A Rake by Midnight. Gail Ranstrom
of the pot and the kettle. Missy Metcalfe, whoever she was, would surely fall far short of Hortense’s skills.
Harriett, though, was a bit more sedate. Only a bit. “She prefers the company of men, Hortense. That does not make her a flirt.”
“No, Harri. It makes her a—”
“Hush! Do you want someone to hear?” Harriett pasted a smile on her pretty face and waved to the young lady in question.
“She is quite lovely,” Gina allowed.
Hortense turned and swept Gina’s form head to toe in an assessing gaze. “You needn’t worry, Eugenia. She cannot hold a candle to you.”
“Oh, but she is fair and lively while I am—”
“Dark and mysterious,” Harriett finished. “I can well picture young men hanging on your every word. And that gown! Pink becomes you. You must make it your signature color.”
Gina smoothed the pale pink watered silk over her hips. The gown had been made for her not long after her arrival in London, and she had lost weight since then. It did not hang on her, but it gapped slightly at the scooped décolletage and Nancy had pinned a posy of violets there to fill the gap and save her modesty.
Hortense pinched her arm. “Upon my word! There is Mr. Hunter heading our way. Mr. James Hunter. Are you not somehow related, Eugenia?”
“His brother is married to my sister,” she confessed, searching the crowd for a sign of him as she experienced a pang of panic.
“How divine,” Hortense declared with a wink. “What I wouldn’t give to have such a man going in and out of my house. Do you often manage to encounter him?”
“Rarely.” As rarely as she could manage.
“Pity,” Harriett ventured. “He has a reputation to be envied amongst the ladies of the ton. There is scarce one who has not contrived to elicit a walk in the gardens with him.”
“Why?” she asked.
The twins giggled and Hortense answered. “You cannot have missed how handsome he is. Oh, those eyes make my knees weak! And I have heard it whispered—no, I will not tell you by whom—that he kisses like a fallen angel. Heavenly and naughty at the same time. How I would love to know how that feels.”
Gina closed her eyes, remembering how she had felt when he had carried her from the altar. Comforted. Safe. Mortified. But what would it have been like to let him kiss her?
She raised her hand to her throat where her scar was hidden beneath a wide pink ribbon to which a cameo had been fastened. Heat flowed through her, warming her blood and firing her imagination.
“Ah, well,” Harriett continued, “I would make the most of your connection. If you are seen on his arm, your reputation as a ‘desirable’ is made.”
Gina shook her head, not wanting to disappoint the twins. “Mr. Hunter has far more important things to do than ‘make’ my reputation.” Her stomach fluttered when a crooked smile quirked his mouth as he met her eyes.
He arrived before them, bowed to Hortense and Harriett, then turned his attention to her as the music began. “Our first waltz, Miss O’Rourke,” he murmured in a deep, intimate voice as he took her hand.
She was amazed that her knees did not give out as he led her onto the dance floor.
Chapter Four
She detected an angry undercurrent in the way James Hunter took her hand and led her onto the dance floor. Was it not she who should be indignant at the way he’d claimed her and given her no room to demur? With the slightest tug, he spun her around and pulled her against his chest just as the music began.
“Fancy meeting you here, Miss O’Rourke,” he said as he led her into the first steps of the waltz.
Gina raised her eyebrows at his clipped tone. “I do not recall consenting to a dance, Mr. Hunter.”
He looked at her through those violet-blue eyes, rather wintery now instead of holding their usual warmth. His entire demeanor had changed since leading her away from the twins. “I wasn’t actually asking.”
Disappointment washed through her. She had wondered, if they waltzed, how it would feel to be in his arms, but not like this. Now she only wanted to escape. What had she done to provoke him? As she moved to draw away, his hand tightened at her waist.
“Careful, Miss O’Rourke, or everyone will know our business.”
She fought to keep her face impassive and her manner as cold as his, but his demeanor bothered her more than she dared let him know. “We have business? If so, I am unaware of it, sir. Indeed, I thought we had called a truce.”
“We have. Correct me if I am wrong, but I do not recall recklessness being a part of it.”
She collected her wits as he swung her in a wide circle. “I…reckless? I haven’t the faintest notion what you mean.”
“Have you not?” Their progress around the dance floor had brought them close to an open terrace door and he waltzed her outside without missing a step. “Then allow me to enlighten you.”
He stopped suddenly and released her in the dim glow of a hanging lantern, leaving her to catch her own balance. She had never seen him like this before—angry and challenging—and she did not like it. She lifted her chin and glared at him, daring him to berate her for anything.
But that did not stop him. “There are people around who…who could wish you harm. And here you are, flaunting yourself for all the world to see. Are you daring Henley to come after you, Miss O’Rourke?”
She blinked. He was right, of course, but she could hardly tell him that finding Henley had, in fact, been her goal. In his present mood, he was likely to throw her over his shoulder and carry her home. She lifted her chin a bit higher. “I fail to see how that is any concern of yours, Mr. Hunter.”
The expression on his face was stiff and brittle, as if it might crack at any moment and reveal his true feelings. “You don’t? Then allow me to count the ways. One—” he held up one finger “—you are my brother’s sister-in-law. Two—” another finger went up “—I have already pulled you from Henley’s reach once. Three, I am currently working to see that Henley is punished, and four…” His voice trailed off, as if he had thought better of continuing.
“Four?” she challenged.
He laughed, but there was not the slightest hint of humor in it. “You would not want to hear that one, Miss O’Rourke, believe me. Shall we say that my reasons are legion, and that your presence is a distraction and a deterrent?”
What could be so dreadful she could not hear it? She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, regaining a small measure of composure. “Very well. But your reasons are not my concern. I am tired of being a prisoner in my home. I am tired of being punished for something that is not my fault. I have had enough of allowing fear to dictate my life. No more, Mr. Hunter. Do you hear me? No more.”
He gripped her upper arms and leaned toward her. His scent weakened her knees and for a moment the possibility of a kiss hovered in the air between them. She was breathless, torn by hope and fear. Then, in a very low voice, he said, “I hear you clearly, Miss O’Rourke, and as much as I admire your courage and determination, I abhor your foolhardiness in taunting a dangerous man.”
She finally inhaled, trying to find her voice. How could she tell him that she had doubts, too. At least a dozen times a day, and twice already tonight. “Nevertheless.”
He looked completely flummoxed by her refusal to see the matter his way. And her promise of utter confidentiality prevented her from mentioning that she had gained courage and support from his own sister and several of the most important ladies in the ton, so she merely held her ground.
He released her and stepped back. “Very