The Rake Page 8

  Unless he was mistaken, her color was high, and her green eyes focused on his mouth. Good God, had she enjoyed the kiss? He couldn’t think of anything else, either. The fan he’d bought her as a peace offering bumped in his pocket. He hadn’t expected that he wouldn’t need it. “Were you looking for me?”

  She cleared her throat, taking a belated step backward. “Actually, yes, I was. I spoke with Milly this morning, and she would like to attempt a walk in the park. I thought perhaps a picnic there to celebrate her efforts would be…appropriate.”

  Tristan scowled, then wiped the expression away before she could notice. “What made you think of a picnic?”

  “It’s just so lovely today.”

  He met her gaze, and after a moment she looked toward the vase on the side table. She’d always been a terrible prevaricator. “So this suggestion of yours has nothing to do with the fact that I was already planning a picnic with someone?” he pursued.

  Georgiana lifted an eyebrow. “Heavens, no. I hadn’t realized. If you have an engagement with someone more important to you than your aunt, by all means go. I will supply a picnic for those of us who give a damn.”

  “Very subtle. Are you thinking of my aunts, or are you trying to keep me away from Amelia Johns?”

  “Am…So that’s who you’re after, the poor girl. Do as you please, Dare.” She turned on her heel, striding for the staircase. “You always do.”

  Hm. That had been fairly obvious. And uncharacteristic of Georgiana. She had to know by now whom he was courting; everyone else in London did. Perhaps she was trying to keep him away from Amelia. Knowing her, she would consider it her duty to protect the chit from his evil attentions. On the other hand, perhaps—just perhaps—she was jealous.

  “Dawkins,” he called as he started down the stairs, “make that a picnic for four, if you please. Those of us who give a damn will be in Hyde Park this afternoon.”

  “Very good, my lord.”

  Spending the afternoon with Amelia would have been torture, anyway. A picnic with Georgiana was another kind of torture, but one he at least could look forward to.

  They set out in Dare’s coach, the only vehicle he owned that could accommodate the two aunts, Tristan, Georgiana, a picnic lunch, a footman, and the wheeled chair. Georgiana allowed herself a moment of guilt over the fact that poor Amelia would be stuck at home on such a lovely afternoon. On the other hand, she was saving the girl from a lifetime of pain and humiliation at the hands of an unrepentant Viscount Dare. One afternoon of solitude seemed a fair trade.

  Not that an unrepentant Tristan was entirely bad. She could stand a kiss or two from him, she supposed, if that was what it would take to ensure that he would fall in love with her.

  Georgiana looked across the coach at him, seated with his Aunt Edwina’s knitting basket across his thighs and chatting with his eager aunties about who had been absent from Parliament. She’d never imagined him this way; domesticity and Tristan Carroway had always seemed polar opposites. Something about it was enticing, especially with the memory of his kiss warm on her lips.

  “I meant to tell you, my dear,” Edwina said, catching her attention, “I’ve never seen you in that dress before. It’s lovely.”

  She glanced down at the silver-and-green muslin. “I saw the material at Willoughby’s at the beginning of the Season, and practically had to wrestle it out of Lady Dunston’s hand. Madame Perisse works wonders, doesn’t she?”

  “I don’t know whether it’s the dressmaker or the dress wearer,” Milly said. “Don’t you agree, Tristan?”

  He nodded, a slow smile curving his mouth. “It brings out your eyes.”

  “I’ve been longing for a dress from Madame Perisse.” Edwina sighed. “Something in blue, I think.”

  Georgiana locked gazes with Tristan, who leaned forward. “Blue? Did you say ‘blue,’ Aunt Edwina?”

  “Well, dear Tigress has been gone for a year, now. And Georgiana always looks so stunning. I’m inspired.”

  “‘Tigress?’” Georgiana mouthed.

  “Her cat,” Tristan murmured back at her.

  She nodded. “You know, Edwina, Lucinda Barrett’s black cat just had kittens. It’s up to you, of course, but if you’d like, I could inquire if any are available.”

  Edwina was silent for a long moment. “I will think about it,” she finally said.

