How to Ravish a Rake

by Vicky Dreiling

  She padded across the plush carpet and collapsed on a sofa. Amy clasped her hand to her bosom as she waited for her heartbeat to slow. Thank goodness Devil Darcett had not seen her. She knew he would relentlessly tease her, the same way he’d done last year.

  Amy blew out her breath, relieved to have escaped his notice. She wondered how long she should remain here before returning to the ballroom. Of course, she wouldn’t have to worry if she hadn’t left. She ought to have forced herself to stay, but she’d felt so uncomfortable. No matter how hard she tried, she could not be at ease with approaching a group and joining the conversation. She became tongue-tied when others spoke all at once. Often, she spent hours in her room, because she needed to be alone in order to think.

  Now she had nothing else to do except twiddle her thumbs in a dark library. She sighed, wondering if she’d made a mistake by coming to London. Amy’s parents had offered to bring her. She knew they did not share her fondness for the city, but her father had insisted she deserved to have another season in London. Amy had thought of all the years she’d failed miserably. Her wonderful parents would do anything for her, but she couldn’t bear to disappoint them again. They would not view it that way at all, because they loved her, but she couldn’t stand to fail them.

  She’d told them she had no wish to go and had informed her friends. Then one day, she’d received a letter from Georgette, begging her to spend the Season with her. Georgette had said she had looked forward to seeing her all winter and would be miserable without her. In truth, Amy had missed Georgette and Julianne very much. She had read their letters again and again, always recalling their adventures of the last two years. After a great deal of thought, Amy had decided to accept Georgette’s invitation, but a complication had arisen in the month prior to her journey to London, one that still unsettled Amy.

  A light tap startled her out of her ruminations. When the door opened, she cringed. To her utter horror, a man walked inside and shut the door. In the darkness, she couldn’t see his features.

  “Alicia? I thought you were going to the retiring room first,” he said as he shut the door.

  Oh, dear God. She knew that voice. It was the devil himself. He’d come here for an assignation. “Wrong woman,” she said.

  His low chuckle irritated her.

  He strode across the carpet, sat beside her, and stretched out his long legs. “Red? This is an unexpected pleasure.”

  Drat it all. He’d recognized her voice. “My name is Miss Hardwick, and the pleasure is all yours, I assure you. Now if you will excuse me, I must leave.”

  “Not so fast. Why are you hiding in here?”

  He’d caught her off guard. “I’m not hiding.”

  He leaned closer to her, threatening her peace of mind. The scent of him, something she could not identify, curled inside her like a dangerous elixir. He was close enough that she could hear the sound of his breathing. His face was in shadows, but she sensed he was watching her as if he were the predator and she his prey.

  “You’re either hiding or you’re waiting for someone. Which is it?” he asked.

  She owed him no explanation. “My reason for coming here is none of your concern.”

  “I promise not to reveal your secret,” he said, chuckling.

  “You may go to the devil,” she said.

  “You do have a temper, don’t you? I’m only teasing,” he said.

  “I got my fill of your teasing at your brother’s wedding,” she muttered.

  “Are you still miffed? It’s been nearly a year.”

  Her mother had warned her about the consequences of having a long memory, but Amy was in no mood to forgive the rogue who had embarrassed her. “You spilled punch all over me.”

  “Yes, I got you wet,” he said, chuckling in a wicked manner.

  She would never forget how the cool punch had pooled inside her bodice. Everyone had stared. “If you were a gentleman, you would not mention that incident.”

  “Ah, but I’m the devil, and as I recall, you bumped into me.” He paused and added, “I did try to apologize for the mishap.”

  “You made a jest of it,” she said.

  “I thought it would put you at ease if we both laughed about it,” he said.

  At the time, she’d thought he meant to poke fun at her, but that did not matter. She could not stay alone in a dark room with a rake. “I would say it has been delightful, but I don’t like to lie. Now, you will excuse me,” she said.

