The Rake's Redemption. Georgina Devon

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      Emma did nothing to disguise her groan. ‘Amy, if you please, that is more than enough. Ladies do not discuss women like Miss Wilson.’

      ‘Oh, pooh! Ladies don’t do anything that is interesting.’

      Even as she silently agreed with Amy, Emma knew she had to stop Amy’s fascination with the other woman right now. ‘You seem to be doing quite a few things that are interesting to you.’

      ‘Sarcasm?’ Charles Hawthorne murmured. ‘It will accomplish nothing.’

      Emma gave him a bland look. Right now was not the time to let him know what she thought of his actions. She was spared any further temptation to do so with Amy present by the carriage pulling up to their house.

      Charles Hawthorne hopped out and turned immediately to help Amy down. She giggled. ‘Thank you, kind sir.’ Her eyes flirted as she allowed him to guide her to the front steps.

      ‘My pleasure.’ He put his gloved hand over hers where it rested on his forearm.

      His head bent to Amy’s and he said something Emma couldn’t hear as she followed behind, having been helped down by the groom. No doubt he was flirting as outrageously with Amy as she was with him. A tiny ball of frustration and another emotion Emma didn’t want to examine formed in her chest.

      She reached them just as the front door opened. ‘Amy, please give me a few moments alone with Mr Hawthorne.’

      Amy looked from one to the other. ‘So you can scold him?’

      Emma ignored the challenge in her sister’s voice. ‘Please honour my request.’

      ‘Don’t let her box your ears, Mr Hawthorne. She has a predilection for that.’ Amy tossed her head.

      ‘I am more than capable of taking care of myself, Miss Amy.’ He took Amy’s gloved fingers and raised them to his lips.

      A flush of pleasure made the already pretty girl beautiful. ‘You always know exactly what to do.’

      Emma thought she would lose control and step between the two like a knife cutting through cloying syrup. She managed not to do so by a strong effort of will.

      The door closed behind Amy before Emma turned to Mr Hawthorne, who looked at her with one black brow lifted as though daring her to do her worst. It was more provocation than she could resist.

      ‘How dare you flirt with her in such a way, kissing her hand! It is much too sophisticated for a girl like her. Save it for a more experienced woman. Isn’t it bad enough that Amy allows you to pursue her in a most unseemly manner when all and sundry know you have no intention of offering marriage?’

      His blue eyes were nearly black and impossible to read. ‘Would my pursuit be acceptable if I intended marriage?’

      She blinked. His answer was totally unexpected. ‘Do you?’

      He grinned. ‘No, but you seem to put such emphasis on that being the reason my interest isn’t acceptable.’

      ‘You are twisting my words and you know it.’ She took a breath to try and ease the beating of her heart. ‘You are the most odious man.’

      ‘I try.’

      His sardonic words sped her pulse in spite of herself. ‘You try very hard and always succeed. How dare you introduce us to Harriette Wilson.’

      ‘Not that woman? You surprise me.’

      Now it was her turn to flush. ‘She is a person even though men consider her something to be bandied about. I do not fault her for doing what she must to survive.’

      ‘Neither do I.’ He met her gaze, his serious look brooking no argument. ‘I respect her as a woman who moves in a man’s world, and does so successfully. I will not be a hypocrite and ignore her when I meet her out—no matter who is with me.’

      Unwilling respect blossomed in Emma. No other man of her acquaintance would have been so bold and flouted convention to introduce the infamous courtesan. None would even acknowledge her if they were with a woman of their own class.

      ‘Then you did not introduce us to irritate me or disgrace Amy?’

      ‘Contrary to what you think, I stopped for the reason I told you.’

      Emma searched his face for the truth. She could not tell what he thought, but his mouth was not curled into the sardonic smile he seemed to have perfected. An unwelcome awareness of him penetrated her anger, which was already crumbling because of his reason for introducing the courtesan.

      She realised he stood too close. She could see the fine lines around his eyes and the dark stubble that would soon need to be shaved. A hint of pine mingled with that of starch. His breath smelt of mint. Under it all was the richness of a man’s scent, musky and exciting. The day had turned unaccountably warm.

      She stepped backwards and her half boot left the step. She tottered. His hand shot out and grabbed her arm. His fingers held her through the layers of material, seeming to sear into her flesh. A shiver coursed her spine, first like ice then like fire. The last thing she wanted was to react to him like this.

      Anger at her own weakness made her voice harsh. ‘You can release me.’

      His gaze hardened. ‘And let you fall off the step?’

      She notched her chin up and set her back foot down onto the next level. ‘I won’t fall now.’

      His hand fell away. ‘You are welcome.’

      She felt a blush of embarrassment mount her cheeks. There had been no call to be rude no matter what his touch did to her. Her mama would be appalled if she had seen this. ‘Thank you.’

      He stared at her, his gaze going from her eyes to her cheeks to her lips. Against her will, she felt the heat consuming her intensify. Heaven help her if he ever did anything more. She was a fool. An utter fool.

      ‘Good day, Miss Stockton.’

      He turned on the heel of his mirror-polished Hessian and strode to the carriage, where he opened the door himself and leapt inside with the grace of a natural athlete. He did not glance back at her when the vehicle started forward. It was she who continued to stare.

      The man was insufferable. He had to be for she could not allow him to be anything else. Becoming enamored of him would do her no more good than it did Amy. Less.

      Charles stared straight ahead as he was conveyed to his brother’s town house to where he would return George’s carriage. His fingers still tingled from touching Emma, and the scent of sweet peas lingered in his mind. His stomach tightened. Obviously he had been too long without a woman if he was reacting to a spinster like Emma Stockton.

      The drive had been as entertaining as he had expected when he chose to ignore Emma Stockton’s note ordering him to refrain from doing whatever her sister had requested. There was very little that gave him as much pleasure as provoking her. But the unsettling problem was that he responded to her physically as well as mentally.

      He СКАЧАТЬ