How to Marry a Rogue (9 page)

“Then you had better be nice to me, or I will write him immediately and report how you abandoned me at the mercy of two elderly ladies and their inept views on chaperoning.”

“And one of the elderly ladies’ inept nephews.”

“Oh, yes, let’s not forget about Alphonse.”

“
Alphonse
.” Jack repeated the name under his breath. A flush spread across his jaw, and his hands tightened into fists. Good heavens, poor Alphonse was doomed if she did not defend him quickly!

“He is not to blame for what happened to me last night, Jack. Those ruffians could have struck at any time. You do not have to worry about chasing him down and breaking his nose.”

“I should do a lot more should I ever meet the nincompoop.” His gray eyes glittered as shards of steel were imbedded in them.

Her heartbeat quickened, and she gulped back a breath of excitement. What would have happened last night had Jack not found her in time? She fought the urge to throw her arms around his neck and squeeze him as tightly as she could. The thought she might actually enjoy embracing him struck her. She changed the subject.

“I am fortunate to have such a friend as you.”

He pulled the brim of his hat below his forehead and leaned against the wall of the coach in preparation for a nap. “You’ll forget I exist the moment you return to England and all the leering fops who pass for eligible bachelors are vying for your attention.”

She shuddered elaborately. “Ugh! You make courtship sound so inviting, Jack. You must promise to accompany me to Almack’s and fight off anyone I do not fancy.”

He snorted. “Your brother will be pulling them forward with one hand whilst I fight them with another. If I were in your place, Georgie, I’d find the richest of the lot and marry at once. Tear yourself away from the good intentions of your noble brother.”

“Jonathan has my best intentions at heart.”

“I’m sure he does.” He looked as if he would say more but chewed his lip without uttering another word.

“You don’t agree?”

He straightened, as if resigned to the notion she would not let him nap. “I will speak frankly, if I may. He doesn’t want you to throw yourself after another fool like…like the previous one. He’s worried if you do not marry soon, you will give your heart to the wrong man.”

“How is a man the wrong man if I’m in love? Did he say this to you?”

He shook his head. “He didn’t have to. It is twenty years of friendship speaking now. And I must say, Georgiana, you were quite the impetuous child, running away with Mouldy Mitford the way you did. You have too much to offer a husband that you’d waste it on him.”

She leaned forward, fascinated in his knowledge of the world. How fortunate her brother had chosen Jack to escort her to France. She would learn all manner of things from him if she chose her words correctly.

“What do I have to offer? You mean my inheritance?”

His mouth twisted. “Lord, no, you goose! Any man would be happy to have a woman like you as his wife. Not for your fortune, but for your...” His words broke off as he made a vague motion at her face and somewhere in the vicinity of her chest. “This is not suitable conversation. If you want compliments and flattery, we should find the stranger who monopolized you at the ball. I’m sure he’d have plenty of pretty things to say to you.”

“Were you spying on me? Was that another of my brother’s requests?”

“I was not spying. I happened there on my own accord from circumstances that had nothing to do with you. One could hardly miss you, Georgiana. You do have a way of standing out, with your loud laugh and twirling about so every male in the place couldn’t keep his eyes off you.”

“I was enjoying myself in a way I never can in London. You should have escorted me if you didn’t want everyone staring at me, as you claim. Why did you not greet me, instead of leaving me in the hands of handsome strangers?”

“Handsome?” He rolled his eyes. “That man was slippery as an eel. I was keeping an eye on him as well as you.”

“You still have not answered my question.”

He shifted in his seat, a dark flush spreading across his jaw.

She giggled with triumph. “I understand now. You were going to have a tryst of your own!”

Tugging his hat brim low, he crossed his arms over his chest and closed his eyes with an attitude of finality. “Do not speak of grown up things, Georgie. I’ll strap you good and proper and send you to bed tonight without your supper.”

She bit back a retort because his words hinted he almost expected her to stay with him. She leaned her head against the window and sighed. The day was turning out to be rather beautiful.

