Taming the Rake (7 page)

“I have a butler and a housekeeper who manage my households well enough.”

“A proper wife will help with the efficient running of your estates.”

Coventry shook his head. Determined
and
repetitive. There was something humorous about the way she spoke so enthusiastically and businesslike in defense of something she knew absolutely nothing about. How she eagerly spouted the propaganda of society’s marriage-minded mamas.

“I have very competent estate managers at all of my properties.”

“A wife can help with accounting and bookkeeping.”

“I have a team of solicitors and the aforementioned secretary for that.”

It was taking her longer to respond. “And a hostess to preside over your table when you entertain?”

“Should the need arise, my mother can serve as hostess.” When hell froze over. But Lady Georgina didn’t need to know that.

She thought for a moment before her eyes sparked, he perceived in triumph. “Only a proper wife can provide an heir,” she intoned smugly, as if to say, “Trump that one.”

“My father had a younger brother, quite a reliable, trustworthy chap. He has been named my heir-presumptive.”

He noticed that her face pinched a little when she was frustrated. “How about companionship? A wife will provide a lifetime of companionship.”

He smiled at that one. “I have dogs.” He paused. “And a mistress.”

She gasped.

He held her gaze so there could be no mistaking his meaning. “Believe me, Lady Georgina, I have
everything
I need from a woman.”

Her tiny heart-shaped jaw flexed as she fought to control her temper. “Every man needs a wife.”

Her stubborn adherence to an ideal that had been promoted by a bunch of silly old women in drawing rooms was beginning to make him angry. That and the continued reference to a wife. He’d had a wife. One that had made a fool of him.

“I assure you
I
don’t.” He looked deep into her eyes and slowly moved his gaze over her breasts and hips, visualizing her naked. The formfitting gown she wore didn’t leave much to the imagination, revealing the round fullness of her breasts and the pale ivory flesh of her décolletage. He didn’t bother hiding his lust, letting her see what he wanted—all that he wanted. “A wife does not provide anything that I couldn’t get for a shilling and a bottle of cheap rum from any Cheapside whore.”

She gasped in outrage. Her eyes blazed. She looked as though she itched to slap him. “How dare you utter such vile—”

“It is you who dare too much. I don’t need anyone telling me what I need.” He took a step closer, a movement designed to intimidate. He tried not to notice the angry pink flush of her cheeks or the heady, sweet rose of her perfume. Or the way her breasts strained against the thin fabric of her gown as they rose and fell in anger. God, her nipples were hard. And so was he. Instantly.

“And what of affection, Lord Coventry?”

A corner of his mouth lifted. “I believe I mentioned my dogs. I would certainly not look to the inconstancy of a woman’s heart for affection.”

“And love? What of love? Would you look to your dogs for that as well?”

“You surprise me, Lady Georgina. Surely a
mature
woman as yourself does not believe in fairy tales? Can that be why you have refused all those offers? Because you were not ‘in love?’” He sneered at the last two words.

“I hope to be fortunate enough to marry for love,” she said tightly.

He shook his head pityingly. “Then you are looking in the wrong direction.” He lowered his voice in warning. “You don’t want to play with me, my dear. I bite. Run along and find someone who might be interested in your wares. I assure you, you have nothing I haven’t seen a thousand times before.”

He turned on his heel and left her standing there sputtering in indignation.

What a horrible, wretched man,
Gina fumed as he sauntered away, disgustingly pleased with himself. He had the manners of a guttersnipe and the charm of an asp. How dare he compare a wife to a dog—or to a mistress for that matter. Did the man not possess one shred of decency? To mention a whore in the presence of a young lady was the absolute height of impropriety.

Just thinking about it made her furious. She couldn’t believe she’d actually had a moment—a twinge—of guilt about what she planned to do. But conscious of where she was, Gina did her best to control her emotions lest their heated conversation attract undo interest. Enough curious eyes had been directed their way as it was.

That had not gone at all as planned. It wasn’t just that he’d offended her sense of propriety by referring to his mistress and whores, but he’d dismissed Gina’s qualifications out of hand. And worse, he’d provided acceptable alternatives. In a matter of minutes, Coventry had rejected a lifetime of education and training.

But he was wrong. A wife was a valuable asset.

