How to Marry a Rogue (3 page)

“That is precisely why I did not bring you.” Jonathan’s frown deepened. “Georgiana was overwrought. She begged me to spare his life.” He snorted. “As if I would sully my soul with that man’s blood on my conscience. Were it not for our lengthy friendship, I would not have been as merciful as I was.”

“He took advantage of your friendship, Lockewood, and of Georgiana’s innocence. Why, he was at Fairwood Hall almost as much as I was in our school days.”

“Yes, but you did not try to seduce her.”

“Only because your father had a knack for hiring fetching dairy maids.” Jack winked, which eased a smile onto his friend’s face.

“I still find it hard to believe I was blind to his designs on her. He had us all fooled.”

“Don’t blame yourself.
Mouldy Mitford
turned into the biggest scoundrel of us all. And he had quite the competition.” He tugged at his cravat.

“Speak for yourself.”

“Fear not, Lockewood. I will beat him for you, next time I see him. I have not heard of his being in town. Perhaps he’s done us all a favor and dropped off the earth, or is currently living amongst cannibals on some island.”

“We should be so lucky.” Jonathan’s face clouded. “Georgiana is lonely, Jack. She denies it, of course, but I can see it. Yes, she is happy—Georgiana would find happiness in any kind of decent company. She has Sophie and me, as you said, and cousins and friends. Aunt Adele is a faithful companion. But it is not enough. A young woman, with such a big heart—” He hastily rose from his chair and poured another finger of brandy. “Mitford, that scum, preyed on her trusting nature. Thankfully, I found them before…” He drained the contents of his glass in a single gulp.

Jack ran his hand through his hair. It had been difficult—damnably difficult at the time—to forgive Lockewood for not allowing him to beat Edward Mitford into a bloody pulp for his devious ways.

When he’d next seen the scoundrel in a gaming room at White’s, he’d called him out, but Mitford made such a scene of Jack’s being inebriated nothing came of it. Still fuming, he resolved to answer Mitford’s unpardonable behavior toward the Lockewoods one day.

“That is why I wish her to marry,” Jonathan said at length. “Before she is, as you called it,
on the shelf
for too long, and no one will want her. She deserves to be happy with the right man. To be a wife.” He cleared his throat. “To be a mother.”

Jack chuckled at the idea, and Jonathan’s frown eased. “Can you imagine Georgie a mother? She would be just like her children—running around the garden and dragging them into her mischief. They would beg you to tell Mamma to come down from the branches of the highest tree.”

Jonathan returned to his seat. “I always hated heights. I was so glad you volunteered to climb that great oak after her. What was she—about six or so?”

“More like five. Her dress was tangled in the branches, and she’d lost her slippers. She saw me and pretended she hadn’t been crying.” Jack grinned at the memory. “I was a skinny lad and don’t know how I managed to bring her down. Her little arms were tight around my neck. I said to her, ‘Pudding Face! Let me breathe a moment, or else we’ll both fall!’”

Jonathan laughed with him. “She was always getting into trouble, but I think it was so she would be rescued by one of us.” His smile faded. “She wasn’t even surprised to see me, when I came upon her and…and that blackguard. She never said a word on the ride home but held my hand the entire time. It was as if she’d known I would come.”

“You’ve been brother and father to her for a long time, my friend. I don’t know how you do it.”

Jonathan shrugged, and a trace of the carefree boy he once was appeared on his face.

Not for the first time did Jack inwardly scold himself for not visiting more often, taking some of the responsibility from Jonathan’s shoulders. The Lockewoods had provided a loving home for him in those first, terrible years after his parents died and his grandfather had sent him away to school.

“I had no choice. But I would not have it any other way. God knows what ruin she’d have come to if Aunt Adele had taken her under her wing. I’d have spent the rest of my days dueling one scoundrel after another. Aunt Adele caused my parents no end of headaches after my uncle died, for all that she’s so kindhearted. That’s another reason I want you to escort them. One impetuous woman in the family is one too many.”

Jack raised his empty glass. “To heroes and rescuers of little girls, whether they be prizefighting rogues or landed gentlemen. Or both.”

Jonathan imitated the gesture. “To you, Jack. And for what it’s worth, you like to play the rogue, but I know you. I wouldn’t trust anyone else with Georgiana’s safety, you know.”