Chapter Ten

Georgiana was duly impressed with the sprawling
vignoble
and showed enough enthusiastic interest in whatever Gaston told her about the latest vintage that Jack’s barely visible scowl seemed to lighten. Without his offering it, she took his arm, folding both her hands around it as they followed Gaston through the warehouses. He laughed as she followed Gaston’s instructions on how to properly taste the samples he’d laid out for them.

“You may impress your brother with your newfound knowledge when we return home. Perhaps he will allow you to stock his wine cellar.”

She savored a mouthful of wine before expertly spitting it into a bowl set aside for the purpose. “I may have found my new calling, Jack. Perhaps your grandfather will allow me to take over your duties here, and you may stay in London sorting through all those dreadful suitors.”

“No, thank you. I prefer my French jaunts. One feels a sense of freedom here.”

Strange, that a man as worldly as Jack should not feel free to do as he liked. She’d always assumed wealthy bachelors were in the best position than anyone else. He didn’t have to worry about an arranged marriage, or if his hem was cut the right length, or if he’d danced too often with the same partner at Almack’s.

“Well, I for one do not miss England at all. I would stay here at least a year if I could.” She forgot to spit out her next taste, regretting her actions when a wave of dizziness rolled through her. She’d forgotten to spit more than once, and had swallowed at least two glasses worth. A giggle escaped her, and she clapped her hand over her mouth when one of Gaston’s inky black eyebrows arched slightly. “Thank you for the tour, monsieur,” she said, walking with Jack again as they strolled out toward the fields.

Vines as far as the eye could see filled the landscape. Puffy white clouds rolled lazily across the bright blue sky, so dazzling she had to shield her eyes with her hand. She gave a start at a group of women standing in open tubs, their feet pounding rhythmically while they held their skirts up to their knees.

Jack noticed her stunned silence. “They are stomping the grapes into juice.”

“It looks like enormous fun! Have you ever trampled grapes before, Jack?”

She released his arm to tug on his hand, which clasped hers as naturally as if they’d been fitted for each other, like a pair of gloves.

He’d held her hand a thousand times before, as she’d always claimed him the moment he’d crossed the threshold of Fairwood Hall on those precious holiday visits. But this time was different. He was not helping her down from a tree or escorting her into dinner. The hand holding hers did not retain any of its youthful plumpness nor was it covered in scratches. His grown up hand was broad and secure, reassuring as it always had been.

A pulse of energy seemed to have shot through her palm and gone straight to her center when she took his hand. She marveled at how every curve and bumpy bone in her hand found some willing spot in his palm and fingers. Distracted, she had to glance up at him to register his words.

“It’s stomping grapes,” he was saying, “and no, I have not. My grandfather did not consider it dignified enough for his grandson, regardless of how much I begged for a turn.”

“That is a shame, for it looks like great fun.” She sighed and fiddled with the ribbon ties on her bonnet. “May I try it, Jack?”

He blinked. “What, stomp grapes? Are you mad? That’s all I need, is your brother to hear…”

“He need never hear of it, Jack! My goodness, you do carry on as if I’m running to him every five minutes to hide behind his coattails.”

She batted her eyelashes for good measure.

His fingers tightened around hers, and she squeezed back.

Finally, he shrugged. “Do as you will. As if I or anyone can stop you from doing precisely as you wish.”

He left her with some of the workers, who took her into a building to change her gown. When she emerged some minutes later, he had to look twice to realize sedate Georgiana Lockewood had transformed into an attractive peasant girl. The result was quite distracting, and he pretended his attention was needed elsewhere.

He bowed to her quickly before chasing down Gaston, where he took the startled man by the shoulder and led him back inside the office. After Gaston answered the few simplistic questions he’d asked, Jack went out to the yard again, where Georgiana had clearly stolen every male heart present, from the youngest boy to old Marc, ninety next winter.

Her skirt flew above her bare knees, displaying her slim calves. Juice stained her legs and skirt, and sweat darkened her bodice, outlining a bosom that did not require assistance to stand out. Her hair hung in a thick, heavy mass over her shoulders, the bottom tendrils forming curls from a mixture of juice and sweat.

He remained in the shadowed doorway, where he could watch her without danger of anyone seeing his face.

He did not see the little girl who’d wrapped his heart around her finger. The child was gone. He didn’t know whom he saw now.

