Taming the Rake (31 page)

And could she blame him if it had?

Remorse filled her heart. She buried her face in her hands, her eyes burning with unshed tears. A hot ball of emotion lodged in the back of her throat, making her breathing shallow and labored. She wanted to break down in a pool of tears, but she refused to give herself over to self-pity.

She’d brought all of this upon herself. She’d acted rashly and imprudently in championing the odious Mr. Carrington. The thought of what that vile man had tried to do to Augusta sent a cold shiver of revulsion down her neck. If something had happened, Gina never would have been able to forgive herself. Thank God for Lord Ashley. In rescuing Augusta, Gina owed him a debt she could never repay.

Poor, dear Augusta.
Will she ever be able to forgive me
? Gina raised her head from her hands, the corners of her mouth lifted in a shaky smile. Knowing Augusta, she probably already had.

But Coventry. He was not nearly as forgiving as his sister. Gina couldn’t bear to contemplate what he must be thinking. She’d confirmed his worst opinion of her as an interfering busybody. And in this case, he was right.

But it wasn’t always so. Gina knew she had a tendency toward officiousness, but in many ways that weakness was also her greatest strength. Her confidence gave her the resolve and determination to go after what she wanted—like Coventry. And gone after him she had.

The events of the evening swam in her head as to seem almost unbelievable. Had that really been her in the parlor, naked, modesty forsaken, consumed by passion, making love with the boldness and enthusiasm of a wanton? Her cheeks burned at the vivid memories.

But she would not allow herself to feel shame. She loved him, and what they’d done was a reflection of that love.

She’d given herself to him freely and without artifice. He’d welcomed her with the all-consuming passion of a starving man. He cared about her. She’d seen it in his eyes and felt it in his embrace.

Then why couldn’t she dodge the feeling that she might have made an egregious mistake? She couldn’t forget Coventry’s first words after making love, nor his tone.
“Dear God, what have I done?”
Had she deluded herself into believing in something that wasn’t really there?

No, she trusted him. He wouldn’t deceive her so. She knew it in her heart. The cataclysmic power of what had happened between them could not be denied.

Still, the niggling sensation would not go away.

If only Coventry hadn’t seemed so cold. He’d hardly acted like a man intent on proposing as he was honor bound to do. And his honor was all she had to rely upon. He had a fortune. He didn’t need hers. Her trump card had vanished and all she could rely upon was his word. The word of a notorious rake. A man who’d refused to do the honorable thing before.

She wouldn’t allow herself to fret unnecessarily. He was angry—as he had every right to be. But he would forgive her.

Surely he would realize that she’d only had the best intentions at heart?

She loved him. She’d make him understand.

Because the alternative was too horrible to conceive.

“No one has a right to be this happy.” Augusta beamed, her deep blue eyes twinkling in the candlelight. “Thank you, Jamie, for everything.”

Coventry shrugged off her gratitude like a scratchy woolen overcoat. “I didn’t do anything.”

“Nonsense,” she chastised. “Don’t think I don’t realize exactly what you’ve done. No parent could have cared for me better than you have these past few days. I felt like a princess—”

“Now there’s an understatement of prodigious proportions,” Lord Ashley interrupted. “With all those flowers and confections, and the scores of people to wait on her hand and foot, I didn’t think she was ever going to get out of bed. You’ve ruined her, Coventry. Next time she gets a little bump on her head, she’ll expect me to bring out the trumpets and violins and break into song and dance. Or, God forbid, verse.”

“Wretch.” Augusta swatted at his arm with her fan and continued on as if he hadn’t spoken—precisely as if they were already married. “With all the rumors swirling around my sudden indisposition, Mr. Carrington’s strange disappearance, and the unexpected announcement of my engagement to this clod, I don’t know how you managed to keep what happened a secret. But you have.” She rose up on her tiptoes and placed a tender kiss on his cheek, her new fiancé looking on in amusement. “You’ve turned darkness into light, and I’ll never be able to thank you enough.”

“Leave the poor boy alone, darling,” Lord Ashley said. “Can’t you see you’re making him blush?”

Coventry shot his friend a deadly stare. “I’m not blushing, you ass.” He just wasn’t used to such overt displays of affection. Though he had to admit it wouldn’t be too difficult an adjustment. He found he liked his sister doting on him, gazing at him with admiration and pride.

