Gina wanted to ask more, but knew that further inquiry on such a delicate subject would be unseemly.
Lady Augusta continued. “And now with the scandal involving Lady Alice, I fear that no respectable young lady will ever give him a second glance.”
“I very much doubt that. Your brother is a very handsome man.” And many sins would be forgiven simply for that fact. Though Gina realized there was undeniably some truth to what Lady Augusta said. Ladies might look at his handsome face and sigh romantically, but few marriageable young ladies would likely look in his direction for more. And even fewer fathers would permit it. But there would always be someone willing to defy convention for the promise of a handsome, titled husband.
Lady Augusta’s face immediately brightened. “You think he’s handsome?”
Gina felt the heat rise in her cheeks, realizing she’d spoken her thoughts aloud. “Well, yes… I suppose.”
Lady Augusta looked so pleased by her response that Gina began to feel a tad uneasy. Gina could almost see Lady Augusta’s mind working and if Gina wasn’t mistaken, finding herself around Coventry was not going to be a problem. A matchmaking sister, on the other hand, might be.
Cecelia descended on Gina not long after Lady Augusta excused herself. Gina could tell that Lady Augusta was disappointed that her brother had left so quickly.
“Did you know that he would be here?” Cecelia asked furtively.
“Of course not,” Gina said. “This is the last place I would have expected to find the notorious Lord Coventry. It must have been my stepmother’s doing.”
“Well,” Cecelia asked impatiently. “What did he say?”
Gina recounted the conversation as best she could remember. When she was finished, Cecelia looked at her with newfound respect. “You surprise me, Gina. I didn’t think you had it in you.”
“To be so bold?”
“No, the boldness doesn’t surprise me.” Cecelia laughed. “But staring at his trousers does.”
Gina blushed. “I must admit, I didn’t think I could do it.”
Cecelia grinned, a wicked glint in her eye. “You bore up well under such hardship.”
Gina nodded wearily. “The things we must endure for the betterment of womankind.”
Both girls broke out into peals of giggles, sobering quickly when numerous frowns were directed their way.
“Well,” Cecelia started. “It sounds as though it was just the thing. But now what?”
Gina had been giving the matter some thought. “I do have an idea.”
“Go on.”
“Tonight I had the advantage in part because he was alone—without the support of his rakish cohorts.”
Cecelia’s gaze turned calculating. “Divide and conquer.”
“Precisely,” Gina agreed, pleased that her friend had immediately grasped her point. “The enemy is stronger when they work together, we’ll have to do our best to separate them.”
“And how shall we do that?”
Gina shrugged. “I’m not sure. But in my case it shouldn’t prove that difficult.”
Cecelia looked at her questioningly.
“I don’t think I should have a problem finding him alone,” she said wryly. “Lady Augusta will see to that.”
CHAPTER FOUR
A week later at Lady Jersey’s annual ball, Gina was proved correct—though it wasn’t just Lady Augusta whom she had to thank for the opportunity to converse further with Lord Coventry. Cecelia had brought in the reinforcements.
True to her word, Cecelia had purchased a new journal and, mimicking what they might find at White’s, formally entered a purposefully cryptic wager—ambiguous enough to not cause a stir in case the journal fell into the wrong hands.
By season’s end, three determined young ladies will successfully wield proposals from the notoriously reluctant B________, C _______, and R________.
In addition, in further pursuit of their just endeavor, she had selectively enlisted the aid of a few of their friends. The choice of whom to confide in was limited to ladies who would be sure to share their interest in bringing these “gentlemen” to heel—particularly those with a personal ax to grind. Not surprisingly, there was a large group of ladies to choose from.
But, despite their best efforts, and much to Claire’s and Gina’s consternation, rumors of their secret society were already being bandied about by some of the younger circles, tinged with not a small amount of admiration—and perhaps even envy. The challenge would be to make sure the terms of their wager did not reach the wrong ears. They were playing a dangerous game with propriety—their unmaidenly “game” was sure to cause a certain amount of censure—but Cecelia assured them the risk was minimal, even if they were discovered. It was a prank, nothing more. Gina shuddered to think of her father’s reaction should he ever find out. She doubted he’d find social justice an adequate excuse.