Whoever she was, he was staring at her in a way her brother would never allow.

Or forgive.

Chapter Eleven

“Please, Jack, permit me to stay a few more days. I shall go mad if I’m stuck in that ridiculous old chateau much longer. I should rather have stayed at Fairwood Hall than come to France, if you’re going to force me to suffer out the rest of my visit there.”

Despite the workers’ best attempts to keep her exercise mild, Georgiana bore traces of her rambunctious exercise among the grapes. Rosy-cheeked and bright-eyed, she was the very picture of the delectable country maid he normally came to France to pursue. Crossing his legs to disguise his body’s inopportune reaction to this fact, he shook his head as firmly as he could, steeling his will as he stared directly into her eyes so she could not dissuade him.

“Absolutely not. You have interfered with my salacious endeavors of seducing pretty French girls long enough. Besides, do you know what kind of a scandal you may be brewing? People will say you’ve sequestered yourself with a notorious rogue, and you’ll have ruined yourself forever. None of those jackanapes your brother has lined up will want you if word gets out.”

She crossed her arms as she had done as a child when she didn’t get her way. The gesture did nothing to tame the persistent fire growing in his belly. Her crossed arms forced up her uncorseted breasts. He purposely turned his head away to clear his thoughts, but the passing scenic countryside did nothing for his state. He re-crossed his legs, but the image persisted. He rubbed his hand over his face, but she mistook the gesture as his being exhausted by her.

“Good! I wouldn’t have to marry any of them.”

“Lockewood will kill me, Georgie. It’s not worth the headaches, the…”

“Am I such a headache for you, Jack? I thought we were having loads of fun. It’s like being children again, but with none of the adults pestering us to wash our hands or go to bed early.”

“It is all fun until someone finds you out.” He shook his head. “As close to your family as I have always been, I am not a relation. You are Aunt Adele’s charge. I am only your escort. Besides, I sent word to Aunt Adele to expect you today.”

“If you do not want me, just say so.” Her eyes took on a sheen he realized was tears.

“It’s not that.” He chewed his lip. “I have enjoyed this time with you, my dear, truly. Too much time has passed since I saw you last, and I am thankful Lockewood asked me to escort you here.”

“But,” she said with a scowl.

He fought the urge to reach across the carriage and pat her leg.

“Yes. But.” Sighing, he turned his attention to the window again. They would be in Mirville soon. One of his servants mentioned a fête there lasting all week. They could stop on the way to Lady Priscilla’s. It would lift her mood, making her less contrary to his wishes. “When we return to London, I will be the first in line to dance with you at all the balls and parties you’re missing. And if none of Lockewood’s choices come to fruition, I will escort you to as many amusements as you like.”

His voice had taken on a cajoling tone, and he nearly winced at how obvious he sounded. Lording it over her, as if her very presence was suffocating his—he almost laughed at her brother’s phrase—pursuits. Yet, better she think him bored than discover the real reason why he hadn’t visited Fairwood Hall since she’d started growing at an alarming rate. Or why he couldn’t wait to see her safely off to the boring but secluded chateau of Lady Priscilla. Let her spend her remaining days in France drinking tea with old ladies and arranging flowers. So long as she stayed safely away from other men. And him.

“I can see you no longer desire my company.” Her lower lip trembled, but her eyes glinted icy blue. “By all means, deposit me at Lady Priscilla’s immediately. I have no wish to forestall any of your wild adventures, Jack.”

“Adventures?” He laughed. He should placate her, or, at least, reassure her of his brotherly responsibility to both her and Lockewood. Instead, he was almost relieved she’d read him wrong.

Even though she would never know how far from the truth she really was.

****

It was late afternoon when she emerged from the guest chamber, telltale smudges beneath her eyes. He pretended not to notice and bowed when she descended the staircase to the foyer below, where he waited.

“Do not worry, Jack,” she said sweetly, breezing past him toward the open door where his carriage stood at the ready. “I left my chamber exactly as I found it. None of your…” She paused delicately, in an exact imitation of her brother. “…
guests
will ever deduce another female spent the night. Your reputation is securely intact in that regard.”