  The coach bumped to a stop. “Are you ready, Aunt Milly?” Tristan asked, handing the sewing basket to Georgiana so he could rise.

  “Oh, dear. Is it very crowded out there?”

  The footman, Niles, opened the door and flipped the step down. Tristan exited, then helped Edwina to the ground. “I told Gimble to pick an isolated spot,” he said, leaning back inside. “Just a few horsemen across the pond and a governess with some infants throwing bread to the ducks.”

  “Then I suppose I’m ready.”

  With Georgiana steadying her from behind, and Tristan and the footman on either arm, Milly descended to the grass. “Hold there, my butterfly, and I’ll get Georgiana and your cane,” Dare said, giving her hand over to Edwina.

  Georgiana handed out the basket and Milly’s cane. As she took Tristan’s hand and stepped down from the coach, he grinned at her. Before she could stop herself, she smiled back at him. “I hope this goes well.” Lud, she wasn’t supposed to be smiling at him accidentally. “I don’t want Milly to be discouraged.”

  “She’s difficult to discourage,” he said, keeping his light grip on her fingers.

  “And I’m sorry to take you from your engagement today,” she added, slipping her hand free.

  “I’m not. Not with such lovely company.”

  Heat rose in her cheeks. A week or two ago she would have had a witty, biting response for him. Now she had no idea what to say to him at all.

  They’d been at odds for so long that when he said something nice or complimentary, she felt as though he knew what she was thinking and plotting, and that he was only humoring her until the moment he laughed at her and said that he could never fall in love with her, and that she was worse than foolish to think he might do so.

  “Georgie?”

  She shook herself. “What?”

  He wore an alarming look of quiet speculation she’d never seen before. “Where did you go?” he asked.

  She shrugged, moving away from him. “I was just remembering that I try not to repeat my mistakes.”

  “So do I, Georgiana.” Before she could decipher that, he turned to his aunt. “Shall we, my dear?”

  With her cane in one hand and a firm grip on Tristan’s arm with the other, Milly took a single wobbling step across the grass. Georgiana and Edwina, along with Niles and Gimble, cheered, and she took a second and a third step.

  “I knew you could do it!” Georgiana laughed.

  “I’m so glad you suggested this, Georgie,” Edwina said, beaming. “It’s a miracle.”

  Tristan sent her a sharp look, then went back to maneuvering his aunt in a wide circle around the coach. When Milly claimed exhaustion, they pulled down the wheeled chair and set it beneath a tree for her. Niles laid out the blankets and the basket of food while Georgiana attended to her charge.

  “Luncheon is served, my lord,” Niles said, bowing.

  They seated themselves in a semicircle around Milly while the footman offered them Madeira and sandwiches. Gimble had indeed managed to find a quiet spot in one corner of the park. It was very nice, Georgiana decided, to be able to sit and laugh and chat without three or four dozen men all trying to make eye contact or ride their horses by in the most daring fashion possible to catch her attention.

  “So with whom will you dance first after your recovery?” she asked, accepting an orange from Edwina.

  “I think I shall ask the Duke of Wellington. I considered Prince George, but I don’t wish him to become infatuated with me.”

  “I should like a kitten, if one is still available,” Edwina announced.

  “I’ll send a note over to Lu
cinda this afternoon,” Georgiana promised her.

  While Niles cleared the luncheon and Milly and Edwina brought out their embroidery, Tristan climbed to his feet. “If you ladies are comfortable, I thought I might stretch my legs a little,” he said, brushing a stray leaf from his gray trousers. “Georgiana, would you care to join me?”

  She hadn’t thought to bring any sewing or a book, dash it all, so she would look like an idiot and a coward if she declined and had to sit there in the grass, staring at her hands. “That would be nice,” she said, and allowed him to help her to her feet.

  Dare offered her his arm, and with a slight hesitation she wrapped her fingers around his sleeve. “We won’t go far,” he said to his aunts, and headed toward the path by the pond.

  “I hope you didn’t mind my mentioning the kitten to Edwina,” she said, before he could ask her which mistake she wasn’t repeating, or why she had really bullied him into a picnic. “Since you’d already had a cat in residence, I didn’t think you would mind another.”