In any event, when Coventry arrived (late) at Berkeley Square in the company of Beaufort, Mr. Ryder, Lord Ashley, and Lord Percy, the new recruits were ready. In a matter of minutes the pastel-gowned soldiers had ambushed the unsuspecting rakes, enlisting their services for a variety of false purposes. The tactical precision of their attack would have impressed the Duke of Wellington himself, Gina thought with not a small amount of pride.
Claire feigned a magnificent swoon, practically falling at the feet of the Duke of Beaufort, after which he was unable to refuse her pitiful request for refreshment. If all else failed, Claire certainly had a future on Drury Lane. Cecelia, with the help of Lady Anne Spencer, immediately sought out the expertise of Mr. Ryder—a man known for his skills with the ribbons—in settling a dispute about the proper way to drive a high-perched phaeton. Lady Frances Villiers and Lady Charlotte Clive, with the innocent help of their eminent hostess, promptly dispatched of Lord Percy and Lord Ashley, insisting that they form the third and fourth for a thrilling game of whist.
Gina watched it all with a huge smile on her face. Cecelia was right. This was fun. And the competitive streak in her had already sprung into action. Not only did she intend to win, but she had every intention of being the first to bring her quarry to his knees. Or in this case, knee.
Her battle plan was simple. She would put order to Coventry’s degenerate world and show him exactly what a proper wife could do for him. Gina saw no need for tricks or subterfuge. Once he realized what she had to offer, she was confident that he would come around.
Not long after the removal of his friends, Lady Augusta fulfilled her earlier promise and contrived to bring them together.
“Oh, look, Coventry. What a delightful coincidence, meeting Lady Georgina like this.”
Coventry was hardly fooled. “Yes, what a… uh…” He paused just a hair too long, “Coincidence.”
“Yes, delightful, isn’t it?” Gina said.
Once again she was struck by his attractiveness. The immediate bodily recognition of this fact was the source of considerable annoyance. Gina knew what this man was like, yet the first thing she could think of when he approached was how incredibly handsome he was. The increased rate of her heartbeat didn’t help matters. She told herself that the more she got to know him, and when confronted with his numerous character flaws, the less effect his appearance would have on her illogical pulse. Apparently two meetings were not enough to dispel the novelty of his undeniable masculine appeal.
He wore what she was beginning to suspect was his usual evening attire of dark pants, a dark cutaway coat and plain waistcoat, though this time the pants were breeches and the fabric silk, befitting the more elegant affair. He still had that slightly disheveled, but not messy, look. One welcome difference this go-around was the absence of the strong smell of port. He didn’t appear to be foxed. Yet.
Lady Augusta renewed the introductions. “Lady Georgina, you remember my brother?”
“Of course. Another unexpected pleasure, Lord Coventry.”
“Lady Georgina.” He bowed. “Hardly unexpected. I believe I mentioned la
st time that I’ve agreed to escort Lady Augusta for the season.”
Gina smiled in the face of his rudeness. “I must have forgotten, as I thought an escort was supposed to arrive with the party he has agreed to escort?”
Lady Augusta smothered a giggle.
Not the least bit embarrassed, Coventry merely smiled. But the smile did not reach his eyes. He seemed to have perfected the appearance of bored indifference. But on closer inspection, Gina realized it was not simply bored indifference; there was something truly cold about Lord Coventry.
“Coventry is always late,” Lady Augusta volunteered. “No one to keep him in line, you know.”
Subtlety was obviously not Lady Augusta’s strong suit. “Is that so?” Gina asked, taking the bait. “Perhaps you could use a wife to help with your punctuality?”
He crooked a brow. “Why, Lady Georgina,” he mocked. “Are you volunteering for the position?”
