Page 43 of One Night with a Rake

“There you are, Lady Georgette,” a voice with a nasal twang called out.

She turned to find Roger Fishwick tailing her.

He’s Lord Fishwick now, she reminded herself, since his father had died last spring and Roger had come into the barony that abutted her family’s country estate.

“My lord.” She dipped a slight curtsy and hoped he didn’t remember that rum punch-soaked kiss he’d plastered on her the Christmas before last.

“I was hoping I’d have a chance to speak to you without your guard dog.”

She raised a quizzical brow.

“Colton,” he said with a curl of his lip. “The man hovers around you like a wolfhound. But I suppose he’s puttering about you on the Duke of Cambridge’s business. Are felicitations in order for you and His Royal Highness yet?”

“The bride is always the last to know. You’d have to ask my father about that,” she said, looking around the room, hoping someone would join them so she could extricate herself from the conversation gracefully.

She’d known Roger almost as long as she’d known Nathaniel, but she wasn’t nearly as comfortable around him, even allowing for how frustrated she was with Nate. Roger was the sort who would never quite grow into his looks, his face still puffed with baby fat. Even though he was attempting to cultivate a mustache, Roger managed to look boyishly out of place in an adult gathering.

Unless one caught the occasional odd glint in his pale eyes.

His smooth-chinned face disguised a disturbing personality. As a boy, Roger used to skin frogs alive on the banks of the stream that formed the boundary between her family’s land and his. Once he’d tied a lit firebrand to a cat’s tail, but was stopped by his father before he could release the poor animal into a dry field. Georgette hoped he’d outgrown that cruel streak, but she couldn’t look at Roger Fishwick without a shiver of repugnance.

“Still, Colton is an odd choice as an escort for a lady who hopes to land a crown,” Roger said. “Lord knows, the man’s usually sniffing around a woman’s skirt rather than protecting it.”

“And yet Lord Nathaniel has only nice things to say about you.”

He’d done no such thing. Georgette had no idea if Nate even knew who Roger was, but it seemed the best way to forestall any more inappropriate comments.

“Well, I must say Lord Nathaniel seems to be trying to turn over a new leaf, what with his ‘good works’ among the downtrodden lightskirts of Covent Garden,” Roger said with a snicker.

Nathaniel had come up behind Roger in time to hear the last remark. “If anything good is coming of that,” he said, “it’s due to the determination of the women at the House of Sirens themselves, not because of me.”

Georgette was so relieved to see Nate, she could have kissed him right on the mouth. But since no good could come of that, she settled for introducing Roger to Nate, taking care to make it seem she was merely reminding him of Lord Fishwick since he supposedly had said nice things about him.

Nathaniel narrowed his eyes at Lord Fishwick while the two men shook hands. “You do look familiar, sir.”

“I should,” Roger said frostily. “I have no recollection of the matter myself, but it appears you rendered me assistance at White’s once when I was…indisposed.”

“Oh, yes.” Nate chuckled. “Now I remember.”

Roger fished in his pockets and came out with a fistful of coins. “I believe I owe you for my care, and rest assured, I’m a man who always settles his debts.”

“Nonsense. Without you, I wouldn’t be the proud owner of the former House of Sirens.”

Now it was Roger’s turn to look puzzled.

“Lord Gobberd and I wagered on you and the deed was part of the pot,” Nate explained. “He thought you had expired on the threshold, but luckily for me, you had to the goodness to still be alive.”

“You see.” Georgette smiled weakly at Lord Fishwick. “Only nice things.”

Seventeen

She turned to Nathaniel and latched onto his arm. “I fear I’ve developed a bit of a headache. I wonder if you might see me home early, if your sister is all right, of course.”

“My parents have her well in hand now, so Caro’s fine.” Nate nodded correctly to Lord Fishwick. “I wish you continued good health, my lord. You’re something of a luck piece for me now.”

Roger’s cheeks flushed a florid red. He was obviously not at all pleased about being relegated to the status of a rabbit’s foot.

“Don’t antagonize him,” Georgette murmured under her breath as Nathaniel led her away. “You don’t know what he’s like.”