The Unrepentant Rake

A little thrill tingled inside Beatrix’s belly. Resolutely, she ignored it. He probably winked at every attractive woman who crossed his path. Determination simmered inside her. She’d begun to pity Eudora, thief though she was, and she couldn’t let her life or the lives of her younger sisters be ruined by this callous rake. Lady Ottersby might think she could trap him into marriage with one of her daughters, but Beatrix knew better.

She folded the old shawl and put it away, got out the new one, and glanced into the adjoining dressing room. Yes! There were a number of boxes on the shelves which might contain personal items. All she needed was another chance to search before she lost her temper and her job.

By professing to know nothing about music, ignoring his hostess’s machinations, and doing some insistent shoving, Simon maneuvered Delbert Conk into turning the pages of Miss Ottersby’s music. At this rate, he would have to propose marriage for Del as well. He stepped a little behind the circle of guests standing around the piano, pondering whom to choose for his next victim. He’d ogled every female guest, but apparently he would have to try harder to convince Lady Ottersby, or at least her daughters, of his lecherous nature. Their father seemed hardly aware of their existence, so he could expect no help there. A married guest might be more useful than a maid, as long as she could be counted upon to shriek at his effrontery and vilify his character to all the other guests. Oh, and as long as her husband didn’t take offence and try to kill him.

There weren’t many to choose from. He was taking stock of the female guests, wondering which might prove most high-strung, when he found himself trapped: Miss Helena Ottersby sidled up on his left flank and Miss Louisa on his right. On the far side of the piano, a little smile played about their mother’s mouth. As if at some invisible signal, the two girls—ridiculously young at sixteen and seventeen—moved closer. Helena put her hand on his arm and smiled archly up at him, while Louisa’s hip bumped his and stayed there.

Simon began to be annoyed. Such blatant tactics merited an equally crude response.

Miss March appeared in the doorway. He smiled at her, and she stared haughtily back, but he didn’t miss the flush that rose to her cheekbones. Now, this was a woman worth pursuing. He’d noticed her in London a year earlier, but rake though he might be, he didn’t seduce virtuous governesses.

Pretty, but not in the common way, with lush chestnut hair and an elegant figure, she was far more of a lady than his dragon of a hostess. Although her simple gown befitted her occupation, its excellent cut and expensive fabric spoke of money and taste. A cast-off from a previous mistress, perhaps, but that didn’t explain her poise. She held herself with too much confidence for a semi-servant, and she had a temper. She hadn’t hesitated to say what she thought of him, and she’d been within Ames’-ace of retorting to Lady Ottersby. It seemed she was appalled as he at the idea that he might compromise one of her charges, although for another reason entirely.

How amusing. He followed her graceful figure as she edged around the room, trying to be unobtrusive. He chuckled. She wasn’t meant to be invisible. She reminded him a little of a courtesan he’d once known, not beautiful as much as fiercely alive, and a tigress in bed.

She hovered against the wall with the Norwich shawl over her arm. It would look atrocious with Miss Ottersby’s pink gown. Poor Miss March must be humiliated at the prospect of draping it over the girl’s shoulders. He would give her something more interesting to think about and have some fun as well.

While Eudora pounded out page after page of a sonata, Simon whispered to one sister and the other, back and forth, making progressively more improper remarks about the sort of pleasures a rake enjoys. Louisa moved an inch or two away. Helena’s hand dropped from his arm. He didn’t need eyes in the back of his head to know how intensely the governess watched him or to sense her gradual approach.

‘Come to think of it,’ he said a little louder, running a finger down Helena’s spine, ‘I should like to do it to both of you at once.’

Helena gave a horrified gasp and sprang away. Louisa merely froze, so he snaked a hand behind her and pinched her bum. She shrieked, and at the same instant Miss March slipped neatly between them, and his wayward hand brushed her breast.

Beatrix hissed. Mr. Carling’s fingers slid gently down the edge of her breast, sending an inconvenient thrill directly to her core. How could she be attracted to such a devil?

‘Feeling neglected, Miss March?’ he murmured. ‘So sorry, but I only have two hands.’

She wanted to slap him silly, but the music had stopped at Louisa’s shriek. Everyone turned their way. ‘It was a rat,’ Beatrix said quickly. ‘Are you all right, Miss Louisa?’

‘Of course she is,’ said her mother. Lord Ottersby had fallen asleep on the sofa and didn’t even stir. ‘Such a fuss over nothing. Miss March, I can’t allow you to foster weakness in my daughters.’

Yet ruining their lives was perfectly fine? Marriage could be a prison even with a relatively decent man. Beatrix felt in her reticule for her vinaigrette and waved it under Louisa’s nose, as Eudora attacked the piano keys anew. ‘Rodents are disgusting, but unfortunately, they are to be found in even the best houses. Perhaps you should sit down for a while.’ She escorted Louisa to a chair and turned to make sure Mr. Carling hadn’t resumed harassing Helena.

He was right behind her, and she almost bumped into him. She moved away, but again he followed, so she stopped, refusing to let him intimidate her. Mocking blue eyes glinted down at her. ‘Touché, Miss March. You are not only an instinctive liar, but a clever one.’