The Regency Season: Wicked Rakes. Bronwyn Scott

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       Chapter Eight

      In the drawing room, Merrick discreetly checked his watch. Alixe was late and he worried that he’d overstepped himself today with his offer of love lessons. There was some irony in that offer. What did he know about love? He knew about sex and every game that went with it. But love? Love was beyond him. It had not existed in his home. His father did not love his mother. His father did not love him. He was merely another means to an end—a loose end in this particular case. Growing up, he’d loved his mother, a beautiful, delicate woman, but that had turned out poorly. His father had used that devotion with merciless regularity in order to obtain what he wanted until Merrick had finally decided to put as much distance between himself and his family as he could. That had been seven years ago. No, Merrick knew nothing about love and he’d prefer to keep it that way.

      There was a rustling at the door and Merrick spied Alixe immediately. He’d been hoping she would not meekly accept defeat. Part of him was intrigued about what she would do next, and he was certain there would be a ‘next’. He understood his situation was precarious for a bachelor wishing to avoid matrimony. But regardless of the peril, he’d been intrigued by Alixe Burke again today, proving that his earlier fascination hadn’t been a one-day novelty.

      She was a beautiful, spirited woman attempting to hide in dismal clothing. He suspected she was hiding not only from the world, but from herself. It had been difficult for her to acknowledge the passionate side of her nature today. The responses he’d drawn from her had surprised her greatly. Watching her let go and simply be herself for even a few moments had pleased him immensely.

      Alixe made her much-anticipated entrance and Merrick smiled. She had not disappointed. The beige gown was even ‘better’ than the grey riding habit because there was less one could technically take issue with. The gown was cut in the latest fashion. She wore very proper pearls around her neck and her hair was done up neatly. But she looked invisible. Everything about her ensemble was completely unassuming, from the colour to the sparse trimmings. She was almost convincing. Almost.

      Her head was held too high for the kind of woman who would wear that gown and her eyes were too sharp. Her natural disposition betrayed her in ways the gown could not hide. Merrick would be damned if he’d tell her.

      Merrick made his way to where she stood surveying the room and probably wondering where best to put herself out of notice.

      ‘You look beautiful tonight.’

      ‘I do not.’ She responded proudly. ‘I’m the plainest woman in the room.’

      He took her arm and tucked it through his own. It was a lovely proprietary act, one that everyone in the drawing room noticed while they were trying hard not to. He was well aware every woman’s eyes in the room had discreetly watched him cross the floor to Alixe’s side.

      ‘Beauty is often found in the eyes of the beholder,’ Merrick replied smoothly, strolling them around the perimeter of the drawing room.

      ‘A very useful cliché.’

      ‘A very true cliché. You’ll see.’ Merrick winked slyly. She was not nearly as seasoned at the games of flirtation as he was. She only knew how to avoid them. He knew how to play them. She didn’t quite understand what he was doing. But he did.

      A man’s undivided attentions were a potent lure for other males. Once other men saw his attentions they would swarm: some out of curiosity, wanting to see what he saw, others out of fear that something of merit might slip beyond their grasp and still others because men were by nature competitive creatures and could not stand to be bested. And the women in the room would make sure the men noticed. Already, a few of them whispered to companions behind their fans.

      Ah, yes, Merrick thought. He would pretend the beige gown was beautiful and by the end of the evening the other men would think so, too.

      * * *

      Merrick was up to something. The knowledge that the ‘game was afoot’ had Alixe on edge throughout dinner. But she could detect nothing. Merrick sat beside her, solicitous and charming, his manners without fault. She heartily wished she knew more about the games men and women played with one another. She was starting to see the large flaw in her strategies. Her tactics had all been focused on avoiding the game. As a result, she hadn’t the faintest idea how to play the game or even what the rules might be.

      The ‘rules of engagement’ was taking on a vastly differently meaning. Before Merrick, Alixe had thought of the term solely in its military capacity, part of the historic vocabulary of war. But now she was starting to see it in a different light, unless one wanted to speculate that love СКАЧАТЬ