Twice a Rake (4 page)

Still, her mind raced. Just before losing her light, she had written The Wedding. She wrote it so clearly, her mind had nowhere else to turn but to The Wedding Night.

Frequently over the years since her debut, Aurora had wondered just what, precisely, took place between a husband and wife on their wedding night. Her mother had died when she was only eleven years old, and she had no older, married woman willing to share intimate details such as these.

Well, there
was
Aunt Sedgewick, but the old biddy would never dream of discussing anything of the sort with her. Her responsibility to Aurora lay solely in introducing her to society and playing the part of chaperone at balls. She felt no need to discuss anything save Aurora’s good reputation. And what unmarried lady who knew the details of the marriage bed could possibly expect to hold a good reputation? None, in the eyes of Aunt Sedgewick. Her aunt frequently remarked with disdain that she should like Aurora to cease her close friendship with Lady Rebecca, whom she felt to be fast, yet neglected to
demand
as much due to her husband’s relationship with the Duke of Aylesbury. The crotchety old bag.

Not that Rebecca knew anything of the goings-on between a husband and wife, anyway. But that was beside the point.

The point was that Aurora’s imagination was running away with her, and she doubted she would sleep a wink the entire night, even though she no longer had light by which to write.

She thought of him, lean and muscular and strong, in his sleeping gown and waiting for her.

Rush to him. That’s what she’d do.

She would rush to his side and dive beneath the bedclothes and give him a kiss on the cheek. A very chaste kiss, one that spoke of her love and undying devotion. And then he would tell her he loved her and she would say the same, and they would sleep side by side, feeling the warmth of the other across the bed.

It sounded magical. Delightful. Scandalous, even—the idea of sharing the same bed for the entire night. Particularly since most husbands and wives slept in separate rooms, not just in separate beds. Or so Aunt Sedgewick would have her believe. It was quite possibly the truth, since Aurora’s parents had kept entirely separate suites in opposite wings at Fairfax Priory, where they had lived when Aurora was just a girl.

She felt warmer, just imagining his body mere feet from hers.

Yes, this was a splendid manner of falling asleep. She would have to convince Lord Quinton they should share a bed once they were married. In the morning, she would be certain to write that particular detail in her journal.

Almost before she fell asleep, though, her maid barged into her room to wake her. “Good morning, Miss Hyatt,” Rose said. “Up with you and off to your breakfast, now. The Marquess of Norcutt will be here before you know it to collect you for your outing to Hyde Park.”

Blasted chipper chit. Had she no respect for the fact that her mistress had scarcely slept a minute the entire evening? The reason for her lack of sleep was unimportant, but the lack of sleep itself was of dire consequence.

But then Rose handed her a cup of chocolate, surely the most divine creation known to man. All must be forgiven.

“All right, then. Up we go.”

Aurora attempted to slough off the Sullen Sally mantle she had woken up wearing long enough to allow Rose’s assistance in preparing for the day ahead.

By the time she had dressed, had her hair properly coiffed, and breakfasted, she sat at the writing table in the main parlor, hoping to get a bit more written before the dreaded man arrived. Scarcely half a moment later, a knock was already sounding at the door. One o’clock, on the nose. Good Lord, the man was punctual. Not to mention rather dicked in the nob for planning something at this indecent hour of the day.

She ought to return her journal to her chamber. It certainly couldn’t remain where it was, because one of the maids might stumble upon it and have to open it to determine what to do with it. No, that simply would not do.

Aurora dashed out into the hall, hoping to accomplish her task and be back downstairs before Hobbes came looking for her to inform her of Norcutt’s arrival, only to have to stop short in order to avoid smacking head first into the man in question himself. “Oh, Lord Norcutt,” Aurora mumbled. “I did not realize you had already arrived.”

He executed a low bow. “Miss Hyatt. Good morning to you. I trust you are well rested and ready for our jaunt through the park.” His eager smile abruptly became an irritant. She should just write
their
story and be done with him, send him on his merry way to some other, less interesting miss who could suffer his attentions with more decorum than she.

But that, she must admit, would require focusing less of her efforts and imagination on Lord Quinton’s story. Not what she had any intention of doing, at least for the time being.

Still, stringing Lord Norcutt along behind her was not terribly becoming.

It wasn’t as though she was setting her cap for him, though. She just wasn’t discouraging his attentions. Not yet.

She would.

She must.

“Quite, my lord,” she finally responded. “I have been
so
looking forward to our afternoon.” She prayed God would not smote her down for such an impudent lie as he placed her gloved hand in the crook of his arm and he led her to his curricle.

She only remembered she still had her journal with her when she realized her other hand was forced to hold both her journal and her parasol, thereby making the task of opening and holding the parasol aloft impossible. Aurora tried.

And failed.

And tripped in the process, nearly falling down the steps in front of Hyatt House, and landing flat on her face on Berkeley Square in front of everyone out for a walk, ride, or for any other reason, and pulling Lord Norcutt with her in the process. It would have happened, as well, if not for the fact that his rather staunch and sturdy frame pulled back against her and saved them both from utter catastrophe.

But at least her journal was safe.

