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Authors: Georgina Devon Nicola Cornick Diane Gaston

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herself, but she had found stepping into this rank of

210

The
Rake’s
Mistress

society to be quite a difficult task. Lucas’s casual as-

surance made her feel unsophisticated and out of her

depth.

‘Miss Raleigh?’ Sir John Norton was at her elbow,

claiming her attention. He smiled at her with an un-

pleasantly speculative twinkle in his eye. ‘If you are

not engaged for the next, I should be honoured were

you to promise it to me.’

Rebecca smiled, though her heart was not in it.

‘Thank you, Sir John, I should be delighted—’

‘Have you forgotten that that honour has already

been granted to me, Rebecca?’ Lucas drawled, mate-

rializing at her side. ‘I should be desolated if you pre-

ferred Sir John’s company over mine!’

‘On the contrary,’ Rebecca said coolly, ‘I thought

you very well consoled by Miss Ducheyne, Lucas. Be-

sides, surely cousins do not need to stand on ceremony

with each other if there is an offer more attractive?’

Sir John Norton smirked. ‘You heard the lady, Kes-

trel!’

There was a spark of devilment in Lucas’s gaze as

his eyes rested on Rebecca’s face. She felt a shiver of

anticipation along her nerves as he smoothly took up

her challenge.

‘I did indeed,’ he murmured. ‘However, you and I

know, Sir John, that a lady will often say quite the

reverse of what she is thinking in order to make her

erstwhile suitor all the more devoted.’

‘You delude yourself, Lucas,’ Rebecca said sweetly.

‘Or perhaps it is your conceit that deceives you. You

certainly have enough of it. Enough for two men, in

fact!’

Nicola
Cornick

211

Lucas’s smile held a wicked glint. ‘My dear Re-

becca, why pretend? You know you are not indifferent

to me!’

‘I believe that we were discussing Sir John’s invi-

tation to dance, rather than my feelings or lack of

them,’ Rebecca said sharply. She turned to Norton. ‘I

fear that we have already missed this opportunity, Sir

John, but I should be delighted to dance with you later

in the evening. The country dance after supper, per-

haps?’

Sir John shot Lucas an unsubtle look of triumph.

‘Enchanted, Miss Raleigh,’ he murmured. ‘Perhaps

you would also like to drive with me one day next

week? I could show you my yacht—’

‘That would be splendid,’ Rebecca said hastily, as

Lucas looked as though he were about to make an

abrasive remark. ‘Thank you, Sir John.’

Sir John took her hand and kissed it gallantly, al-

lowing his lips to dwell rather too long. Rebecca was

sincerely glad that she was wearing gloves.

‘Your cousin will soon tire of your attentions if you

are so pressing, Kestrel,’ Sir John said with a sneer as

he released her. ‘Not your usual style, eh?’

Lucas took Rebecca’s hand and tucked it through

his arm in a gesture of possession. ‘Where my cousin

is concerned I do not conform to my usual mode of

behaviour,’ he said smoothly.

‘Nor, indeed, to any style at all,’ Rebecca added.

Sir John gave a crack of laughter and strolled away,

pleased with himself, and Lucas held on to Rebecca a

little tighter.

‘Rebecca, my sweet,’ he said in an undertone, ‘if

212

The
Rake’s
Mistress

you wish to cross swords with me I suggest that you

do so in private in future, or you may find yourself in

the most compromising position of being kissed in a

ballroom full of people!’

Rebecca tried to draw her hand away, but he held

her firmly.

‘I was merely trying to add a little colour to our

supposed relationship,’ she said coolly. ‘I am sorry

you did not care for it.’

Lucas was looking dangerous. ‘Two can play at that

game,’ he said. He put an arm about her waist in a

hard grip and drew her towards the window embra-

sure. The alcove afforded some privacy from the cu-

rious gaze of Lady Sally’s guests, but Lucas’s high-

handed behaviour did not go unnoticed. A little ripple

of scandalous excitement fluttered through the ranks

of the assembled ladies as they watched him.

‘If you wish to lend colour to the deception, I am

at your service,’ Lucas said. He had not released Re-

becca, but stood with his back blocking the ballroom

from view. Rebecca felt breathless and slightly ner-

vous, a reaction that was only heightened by the un-

relenting grip of his fingers about her wrist. He moved

closer, until his body just brushed against hers.

‘I shall match you step for step and the money will

be on me to overcome your scruples and make you

my bride.’

Rebecca caught her breath. Although he was refer-

ring to the show they were putting on for society, his

words echoed precisely their own, secret situation. Lu-

cas had sworn that she would accept his declaration

and she had rejected him out of hand. Yet with each

Nicola
Cornick

213

day that passed her will to oppose him grew weaker,

and now, with the insistent pressure of his body

against hers, she felt utterly incapable of resistance.

‘You are mine, Rebecca,’ Lucas said. ‘Do you think

that if I cannot have you I would permit anyone else

to even touch you?’

Rebecca gave a gasp at the undisguised intimacy in

his voice. ‘Permit?’ she said. ‘You presume too much,

Lord Lucas. It is scarcely your place to permit or for-

bid.’

‘By all means believe that if you wish.’

Rebecca’s eyes narrowed. ‘You do not have the

right to dictate my behaviour!’

‘Whilst you are in Midwinter you are my respon-

sibility.’

‘I can take care of myself; once this is all over, we

shall not meet again.’

They were standing stiffly now, like combatants.

Lucas caught her wrist and jerked her close to him, so

close that she could feel the staccato beat of his heart

against the bodice of her gown.

‘I will not let you go,’ he said softly.

