Page 11 of One Night with a Rake

Drat! When her father used all her names, she knew she was in deep trouble.

“Yes, Papa.”

“Don’t you ‘Yes, Papa’ me, young lady. What do you mean by gallivanting around, and in a dodgy part of the city, no less, before decent people are even out of bed?” The marquis stomped down the stairs.

Reuben peered over the banister at her for a blink, then disappeared.

Traitor! Perhaps Mercy was right to refuse him. The footman had obviously scurried directly to her father’s study to report on her activities.

“The duke’s man was here again and I was forced to send him on his way without you having a chance to make anything but a woefully sorry impression,” her father scolded. “What have I told you about—Oh! Lord Nathaniel, I didn’t realize you were still here. Well, of course you would be after pulling my girl from harm’s way this morning.”

Evidently Reuben’s account of her trip to Covent Garden was thorough as well as timely. Georgette had all but forgotten Nathaniel’s presence in the face of her father’s verbal blistering, but now she realized he’d taken station behind her, off her right shoulder.

Almost as if he was still guarding me.

“I’m gratified to have been of some small assistance, my lord,” Nathaniel said with a somber nod.

“No need for false modesty, son,” the marquis said, laying a hand on Nate’s shoulder. “I know full well what you did. It’s good to see you again. Been too long. Come up to my study for a bit if you’ve time. There’s something I’d like to discuss with you.”

Georgette released the breath she’d been holding. If Nathaniel could divert her father’s attention long enough, perhaps he’d forget about dressing her down as thoroughly as she expected.

Georgette’s father turned to go back up the stairs, and then tossed her a glance over his shoulder. “And you, young lady. Take yourself straight to your room. I’ll deal with you later.”

Georgette lifted her skirts and hurried past him up the stairs.

No such luck. Looks like Father won’t forget I’m owed a tongue-lashing after all.

Five

Nate watched Georgette climb the stairs to her room, head deferentially bowed. Once she passed her father, she lifted her skirts to ankle height and hurried up the rest of the flight, disappearing at the first landing.

It seemed strange to see her so cowed after the way her hazel eyes spat fire at him in the carriage. But then, plenty of peers in the House of Lords could attest to the intimidating presence of the Marquis of Yorkingham.

Why shouldn’t the peer seem just as intimidating to his daughter?

Nate’s chest ached strangely. It had been a mistake to kiss her on a whim. He was here to seduce her, and that sort of thing required planning and precision. All he’d done was put her on her guard.

And made his chest ache. He rubbed a palm across it, but the throb didn’t abate. He hadn’t expected to enjoy kissing her quite so much. It upset the devil’s bargain he’d made with himself. If he didn’t enjoy debauching this virgin, perhaps the act wouldn’t be counted as quite so despicable.

Instead his whole body pulsed with awareness when he was near Georgette, and this blasted tightness across his ribs danced on his last nerve. Obviously, he was going to enjoy bedding her far too much to rationalize it as a sacrifice he was prepared to make for the good of his family.

“Are you coming, Colton?” the marquis asked without looking back at him.

“Of course.” Nathaniel bounded up the steps till he came almost even with Lord Yorkingham. They marched together in companionable silence toward the marquis’s study.

The richly masculine room was paneled in dark walnut and smelled faintly of tobacco and fine cognac. Nathaniel’s father was always careful to keep those masculine pleasures confined to the smoking room at Colton House.

Rather than settle behind his throne-like desk, the marquis sank into one of the burgundy leather wing chairs. A pair of them flanked the fireplace, where an aromatic cherrywood fire blazed in the grate. He motioned for Nathaniel to take the other.

“Sit,” the marquis said when Nate didn’t comply quickly enough to suit him.

Nathaniel settled into the opposite chair and immediately sank into the cushion. There was at least a couple inches difference in the heights of the two seats. He was taller than the marquis when they were both standing, but now his lower seat reversed the situation neatly. The effect was subtle, but anyone conversing with the marquis in these chairs would of necessity feel smaller.

“Thank you for receiving me, my lord.”

“Come, there’s no need to stand on ceremony between the two of us. Call me Yorkingham.”

“I’m honored.” Nathaniel nodded, surprised. The marquis was notorious for keeping people of lower rank at a distance. As a second son, Nate was almost beneath his notice. Except for their history together.