“Strange, I do not remember saying I would go.”

“Strange, indeed. I thought you had.”

Jack rose from his chair, and Jonathan did the same. “So I did.” They clasped hands firmly. Jack held his friend’s gaze. “I will guard her with my life.” He laughed shortly. “After all, what kind of mischief can she find in the quiet countryside?”

Chapter Three

“I hope you do not sleep the entire way to Portsmouth.” Georgiana prodded Jack’s boot with the toe of her shoe. Her eyes narrowed as she watched him feign sleep.

He’d been that way for the last half hour, and the monotony of Aunt Adele’s snores and the jostling of the coach had distracted her to irritability.

He cracked open an eyelid. “As if anyone could sleep with your relentless chattering, Georgie.” He muffled a yawn with the back of his hand and stretched against the padded seat.

“How many times must I remind you to refrain from using that dreadful nickname?”

“You are still the pestering little girl I remember so well. It’s hard to remember you’re all grown up.” He arched his eyebrows. “
Georgiana
.”

“You’re grumbling because you’re tired. You should not have been carousing all night, but resting in anticipation of our journey.”

“I’ll have you know, I was counting sheep well before midnight.” He regarded her suspiciously. “Since when did you become so bossy, miss? I recall a more respectful girl. You used to sit at my knee and beg me to tell you of my wild escapades.”

“Perhaps when I was ten I admired you,” she said crisply. She purposely scanned his slouching figure, noting his rumpled linen and drooping neckcloth. “I hardly recognized you this morning. Do you not have a proper valet? I notice you do not travel with one.”

“I can dress myself, thanks.” The corner of his mouth twitched. “I have a suitable houseman in Bordeaux who doubles as valet when the occasion calls for it. What about you? A grown up woman should have someone to attend her. Or do you still have a nursemaid?”

She gave him her best disdainful glare. “I will have someone at Lady Priscilla’s home attend me. A respectable man should live as one. You have sunk low in this world, Jack Waverley.”

His lips twitched as he fought back a smile. She tingled inside. She’d always enjoyed their repartee. It was why she’d always looked forward to his visits at Fairwood Hall. That and his ability to make her laugh even at her darkest moments. He’d been a great comfort when her mother had died. She’d crawled into his lap and slept for hours when he found her, alone in her father’s big chair. Nobody else had the time to come looking for her, but Jack stayed at her side, ready with a tug on her curls or a sweet hidden in his pocket, distracting her from her sadness.

“Not so low I cannot escort an innocent maiden and her chaperone across the Channel.” He adjusted his collar and cuffs with the assumed air of a judge. “I warn you, I may rescind my offer to your brother and send you packing. None of this gallivanting about the Parisian streets for you, Georgie. Think of all the parties and balls you will miss!” He clucked his tongue against his teeth. “And all because of your low opinion of me.”

She laughed, genuinely happy for the first time in weeks. When Jonathan and Sophie moved to London for the season, they’d hoped the excitement would drag her out of her doldrums. Instead, she’d hardly left the house except to accompany Sophie on a few obligatory visits to those ladies of the
ton
they could not ignore. The daytime visits were not too bad; she had no chance of meeting Edward in the places where matrons and children dwelled. An outing to the theatre or a ball might put her in the same company of the one person she could not bear to see.

She’d nearly ruined herself over an infatuation with Edward Mitford. With his flirtatious grin and wicked charm, he resembled her idea of all that was romantic and exciting. When he’d asked her to elope after stealing a kiss, she’d hesitated for only a moment.

It didn’t take long for Jonathan to forgive her, and she had sincerely tried to please him in the last two years since her escapade. She was the model sister-in-law and confidante to Sophie, and truly looked forward to becoming an aunt. Although nobody outside her immediate family knew of
the incident
, as she and Jonathan referred to her near-elopement, she was aware of how close to ruin it had brought her. Never would she put herself in such a position again. She imagined meeting Edward in public and snubbing him, while he stared after her in hurt surprise.

“There’s that smile I’ve missed. How have you been?” He regarded her with a brother’s concern.

“I have been very well, thank you, Jack. I will admit I was determined to get away. This trip could not have come at a more opportune time.”

