What—
Get
out!"

"I left your door open," he said in a low tone, "so keep your voice down unless you want an audience."

Georgiana took a deep breath. He was right; if she succumbed to her sudden panic at being in a room alone with him, she would both ensure her own ruin and destroy any chance of teaching him the lesson he so desperately needed to learn.
"Fine.
I'll say it more quietly, then:
Get out."

"First tell me what the devil you're up to, Georgiana."

She'd never been a very good liar, and Dare was far from being a fool. "I don't know why you think I'm 'up to' anything," she retorted. "My circumstances have changed over the past year, and—"

"So you're here out of the goodness of your heart, to care for the aunties," he said, resting one arm along the mantel.

"Yes." She wished he didn't look so much at ease in her bedchamber, and so full of sin at every blasted minute. "What else would you suggest I do, under the circumstances?"

He shrugged. "Get married. Go torture your husband, and leave me out of it."

Georgiana set her book aside and rose. She didn't
want to press that particular topic; she would, in fact, have preferred that he'd never mentioned it. If she didn't address it, however, he would never believe any kind word she said to him now or in the future, let alone fall in love with her. "Marriage, Lord Dare, is not an option for me, now is it?"

For a long moment he looked at her, his expression dark and unreadable. "To be blunt, Georgiana, the state of your virginity would be less important to most men than the size of your income. I could name a hundred men who would marry you in a second, given the chance."

"I hardly need—or want—a man who desires only my money," she said hotly. "Besides, I have made an agreement with your aunts.
I
do not break my word."

Dare pushed upright from his lazy slouch. He seemed taller than she remembered, and before she could stop herself, she took a step backward. A muscle in his lean cheek twitched, and he turned for the door.

"Get me the invoice for that rolling chair," he said over his shoulder, "and I'll reimburse you for it."

"No need," she returned, trying to regain her composure. "It's a gift."

"I don't take charity. Give me the invoice tomorrow."

She stifled an irritated sigh.
"Very well."

After the door closed, she stayed where she was for a long while. The night he had taken her virginity, as he put it, she had thought herself in love. To discover the next day that he'd done it to win a wager—one of her stockings, yet—had hurt more than she thought possible.

Whatever his reasons for not boasting of his victory
to the
ton,
she had never forgiven him. So now she would teach him exactly how much it hurt to be betrayed. Then, perhaps, he would understand what it meant to be honorable, and he could make a decent husband to a poor, naive girl like Amelia.

With that in mind, she climbed into bed and tried to fall asleep. Amelia Johns needed to be let in on the game, or she herself would be as guilty of heartlessness as Tristan
Carroway
was. Perhaps she should do so at once; waiting until the
Ibbottson
ball would only give Dare an additional three days to ruin Miss John's life.

Miss Amelia Johns seemed surprised to see Georgiana when she called at Johns House the next morning. Her brunette hair in a fetching bun with strategic curls escaping to caress her neck and cheeks, and garbed in a muslin day dress the color of sunshine, she looked the portrait of fairy-tale innocence. "Lady Georgiana," she said, curtsying, her arms full of flowers.

"Miss Johns, thank you for seeing me this morning. I can see that you're busy; please don't let me keep you from your task."

"Oh, thank you," the girl replied, smiling, as she set down her burden beside the nearest vase. "These roses are Mama's favorite. I would hate for them to wilt."

"They're lovely." The girl hadn't asked her to sit, but Georgiana didn't want to appear impatient, so she slowly took a seat on a couch halfway across the wide morning room.

Amelia stood over the vase, her alabaster brow furrowed as she tilted the yellow blooms this way and that, searching for the perfect angle. Good heavens, the girl didn't stand a chance against Dare.

"May I offer you some tea, Lady Georgiana?"

"No, but thank you.
Actually, I wanted to discuss something with you.
Something of a ... personal nature."
She glanced at the maid fluffing pillows of the overstuffed furniture.

"A personal nature?"
Amelia giggled engagingly. "My goodness, that sounds so intriguing. Hannah, that will be all for now."

"Yes, miss."

Once the maid was gone, Georgiana relocated to a chair closer to Amelia. "I know this will seem highly unusual, but I do have a reason for asking," she said.

Amelia paused in her flower arranging. "What is it?"

"You and Lord Dare.
There is a connection between you, is there not?"

Large blue eyes filled with tears. "Oh, I don't know!" Miss Johns wailed.

Georgiana hurried to her feet and put an arm around the younger girl's shoulders. "There, there," she said, in her most soothing voice. "This is what I was afraid of."