"Perhaps you will find another woman to be your bride," she said, as dispassionately as if they were discussing the weather.
A soft chuckle near her ear informed her he was not deceived by her attempts to remain impassive. "I have found the woman I want as my bride, and do not intend to lose her a second time."
"How do you propose to accomplish that?"
He twirled her in his arms, masterfully, and confidently. "I shall demonstrate the strength of my devotion. The constancy of my heart. The depth of my love."
Georgiana could not speak for several moments. She desperately wanted his impassioned words to be the truth, but her bruised heart refused to succumb so easily. "It seems you shall be in your dotage before you can convince her of that."
"I am a patient man." He smiled and pulled her closer, scandalously so. Georgiana was surprised the attendees did not extinguish every single chandelier with their outraged gasps.
"You are also determined to shock all of London this evening."
"That is a bonus," he admitted with a grin.
She gave him a look filled with exasperation. "I hope you cannot believe one dance shall put everything to rights."
He stopped abruptly, in the middle of the ballroom, and kept her hands clasped in his. She blinked, her heart beating fiercely at the determination in his expression.
"Georgiana, I have been counseled to come here with my heart in hand. It is yours. It always will be. My love for you is unchangeable. I understand you doubt my sincerity, or my constancy, and with good reason. I truly regret being the cause of that."
Her eyes filled with tears. She wanted to believe him, but fear stepped forward, setting aside her hopeful feelings.
"I am afraid," she whispered.
"I know. I am frightened, too."
She hadn't expected such a confession. "What frightens you?"
"That your fears shall prove stronger than my love, and then I shall have to face the future without you. I wish, on a daily basis, that I could change the events of our wedding day, but since I cannot—"
Simon released her hands and reached inside his jacket. Georgiana gasped when she saw what he held in his fingers.
"My handkerchief." She must have dropped it when she fled the church, and to her surprise, Simon had retrieved it.
"I have held onto this the past fortnight as if it were a talisman, praying it would somehow bring us together again." He hesitated a moment before holding it out to her. "When you are ready to embark on a future with me as your husband, bring this to me."
Her fingers trembled as she took the handkerchief from his outstretched hand. "And if I am not prepared to take such a leap of faith?"
His shoulders sagged, as if unwilling to acknowledge such a possibility. "Then simply return this, via a servant. And I will call myself the grandest fool until the end of time."
Before she could respond, Simon grimaced. "I see the Dowager heading this way, and her glare is beyond frightening. Since she rang a peal over my head from Lord Wastrel's scandals, I can only imagine what she will do from the ones I have so recently caused."
Georgiana managed a smile, surprising herself. Simon returned a brilliant one before pressing a lingering kiss to the inside of her wrist.
"Never doubt that I love you, Georgiana. When your heart is ready for that leap of faith, know that mine will be there to join with it."
He spun on his heel and took his leave.
Chapter 7
The entire ballroom was silent, the only sound Simon's heels clicking on the floor as he headed for the exit. Clearly the assembly had anticipated a different ending, perhaps one where Georgiana turned away from him in disdain, or, judging by some nearby wistful sighs, the pair of them leaving together.
Along with the rest of the attendees, she watched him stride across the ballroom floor, determined and graceful and, finally, gone.
Her heart deflated, and it took all her strength not to drop to the floor in a sad heap. Instead she found her way to Wallflower Row, and sat down next to her mother, in her usual spot with the spinsters and widows. Lady Aphrodite and several other women gathered around, shielding her from the gossips passing by. Someone pressed a cup of punch into her hands.
Georgiana only half listened to the spirited conversation going on around her. Instead, she glanced at the handkerchief Simon had given her. Was she brave enough to throw caution to the wind and marry the rake who owned her heart?
Or would her fears continue to hold sway, making the handkerchief a forlorn memento of the Season she had nearly wed the notorious Lord Rakehell?
She bit back a groan at the thought of spending the rest of her days like the Dowager, scolding the latest rogues' gallery while chasing away hopeful young misses with her sad tale of woe.
"He certainly is a handsome devil," Georgiana heard one of the women say, and it sounded suspiciously like the Dowager.
"Too handsome for anyone's good," another one commented, as if Simon had committed the most grievous of sins by having a beautiful face.
"Well, I for one prefer the handsome devils. Especially the rakish ones."
Georgiana nearly spilled her punch in her lap. Her own mother was the one who had made such an outrageous pronouncement!
"Everyone loves a rake," Aphrodite said. Her expression made it clear that nobody could possibly argue with such a statement.
"But nobody actually weds one," another of the women replied with a haughty sniff.
The silence lasted so long that Georgiana was tempted to break it by actually spilling her punch, or by dashing it in the speaker's face.
Her mother cleared her throat and then announced in a tremulous voice, "I did. I wed a rake."
"Mother," Georgiana chided. She appreciated her mother's attempts to deflect embarrassment from her wedding scandal, but this was too much. "Papa was the furthest from rakish as anyone could possibly be. But now I understand why you warned me against falling for one. I wish I had heeded your counsel. I should have chosen someone stable, like Papa."
