Three Times The Rake (The Northumberland Nine Series Book 3) Page 4

  Jeanie smiled prettily. “Thank you, Lord Luckfeld.”

  “Yes, whatever would we do without an arm to hold us erect?” Georgie asked.

  Lord Luckfeld winked at her. “I’m aware you have no need of me, Miss Georgette, but please amuse me for my own ego. I’m useless without a woman to pretend she has need of me.”

  Georgette couldn’t help laughing. Lord Luckfeld had the sort of charm that cut through barriers.

  “Very well, for you, I will pretend to be weak and dainty.”

  “I am forever grateful,” he returned.

  “What are house parties in London like?” Jeanie asked.

  “I’ve never attended a house party in London, per se. Most occur in the country,” he answered.

  Jeanie bit her lip. “Oh, I must sound like a—”

  “Charming, you sound charming and I’ll not accept any other adjective,” he assured.

  Georgette was beginning to like Lord Luckfeld. He seemed to understand how much they lacked in social manners but instead of rejecting them for it, he was kind—and handsome, now that she studied him. He had thick brown hair and greyish blue eyes. His jaw was very strong, with the small cleft in his chin, very masculine and yet he was beautiful, strikingly so, Georgie realized. She blinked. But for all his pleasing looks, he didn’t cause any of the flurries inside her that Mr. Cage did. Mr. Cage was taller, broader of shoulder. Lord Luckfeld was also quite muscular, but more refined and polished than Mr. Cage. She focused on Jeanie and tried to gauge her sister’s reaction to Lord Luckfeld. Jeanie had always longed for a London season. She was infatuated with anything to do with Society. She read every word of the London Times, dreaming about elegant parties and the people who attended. Lord Luckfeld seemed to embody London itself with his suave looks and twinkling eyes.

  Georgie wanted nothing to do with society. She knew she would not fit in, though to see the royal menagerie and the horse auctions at Tattersalls would be exciting.

  Lord Luckfeld chatted with Jeanie, wooing her with stories about Gunther’s ices and Hyde Park. Georgie’s attention wandered to the broad shoulders of Mr. Cage again, escorting her sister Odette. He was talking animatedly, something he’d never done with her.

  But he had been honest, at least.

  Honesty was better than false politeness, in Georgie’s opinion. She patted her bodice, finding comfort in the little ball of fur sleeping there with a full belly. She’d made a cage out of two baskets but had decided to take him down to breakfast with her and entice him to eat more food. He loved the eggs. Georgie planned to give him more at his next feeding.

  She understood this little kit better than these gentlemen. Animals had simple needs and simple wants.

  She used to think the same of men until she’d met Mr. Cage. When he looked at her, she could see his mind working, trying to figure her out, and he didn’t like that he couldn’t. He’d said as much directly to her.

  There was a time when that wouldn’t have bothered her. But today it did.

  Today, she wanted to be the one on his arm, to be the one he bantered with or shared banal small talk with, as boring as that sounded. Just for once, she wanted to be treated like a woman, courted even.

  She huffed, her confusion and annoyance growing as they approached the edge of the bluff and the erosion that had made a path to the beach below.

  Lord Luckfeld stopped and considered both of them.

  “Neither of us need help, but if you must, please help Jeanette,” Georgie offered.

  Jeanie blushed but happily accepted his arm again.

  Georgie waited behind as the group carefully picked their way down the path as couples.

  Except her. She stood alone at the top.

  Was this the price of not being a typical female? Did men choose the mate they thought needed the most help? Her mood darkened. She would never be that female. She wasn’t weak nor would she pretend to be, not for a man’s vanity and not for the price of the rest of her life.

  Did that mean she was destined to be alone?

  She ground her teeth. She didn’t like it. And she certainly didn’t like waiting all alone up top. There was more than one way to get down, a better way. She moved down to where the bluff split again, much steeper, the path too smooth and without any ledges to place one’s hands and feet.

  Georgie sat on the edge, gathering her skirts around her legs and pinching them in between her walking boots. She put a hand over her bodice where Kit was tucked inside and pushed off with the other.

