Taming the Rake (35 page)

To follow him to Wycombe? Didn’t she realize the danger? Of course she did. But she had the tenacity of a charging bull. When she wanted something she went after it, to hell with the consequences. Wasn’t that the very triumph of her game?

Though the primal urge to comfort and protect her was strong, the rage was even stronger. The humiliation at what she’d done still burned hot. This was her fault, not his. She’d sunk her claws into him deep and wouldn’t let go. She’d made him care. Damn her.

His thoughts turned to vengeance. He wanted to hurt her as badly as she’d hurt him.

If ever there was an opportunity to be rid of her for good, this was it. Maybe then he’d be free.

He steeled his heart from the force of the unconscionable betrayal. Instead of pushing the woman away, he took her hips and moved her against his leg. From where Gina stood, it would look like something else entirely.

Something that she would never be able to forgive.

Gina felt as if she was dying, piece by agonizing piece.

He knew it was her. Although he couldn’t possibly see who it was shrouded in the domino and hidden behind the mask, Gina had no doubt he’d recognized her. It was there in the tension that permeated the small room. In the weight of emotion that stretched between them.

In the flicker of his gaze.

Her heart leapt, thinking he meant to come to her and make the vicious, stabbing pain go away. Find the explanation for the inexplicable—the words that would forever wipe away the memory of his cruel betrayal.

But then the flicker was gone, and Gina knew she was wrong. There were no words to explain. Not when he put his hands on the woman’s hips and lifted her over him in a manner that left no doubt as to what they were doing.

No! Oh God, no
. The shock—the pain—of seeing him intimate with another woman cut like a knife through her heart. But it wasn’t intimate at all. It was cold and calculated and cruel.

Stop! Please, stop
! Her heart begged. But it was too late. He’d betrayed her in a manner that could not be undone.

Gina had no doubt that he knew this, and even intended it. He wanted to hurt her. To push her past the point of no return to a place where she would never forgive. He wanted to prove the irredeemable blackness of his soul.

Well, he’d succeeded. Admirably.

There was no going back. His soul was far beyond her powers of healing.

As if to prove the truth of her thoughts, he held her gaze and smiled. A slow, cruel smile. A vicious taunt that left no doubt he was doing this for her.

Indeed, his focus seemed to be entirely on her. He barely seemed aware of the woman on his lap who was bouncing against him in the throes of pleasure, her gasps increasing in urgency and frequency. He hardly seemed a participant at all.

But he was, and to drive the final nail into her heart, he threw his head back and groaned his pleasure. The deep, primal sound cut like a dull knife eviscerating her heart from its protective cage. The pain was excruciating. She felt as though her soul was bleeding through her skin, the very essence of her being collecting in a pool of heartache at her feet.

She must have made a sound because in the throes of his release, their eyes met for the final time. She looked into the black, flat eyes of a stranger.

This is who I am
.

She believed him. The man she thought she loved didn’t exist.

He’d never valued or loved her. Like Lady Alice, Gina was just another conquest who foolishly had fallen into his depraved clutches. And this was the bitter proof. But did it need to hurt so much?

“Are you just going to stand there watching or do you want to join us?” he taunted. “There is always room for one more.”

Her heart twisted. With his lewd invitation, her sense of desolation and utter heartbreak was complete.

It was over. The fight had left her. She was done trying to love the unloveable. Coventry was a rake through and through. Irredeemable. A man whose instinct at the first sign of difficulty was to indulge in an endless stream of debauchery and vice.

What she’d done was wrong, and she knew she’d hurt him. But that didn’t excuse this. Even if she could find it in her heart to forgive him, she wouldn’t. This was who he was. Who he would always be. And God knew, she wasn’t perfect. Someday soon she would disappoint him again. And when she did, he would turn on her again, striking with deadly precision like the coldhearted snake his eyes proclaimed him to be.

She straightened her back, calling on the inner fortitude and resilience that had always been her source of strength. She’d had enough. She didn’t want to live with the fear of his retribution every time she did something wrong. She wasn’t going to chase him down to whatever gaming hell or whorehouse he’d run to to drown his pain.