  “With four younger brothers, cats are the least of my worries. Why did you suggest the outing today?” he asked, undeterred. “Is it because you want me to apologize for last night?”

  Heat crept along her veins. “I scarcely remember last night. It was late, and we were both tired.”

  “I wasn’t tired. I wanted to kiss you. And I think you do remember it.” He pulled a box from his pocket and presented it to her. “Which is why I thought you might have need of this today.”

  She opened it. The fan was even lovelier than the last one, white with small yellow flowers sprinkled amongst the ivory ribs. Georgiana wondered whether he’d realized that the fans she’d cracked over his knuckles were never the ones that he’d given her. Those stayed in a drawer, where she could pretend to ignore them. “Tristan, this is very confusing for me,” she said, glad that for once she could speak the truth.

  She belatedly realized they were hidden from the aunties by a small stand of elm trees. No one else was in sight at all. “It doesn’t have to be,” he murmured, and tilted her chin up with his fingers.

  Panic rising fast enough to choke her, Georgiana backed away. The first kiss she could blame on Tristan; a second kiss would be equally her own fault. “Please don’t.”

  Tristan froze, then closed the space between them again with one slow step. “If you remembered the way I waltz, you must remember other things, too.”

  That was the problem. “Are you certain you want to remind m—”

  He leaned down, and feather-light touched his lips to hers, tasting her as though they’d never kissed before. Georgiana sighed and twined her fingers through his wavy dark hair. Lord, she had missed this. She had missed him, the feel of his strong arms around her, and his seeking, beckoning mouth. He deepened the kiss, a small sound coming from deep in his chest.

  What was she doing? Georgiana pulled away again. “Stop it! Stop it, Dare.”

  He let her go. “There’s no one to see, Georgiana. It’s just us.”

  “That’s what you said before,” she panted, straightening her shawl and glaring at him. Pretty as her new fan was, she was tempted to put it across his skull.

  “And you gave in then, too,” he said with a slight grin. “You can’t blame me, alone. It does take two to do it properly, and as I recall—”

  An outraged growl spilling from her chest, Georgiana stepped forward and shoved against his chest.

  “Bloody damnation!” He lost his balance and went backward into the pond.

  As he shot to his feet, waist deep in water and with a lily pad sliding from one shoulder, he looked angry enough to spit fire. Georgiana gathered her skirt in her fists and ran.

  “Niles!” she yelled as she reached their party. “Gimble! His Lordship has fallen into the pond. Please help him!”

  As Tristan slogged out of the water onto the muddy bank, his servants came pounding down the path. “Are you all right, my lord?” Gimble called, skidding to a halt and nearly toppling the three of them back into the water. “Lady Georgiana said you had fallen.”

  Still swearing under his breath, Tristan shrugged out of the servants’ grip. “I’m fine,” he growled. “Leave be.”

  She’d certainly drowned his lust, damn her. Niles and Gimble at his heels, he stalked back to the coach. Georgiana stood there, apparently explaining his clumsiness to the aunties. As she caught sight of him, she paled.

  His first thought was to drag her back to the edge of the pond and toss her in, just so they’d be even. “Put everything back into the coach,” he ordered. “We’re leaving.”

  Edwina asked, “Tristan, are you all—”

  “I’m fine.” He glared at Georgiana. “I fell.”

  Surprise showed in her green eyes as she rolled Milly to the coach. He didn’t know what she expected; he certainly wasn’t going to start bellowing to all and sundry that he’d kissed her and she’d shoved him into the pond.

  Tristan paused. Any other female would have enjoyed his embrace. So he supposed that in a sense, what she’d done was…comforting. If she’d been planning something underhanded, she certainly wouldn’t have risked his anger by dousing him. Given their past, he wouldn’t have been surprised by a knee aimed at his nether regions. Being pushed into the duck pond was probably the mildest reaction he could have hoped for. She was warming to him, by God.