And she was going to prove it.

Her anger cooled, Gina surveyed the room for Lady Augusta, finding her in a group of women that included the Duchess of St. Albans and the Countess of Coventry. Gina squared her shoulders and marched toward them. The day some degenerate reprobate got the best of her was the day Gina renounced society and entered a nunnery (which would be exceedingly difficult given that she wasn’t Roman Catholic).

She’d make Coventry eat his words. Every last one of them. She might even enjoy seeing the shock on his arrogant face when she coolly rejected his proposal. And propose he would. Because now Gina’s pride was involved.

“Ah, Lady Georgina, I see you’ve been talking to my son.” The Countess of Coventry said as Gina approached. “I hope he said nothing to offend you.”

Gina forced a bright smile onto her face. An effort that was not made without some pain. “Not at all, Lady Coventry. We were merely discussing his love of animals.” In a manner of speaking.

The countess scoffed. “Coventry and his dogs. Even as a boy he had an unnatural attachment to those smelly, flea-ridden creatures. Why you’ve never seen such a fuss when his father had to shoot one of the stupid things. The boy carried on for days and refused to eat for nearly a week.”

“What happened?” her stepmother asked before Gina could.

“The foolish beast bit my husband.”

“Because father was beating Coal with a stick,” Lady Augusta said softly.

The countess gave her a sharp look. “You were only a child. You can’t remember.”

But it was clear she did.

“So was Jamie,” Lady Augusta said under her breath, but loud enough for Gina to hear.

Apparently, the countess had heard her too. “Coventry was ten or eleven. Old enough to obey the rules. Rules that he knowingly broke by bringing that filthy animal into his chambers.”

Gina felt an unwelcome twinge of sympathy for Coventry. His mother was truly abhorrent. Imagine, shooting a cherished pet for defending itself. Unconsciously, Gina looked around, catching a glimpse of Coventry heading toward the billiard room. The countess followed the direction of her stare.

Her mouth pickled with displeasure. “Now he is a man full grown and there is nothing I can do.” She sighed, sounding unbearably put upon. “If Coventry wishes to gamble away every last penny of his inheritance, I must stand by and watch.”

The duchess tried to lighten the conversation. “Surely, it is not as bad as all that. Most men gamble.”

The countess did not take the hint. “It’s much worse. He’s reckless and foolish—a disastrous combination. The boy will plague me with his antics until the day I die, which might not be long. My heart is weak you know. Little does my ungrateful son care. I live in fear that he will lose everything in one turn of the cards or one toss of the dice.”

Uncomfortable to hear his mother speak aloud many of the same sentiments that Gina had thought, she was relieved when the duchess suggested that she and the countess take some air in the garden. Gina got the feeling that her stepmother was not so much a friend of the countess, as much as she sought to protect Lady Augusta who looked like she wanted to evaporate.

“I apologize for mother. It’s just that she and Coventry, well—”

Gina stopped her. “There’s no need. I’m sure your brother can be difficult.” Gina had proof of that.

“So can mother. They are like water and oil. Sometimes I think they purposely do things to vex each other.”

“Like the gambling?”

Lady Augusta nodded. Her expression shifted to one of remorse. “I shouldn’t have left you alone with him. What did he say to upset you? Was it horrible?”

“Nothing I couldn’t handle. He was only trying to shock me.”

Augusta looked horrified, the possibilities probably running through her mind.

“Don’t worry,” Gina assured her.

Hands twisting at her waist, Lady Augusta looked like she wanted to cry. “But now you’ll never be interested in him.”

Gina laughed. “I’m not that easily put off.”

“You’re not?”

Gina shook her head. “Absolutely not.” She paused as if she’d just thought of something, although it had been her intent all along. “Would you like to see your brother more respectable? Not like those horrible men he associates with?”

“Of course.”

“Then I have an idea. But I will need your help.”

“I don’t know,” she said warily. “Coventry doesn’t like interference.”

Gina took Augusta’s arm and tucked it under hers. “Just leave everything to me. I know exactly what to do. Believe me, your brother will thank you in the end.”

Well, perhaps that was a bit of an exaggeration, but surely Coventry would see the benefit of a wife when it was made perfectly clear to him?