It almost seemed as if he was waiting for her to fail him. As if this were the only resolution he believed was possible. A self-fulfilling prophecy of disappointment and failure.

She’d tried, but she’d failed. A rake could not be tamed, even by love.

Mustering up her remaining shred of pride, she looked him straight in the eye. “No, thank you.” But the pain was too much—the heartbreak too complete—and her voice broke. “I believe I’ve had enough.”

She’d given her heart to a man who could not love.

With one last look of regret, and tears burning down her cheeks, she turned and walked away.

He didn’t come after her. Not that she thought he would.

Tears blurred her vision. Furious for wasting any further emotion on him, Gina wiped the offending tears away with the back of her hand and made her way back to the banqueting hall.

She deeply regretted coming here in the first place, and her only concern right now was to find Cecelia and leave. Before any further damage was done. Before her emotions shattered into a million pieces.

Doing her best to remain inconspicuous, she wove her way through the revelers, carefully avoiding contact with anyone, vigilantly searching for Cecelia all the while.

Relieved to have made it to the opposite tunnel without harm, Gina breathed a premature sigh of relief, only to trip over a rock and stumble into the arms of a waiting stranger.

“Hey, what’s this? A gift from the Gods, perhaps?” He reached out to steady her. Like many of the others he wore a robe, so at first she didn’t recognize him.

Their eyes met. Gina drew in her breath. She’d fallen right into the arms of Lord Rockingham.

The twinkle of playfulness disappeared in an instant. Apparently, her disguise was not as good as she’d hoped. “Lady Georgina?” he asked disbelievingly.

Gina nodded.

Without another word, he steered her toward the closest empty cell. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Despite the circumstances, she was taken aback at his unusually harsh tone. “I… I…” She didn’t know what to say.

Gently, he tipped her chin back. Perhaps noticing her red, swollen eyes behind the mask, he asked in a softer voice, “What is it? What’s wrong?”

His obvious concern, in contrast with the cold dispassion she’d met with earlier, broke the dam of control she’d fought so hard to contain. She burst into tears, sobbing and choking out a jumbled account of the events that had transpired tonight. Though she didn’t tell him all of the ugly details, he obviously filled in the blanks.

He studied her with an unreadable expression on his face.

“Am I right to believe that you have some cause to think that Coventry would offer for you?”

She guessed what he was asking. She owed it to him to be honest with him. She took a deep breath and said unflinchingly, “Yes.”

“Bastard.” His face darkened. He was silent for a long time.

Finally, he seemed to have come to a decision. “You have to get out of here before anyone sees you.”

She shook her head. “I can’t leave without Cecelia.”

“Is she dressed in a similar fashion?”

Gina nodded.

He swore. “I saw her earlier. And if she is where I think she is, you won’t be able to help her.”

At her gasp of alarm, he reached out to take her hand to comfort her. “I do not believe she is in any danger. Don’t worry, I’ll handle everything.”

“But I can’t leave without her.” Did he hear the rising hysteria in her voice?

“I’m afraid I must insist. You’ll have to trust me. You’ll take my carriage. I’ll find her and see her home safely. You have my word on it.”

This was a different side of Rockingham. A decisive, take-charge side that was so different from the carefree rogue she’d known in Newmarket.

With no other choice, Gina nodded and gave herself over to his direction, too heartbroken to do anything else.

“Damned whisky.” Coventry hurled the empty piece of crystal against the wood-paneled wall, watching with churlish satisfaction as it splintered and burst into thousands of tiny shards.

It was useless. The whisky didn’t work. Nor did the Madeira, claret, port, or ale for that matter. There wasn’t a drink yet invented that was strong enough to make him forget. One week after the events at Wycombe, and he’d begun to think he never would.

He sat in the darkened study of Coventry House, face buried in his hands, fingers clenching his shaggy hair. God, he was tired. Weary to the bone from a week of struggle and torment.