Their eyes met. It was like staring into marble. The hardness sent a chill through her. She’d seen statues at the British Museum that had more emotion in them. Despite her unease she held his gaze, not backing down for an instant.
“Why, Lord Coventry,” she mimicked in the same mocking tone. “Are you asking?”
Coventry knew precisely what a leg of mutton felt like at a butcher shop. Lady Georgina Beauclerk had set her wolfish teeth in him and did not show the least inclination to let go. Apparently the silly chit had taken it into her head to rescue him from the perceived purgatory of bachelordom. Why is it that every young lady thought every bachelor naturally desired a wife?
Though he’d had his share of handling lovesick debutantes, Coventry realized that Lady Georgina would not discourage so easily. Her bold retort had even surprised him. Perhaps it was her age at work. Surely she must be approaching twenty. Marital desperation, he supposed, could cure a girl of any false modesty.
Clearly, the bored reprobate angle wasn’t working. Before this went any further, he needed to get tough. He didn’t want there to be any doubt, he was definitely not interested in succumbing to the “bliss” of the marital state ever again.
Lady Georgina turned to his startled sister. “It appears I’ve stunned your brother into silence.”
He wasn’t the only one. Wide-eyed, unsure of what to make of their shocking banter, Augusta nodded. “If you’ll excuse me,” she said hurriedly. “I believe my mother is calling me.”
Coventry watched her go, aware that their conversation had caught the attention of many in the room—including his mother. For the hundredth time he cursed himself for getting caught in Augusta’s net. Spending time around so many eligible young ladies would only encourage his already desperate-for-an-heir mother. Not because she had any real interest in a grandchild. No, it was the same reason she’d suffered the indignity of having her own children: because it was expected. Not to mention that his failure to provide an heir was somehow a poor reflection on her.
His gaze fell back to the woman at his side. The little slip of a thing who didn’t seem the least bit intimidated by him or his reputation. After all that effort, it was appalling really. In fact, she looked inordinately pleased with herself.
“Do you usually solicit proposals upon a second introduction, Lady Georgina?”
“No.” She smiled sweetly. “You are the first.” Her eyes sparkled with mischief.
Her audacity disarmed him. In spite of himself, Coventry smiled. He caught himself staring at her, admiring the softness of her skin and the shine of her silky hair. She truly was exquisite. The face, the hair, the body. All wrapped up into one delectable little package. One that he’d like to unwrap with his teeth.
Each time he chanced to glance into those sultry green eyes, he felt something hot spark inside him. A spark that the lusty Simone had completely failed to douse. He’d left Curzon Street last week just as restless as he’d arrived. Perhaps more so. Not for the first time, Coventry thought that he needed to find a new mistress. He bored easily.
“I’m honored.” He bowed mockingly. “But frankly, Lady Georgina, I have no interest in a wife. My secretary manages my schedule quite satisfactorily.”
She quirked a brow at that—probably in reference to his perpetual tardiness. “But Lord Coventry, for a man in your position, a wife can do so much more than calendar your engagements.”
“You forget that I’ve been married before. I’m well acquainted with what a wife can do for a man ‘in my position.’” Like toss her skirts for half the men in this room.
She frowned. “But a proper wife is an asset.”
Coventry had to hand it to her. She was nothing if not determined.
“A proper wife can manage your households,” she continued, undeterred.
“I have a butler and a housekeeper who manage my households well enough.”
“A proper wife will help with the efficient running of your estates.”
Coventry shook his head. Determined and repetitive. There was something humorous about the way she spoke so enthusiastically and businesslike in defense of something she knew absolutely nothing about. How she eagerly spouted the propaganda of society’s marriage-minded mamas.
“I have very competent estate managers at all of my properties.”
“A wife can help with accounting and bookkeeping.”
“I have a team of solicitors and the aforementioned secretary for that.”
It was taking her longer to respond. “And a hostess to preside over your table when you entertain?”