Norcutt took the parasol from her hands at that point. “Might I be of some assistance, Miss Hyatt?” He opened it and held it above her head, shading her already-too-dark complexion from further darkening.

It just would not do to look any more exotic than she already did, or at least that is what Aunt Sedgewick continually reminded her. Aurora didn’t care one whit about the demands of society. The shade of her skin, the darkness and waviness of her hair, the slight bend in her nose—all of this reminded her of her mother. For that purpose alone, Aurora was tempted to sit out in the sun as often as possible, watching her skin brown as other misses ducked to hide from its rays in fear of random freckles peppering their perfect English rose complexions.

But Father continually reminded her how it would not do to flaunt her mother’s Greek heritage in the faces of the
ton
, that she already suffered a dearth of suitors possibly due to just such a cause. Never mind the fact that her scarcity of suitors might have something to do with her habit of running them off before they could make an offer.

Instead, she turned her most gracious smile on Lord Norcutt. “Thank you so very much, my lord. I daresay I would have made an utter cake of myself if not for your heroic efforts.” She tried not to gag on the words as they left her mouth. It proved difficult, but she achieved success.

Then he assisted her up into the silly contraption (one that men only owned in order to show the ladies they escorted off to the best of their ability—for she could think of no other practical purpose for the blasted things), followed along behind her, and they were off.

Supposedly.

Never in her life had Aurora experienced a horse walking so slowly, let alone two of them together. “Are your horses feeling quite the thing, my lord?” They had to be as old as Moses to be moving so slow. A group of toddlers could pass them by, circle the park, and come back to them before they reached the end of the street at this rate. She would clearly be well into her dotage before he returned her to Hyatt House.

“They are doing rather well. Thank you for inquiring.” Lord Norcutt held the reins so tightly she imagined his knuckles must be whitening beneath his gloves. She wasn’t entirely certain he was still breathing.

He started to say something, then stopped himself to fidget with the reins. Again, he opened his mouth and took a massive breath of air, only to close it again with a “Hmm.”

His nervous energy could be due to any number of things—none of which Aurora presently wished for.

By the time they reached the end of the street and the horses began to turn, Norcutt turned to face her. “Miss Hyatt, I hoped to speak with you today before we are joined by Lord Merrick and Lady Rebecca. You see…I…” His grey eyes filled with tears that threatened to spill over.

She had to stop him. She couldn’t allow him to go through with this. It would make them both terribly uncomfortable, and there was little in the world Aurora detested more than to be uncomfortable.

But he continued before she could cut in. “I am in love with Lady Rebecca,” he said with a violence she had never expected possible from such a staid and stoic man.

Not to mention a statement she never expected to be uttered by him. Was he not attempting to court Aurora? Lord Norcutt had shown every indication of a growing attachment to Aurora, not to Rebecca.

She was, to be plain, stunned.

And relieved and delighted and thanking every god known to every civilization in her history books that he would not be offering for her that day.

Because really, throwing out gentlemen’s hopes and dreams like they were used bathwater was not now and would never be her chosen manner of spending an afternoon.

Sometimes it did prove to be a necessity. But not today.

“I see. And does Lady Rebecca know of your
tendre
?”

“No, she does not.” His typically monotone voice had become animated and lively. In fact, Aurora feared he might burst into either tears or song at any moment. Neither of which was an appealing option. How terribly sad for him, since Rebecca would never entertain his offer.

“Yet, when you could have invited Lady Rebecca to ride with you through Hyde Park this afternoon, instead you offered such an invitation to me. Not only that, but you sat by and watched as Lord Merrick issued just the invitation you ought to have done to Lady Rebecca. That all strikes me as a bit odd, my lord. How might you think Lady Rebecca will react to a faux pas of that caliber?”

“I’ve come to you, Miss Hyatt, because I’m in desperate need of your assistance. His Grace, the Duke of Aylesbury has granted me permission to pursue an attachment with his daughter. But I am uncertain how to proceed.” He delivered his impassioned plea with the most ardent eyes she had ever seen. It almost broke her heart.

Almost.

“That is a most lamentable predicament, my lord. And you believe I can assist you how, precisely?”

“It is common knowledge amongst those in the know that Lady Rebecca is your most especial friend. I was hoping…I wanted to ask you to give me some hope. To speak with her about me, and discover if my feelings might be returned.” In his enthusiasm, he took both of her gloved hands into his own and squeezed them tightly before remembering himself and dropping them to her lap just as suddenly. “Lord Merrick agreed to aid me in my cause. He invited Lady Rebecca to ride with him so that I might at least catch a glimpse of her during our excursion today while I courted your favor in my endeavor.”

“Indeed.” She wasn’t quite agreeing to his suggestion. It was more that she could not fathom what else to say.

Her intentions didn’t matter, though, as Lord Norcutt took her response to mean what he wanted it to mean. “Oh, thank you, Miss Hyatt. I am certain that once you have spoken with her, and perhaps softened her toward me, she will be quite delighted to accept me. With your favor, how could I go wrong?”

How, indeed? Oh, dear. Now she might truly end up crushing this man’s hopes and dreams, even though they had nothing to do with her.