A soft knock at the door startled him from his dark musings. He heard some mumbling before a hesitant, clearly concerned Jennings asked, “My lord”—he cleared his throat—“we heard a noise.”

“I do not wish to be disturbed,” Coventry barked. But he was disturbed. Constantly. He couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat, couldn’t do anything. The state of cold apathy he’d counted on eluded him.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. For years he’d closed himself off, avoiding the entanglements that would make him susceptible to the vulnerability he hoped to never feel again. He’d thought that by turning his back on his feelings he could prevent the pain.

But then why was he still hurting?

Because no matter what he did, he couldn’t block her out.

She’d invaded his soul. Perhaps he should exchange the whisky for a priest. But he doubted even exorcism would work. He didn’t think he’d ever be rid of her. Those eyes, unwavering in their contempt, would haunt him forever.

Besieged by the constant guilt and the memories of her stricken gaze, Coventry had started to question whether he’d made a mistake. Inevitably the burning, lashing anger had faded, and with it went his righteous justification for the destruction that he’d wrought.

Too late, in the clear light of day, he’d recognized the wager for what it was: a girl’s prank. Not unlike some of the not-quite-so-honorable things he’d done in his own past.

He should have given her the opportunity to explain, instead he’d simply reacted. Cruelly. Contemptibly. He couldn’t shake the sense of shame, or the knowledge that he’d acted quite beyond the bounds of honor and decency—even for him.

He racked his brain for answers. Had she
really
betrayed him? Had it all been just an elaborate ruse to bring him up to snuff?

Now he didn’t think so.

Georgina had betrayed him with a silly game, yes, but he’d allowed his pride to get in the way of the truth. She loved him. Or had loved him. Before he’d fulfilled all of her worst beliefs about his character. He’d deliberately wanted to hurt her as badly as she had him. And Coventry knew only too well how to hurt.

He’d let another woman touch him intimately and pretended to swive her right in front of Gina. Worse, he knew it wouldn’t have been acting at all had his body cooperated. A limp prick was hardly the best defense. The intention—at least initially—to lose himself in drink and sexual abandon had been real.

Georgina would never forgive him. Never trust him. Indeed, why should she? He’d never given her any reason to.

He rubbed his temples. Damn, his head hurt. He knew he must look as wretched as he felt, but he couldn’t shut himself away in here forever. Augusta’s engagement party was only hours away.

She
would be there. He was going to have to face her.

The knowledge surrounded him, booming like a sentinel of awareness hovering over him.

What in Hades was he going to do?

He didn’t know, but clearly he had to do something. He couldn’t go on like this. His eye caught the spray of broken glass glittering on the carpet. Damned childish. Just like everything else he did lately, it seemed.

Coventry dragged himself out of his chair and yanked open the door, calling for a servant to clean up the mess. If only his other messes were as easily swept away.

Coventry had envisioned her face so many times in the past week it took him a moment to realize that Georgina was actually there, and wasn’t just a breathtakingly beautiful figment of his imagination.

The dull throb in his chest sharpened. Regret, remorse, guilt. All banding together in a poignant reminder of what he’d so carelessly tossed away.

He couldn’t take his eyes off her. She looked regal, proud, and impossibly graceful. The quintessential sophisticated lady of the ton. Not the heartbroken girl he remembered from the caves. He suffered a sharp twinge. What had he expected? That she would be in mourning for him?

In truth, yes.

He’d selfishly hoped that she would be just as affected as he was. But if she was suffering, it didn’t show.

She’d recovered from her disappointment beautifully. Too beautifully. She wore a curve-hugging, soft-green gown of some diaphanous fabric that perfectly complemented her eyes. Her silky hair was twisted up in another mind-bogglingly complicated arrangement at the back of her head, with tiny ringlets enchantingly framing her elfin face. Her red pouty mouth with those soft, lush lips taunted him with the remembrance of passion he would never forget.

Painstakingly, he looked for subtle changes to her expression, signs that she was as conflicted as he. But her skin was as smooth and soft as always, her complexion a delicious confection of cream tinged with peaches that tasted of honey and felt like velvet.