The Rake's Redemption. Georgina Devon

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      She scowled even as she felt a flush of anger mount from her neck to her freckled cheeks. Being a redhead was not easy when one tried to appear collected.

      ‘Amy is here under my protection. I do not wish you to approach her.’

      His smile turned into something calculated. ‘Of course you don’t.’

      ‘I don’t suppose you would consider leaving?’ Even as the words left her mouth she regretted them. They made her look weak, as though she could not control her sister.

      ‘I could. But I have no plans to do so—yet. Perhaps later. There are other haunts where my presence is more appreciated.’

      She nearly choked on her indignation. ‘A gentleman would not allude to such establishments in front of a lady.’

      He shrugged. ‘I am sure you don’t consider me a gentleman.’

      ‘No, I don’t.’

      ‘Then we understand one another.’

      Her eyes narrowed. Before she could say the scathing words welling in her mind, Lady Jersey joined them and put black kid-leather-covered fingers on Charles Hawthorne’s forearm.

      ‘There you are, Charles.’ She smiled graciously at Emma. ‘And Miss Stockton. I am so glad you were able to come. I saw your sister with Julia Thornton.’

      ‘My lady, thank you for inviting us.’ Emma made a short curtsey to the older woman, who was also one of the patronesses of Almack’s, the ton’s most sought after arena for introducing young ladies to marriageable gentlemen. Lady Sally Jersey was a woman no one wanted to alienate.

      Lady Jersey waved the thank-you away. ‘If you will excuse us, Miss Stockton, I have something to discuss in private with Mr Hawthorne.’

      Emma forced a gracious smile to her lips and backed away. She hoped the woman was going to take away Charles Hawthorne’s entrée to Almack’s and have him booted out of this ball. It would be safer all around for Amy, who was too young and flighty to go against her own desires where the wretched man was concerned.

      One glance at their laughing faces, the glow of pleasure on Lady Jersey’s features and the way her fingers remained on Charles Hawthorne’s arm, told Emma she was going to be disappointed. The older woman seemed to be reveling in the charm only Charles Hawthorne could exert.

      Emma snorted in disgust.

      Charles allowed Sally Jersey to steer him away from Emma Stockton, but he watched the younger woman long enough to see her snort. He nearly laughed.

      ‘Now, Charles Hawthorne,’ Lady Jersey said, drawing his attention back to her. ‘I hear your business establishment is making you a very wealthy man. How long has it been? A year now? Two?’

      He looked down at the slightly plump and very socially powerful woman and gave her his best smile, the one that promised secret things. ‘Two, but Lady Jersey, surely you should not be talking to me about something like that. Trade is so dirty.’

      Her mouth pursed but her eyes danced. ‘I suppose if I were a strait-laced chit like Emma Stockton I would not mention it to you. Or her headstrong sister, Amy, whom you pursue so brazenly and who, I must admit, encourages you shamefully. But I am a matron of the world. I know that sometimes we do things considered unacceptable by society in order to survive.’

      ‘Ah, so experience has its privileges and its delights.’ He allowed the look he gave her to speak volumes.

      She flushed, a feat not easily accomplished by someone of her character and experience. ‘You are a rogue, Charles Hawthorne. And a rake. But charming in all cases.’ She tapped him lightly with the closed fan she held. ‘I find I cannot bring myself to bar you from Almack’s—in spite of your unusual method of feathering your nest. Just yet. But be careful. There are others who feel more strongly than I, who would prefer to see our doors closed to you. They say your family name and personal attributes aren’t sufficient to overlook your involvement in trade. Were you a woman your fate would already be sealed.’

      ‘How fortunate for all involved that I am not a female,’ he murmured.

      She chuckled and again swatted him with her fan.

      He bowed deeply to her. ‘But you are not small-minded, and I thank you for defending me. Life would be vastly boring without Almack’s to entertain me every Wednesday.’

      She laughed up at him. ‘Take a care, my fine young buck, that you don’t allow your sarcasm to overcome the honey of your words.’

      ‘I shall,’ he promised, returning her amusement with his own. ‘Would you care to dance? It is a waltz.’

      Her eyes narrowed appraisingly. ‘Perhaps. It certainly would do much for my standing as a woman.’

      He guessed at the cynicism underlying her words. ‘You need no increase in your standing, Lady Jersey. But I need to boost mine.’

      ‘Nicely said.’ She inclined her head regally. ‘I believe I will endeavour to help you.’

      He held his arm for her to place her fingertips lightly as he guided her to the floor. Several heads turned. Some people smiled. He noted Emma Stockton was not among those who approved. No matter. He did not live his life to please her. Actually quite the opposite. Her pique at him over her sister was one of the few things he looked forward to. It seemed every other woman toadied to him to some degree. She was a breath of fresh air with her disapproval.

      He smiled at the woman in his arms, but his thoughts were on a particular ginger-haired woman.

      Emma watched the byplay and wondered at his skill. With no visible effort he was charming one of the most important women in London society. How could she expect someone of Amy’s inexperience to resist a man who could bring a woman of Sally Jersey’s age and experience to heel?

      When he led Lady Jersey out for the waltz, it was all she could do to keep her mouth from dropping. He was the most audacious creature. If rumour were true, and she found there was normally a kernel of truth in everything, he was as wild with his money as he was with women.

      She watched the couple, unable to turn her attention elsewhere. Whatever else she thought of the man, he was a delight to behold. A sigh escaped her. He was not for the likes of her or her sister. Just as his older brother had not been for her.

      Emma forced her gaze elsewhere as she smoothed the lavender folds of her evening gown. She had purchased it many years before, the fine damask silk and simple lines perfect for half-mourning. She was fortunate the subdued colour complemented her complexion and hair even though it was not the first crack in fashion. But that was as far as her vanity would go. Having only received one offer of marriage and then having had to decline because her future groom carried on openly with another woman, she accepted her lot as a spinster. Many married men kept mistresses, but most were more discreet than her former fiancé.

      When she had Amy respectably settled in marriage she would look for a job as a governess. Her education had been thorough, and by then she fully expected the males in her family to have gambled away everything.

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