  When she rose, he stood as well. She was tall, but he was half a head taller, and for reasons that made no sense, that intimidated her.

  She lifted her skirt and took a step back. He stepped forward.

  She stepped sideways in an effort to evade him.

  He followed.

  She couldn’t help laughing. “Stop that.”

  His wicked chuckle reverberated all along her spine.

  She’d thought herself impervious to rogues, but despite her poor opinion of him, he’d managed to make her laugh with his antics. “You are determined to bedevil me.”

  “I think you like it,” he said, his voice a little husky.

  A warning clanged in her head. He had no doubt learned his seduction techniques from Satan’s mistresses. “Mr. Darcett, I must leave now.”

  “Yes, I can see that I’m too much temptation for you.”

  She scoffed.

  “It was a jest, Miss Hardwick.”

  She thought better of answering him, because it would only delay her escape. Amy turned, took one step, and halted at the sound of a rap on the door.

  He grabbed her hand and pulled her behind the sofa. Then he crouched beside her. Amy’s legs trembled, but she mustn’t move or her rustling skirts would give away their hiding place.

  A feminine voice called out, “Will?” After a moment of silence, she added, “Are you here?”

  Amy’s heart beat madly. She squeezed her eyes shut and prayed for deliverance. If they were discovered alone in the dark, she would be ruined.

  Footsteps padded across the carpet. “Will?”

  The tick, tick, tick of the clock seemed to go on forever, though only a moment could have passed.

  “That sorry rake,” the woman muttered.

  Amy squelched the hysterical urge to laugh, even though there was nothing funny about her predicament. Oh, Lord, please let the woman leave.

  The woman’s skirts swished as her footsteps retreated. Then mercifully the door slammed.

  The devil rose and offered his hand. She took it gratefully, because her legs felt a bit wobbly.

  “Well, that was a lark,” he drawled.

  She stared at him. Though his expression was hidden in the dark, she heard amusement in his voice. “Do you realize what would have happened if we’d been caught?”

  “I suspect Alicia would have grabbed the nearest makeshift weapon and thrown it at my head.”

  How could he be so cavalier about a near disaster? “You do realize the servants would have come running to investigate the disturbance. You may think it funny, but, unlike you, I value my reputation.”

  He chuckled. “Actually, I’m rather fond of mine.”

  “Is everything a joke to you?” Why had she bothered to ask when she knew the answer?

  “It was rather exciting there for a bit. But if we had been caught by the servants, I would have bribed them,” he said.

  “The first time we met, I formed a low opinion of you. I regret to inform you that you have just sunk even further in my estimation.”

  “I’m sorry to hear it, but I would have done whatever was necessary to get us out of hot suds. If it had come to that, I imagine you wouldn’t have been so quick to object.”

  She refused to admit it. “Good-bye, Mr. Darcett.”

  As she marched toward the door, he said, “You intrigue me, Red.”

  She halted at the door and looked over her shoulder. “You delivered that line as badly as the worst actors at Drury Lane.” Then she opened the door a
nd sashayed out of the library with a smug smile. Tonight, she’d taken him down a peg or two.

  By Jove, she’d dealt him a verbal hit.

  He closed the library door, because he didn’t want to risk following too closely behind her.

  Curiosity had gotten the better of him. He still didn’t know for certain why she’d chosen to hide in the library, but it didn’t signify. She was a virtuous lady, and he ought to have escorted her to the door the moment he’d recognized her voice. He’d rather enjoyed sparring with her, but he’d detained her a bit too long. There would have been hell to pay if they’d been caught.

  He knew the rules, and respected them out of self-preservation. Virtuous ladies were off-limits. He’d always kept his distance from marriage bait, though quite a few had taken to following him around. They were titillated by his reputation and the danger he represented.