  The descent was faster and bumpier than she remembered, the drop at the end a bit longer, with two gentlemen standing directly in her path.

  “Watch out!” she cried, the gentlemen turning and Weirick shoving the other out of the way. She landed on her feet and then her bottom with and oof, her skirts coming up to her knees.

  “Georgie!” Violet scolded from the bottom of the path.

  Georgie checked on Kit first, but he was fine.

  Weirick sighed and offered his hand to help her up.

  “Not my finest landing,” Georgie said with a grin.

  “Indeed,” Weirick replied.

  “The gentlemanly thing would have been to catch me,” Georgie teased.

  He chuckled. “Not at that rate of velocity. The sand was softer. And I’m getting too old to have women thrown at me.”

  Georgie addressed Lord Selhorst, who stood by rather stunned. “My apologies if I startled you, my lord.”

  “You certainly did.”

  “He saw your knees,” Weirick whispered to her.

  Georgie feigned a shocked gasp. “Did you?”

  Lord Selhorst tugged on his cravat, clearly embarrassed.

  “You knew women had knees, didn’t you?”

  He coughed. “Of course.”

  “They bend too. Just like yours.”

  He cracked a smile. “Is that so?”

  At least he had a sense of humor.

  “No more stunts,” Weirick scolded her with a wink and went back to Violet’s side.

  “I promise I’ll behave.”

  Lord Selhorst offered his arm. “But will you?”

  He had a devilish smile, his burnished brown hair thick and wavy, and his eyes a blue brighter than the sky. But her heart did not tumble over itself. How odd that out of all these handsome gentlemen only one affected her.

  Georgie shrugged and returned his friendly smile. “I will try. Trying is what counts.”

  He considered her. “I don’t believe we’ve had a chance to converse yet.”

  “We have not. Have you known His Grace and Lord Andrews long?”

  “A few years, yes. I didn’t attend university with them, but we met after.”

  He told a story about Roderick and a race in Hyde Park. Georgie pretended to be amused but the idea of horses racing so recklessly galled her.

  They searched for shells together and despite not liking his story, he seemed a nice enough fellow. His hair appeared more red than brown in the sun and his eyes a brighter blue. He was handsome, she could see that, but he didn’t make her heart race or feel anything Mr. Cage made her feel.

  She remembered what Roderick said about making a friend of a man first. She would count Lord Selhorst as a friend and discreetly point him in the direction of one of her sisters.

  “Josette, come hither?” she called out to her sister.

  Josie, the fifth Marsden sister, danced over, fighting to keep her slippers from sinking in the sand.

  “Look at this shell.” Georgie held the shell in her palm. “The blue matches Lord Selhorst’s eyes perfectly, does it not?”

  Josie blushed, meeting Lord Selhorst’s gaze. “So it does.”

  She held the shell out for Josie to take. “Add it to your collection.”

  Josie took the shell reluctantly. “Thank you.”

  Georgie grinned and stepped out of their way to pick up another shell. Lord Selhorst began talking to Josie, drawing her into a conversation about her shell colle
ction.

  Georgie bent, and Kit chose that moment to leap from her bodice.

  “Blast it, Kit,” she whispered, catching him before he could reach the sand and tucking him back in. A pair of boots entered her vision, shiny and black, with a line of sand around the toe. She peered up, half hoping for Lord Selhorst, but of course it wasn’t him. Only one man would happen to witness Kit’s escape.

  They stood apart from the others, his back to the ocean and her back to the crowd.

  “Dare I even ask?”

  She had to smile at that. His tone suggested he knew precisely what she was up to and was still baffled by it.

  “I’d rather you not. Pretend you saw nothing.”

  “I’ve seen your legs and watched a rodent leap from your bodice all in one morning. Good God, was it… You fed that thing this morning at the breakfast table, didn’t you?”

  Georgie blushed. He’d seen? She thought she’d been discreet.

  “It is a he and he’s a very young kit. He needs warmth and frequent feedings.”

  “What the devil is a kit?”

  “A baby weasel.”