Much had changed in the past few days.

Augusta’s recovery had been swift, aided no doubt by the announcement of her engagement to Lord Ashley, and the “surprising” departure of Carrington from London. Augusta didn’t need to know that Carrington—the coward—had fled London in disgrace rather than face Lord Ashley—a crack shot—in a duel. Thoroughly dishonored, Carrington wasn’t likely to return anytime soon. And if he did, he’d get what he deserved.

Augusta frowned at her fiancé then turned back to her brother, giving him a comforting pat on the arm. “Of course you aren’t blushing. It’s merely warm in here with all these people.”

Coventry ignored Ash’s smirk. “There is a bit of a crush tonight, isn’t there?” He gazed out at the swarm of swirling pastel and feathers interspersed with the stark contrast of black and white.

“It’s Almack’s,” Ash offered with an appropriate level of revulsion. “There’s always a crush.”

Almack’s, twice in one season. Coventry winced. For a respected rake, it must be some kind of record. Perhaps even more appalling was that his arrival tonight had barely caused a stir. He was becoming entirely too commonplace at ton gatherings. What was next? Conventionality? He smiled, thinking that it might not be that far off. To attend tonight, he’d forsaken a Hellfire meeting at Wycombe after all. “Where did Aunt Eudora disappear to?”

Augusta grinned. “She’s over there,” she said, pointing to a group of matrons huddled in the back right corner of the assembly room, near the refreshments. “In the widow’s corner.”

Coventry glanced in the direction indicated to see their aunt happily clucking away with her dowager friends, yet still managing to keep an eye on her young charge. Engagement or not, Augusta wouldn’t be taking any walks in the garden tonight—or any night soon. He almost felt sorry for Ash. Almost. Until he recalled his smirk of a few moments ago.

Coventry sighed, almost contentedly. He’d done his duty; his sister would be well taken care of. He no longer needed to frequent the assembly rooms of Almack’s, or any of the other endless rounds of society balls and parties for that matter.

No, tonight he’d come because he wanted to.

“Have you seen Lady Georgina yet?” Augusta asked anxiously. “She’s promised to be here tonight.”

Coventry glowered, but apparently to little effect. His scathing stares no longer frightened her one wit. Perhaps that was the greatest change of all these past few days. Georgina’s admonition had been a major awakening for him. He never wanted to be compared to his father. Augusta could no longer doubt that he cared for her. He’d told her so. Unfortunately, with his revelation, he’d also lost the ability to intimidate. He’d discovered that his sweet, gentle sister could be every bit as vexing as her friend. Right now she was merely staring at him with an entirely unintimidated, impatient look on her face.

“You’ve forgiven her, haven’t you,” she urged. “Please say that you have. I know you’ve sought to avoid her all week, but she was only trying to help. She meant no harm. Surely she couldn’t have guessed what that horrible man intended to do.”

It pleased him that Augusta could talk about what had happened so easily. He couldn’t help the swell of pride on her behalf. His sister was a strong woman. She glowed with a confidence that hadn’t been there before.

“Please, I’ll blame myself if you don’t forgive her,” she said.

Coventry lifted one corner of his mouth in a half grin. “I can’t have you blame yourself.”

Augusta clapped her hands. “Then you’ll forgive her?”

He had some time ago. He knew Georgina had only been acting with Augusta’s best interests at heart. Though he’d never liked Carrington, even he hadn’t foreseen that the guttersnipe would go to such lengths to secure his sister’s hand in marriage. Though if Carrington thought Coventry would insist his sister marry the man who’d forced her, just because she was compromised, he was dead wrong. Society be damned. Coventry bowed his head in mock deference. “If you insist.”

“I do,” she said firmly. “I told her you would be here and that you wanted to speak with her.”

“Augusta…”

She thrust her lip out belligerently. “Well, it’s the truth, isn’t it? I know you care for her”—she batted her long eyelashes—“don’t you?”

She looked so hopeful, Coventry had to chuckle. “That’s none of your business, minx.”

But he did. It was time to put the past behind him.