  He hadn’t lied when he’d told her she intrigued him. Earlier, he’d watched her enter the ballroom in that remarkable ball gown with the green ribbons. Ordinarily, he paid scant attention to women’s clothing, unless he was trying to strip it off. But she’d drawn everyone’s attention, including his.

  When he’d first met her at his brother’s wedding, she’d walked past just as he was turning with that cup of punch. She had not accepted his apology and definitely had not appreciated his attempt to make light of the matter. Tonight, he’d thought to charm her and then attempt to apologize again, but she’d made her low opinion of him quite clear.

  Ah, well, it didn’t signify. With a shrug, he took a step and noticed something on the carpet. He bent to retrieve it and strode through the corridor. When he reached the great hall, he saw it was a red silk rose. He pocketed the silk rose with the intention of returning it to her, but he glanced up at the crowd on the landing and spotted Alicia scowling at him. He decided to leave this tepid ball for a far more interesting entertainment. His friends had told him about a party given by the demimonde. He might as well live up to his devilish reputation.

  Later that night

  “Miss, one of the silk roses is missing from the gown,” Lizzy, the maid, said.

  Amy’s night rail and robe swirled round her ankles as she walked over to examine the gown.

  “I thought they were all secure,” Lizzy said in an anxious voice. “Perhaps you could find another to replace it.”

  “It’s not your fault, Lizzy. I’ll probably have to replace all of the roses as I doubt I can find a perfect match.”

  “Then you could wear it again,” Lizzy said. “It is such a beautiful gown.”

  Amy doubted she would ever want to wear the gown again, because it would remind her of her failure tonight. “Will you braid my hair?”

  “Yes, of course,” Lizzy said.

  When Lizzy finished, Amy thanked her. Her hair had grown well past her shoulders in the last two years. She wondered if a shorter style would be more becoming. “I’m considering cutting my hair short.”

  Lizzy shook her head. “I know it’s the fashion, but keep it long for your future husband. Gentlemen prefer it.”

  Amy thought about Mr. Crawford, the vicar back home. He was the first man to express real interest in her, and that thought alone made her lungs feel constricted. She didn’t want to think about the end of the Season and the choice she would undoubtedly have to make. Her stomach clenched. She had so many doubts about him. How could she turn down the only proposal she was likely to ever get?

  Her nerves rattled. She didn’t want to think about her last conversation with him or her parents’ unspoken hopes. They had made their approval clear. Her father had said Mr. Crawford was a good man who cared about his parishioners. Her mother had said a man of his stature would surely seek a wife soon. Amy had said nothing at all, because she hadn’t wanted to disappoint them.

  “Is something wrong, Miss?” Lizzy asked.

  “Oh, no. Thank you, Lizzy.” She appreciated Lizzy’s concern, but this was not a topic to discuss with anyone except her closest friend. Amy had a terrible dilemma. In her heart, she knew what was right, but she had to think of her parents, too.

  After Lizzy departed, Amy sighed. Mr. Crawford had not wanted her to leave. She’d told him that she wanted this last chance to spend the Season with Georgette. He’d looked unhappy, and then he’d said he understood. At that moment, she’d wished that he would have made demands or questioned her feelings for him, so that she would feel justified in turning him down, if he proposed. But she knew he meant to do so when she returned.

  God help her. She did not want to marry a man who said they were both practical people and well suited.

  She knew her parents had expectations, and that kept her awake at night. After so many disappointing seasons, she felt guilty. Amy wanted to please them. She wanted to make them happy, but marrying to secure her future would make her unhappy. The worst part was that she’d not told her parents about her misgivings. She’d waited until the last minute to speak to Mr. Crawford. When her mother and father discovered the truth, they would worry.

  They would be far more worried if they knew what had transpired tonight.

  She’d vowed to change, but once again, she’d failed. She’d let her humiliation overcome her and had gone to hide in that library. Her momentary victory over that confident rake had dissipated the minute she’d returned to the ballroom. She’d been on her guard the whole time, certain he would beleaguer her. She’d not seen him again, but her anxiety had spoiled the rest of the ball for her. Once again, she wondered if she’d made a mistake in coming to London.

