Taming the Rake

by Monica McCarty

  Reluctantly, Coventry nodded his acquiescence.

  Gina felt bile rise in her throat. Augusta had nearly been raped. Because of her. Horror, like a thousand hairy spiders, crawled over her prickled flesh.

  “If it hadn’t been for Lord Ashley finding her when he did…” Mrs. Persimmons started to cry. “My poor, dear girl,” she mumbled in between her sobs.

  Lord Ashley answered Coventry’s unspoken question. “Nothing happened, though his intentions were plain. He’d taken her to a secluded corner of the garden where no one would hear her. Fortunately, I was able to get her away before anyone realized what had happened.”

  Gina couldn’t bear it. Coventry wouldn’t even look at her. It was as if what had occurred in this room a few minutes before had never happened.

  Icy panic trickled down her spine. Coventry blamed her too.

  She’d never meant…

  But it didn’t matter; she was responsible. God in heaven, what had she done? How could she have been so wrong about Mr. Carrington?

  “Why will she not waken?” Gina asked.

  “She hit her head on the corner of the stone bench in the struggle to get her away from Mr. Carrington.” For the first time, beneath the fury, Gina heard the note of panic in Lord Ashley’s voice.

  He loved her. Why hadn’t Gina seen it before? Her mind raced, thinking back over the past few weeks, recalling Lord Ashley’s conduct and his unusual devotion. She realized that she’d allowed his childhood behavior and her prejudice of rakes to taint her opinion of him.

  Gina looked closer and saw the thin trickle of blood running down Augusta’s temple. She fought the wave of nausea that curdled her stomach.

  Please, let her be all right.

  Coventry had called for Mrs. Jennings and Lord Ashley had carefully arranged Lady Augusta on the divan that had only moments ago been the scene of such heavenly passion.

  Coventry stared helplessly at his sister as Mrs. Jennings located Augusta’s vinaigrette in her reticule. It was obviously not in his nature to stand aside in matters of crisis. His eyes looked dull and lines of worry etched around his mouth, but Gina could tell that he longed to do something. To take out his vengeance on the man who had dared to harm his sister.

  Her mouth went dry. Or perhaps on the woman who had encouraged it.

  Mrs. Jennings moved the tiny silver box back and forth under Augusta’s nose. Augusta’s eyes fluttered open and widened in panic, which quickly turned to fear when she caught sight of her wild-eyed brother, before finally calming as her gaze settled upon Lord Ashley. She sighed, relieved. “You’re here.”

  Lord Ashley bent down on his knee next to her, clasping her gloved hands in his. “Where I intend to stay.” He dropped a tender kiss on her bleeding temple. “For as long as you’ll have me.”

  Augusta managed a shaky smile.

  There was no mistaking the import of what had just transpired between them. Augusta loved Lord Ashley as deeply as he loved her.

  Gina felt sick with the knowledge of what her interference had nearly done. Her prejudice toward Lord Ashley had blinded her to Mr. Carrington’s true character. How did she not recognize that beneath the thin veneer of manners and decorum lurked a despicable cad?

  Augusta tentatively turned to her brother, and it was all the encouragement Coventry needed. He exploded, his helplessness and his concern for his sister making him lash out. But unlike Gina, Augusta did not understand that his anger was rooted in fear and guilt.

  “I warned you about Carrington. How could you disobey me? Allowing a social climbing, fortune-hunter like him to corner you?” His voice shook. “Do you know how lucky you were that Ash was there? Do you realize what might have happened?”

  Terrified, Augusta visibly withered under his verbal blows.

  Gina stepped in at the same time as Lord Ashley, who looked as if he might strangle his friend. “That’s enough,” Gina said. “Can’t you see you’re frightening her?”

  From the shocked look on his face, it was clear that he hadn’t.

  Breaking the tension, Mrs. Jennings sprang into action, ordering Lord Ashley to carry Augusta upstairs and Mrs. Persimmons to find some cold water and some fresh linen.

  Gina had to do something. “Is there anything I can do to help?” she asked Mrs. Jennings.

  But it was Coventry who replied in that achingly familiar cold, emotionless voice. “I believe you’ve done quite enough, Lady Georgina.”

  Dread settled low in her belly. She’d ruined everything. He’d never forgive her.

  Coventry bit back the words, but not before they’d had their effect. She looked as if he’d struck her. He ignored the pang of guilt. He knew she must be feeling particularly vulnerable right now after what they’d done. They’d made love. Actually, he’d ravished her like some marauding barbarian. When he voiced his horror at what he’d done, she’d obviously misunderstood it for regret. He could never regret making love to her, just the manner in which it was done. He’d make it up to her. But not right now. Right now he was too furious.

  She’d ignored his warning. It seemed to never have occurred to her that she could be wrong. About Carrington. About anything for that matter. No, Georgina had such an inflated sense of her own opinion, she took it and ran roughshod over anyone who had the gall to disagree. She’d done it to him many times in the past few weeks, and he’d allowed it. At first because it amused him, and later because he found himself strangely drawn to her. But now she’d gone too far.

  When he thought of what Augusta had narrowly escaped because of Georgina’s interference, he could throttle her. An ironic change of circumstance considering the fact that only moments ago he’d been holding her in his arms as if he would never let her go, on the verge of doing what he’d sworn to never do again.

  But that would have to wait.

  So instead of a heartfelt proposal, he gripped her arm and steered her to the door. With the rest of the servants busy attending to Augusta, he called for her coachman himself. Not trusting himself to speak, for a few minutes they stood in uncomfortable silence. Finally, he said evenly, “I warned you not to interfere.”