  He closed his eyes, absolute bewilderment crossing his features before he opened them again and pinned her with his stare. “You’ve a weasel in your bodice?”

  “A kit, as I said. I call him Kit.”

  He shook his head. “Where—no, I don’t want to know.”

  “He’s tucked right in between, see?” Georgie knew perfectly well she ought not to show Mr. Cage her breasts but she could show him just a bit, nothing more than what any man would see if she was wearing an evening gown. She pulled the edge of her bodice down just a bit and Kit popped his little head out, looking around. Spotting Mr. Cage, he ducked back inside.

  “He must be kept warm or he’ll die.”

  Mr. Cage ran a hand through his hair and turned away, making a small circle in the stand with his footsteps.

  “Please, I beg you, do not show anyone what you have just shown me. If the other men knew”—he shook his head—“it would affect your sisters’ chances for marriage.”

  Georgie pulled her bodice back up, chastened and embarrassed now. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s not your fault. You aren’t aware of the same rules as I am. Northumberland is nothing like London.”

  “I know that.”

  “I don’t think you do, Miss Georgette. You need to be careful.”

  He walked away and Georgie bit her lip, stemming the tide of emotion that threatened to fill her.

  She’d managed to make a terrible spectacle of herself in front of him, again.

  She gathered herself together, tucking Kit farther inside her bodice and facing the party. Jeanie watched her with a concerned frown. Georgie shrugged and Jeanie came to her side.

  “Are you not having a splendid time?”

  “Mr. Cage does not seem to care for my unique qualities.”

  Jeanie touched her arm. “I think we’re all feeling out of our element with these men. Lord Luckfeld is so sophisticated, I hardly know what to say to him without sounding like an idiot.”

  “You could never sound like an idiot. Unlike me, you always comport yourself well and think before you speak.”

  Or think before carrying small animals in your bodice.

  “This time you will have a proper escort, and I’ll make a fool of myself when we climb back up.”

  “No. You have a far better chance at impressing one of these fine gentlemen than I do. You take the escort. I think I’ll head back early and see to my patients again.”

  “Don’t run away, Georgie. It’s only the first day.”

  “I’m not running away,” Georgie said, but she didn’t sound sure to her own ears. Was she running away?

  “You’re the third oldest. You should marry before me. If you don’t take a chance and show these men how lovely you are, then you will lose that chance. We won’t have many more. I’m sure Violet will have other parties but none so beneficial to us and without competition.”

  Jeanie was right. It was only logical that she stay and try to do better but her pride was bruised, and when something hurt, it was best to retreat and tend to it, wasn’t it?

  She pushed down the urge and nodded. “You’re right. I should stay. We’ll return soon, anyway.”

  Jeanie took her arm. “I’ll stay with you. If we stick together, we can keep each other from mucking things up.”

  “Thank you. I’m certain I’ll need more help than you.”

  Georgie may be many things, but it was clear she was not an elegant lady any of these men would aspire to marry. Even though what Jeanie said made sense, Georgie knew she would likely end up a spinster, and before meeting Mr. Cage, that idea had seemed rather nice. She’d control her own life, tend to her animals, and live how she wished with the support of her sisters. But she could only do that if one or preferably more of her sisters married well. She would focus on that and not on her own lacking attributes. As for Mr. Cage, well, she could pretend, couldn’t she? She could dream that a man like him would be interested in a woman like her. She may not ever have the chance to test her wiles again. She’d try to be his friend again and not embarrass herself. She’d done scarier things. How hard could it be if she made a concerted effort to behave?

  Chapter 5

  The next afternoon, Georgie fought the wind with a lovely yellow kite on the bluff. The guests had paired up in groups, but she and Bernie had been the only ones to drift this far up the bluff where the wind was stronger. The long ribbon tail snapped in the wind and Georgie grinned with exhilaration. For the first time since this party began, she was having fun, the wind in her face, blowing her hair every which way. The sun warmed her cheeks, and she took a deep, cleansing breath.

