The Rake's Redemption. Georgina Devon

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ around showed Amy in the midst of a group of young men and women close to her age. They all seemed to be enjoying themselves immensely. Emma decided to find the punch she had originally been interested in before Charles Hawthorne had sidetracked her.

      She found the refreshments in a side room and filled a cup with punch before returning to the ballroom. The waltz was just ending. Automatically, before she even realised what she was doing, her gaze found Charles Hawthorne.

      He made his bow to Lady Jersey and added a kiss to the back of her hand as she laughed up at him. When he took his leave, he sauntered toward Amy, who turned to him with a brilliant smile on her face. Amy’s full red lips and sparkling blue eyes, framed by golden curls, seemed to make her shine in the warm glow of hundreds of candles. He took her proffered hand and raised it to his lips.

      For an instant only, Emma nearly felt the pressure of his flesh on the back of her hand before she shook off the unsettling sensation. She moved toward the couple without conscious thought. She was Amy’s chaperone and she had a duty to protect her.

      Helplessness settled over her like a heavy mantle as she watched the couple move to the dance floor. Knowing she could not reach them through the throng of people, she bit her lip in consternation as Amy curtseyed and her partner bowed in the opening moves of the dance. All she could do now was wait—and be thankful it wasn’t a waltz. The dance was only done in private homes and considered too fast for a young woman in her first season.

      She tapped her foot and waited for Charles Hawthorne to return Amy to her side. Instead, when the dance ended, the couple headed to a pair of open French doors. She wasn’t surprised, yet still, fury clawed up Emma’s spine. That man and her sister flaunted her dictates at every turn.

      Even if she ignored every person between herself and the doors, they would still be outside much longer than she liked and by the time she got there, they might have moved on. If she remembered correctly, Lady Jersey had a beautiful garden. She had to follow them.

      Charles escorted the young minx into the cool night air. A dimple showed in her cheek and her brilliant blue eyes peeked up at him through thick blond lashes. He knew he should have refused to bring her out here without a chaperone, but Amy Stockton intrigued him. As experienced as he was, and he was very experienced, she always managed to amuse him with her hoydenish ways. Very often she crossed that fine boundary between acceptable and not, and she seemed to care nothing for the consequences.

      Then there was Emma Stockton. He found it very entertaining to watch Amy’s older sister sputter and futilely try to clip the wings of this chick.

      He settled Amy near a wrought iron bench close enough that the light from the ballroom fell onto the girl’s skirts. A damask-red rosebush climbed the stone balustrade behind her, scenting the warm air.

      ‘What can I do for you, Miss Amy, that is so secret we must come out here?’

      She gave him a smile nearly as roguish as the one he was famous for. ‘Well…you are a rake and you do flout conventions all the time.’

      He nodded, wondering where this was leading and beginning to think he was going to have to bow out of her proposed escapade—and he didn’t even know where her wiles were heading. Not even he would compromise a girl barely out of the schoolroom.

      ‘I am all those things, but that does not mean I am your pet monkey to do as you bid me.’ He kept his tone light to counterbalance the baldness of his words.

      She sat down and beckoned him to join her. He shook his head and propped one elegantly clad foot on the base of the balustrade. ‘I think not,’ he murmured.

      She pouted. ‘But you won’t be able to hear me if you insist on staying so far away.’

      ‘You amaze me with your audacity, Miss Amy. Don’t you know well-bred young ladies keep their distance from men of my reputation?’

      ‘Oh, pooh! As though I care about that. I am in London to enjoy myself.’

      ‘And to find a suitable husband.’

      ‘You would do very nicely.’

      He shook his head and wondered what he had got himself into. ‘I have no intentions of marrying anyone, let alone someone as young as you are.’

      ‘You are not being very gallant.’

      Her brows drew together into a ferocious frown that he was sure normally got her whatever she wanted. He had used that ploy himself when he was younger and it had always worked. It was time to burst her bubble before the two of them got into something he could not extricate himself from.

      ‘I am being blunt and honest.’

      ‘Then why do you always come to my beck and call?’

      He pondered that. ‘For the pleasure of doing as I please. You see, like you, I have been spoilt and am used to having my own way.’

      ‘Exactly.’ She gave him a triumphant smile. ‘That is why I know you are just the one to do this.’

      He raised one brow.

      ‘Oh, yes.’ She was so excited her breath came as though she were running. ‘There is a masquerade tonight. I want to go.’

      He stepped back from her. ‘Then go.’

      ‘Don’t be stupid. I need someone to take me.’

      ‘Ask your sister.’

      ‘Ask me what,’ Emma Stockton said.

      Her voice was so cold that Charles immediately decided to see how far he could provoke her. It was a pastime he found entertaining.

      He turned and watched her stride across the balcony until she stood barely a foot from them. Her auburn brows formed a tight V and her usually full, peach-tinted lips formed a thin line of anger and disapproval. He found himself delighted.

      It always amazed him that he reacted to her this way. She was not voluptuous or even particularly beautiful, but she was striking and for some reason he couldn’t understand—didn’t want to spend the time trying to understand—she always made him want to bait her.

      ‘Your delightful sister has plans for later this night. I told her that she should ask you.’ He kept his voice to a soft drawl, which he knew would irritate her. It always had in the past. Ennui was so difficult to assuage.

      Emma turned her attention on her sister. ‘Amy?’

      The younger Stockton scowled at her sister for all she was worth, while casting appealing looks at Charles. ‘Really, Em. It is nothing. Mr Hawthorne is making something big out of something that doesn’t exist.’

      Charles nearly shook his head in amazement. Instead he laughed. He couldn’t help himself. The girl was a minx and the person assigned to control her couldn’t. He nearly pitied Emma Stockton.

      ‘What is so amusing, Mr Hawthorne?’ Emma Stockton’s voice dripped acid. ‘I find this entire situation skirting the boundary of acceptability. But then, I suppose, you already know that and choose to do as you wish. It seems to be a trait in your family.’

      Her sarcastic words, perfectly aimed, sobered him. ‘If you had a sword, Miss Stockton, СКАЧАТЬ