"But he was a rake," her mother cried. "An even more scandalous one in his day than Lord Winbourne is." She blushed, but continued with her chin at a stubborn angle. "I have warned you against them because they make the most dreadful husbands. They transform into precisely the opposite of what you found irresistible in the first instance."
Georgiana's jaw nearly dropped. She could not have been more shocked if her mother had announced she had grown wings and would fly home instead of taking the carriage. She glanced at the other ladies, expecting to see outrage and dismay at her mother's words. Instead, every one of them nodded sagely, all while sipping delicately at their negus punch.
Lady Aphrodite smiled at Georgiana. "Each generation believes it is the inventor of outrageous behavior."
"Probably because the younger ones are afraid to learn the details of their elders' scandals," Georgiana replied. It would take some time to adjust to the idea of her father wooing her mother in a rakish fashion.
Another thought nearly stopped her heart. She had rakish blood coursing through her veins. No wonder she had felt such an intense connection to Lord Rakehell. There was good reason—her ancestry—for those delicious stirrings Simon had elicited.
She had spent too long denying her urgent feelings for him. She stood, ready to depart, before it was too late.
Lady Aphrodite stood, too, and touched her gloved hand to Georgiana's arm. Instantly Georgiana felt something akin to lightning racing along her skin, firing through her entire being, making her heart race with a combination of excitement and hopefulness and overpowering love.
Georgiana blinked, nearly faltering at the sensations surging through her. Fortunately Lady Aphrodite clasped her arm to steady her, reassuring her with the compassionate expression in her eyes.
"Go," she whispered. "Find your rakehell. While the rest of us reminisce about ours."
Simon waited for his carriage to be brought round, his heart heavy, aching in a way h
e had not anticipated.
"I had hoped for a different outcome," Hugh said, mirroring Simon's thoughts. He shook his head, genuinely distressed. "In truth, I was certain you would be leaving with Georgie on your arm, a special license tucked in your waistcoat pocket."
Simon tried to laugh, but it was too difficult. Perhaps in the morning he could view this evening's events with a lighter heart. But at present he wanted nothing more than an evening alone, with a bottle of his finest brandy, and the chance to ponder if he had truly lost his only chance for happiness.
Not that he would confess such a thing to Hugh. "I shall be fine," he lied.
"Of course," Hugh answered, accepting the falsehood the way best friends did. "Though seeing you in such a state, I hope I shall never find myself in love."
This time Simon did laugh. "And I can only hope you are forced to retract those words one day. When I can remind you of them, and relish the moment."
Hugh's grin was contagious. "I shall see to it that you are in your cups and unlikely to remember I ever uttered them."
Simon's carriage appeared, and the footman held the door open.
"I did my best to find Georgie," Hugh said, "to tell her you were not to blame for the doxies at your wedding. But she had departed already."
"It was an admirable effort," Simon answered. "One which I appreciate immensely. Can I drop you at your home?"
Hugh shook his head, grinning. "I have other plans for this evening. Plans that shall most likely extend into the morrow."
Simon watched Hugh stroll away, envying his friend who had not yet suffered the pangs of love. Instead, he had been cursed to fall in love, with the one woman he had known was absolutely perfect for him from their first meeting.
He could only hope she was not lost to him forever.
Chapter 8
Simon stepped into his coach, heaving himself into the seat with a sigh. The door slammed shut and he rapped on the roof so the coachman could start the journey home.
He closed his eyes, weary at failing at such an important task. If only he had persuaded Georgiana of his constancy. If only she had said to him—
"I believe this belongs to you."
His eyes shot open but it was next to impossible to see anything in the coach's darkened interior. He saw a white handkerchief fluttering, however, and his heart beat madly at what it signified.
"Georgiana, I cannot breathe one more moment without your forgiveness. I beg of you, put me out of my misery this instant."
She reached a hand to the door, the carriage lamps illuminating her beautiful face. "Shall I push you out now, while the carriage is at a slower speed? Or would it be more humane to wait until we are racing at full tilt?"
He grabbed the handkerchief, squeezing her fingers at the same time. "You plan to always keep me in a little bit of misery, don't you?"
She shrugged, feigning nonchalance, but the self-satisfied smile gave her away.
"I knew it! I shall spend all our days being reminded of this one horrible moment in my life."
"But at least you shall be spending all your days, and nights, with me."
He pulled her onto his lap, treasuring her swift intake of breath. The wicked gleam that lit up her eyes nearly unmanned him. He kissed her, unable to wait a moment longer. A fortnight without her touch had been much too long.
Her ragged breathing enticed him to go further. His fingers danced along the hem of her dress, lifting it slowly. She slapped her hands down on his, halting their upward progress.
"Simon. You said you wished you could change—"
"And I will," he said in the most fervent tone possible. "Anything you wish."
"But I do not want you to change, for any reason," she said seriously. "In truth, it is what I most fear."
Her reply surprised him. He kissed her lips, doing his best to erase her worries. "But I am bound to change." She stiffened in his arms, so he continued in a teasing voice. "My hair is likely to whiten, or fall out entirely. I may even grow a paunch and display it proudly when my portrait is painted for our home."