He was still furious with Georgina’s interference, but it hadn’t changed how he felt about her. Making love to her had been the most momentous, satisfying experience of his life. She made love just as she did everything else, with boldness and honesty. And passion.

They were suited in every way.

And for that reason, he was honor bound to marry her.

But that was not why he would.

Rockingham had gotten it all wrong. Lady Georgina wasn’t the night; she was the day, bright and shining, bringing light back into the darkness of his life. Her smile, her laughter, her beauty, transcended the fortress he’d erected around his heart.

She’d cleaned up his life and made him realize just how far he’d been drowning himself in his own misery. The drinking, the women, the gambling—well, he still liked to gamble, though perhaps he’d forbear on the high stakes—hadn’t cured the emptiness inside him. Only she had.

He’d come to accept what he’d known since the night they made love, though it had been there for far longer. He loved her. For many of the qualities she’d championed on her own behalf and so many more: her confidence, her determination, her accomplishments, her capableness, her wit, her beauty and charm, her honesty, and not least of all, her passion. There was no one like her. Dodging her—unsuccessfully—these past two months had been the most fun he’d had in years. Perhaps ever.

She was worth the risk of loving again.

His hand went to the pocket in his waistcoat, recognizing the unmistakable bulge of the enormous diamond and emerald engagement ring that he’d purchased earlier today.

He knew there would be difficulties, not the least of which was her family, but he was ready to fight. He’d given his word to her father, but he would just have to convince the duke that he would be the best—the only—man for his daughter.

Perhaps sensing his thoughts, Augusta playfully pushed him away. “Go find her.”

Coventry looked to his friend. “Obviously, I’ve failed. I hope you’ll do a better job of instilling the proper amount of deference in the chit.”

Augusta made a sharp sound of indignation.

“I’ll try.” Ash shrugged helplessly. “But I’m afraid I’m not very optimistic.”

For which Ash received another sound swat on his arm.

Coventry laughed and moved away, knowing that their happiness would soon be his.

“What’s wrong, Gina? And don’t say ‘nothing,’” Cecelia admonished before Gina could get a word in edgewise. “It’s Coventry, isn’t it?” Her eyes narrowed. “You’ve walked around like a ghost all week. Tell me what he did to you, and I’ll make him sorry.”

From the fierce tone in her voice, Gina didn’t doubt her. Cecelia had a vengeful streak in her a mile long. She’d always understood that the major impetus for the Rake Slayers had been Cecelia’s eagerness to get back at the Duke of Beaufort. Gina was half-tempted to confide in her; perhaps Cece might succeed where Gina had failed.

Her efforts to speak with Coventry since the night they’d made love had thus far been in vain.

She’d visited Augusta numerous times in the past few days, offering her heartfelt apology, which had been readily accepted. But Coventry had not sought her out. Indeed, he seemed to be avoiding her. She hadn’t had the opportunity to explain, to make him understand. Augusta had forgiven her. Why couldn’t he?

“It hasn’t come to that.”

“Yet?” Cecelia finished.

“Perhaps,” Gina admitted. “It’s imperative that I see him tonight. I need to apologize.” But that wasn’t the only reason. Her father was pressuring her to decide on Lord Rockingham’s offer. Of course she couldn’t accept, but neither could she explain why.

Nearly a week had passed since they’d made love and Gina was getting worried that Coventry had no intention of offering for her. Doubt had crept through the aura of certainty. The very real possibility that she might be ruined was beginning to cause her a certain amount of anxiety. She bit her lip. Well, actually, it was beginning to cause her a certain amount of panic.

So when Augusta mentioned that he would be here tonight and that he wanted to see her it had given her a slim ray of hope. Something to hold on to. It had to be a good sign, hadn’t it?

“Why?” Cecelia asked. “What could you possibly have to apologize for?”

Gina weighed her choice of words. “I can’t tell you the particulars because it would betray a confidence. Suffice it to say that I made a mistake. One that could have been disastrous.”

“You?” Cecelia mocked, her hand over her heart.

“Very funny, but occasionally even I make a mistake.” Gina’s voice turned serious. “This, I’m afraid, was a rather ghastly one.”

“And you’re sure there’s nothing else?”

Gina hedged. “I really need to speak to him.” Even she could hear the slightly hysterical desperation in her own voice.