  A soft knock at the door startled her. Georgette poked her head in the door. “I’m glad you’re awake.” Her nightgown billowed round her slim figure as she padded to the night table and set her candle on it. “Shall we sit on the bed?”

  They sat cross-legged on the mattress. The sheets smelled sunshine fresh, so at odds with Amy’s gloomy mood.

  “We did not have a chance to talk last night, because we arrived so late,” Georgette said. “And today, we were busy unpacking and getting ready for the ball. I had only a quick glimpse of your sketches, but I’ll view them tomorrow when the light is better.”

  The candlelight cast shadows over Georgette’s face. “I wish you hadn’t left the ballroom.”

  Amy didn’t want to talk about her reason for leaving, because it still stung. “Did you enjoy dancing with Beaufort?”

  “Well enough. He’s witty and handsome.”

  “What is wrong, Georgette?” Amy asked.

  “He is so determined,” she said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “He persuaded me to take a drive in the park twice this week. Tonight, he wanted to know which entertainments I plan to attend this week.”

  “It sounds as if he’s smitten,” Amy said. “Do you not return his feelings?”

  “I like him, but he is so persistent. A gentleman should not rush a lady. Of course, Mama has taken notice and approves.” She scoffed. “Because he will inherit an earldom,” Georgette said, imitating her mother’s haughty voice.

  Georgette’s mother was a forceful woman. Amy didn’t envy Georgette on that account. “Is your mama insisting you marry this year?”

  “Yes, she believes it is past time I wed. She cannot bear that other belles have married when I have not. I thought she would relent when my brother married last fall, but she is even more determined. She is constantly comparing me to Suzanne.”

  Lord Ramsey, Georgette’s eldest brother, had given up his rakehell ways upon falling headlong in love with Lady Suzanne, now Lady Ramsey.

  “Thank goodness my papa stands up for me,” Georgette said. “I won’t marry until I cannot eat a bite and swoon at the mere thought of my beloved.”

  Amy laughed. “Where did you get such silly notions of falling in love?”

  Georgette grinned. “Well, that’s the way Suzanne described her feelings for my brother. But then, she’s a silly goose, and I am far too reasonable for such nonsense. I shall
probably end up a spinster with a dozen cats.”

  Amy suspected that Georgette wanted to cling to her girlhood as long as possible. “Georgette, I believe he has developed tender feelings for you. You have known him since last year.”

  She hesitated. “We both know he first fell in love with Julianne.”

  “People are often crossed in love. His past feelings do not signify. What matters is how he feels now and how you feel about him.”

  “I like him very much, and sometimes I feel a rush of excitement when I’m with him. We had a lovely time at his parents’ house party last winter.”

  “What is troubling you?”

  “I only need more time to sort out my feelings.”

  Amy wouldn’t press Georgette. She would work out her feelings in her own good time.

  “Enough about me,” Georgette said. “I suspect you have something to tell me.”

  “You know me well,” Amy said. “I have inadvertently encouraged a gentleman, and I’m so torn.”

  “It is the vicar, Mr. Crawford,” Georgette said. “You mentioned him only in passing in your letters, so I did not think much about it. Then I saw him at your home. He looked unhappy, and I knew something had transpired.”

  Amy sighed. “He didn’t want me to leave.”

  “We have always entrusted our secrets to each other. Your silence on this subject worries me,” Georgette said.

  “When I first wrote to you, I didn’t realize Mr. Crawford’s interest in me amounted to anything more than friendly regard.” He’d approved when he’d seen her taking food baskets to the sick and elderly in the neighborhood, and he’d called her thoughtful when he found her setting flowers on the graves at the churchyard.

  “You did not tell me that he has been courting you.” Georgette sounded a bit offended.