Coventry slammed the door to his study and headed straight for the liquor cabinet. God, he needed a drink. Over a week of dodging his sister and Lady Georgina had him agitated. Deeply agitated.

He was wrong about Lady Georgina not being aggressive. Everywhere he turned she was there, with that sly knowing smile fixed on her incredible mouth. He’d had far too many prurient thoughts about that mouth. He couldn’t take his usual ride in Hyde Park or walk along Bond Street without seeing that mouth.

It haunted him.

He had the pressing need to do something about it. A need that was beginning to overshadow everything else. He’d just about decided to seduce her and be done with it, to hell with the consequences. Yet something held him back, and it wasn’t because he’d suddenly developed a conscience. With Lady Georgina there would be consequences. The Duke of St. Albans was not as easily dismissed as the Viscount Danby.

And even the painful throb of a permanent erection was better than the agony of marriage.

Bloody hell, his head hurt.

Right now, all he wanted was to pour a tall glass of brandy, close the heavy drapes, and collapse in a drunken stupor on the perfectly broken-in divan.

Maybe he didn’t even need a glass.

He reached the mahogany cabinet, knelt down, and tore open the doors.

The bellow that ripped from his lungs shook the stone foundations of his Jermyn Street lodgings. “Jennings!”

A moment later his manservant—part butler, part valet, part secretary—appeared.

Completely unruffled as usual, he said calmly, “Yes, my lord.”

“Where is it?” Coventry asked, demonstrating patience that he did not feel.

“Where is what, my lord?”

Coventry counted to ten, trying to control his temper. “Where is the liquor that was in this cabinet yesterday?”

Jennings’s expression didn’t change. “Why, the ladies took it with them this morning, my lord.”

Coventry’s head felt so hot he thought it was going to explode. “The ladies?” he asked, but he already knew.

“Lady Augusta and Lady Georgina Beauclerk.” Jennings, a man without expression, actually smiled. “A delightful woman if I may say so, my lord. We heartily approve.”

Coventry bit back the denial that sprang to his lips. His hands clenched into tight fists, the urge to pound his hand through a wall was nearly irresistible. He didn’t trust himself to speak.

“Mrs. Jennings and I would like to add our thanks, my lord.”

“Thanks?” He didn’t want to ask. “For what?”

“Why, for hiring the extra servants. When Lady Georgina heard of Mrs. Jennings’s back problems, she immediately ordered her to find two more housemaids to help with the cleaning. And with the new valet and Lady Georgina helping out with the house accounts, I will have more time to devote to my other duties.”

Back problems? What back problems? New valet? Lady Georgina helping with the household accounts? He raked his fingers through his hair. Were his servants overworked? Apparently so.

Reality hit him hard.

The conniving little minx. Coventry had been deftly outmaneuvered. She’d insinuated herself into his household by endearing herself to his servants, and by undoubtedly alluding to an impending engagement. In a matter of hours she’d discovered things that he hadn’t noticed in days, or, he grimaced, in months. Things that he should have known. She’d seen holes and moved to fill them, knowing he wouldn’t countermand her. Knowing he couldn’t. Because she was right.

There was nothing he hated more than a bossy woman, except a bossy woman who was right.

His hands itched to wring that pretty little interfering neck, but he’d deal with her later. Right now all he could think about was that drink. “And the brandy? The port?” He drew a long breath. “The whisky?”

“Part of the redecoration, my lord. Taken for storage to Coventry House.” Jennings was beginning to look uneasy. “I thought you knew. They cleared out the cellar as well. Lady Augusta assured me…”

Redecoration? He looked around in a stupor, noticing the things that he’d been too preoccupied to see on the way in. The room was painfully bright. The familiar garnet-colored velvet drapes to block out the head-splitting sun, gone. He’d never cared for the stodgy old things, but damn it they were his. Clearly, his desk had been tidied, the papers organized into perfectly squared neat piles. Just as his wife had done in the early months of their marriage. His blood boiled, noticing the fresh flowers arranged in a silver vase. Pink roses no less. He opened a filigreed box that sat on the corner of his desk. Cheroots, gone. He put his hands to his temples, trying to soothe the pressure. He started to drop onto the divan, but at the last minute something stopped him. He caught himself right before he landed on the ground.