  She gazed up at him with those soulful eyes rounding with despair. She could strip him to the core with that expression. He ached to comfort her, but she needed to learn a lesson. It was well past time she learned that he was not the fool she believed him to be.

  “I thought—”

  “And you were wrong. I told you my decision regarding Mr. Carrington, how I had no intention of allowing him to court my sister, and you deliberately ignored my judgment on the matter. Do you deny it?”

  She tossed back that adorable stubborn chin. “No. At the time, I believed Mr. Carrington to be a vastly superior choice to Lord Ashley.”

  Even when he was angry with her, he couldn’t help admiring how she stood her ground. Nor could he stop noticing how beautiful she was. After what they just shared, he didn’t think he’d ever be able to forget. The image of her would be forever burned in his consciousness.

  Two spots of color appeared high upon her cheeks. “I was wrong. Very wrong. But at least I cared enough to do something.”

  He stiffened. His voice was like ice. “What do you mean by that?”

  “For this entire season you’ve acted as though you didn’t care what happened to Augusta. I thought your objection to Mr. Carrington was because he wasn’t one of your Hellfire cohorts. And I believed that you championed Lord Ashley because it was the easy thing to do. Whether he was the right choice for Augusta or not, you would have your duty done and you could continue with your… uh… business.”

  Coventry scowled. “You’re wrong.” She was right. He hadn’t given Augusta’s choice of husband much thought. He’d welcomed his friend not because of Augusta’s happiness, but for his own convenience. Augusta was his responsibility. He should have kept a closer eye on her. No one knew better than he the pack of wolves ready to devour the innocence of a tasty maiden.

  He gave
Gina a long, hard stare, annoyed by her uncanny ability to pinpoint his failings.

  “Don’t challenge me again, Georgina.”

  She met his gaze with nary a flinch. “Or what?”

  Always the provoker. His mouth tightened. “You don’t want to test me.”

  “I’m not your sister, I’m not frightened of you.”

  “You should be.” He stopped when he realized what she’d said. “What do you mean?”

  “Don’t you realize that Augusta is terrified of you? She fears you might be like your father and your indifference toward her only reinforces that belief.”

  Her words were like a sharp knife in the gut. He hadn’t missed the look of fear in Augusta’s eyes when she’d first seen him. “Like my father? But I’d never hurt her.”

  His father’s crazed eyes swam before Coventry’s face.

  “Stop your damned blubbering!” The whip fell across his shoulders. “Look at you. You are pathetic. As soft and weak as a girl. My heir…” He spat with disgust. “I’ll make a man out of you yet.” He curled tighter into a ball, tears streaming down his cheeks as his father’s hand rose again and again. The metallic taste of blood filled his mouth as he bit his tongue to prevent the sounds of weakness that would only further enrage his father.

  “I know he was a cruel man,” she explained. “Augusta is worried…”

  How could his sister ever think such a thing? “I’m nothing like my father,” he said vehemently.

  His father was cold, cruel, and angry.

  Nothing like him.

  He stilled. Everything like him. Was Augusta right? Was he turning into his father? The thought chilled him to the bone.

  He raked his fingers through his hair, unsure of what to do. How had the evening deteriorated so quickly?

  “I only want to protect her.”

  “I think you are only protecting yourself,” she said softly.

  He didn’t pretend to misunderstand. She was right. By holding Augusta apart, he’d pushed her away before she could do the same to him—certain that she would once she recognized the blackness inside him. He was a coward, too afraid to allow himself to care for someone. And now his sister thought him like their father. Could there be a worse insult?

  His horror must have shown on his face. “Don’t blame yourself.” Gina’s voice sounded tight, he could tell she was trying to control her emotions. “I know you care for Augusta, but she doesn’t. And what happened to Augusta tonight was my fault. If only I hadn’t encouraged the relationship.” She gazed up at him, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I just don’t understand how I could have been so wrong. Why would Mr. Carrington resort to such knavery?”

  “For the usual reasons. Fortune and position.”

  She looked at him queerly. “But Augusta doesn’t have a fortune.”

  He didn’t say anything.

  It finally dawned on her. “But you do,” she said hollowly. “You don’t need my fortune at all.”

  “No.”

  “But why do you allow your mother to think that you’re gambling everything away.”

  He shrugged. “It amuses me. And to be honest, it’s not for lack of trying. Unfortunately, I seem to have an appalling proclivity for winning.”

  The coach finally pulled before the house. He led her down the path, anxious to return to Augusta.

  Coventry waved the footman away, helping her into the coach himself. Her eyes were stark, imploring, in the pale oval of her beautiful face. “Is there nothing else you wish to say before I leave?”

  He knew what she was asking, but he was still too angry to do it properly. He wanted to tell her how he felt, but not like this. And right now, Augusta came first. “I must attend to my sister. We can talk about everything else tomorrow.”

  She couldn’t hide her disappointment. Her shoulders slumped. “Of course.”

  He slammed the door a little harder than he intended, causing the coach and its occupant to rattle. The forlorn look in her expression gave him a moment’s hesitation, but before he could say anything the coach had pulled away.

  He raised his hand in a belated gesture of reassurance, but Gina never looked back.

  What have I done? The horror of the evening’s events had thrown Gina into a stunned stupor.

  How could I have been so wrong? About everything. Mr. Carrington. Lord Ashley. Coventry’s fortune. Coventry’s vow to marry me.

  Panic gripped her chest. She couldn’t be wrong about that… could she? Then why had he not declared himself? Why had he not given her any indication of his intention to do so? Had her interference ruined everything?

  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.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  “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.