  “Back to Carroway House,” he said with less heat, helping Milly into the coach. Georgiana pulled herself up the steps while he settled his aunt. He sat back, wringing water out of his gray jacket.

  “Are you certain you’re all right?” Edwina asked, patting his wet knee.

  “Yes. I deserved it, I suppose, for teasing the ducks.” He wiped water from his eyes. “Silly things didn’t realize I meant them no harm.”

  It wasn’t subtle, but his reassurance seemed to work; Georgiana relaxed her clenched fists, though she kept a wary eye on him all the way home and back inside the house.

  Once Milly was settled, he left the morning room to go change. Georgiana stood in the doorway, and he slowed as he passed her. “I do respond to verbal communication,” he murmured into her ear. “Next time, I’ll ask.”

  She turned, following him. “Next time,” she said to his back, surprising him into a halt, “perhaps you’ll remember that you’re courting someone else. Amelia Johns, I believe?”

  He faced her. “Is that your only quarrel? I haven’t declared anything to Amelia. I’m still trying out the length of my patience with the debutante flock.”

  “What does she expect, though? Have you even thought of that, Tristan? Do you ever think of anyone but yourself?”

  “I think of you, all the time.”

  Despite the opening, she said nothing as he continued up the stairs to his bed chamber. Interesting, that. And he’d given her something more to reflect, anyway.

  Tristan chuckled as he shrugged out of his jacket and his valet burst into the room, weeping at the destruction to his wardrobe. Who would have thought that being thrown in a duck pond could be a good thing?

  Milly stalked back and forth in the morning room. “You see? And you said it was romantic when they went off walking together.”

  Her wary gaze on the door, Edwina gestured at her sister to sit again. “They both said it was an accident. Besides, they did have some sort of quarrel all those years ago,” she reminded Milly. “You have to expect a bump or two in the road.”

  “Things did seem to be progressing. This, however, is definitely a setback, Wina.”

  “A small one. Give them some time.”

  “Humph. I’m getting tired of sitting about all day.”

  “Milly, if you don’t stay in that chair, Georgie will have no reason to remain with us.”

  Milly sighed and clumped back to her overstuffed nest. “I know, I know. I just hope I don’t get gout again before this is over with. And what about those anonymous letters she’s been getting?”

  “Well, we’ll just have to find out
about them, won’t we?”

  Milly brightened. “I suppose we will.”

  Chapter 8

  You draw me, you hard-hearted adamant.

  —A Midsummer Night’s Dream, Act II, Scene i

  So Tristan thought of her. Good. That was what she’d intended. But she doubted he had anything good in mind for her, and if anyone knew better than to fall for the charms of this particular rake, she did.

  He might think he hadn’t made a declaration to Amelia Johns, but Miss Johns thought he very nearly had. And whether he was lying about the seriousness of his commitment or not, the girl’s heart would surely be the next one he broke. So despite the shivers that ran down her arms at the thought of being kissed by the too-experienced viscount, Georgiana would not forget why she had come to Carroway House. Her heart would never again rule her head where any man was concerned.

  The day’s excitement over, she settled back into the morning room with Edwina and Milly. If she’d still been at Hawthorne House with Aunt Frederica, the afternoon would have been occupied with taking care of the dowager duchess’s correspondence and replying to the dozens of invitations that flooded in daily. Taking an hour or two to read seemed delightfully sinful.

  “You know you don’t need to waste your entire day here,” Milly said into the silence.

  Georgiana looked up. “Beg pardon?”

  “What I mean to say is, I love having you here, and your company is a joy, but you must find us two old fossils terribly dull compared with your friends.”

  “Nonsense! I enjoy being here. Believe me, one can only spend so much time shopping and dancing without finding that very dull, indeed.” She straightened as an alarming thought occurred to her. If they’d somehow realized that she’d been responsible for Dare’s swim, they might be looking for a polite reason to send her on her way. “Unless you’re trying to get rid of me, of course,” she said, trying to sound amused.

  Edwina shot to her feet and hurried over to grab Georgiana’s hand. “Oh, never! It’s just that…” She looked at her sister.

  “It’s just that what?” Georgiana asked, her heart sinking even further.