Rebecca was trapped by the look in his eyes. It

spoke of possession and demand, and it heated her

blood with sparks of fire. The ballroom, the guests, the

curious glances cast their way...all were as nothing

compared to the raw claim that Lucas was staking to

her.

‘Lucas,’ Justin Kestrel said from beside them, and

his voice cracked like a whip, ‘I am persuaded that

you would not wish to draw any further attention to

Miss Raleigh in such a public place.’

214

The
Rake’s
Mistress

They both jumped and Lucas released Rebecca’s

wrist.

‘I beg your pardon,’ he said. His gaze still smoul-

dered. He backed away and sketched a bow. ‘You will

excuse me. I shall be better off in the card room.’

Justin Kestrel offered Rebecca his arm. ‘I believe,’

he said smoothly, ‘that Lucas is finding the experience

of unrequited love more trying than he had imagined,

Miss Raleigh.’

‘I am also finding it rather difficult, your Grace,’

Rebecca retorted, trying to quell her shaking.

Justin laughed. ‘Lucas can be very determined when

he wants something sufficiently.’

‘As can I,’ Rebecca said. ‘I have not forgotten that

once my stay here is complete I shall be returning

home.’

She had not forgotten, but she was finding it in-

creasingly difficult. The more time that passed the eas-

ier it seemed to believe that she belonged here and,

worse, that she belonged with Lucas. She had to hold

on to the truth at all costs, and the truth did not include

a future with Lord Lucas Kestrel. It was as simple as

that.

‘So, Miss Raleigh,’ Lady Sally said, ‘what do you

think of
The
History
of
Miss
Harriot
Montague?

The eyes of the reading group were fixed on Re-

becca. It made her a little nervous. Although Rachel

Newlyn and Olivia Marney had both been extremely

friendly to her, Chloe Ducheyne and Helena Lang

were, as far as Rebecca could tell, gossiping quizzes

in the making, and Lily Benedict was without a doubt

Nicola
Cornick

215

the most spiteful creature that Rebecca had ever had

the misfortune to meet. She clutched the handsome

brown morocco edition in her hand and tried not to

feel as though she were back in the schoolroom.

‘I find it improbable,’ she said. ‘So many abductions

and kidnappings, and adventures and pirates! I doubt

that anyone could survive so much excitement.’

‘I fear you are of distressingly practical disposition,

Miss Raleigh,’ Lily Benedict said, smiling her feline

smile and regarding Rebecca through half-closed eyes.

‘I suppose you do not believe that such brigands truly

exist?’

‘I am sure that they do,’ Rebecca said crisply, ‘but

that they are nowhere near as romantic as the heroes

of literature.’

Lily Benedict gave a tinkle of laughter. ‘I am certain

that no dyed-in-the-wool villains could withstand your

sternness, Miss Raleigh. They would wither beneath

your pitiless regard!’

‘Surely Miss Raleigh’s point is correct,’ Rachel

Newlyn interposed. ‘In literature one may allow one’s

imagination full reign, whereas in life—’

‘In life one never gets swept off one’s feet by a

handsome hero!’ Lily Benedict said. She tittered. ‘Oh,

but of course that was exactly what happened to you,

Lady Newlyn! I forgot! And to Miss Raleigh herself,

if Lord Lucas Kestrel has his way! Will he have his

way with you, Miss Raleigh?’

There was a sharp intake of breath around the circle.

Some, such as Rachel and Olivia Marney, were look-

ing disapproving of Lily Benedict’s blatant malice.

Others were looking intrigued.

216

The
Rake’s
Mistress

‘I have a very cousinly regard for Lord Lucas, Lady

Benedict,’ Rebecca said. ‘However, I assure you that

it is no more than that.’

‘You looked extremely close, if not cousinly, at

Lady Sally’s ball,’ Lily Benedict said. ‘And I must

confess that it is difficult to see Lord Lucas as any-

thing other than a very attractive man.’

‘Even attractive men have mothers, sisters—and

cousins,’ Rebecca said drily.

‘Lily,’ Lady Sally interrupted, ‘much as I enjoy a

good gossip, I do believe we are here to discuss Miss

Harriot Mon-tague’s romantic trials and tribulations

rather than those of anyone else.’

Lily Benedict waved one white hand dismissively.

‘I merely ask what everyone else wishes to know,

Sally—is Lord Lucas Kestrel caught in a parson’s

mousetrap? If so, it would be a good joke for the man

who has broken half the hearts in London!’

‘You exaggerate, Lily,’ Lady Sally said calmly.

‘I beg your pardon. A quarter of the hearts in Lon-

don, then.’

‘That woman is as unpleasant a creature as one

could ever find,’ Rebecca fumed as she and Rachel

walked back to Kestrel Court after the meeting of the

reading group. ‘I cannot believe that we are engaged

to dine at Midwinter Bere this evening! Justin and Lu-

cas seemed anxious to fulfill the obligation, whereas I

fear every morsel of food will stick in my throat!’

Rachel nodded sympathetically. ‘It is only because

they hope for the opportunity to search Midwinter

Bere house,’ she pointed out. ‘Lady Benedict rarely

entertains because her husband is an invalid, and since

Nicola
Cornick

217

Sir John Norton does not appear to have the engrav-

ings in his possession, suspicion inevitably falls on

her.’

‘The idea is foolish,’ Rebecca said shortly. ‘What,

is Lady Benedict to entertain us to dinner with her

engraved crystal sitting on the table? Surely even she

would not be so arrogant as to parade it when she must

know she is under suspicion?’

Rachel grimaced. ‘She is intolerably proud and it

may well be that arrogance that brings her down.’

Rebecca kicked in vicious and unladylike fashion at

a pile of autumn leaves drifting down from the bank.

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