He held out his palm. “Rebec—Miss Bond—”
She crossed her arms. “You must be very tired.”
“Because of the journey here?” He grimaced. Yes. Of course Rebecca would realize how swiftly he’d traveled. The invitations had only just been sent and she was more than capable at figures. “I… It wasn’t too bad. I stopped at posting-houses to sleep.”
Her bland smile didn’t reach her eyes. “That must have been a welcome change. From what the papers indicate, you’re not the sort to do much sleeping at all.”
“I, ah…” His neck heated at the implication. Devil take it. The society papers loved to insinuate hidden scandal any time he danced with or even spoke to a woman of any marital state, but he’d learned to ignore the gossip. What he hadn’t known was that the rumors had spread all the way to South Cornwall.
How could he convince her he wasn’t a callous libertine, if all evidence pointed to the contrary?
He shifted his weight. “One shouldn’t believe everything one reads in the papers.”
“Well, that’s a disappointment.” She leaned back. “I was hoping the rumors had rather undersold the matter.”
He blinked. “You…what?”
“I find myself in need of a consummate rake. Not for dalliance, of course, but for tutelage. I intend to ensnare a husband posthaste.”
“You…what?” he repeated in disbelief.
“Never fear,” she said with a wave of her hand. “I don’t meanyou. I’m looking for someone kindhearted, courteous, well-respected. Ideally a quiet Cornish gentleman who appreciates a fine library and the tranquil beauty of an ocean sunrise. Yet I find myself hopelessly out of practice in the art of flirtation… and one cannot think of anyone more accomplished in such matters than you.”
His jaw fell open. She’d managed to skewer his reputation and ask for his help all in the same breath. Just wonderful. The only reason he was remotely suited to the task was because he was wholly unsuitable in every other way. Huzzah. His teeth set.
He had not been kindhearted or courteous to her. His reputation was far from respectable—or quiet. Regardless of how many impassioned speeches he gave in the House of Lords, his flirtations were the sole acts considered newsworthy.
She smiled at him angelically. “Surely you can spare a moment during your brief stay to give a lesson or two to an old friend?”
“You want me towhat?” His heart pounded. The very thought made him dizzy. “Lessons?”
“It’s settled then. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She turned and strode deep into the blackness of the corridor with a sway of her hips, pausing only to glance over her shoulder with a murmured, “Sweet dreams.”
He stared after her until he could no longer sense her presence or her wicked smile amongst the dancing shadows.
Lessons. In coquetry. So Rebecca could ensnare anicegentleman.
He rubbed his face. Fine. If that’s what it took to get her speaking to him again, so be it. In fact, Fate had given him theperfectpretext to win her forgiveness—even if it meant having to help matchmake her to someone else. Someone who wasn’t Daniel.
Besides, she was right about one thing. They were utterly wrong for each other. Always had been. Not that she’d be interested in the role of viscountess anyway, even if he were to make such a foolish offer. He adored the city, the House of Lords, and yes… the nightlife. London was in his blood. Whereas Rebecca preferred country and quiet. And she despisedhim.
So of course he could help an old friend ensnare some boring rustic in the parson’s trap without any muddy emotions getting in his way and complicating things.
Couldn’t he?
Chapter 4
Early the next morning, Rebecca broke her fast alone in her bedchamber out of habit… and to work up her courage to face Daniel in the light of day.
Seeing him last night had been both easier and harder than she had feared. In so many ways. On the one hand, he wasDaniel. She had always looked forward to seeing him, for as long as she could remember.
On the other hand, he was also Lord Stonebury. Breaker of hearts. Despoiler of women. Immune to her dubious charms.
This was the irresistible rake all the society papers painted as being willing to slip into the shadows with any female with a heaving bosom. The same disdainful gentlemen whom Rebecca had never even been able to tempt into a single dance, much less one of his famed ravishings. Her one-time friend who had become nothing more than a stranger.
It still hurt. Not as much as it had the day he’d humiliated her in front of her family, or the time he’d snubbed her in front of the entireton, but the pain was still there. Still raw. Still festering.
She hated his good looks and sparkling green eyes. Hated his legions of friends and the ocean of willing women eager to welcome him to their shores. Hated his ability not to notice her pain, or simply not to care. She had meant no more to him than the forgettable Lady A— or Miss B— whom he twirled into a secluded nook for a moment or two before moving on to the next female to throw herself in his path.