“Ah.” He nodded understandingly. “Your brother mentioned your reluctance for of stepping out.” He cracked his knuckles. “Do not fear, Georgie. When we return to London, you can lure Mitford into a wood, where I’ll lie in wait. And then I will pummel him within an inch of his life until you tell me to stop.” The wicked spark she remembered from childhood glinted in his eyes. “However, I would applaud you if you strode right up to the bastard and belted him in the eye. I’ll hold him down for you.”

Georgiana gaped at him in horror, then doubled over with laughter. “You are impossible.” She wiped the corners of her eyes. “Oh, but if I could.” She laughed again. “But that would mean I still cared about…” Like her brother, she could barely speak the dreadful name. She shook her head slightly. “Indifference is the opposite of caring. That is what Jonathan told me. So, I am indifferent to him.”

“Bravo.”

“It is very kind of you to accompany us, Jack,” she said when it seemed he might take another nap.

“I am pleased to renew our acquaintance again. When did you grow up?”

The faintest breath of heat rose up her throat to fill her cheeks. A mild stirring of something curious and alarming formed in her chest. She’d always seen Jack as her brother’s friend, if not a brother of sorts himself. But the distance of a few years had changed things. He was no longer the teasing boy, the rescuer. He was a man, with a life separate from what she’d known of the rambunctious lad who’d spent his holidays at Fairwood Hall.

“Naturally, I am grown up. Did you expect me to stay a child forever?”

“No, but I am certain your brother wishes it.” He cleared his throat. “Have you given marriage a thought, Georgiana? Your brother hopes…”

She crinkled her nose. “Did Jonathan ask you to speak to me about marriage? Please, Jack, do not begin preaching the merits of marriage to me. You should have been married long ago, yet you scorn the very thought. I have never heard you discuss marriage without a sneer or joke.”

He opened his mouth to protest, but she noted his guilty look. “It’s not that I scorn it, Georgiana. Marriage is perfectly suitable for some people. I just do not understand the draw. Really—one mate for the rest of your life?” He shook his head, his eyebrows raised in mock astonishment. “Ridiculous.”

“The Reverend Franklin would shake his fist if he heard you,” she admonished, but was disturbed she almost agreed with him.

“Is the Reverend Franklin a happily married man?”

She chewed her lip. “He is a bachelor, I believe.”

“There you have it. Who is he to command others to marry?”

“I see your point, skewed though it may be.” She played with the beaded fringe on her reticule. “I hope you will not be too busy in Bordeaux. I will have no other company but Aunt Adele and her sister, Lady Priscilla.”

“Rest assured I will have plenty of leisure time on my hands.” He studied her for a moment. “Perhaps I will fetch you occasionally and show you the countryside. There are some picturesque villages and towns you might like to see.”

She pursed her lips. “I do not think I should accompany you without a chaperone.”

“Put your worries aside. I trust you will not compromise me.”

She laughed. “You are terribly wicked, Jack. You know what I mean.”

“Yes, I do know. But why should it matter if you are
sans
chaperone with me? I’m as close a brother to you as Lockewood.”

Her smile remained, but she wanted to protest his statement. Since seeing him that morning when he’d come to her brother’s house to join her and Aunt Adele, she’d had to reconcile her memories of the playful older friend with the image of the grown man he’d become. Who’d have thought skinny Jack would broaden in the chest and shoulders the way he had? That the round face would melt into curving cheekbones merging into a chiseled jaw?

In seconds, the image of the boy she remembered was replaced with a man who was almost a stranger. She didn’t feel quite herself, and was conscious of what she said or if she laughed too loudly or too often, as if she must impress him. She had to keep reminding herself not to arrange her pelisse over her knees or glance down to see if the ruffled trim on her bodice was drooping. Annoyed suddenly, she leaned against the side of the carriage.

“I suppose it will be all right for you to chaperone me.” She was still a little girl in his eyes. How much had Jonathan told him about
the incident
? Worse, why was he taking on Jonathan’s cause and pushing her toward marriage? “Besides, we shall probably not meet any of our acquaintance in Bordeaux. Aunt Adele said it is rather unfashionable at the moment.”

“I promise not to shame you should we meet anyone.”

She scowled. “I know you would not shame me, Jack, even if your nose looks a bit smashed. And what is that bruise beneath your brow? Did you walk into a door?”