“Should the need arise, my mother can serve as hostess.” When hell froze over. But Lady Georgina didn’t need to know that.
She thought for a moment before her eyes sparked, he perceived in triumph. “Only a proper wife can provide an heir,” she intoned smugly, as if to say, “Trump that one.”
“My father had a younger brother, quite a reliable, trustworthy chap. He has been named my heir-presumptive.”
He noticed that her face pinched a little when she was frustrated. “How about companionship? A wife will provide a lifetime of companionship.”
He smiled at that one. “I have dogs.” He paused. “And a mistress.”
She gasped.
He held her gaze so there could be no mistaking his meaning. “Believe me, Lady Georgina, I have everything I need from a woman.”
Her tiny heart-shaped jaw flexed as she fought to control her temper. “Every man needs a wife.”
Her stubborn adherence to an ideal that had been promoted by a bunch of silly old women in drawing rooms was beginning to make him angry. That and the continued reference to a wife. He’d had a wife. One that had made a fool of him.
“I assure you I don’t.” He looked deep into her eyes and slowly moved his gaze over her breasts and hips, visualizing her naked. The formfitting gown she wore didn’t leave much to the imagination, revealing the round fullness of her breasts and the pale ivory flesh of her décolletage. He didn’t bother hiding his lust, letting her see what he wanted—all that he wanted. “A wife does not provide anything that I couldn’t get for a shilling and a bottle of cheap rum from any Cheapside whore.”
She gasped in outrage. Her eyes blazed. She looked as though she itched to slap him. “How dare you utter such vile—”
“It is you who dare too much. I don’t need anyone telling me what I need.” He took a step closer, a movement designed to intimidate. He tried not to notice the angry pink flush of her cheeks or the heady, sweet rose of her perfume. Or the way her breasts strained against the thin fabric of her gown as they rose and fell in anger. God, her nipples were hard. And so was he. Instantly.
“And what of affection, Lord Coventry?”
A corner of his mouth lifted. “I believe I mentioned my dogs. I would certainly not look to the inconstancy of a woman’s heart for affection.”
“And love? What of love? Would you look to your dogs for that as well?”
“You surprise me, Lady Georgina. Surely a mature woman as yourself does not believe i
n fairy tales? Can that be why you have refused all those offers? Because you were not ‘in love?’” He sneered at the last two words.
“I hope to be fortunate enough to marry for love,” she said tightly.
He shook his head pityingly. “Then you are looking in the wrong direction.” He lowered his voice in warning. “You don’t want to play with me, my dear. I bite. Run along and find someone who might be interested in your wares. I assure you, you have nothing I haven’t seen a thousand times before.”
He turned on his heel and left her standing there sputtering in indignation.
What a horrible, wretched man, Gina fumed as he sauntered away, disgustingly pleased with himself. He had the manners of a guttersnipe and the charm of an asp. How dare he compare a wife to a dog—or to a mistress for that matter. Did the man not possess one shred of decency? To mention a whore in the presence of a young lady was the absolute height of impropriety.
Just thinking about it made her furious. She couldn’t believe she’d actually had a moment—a twinge—of guilt about what she planned to do. But conscious of where she was, Gina did her best to control her emotions lest their heated conversation attract undo interest. Enough curious eyes had been directed their way as it was.
That had not gone at all as planned. It wasn’t just that he’d offended her sense of propriety by referring to his mistress and whores, but he’d dismissed Gina’s qualifications out of hand. And worse, he’d provided acceptable alternatives. In a matter of minutes, Coventry had rejected a lifetime of education and training.
But he was wrong. A wife was a valuable asset.
And she was going to prove it.
Her anger cooled, Gina surveyed the room for Lady Augusta, finding her in a group of women that included the Duchess of St. Albans and the Countess of Coventry. Gina squared her shoulders and marched toward them. The day some degenerate reprobate got the best of her was the day Gina renounced society and entered a nunnery (which would be exceedingly difficult given that she wasn’t Roman Catholic).