"That is not what I meant," she said with the exasperation he adored. "Everything between us happened so quickly. Including—" She waved her hand between them. "All of this. As if some sort of enchantment or spell brought us together. What if we fall out of love just as speedily as we fell into it?"
Simon's heart swelled with love for this woman who needed reassurances, yet still took a leap of faith without having them in hand first. "Just because it commenced speedily does not mean it must end in the same fashion. I, for one, am glad we did not have to wait to fall in love. Now we can spend the rest of our days enchanting each other, and laughing, and fighting—"
"I do not wish to fight."
He pulled her closer, and whispered in her ear. "But it is so delightful to fall in love all over again afterwards."
Her shiver was everything he had hoped for. "Shall we fall in love many times then?"
"Constantly," he promised. "Every day. Many times a day if I have anything to say about it."
He ran his fingers over her leg once more. This time she pulled her hem upward and he did not hesitate to accept the offer. She placed her mouth on his, nibbling at his bottom lip, thrilling him with her willingness to explore the passion between them.
"The wedding is likely to occur after the honeymoon," he murmured. "We shall both be late for the nuptials this time."
"Yes, but so long as you are there when the cleric asks you to repeat your vows, I will not care that you are late to our wedding."
"You are a wicked one," he marveled, "and I am the luckiest man in the world. What caused your change of heart?"
"My heart did not change." She pulled him to her for a long, sensuous kiss that had him breathing heavily. "I was merely afraid to trust it. But then I discovered that my ancestry, quite half of it in fact, includes a rake. Only I never knew because my father transformed himself once he wed my mother."
"Your father? A reformed rake?"
"No one is more shocked than I am," she said with a laugh. "Mama's lectures against marrying a rake were for quite different reasons than I realized."
"So I am to continue my rakehell ways?"
"Yes! I fell in love with a rakehell and I want you to remain one. If you choose to stray from that path, be assured I will be most displeased."
He pretended to shudder at the fierce expression on her face. "You have utterly convinced me. I promise I shall never do anything to make you love me less than you do now. I adore you, Georgiana, and I always will." He nuzzled her neck, sprinkling kisses on every inch of bare skin. "You know, I recognized your rakish tendencies immediately."
"Did you? Even while I was a resident of Wallflower Row?"
He lifted his head and frowned. "It is beyond me how you were relegated there. You are beautiful, enchanting, an exotic bloom in the midst of those widows and spinsters."
She grinned, tugging at his cravat until he began assisting her with its removal. "As much as I hate to halt your description of my qualities, I must tell you—I chose to stay on Wallflower Row."
His eyebrows shot up.
"The conversation was so much more interesting there. You know how the debutantes and their matchmaking mamas can be. And the gentlemen composing an ode to my eyebrow. . .I much preferred what the bluestockings and spinsters discussed."
He chuckled. "Especially since it involved the various rogues of London."
"One day I will surprise you with some of the tidbits I have learned. Though none of them can compare to the wondrous things you have taught me."
"I am eager to show you more." He traced his finger along the edge of her bodice, entranced by the bounteous skin rising and falling with her uneven breathing. "I can scarce wait."
"Nor can I. Which is why I have instructed your coachman to head straight for the border."
"You fancy a wedding over the anvil? Lady Felicia is a worse influence on you than I am." His hands wandered to the
top of her garter, which he promptly untied. "It appeared a bit too tight," he explained with a grin.
"And it's no wonder I love you. You take care of my needs so willingly," she said in a mocking tone, although her hands roaming his clothing told another tale. "Simon, I overheard Lord Weyson's explanation, about the ladybirds, and their role in our wedding day woes."
"I am relieved to hear that. I did not want to bring up their existence ever again."
"But we may need to discuss it further," she said solemnly. "To ensure my catalogue of rakish behavior is complete."
"Georgie, I am quite shocked. I fear I shall not be able to keep pace with your wickedness."
She favored him with the smile that would always melt his heart. "I shall be happy to help you overcome those fears. Now how shall we spend the rest of this carriage ride to our delayed nuptials?"
He laughed, happier than he ever could have imagined. "I have one or two thoughts on that."
"Then please share them. At once."
He did not need another invitation.
Chapter 9
"Now may we return home? Since the lovers are well on their way to true love?"
"I suppose," Aphrodite answered with a sigh. They continued their stroll through the gardens that had been lavishly decorated with lanterns for the Eversby ball. She halted in front of the life-sized statue carved from white marble. "Must I always be nude? It is the same with paintings." She shook her head. "These artists make it appear as though I never wore clothing."
"You are absolute perfection. It is no wonder you are depicted with nothing to cover up such beauty." Ares circled the statue, inspecting it from every angle, and then grinned at her. "I consider it an excellent likeness. Although it can scarce compare to the original."
Aphrodite hummed with contentment when his arms surrounded her from behind. "And," he added, "I am well aware you did not answer my question about returning to Mt. Olympus."
"I have not had this much enjoyment in ages, and I am reluctant to leave." She turned around so she could toy with his cravat. "I know you prefer your easygoing garb, but I do so love removing these layers."
Lord Rakehell's Love (The Curse of True Love) Page 4