  She’d always found the outdoors soothing. Today, with the breeze from the ocean blasting her with fresh cool air and the sky bright blue with scattered clouds, she felt free as a bird, as if she could run fast enough to take flight and soar on the wind like the seagulls. What fun, to be a bird.

  She sighed contentedly, watching the other guests enjoying themselves too. “Why are Violet and Weirick so fond of kites?” Georgie asked.

  “It’s how they met,” Bernie answered at her side.

  “Really?” Georgie unlinked her arm, using both hands to control the kite as a burst of wind struck them.

  “She pegged him in the head with her kite. She was only sixteen at the time. It’s quite an amusing story if you hear her tell it.”

  Georgie laughed. “She hit Weirick with a kite? I would have loved to see that. Perhaps I should use my own kite more judiciously and aim it at one of these gentlemen, much like Cupid’s arrow.”

  “Which would you choose?” Bernie asked.

  Georgie instantly regretted her words. Her gaze flicked to Mr. Cage, the only quest who wasn’t enjoying the festivities. She chewed her cheek. Even if Cupid speared him through the heart, he wanted nothing to do with her. She hadn’t mustered the nerve to approach him again after yesterday’s debacle.

  But she would, she assured herself.

  At the right time when she had something clever to say.

  “Well…” Georgie paused and adjusted her grip. The winds were bedeviled today, probably a sign of a coming squall.

  “Mr. Cage poses the biggest challenge, I suppose,” she admitted.

  “Challenge? This isn’t a game, Georgie.”

  “Certainly not a game but there is strategy involved, yes?” And she wouldn’t learn anything from the other gentlemen. They didn’t intrigue her half as much. There was no thrill with them. “Roderick told me just yesterday that the gentlemen will need to be convinced.”

  Mr. Cage needed to be convinced she wasn’t a madwoman.

  “You’re taking advice from Roderick? Are you mad?” Bernie asked in exasperation.

  “He gave quite sound advice. He told me to be a friend first, otherwise it would all seem too overwhelming.”

  Her sister was silent f
or a moment. “Well, consider the source of the advice. That is all I will say on that matter. To which gentleman have you formed a friendship?”

  Georgie gritted her teeth as the spool of string nearly jerked out of her hands, her palm smarting. She bit down on her tongue.

  “Do you need help?”

  The wind blasted her from behind, pushing her forward. She let go of the kite and fell to her hands and knees, but she never lost sight of the kite as it flew up to freedom, and then twisted sharply, spiraling down like a bird toward the guests below.

  “Watch out!” Georgie screamed in warning. But her worst nightmare came true right before her eyes.

  Moments before…

  Gavin tried not to scowl at the sky, but he had a devil of a headache that wouldn’t go away after tossing and turning all night, unable to drive the image of Miss Georgette’s creamy supple breasts from his mind. Her breasts had led to other ideas about what might be creamy and soft on her body. He’d spent all night fighting his basic urges, only to relent and relieve himself like a green boy in the early hours of the morning so he could sleep.

  Blast it.

  He was attracted to her whether she liked it or not. Knowing she might prefer women did not dampen his desire any less. It helped him control it in her company, thank God, but not lessen it. He’d seen her in the morning, tending her patients as she would say, and kept his distance. Then, he’d sat across from her at breakfast, trying not to stare at her mouth while she ate sausage. At least this time she didn’t drop food into her bodice. Perhaps she’d learned not to keep rodents in there.

  But he was still too curious.

  And envious of the little fur ball. Nestled against her satiny skin, cushioned and warm.

  He rolled his eyes at the heavens. He even sounded like a green boy in his head.

  The wind picked up, making this little kite-flying excursion a battle of the elements. His partner, Miss Willette, the youngest of the Marsden sisters, managed her kite well, requiring little assistance from him. Mr. Hart also stood by helping her, leaving Gavin free to brood in peace.

  “Watch out!” a female voice cried.

  Gavin turned, spying Miss Georgette on her knees higher on the hill, kite-less. On instinct, he glanced up. The kite speared into his face, below his eye, thank God. He fell to the ground with a grunt, holding his hand over his eye and cheek. He yanked out his handkerchief and wiped his face but there was no blood.