A Rake by Midnight. Gail Ranstrom

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СКАЧАТЬ style="font-size:15px;">      Yes, she was gaining confidence but she was far from being at ease. She was acutely aware that there could be men present who had heard of her ordeal. Perhaps even a few who had been there, who had seen her. Though they were unlikely to mention it, she had felt the weight of clandestine eyes upon her.

      She glanced around the ballroom as they strolled toward the punch bowl, wondering if James Hunter was still there, watching her. When her eye caught Miss Metcalfe dancing a lively reel with an eager young man, she was suddenly struck with a memory. Metcalfe! Was that not a name she’d heard before? A man who had been a friend of Mr. Henley and who had been at that scandalous tableau?

      “Harriett, what can you tell me about Miss Metcalfe?” she asked. “Does she have family?”

      “Goodness, yes! A handsome brother by the name of Stanley.”

      “Is he here tonight?”

      Hortense craned her neck to look about in one direction while Harriett scanned the other. “I do not see him. Come to think of it, Harri, have we seen him at all in the last few weeks?”

      Harriett chortled. “No, but it does not matter. I do not think he would suit you, Gina.”

      “Oh?”

      “He is engaged to a dear friend of ours. Miss Christina Race. Have you met her?”

      Gina shook her head. In truth, she’d met very few people since arriving in London.

      “She and Missy have been almost inseparable since the engagement, have they not, Hortense?”

      Hortense nodded. “Like peas in a pod. Would you like to meet them? The reel is almost over and I believe I saw Christina near the fireplace.”

      Her heart beating harder, Gina donned an airy smile. “That would be lovely. The more people I meet, the less you will have to coddle me.”

      “Pshaw!” Harriett laughed. “We adore coddling you, Gina. Why, introducing a pretty newcomer lends us a certain mystery and importance we do not possess on our own.”

      Gina laughed. She had noted how many heads the twins had turned, and not just because they were identical. They certainly did not need an unknown newcomer to gain attention.

      The twins flanked her as they headed toward the fireplace at one end of the ballroom, nodding at acquaintances as they passed. Their progress was slow and perfectly timed to coincide with the end of the reel.

      Gina had been watching the dancers and when they stopped she turned her attention back to the group at the fireplace. Surprise coupled with a twist of her stomach shot through her. There stood a lovely woman of average height with glossy black hair and eyes nearly as dark. Her fair complexion deepened with the pink of a blush as she recognized Gina’s face. The woman from the tableau—and she was engaged to Mr. Metcalfe!

      Hortense performed the introduction. “Miss Eugenia O’Rourke, I am pleased to present our dearest friend, Miss Christina Race. Miss Race, please meet Miss O’Rourke.”

      Gina noted the tiny plea in those eyes. Clearly the woman did not want to acknowledge their previous acquaintance. How could they ever explain that away? She took a deep breath. “Miss Race, how nice to make your acquaintance. I pray you will not hold these two against me,” she said with a nod toward the twins.

      The woman smiled and squeezed Gina’s hand in gratitude. “If you will do the same, Miss O’Rourke.”

      Harriett arched one elegant eyebrow. “Come now. Our reputations are not quite that bad.”

      Laughing and jesting with a young man over her shoulder, Miss Metcalfe returned from the dance floor and was quickly introduced. “O’Rourke? Is your sister the one who finally tamed Lord Libertine?”

      Gina frowned, unfamiliar with the title.

      Hortense laughed. “She means Andrew Hunter, Gina. That was our pet name for him until your sister domesticated him.”

      She smiled. “Yes, then. Isabella married Mr. Hunter and they seem quite content.”

      Miss Metcalfe sighed as she fanned herself. “That gives the rest of us hope, then. If he succumbed to the parson’s mousetrap, there can be hope that one of us might yet snare James or Charles Hunter.”

      “I…I wouldn’t know, Miss Metcalfe.”

      “Yet I saw you dance with James,” she said, almost like an accusation. “That is, until he sneaked you out to the garden.”

      Gina was taken aback by the woman’s bluntness. “He was doing his duty to me, Miss Metcalfe. And reminding me to mind my manners.”

      Miss Metcalfe fell silent after Gina’s rejoinder and Hortense introduced her companion. “Miss O’Rourke, may I present Mr. Adam Booth? Mr. Booth, please meet Miss O’Rourke.”

      The man bent over her hand and a flicker of something passed through his eyes as he straightened and met her gaze. “Have we met, Miss O’Rourke? I could swear I’ve seen those remarkable eyes before.”

      He’d been at the tableau. Had he been at the ritual? She slowly withdrew her hand from his and forced a smile. “You are too kind, Mr. Booth. I doubt we have met since I have not been much in society. In any case, I am certain I’d have remembered a gentleman as handsome as you.”

      He grinned and the tension went out of his posture. “Well, I shan’t forget you again, Miss O’Rourke. Alas, I must be off to meet friends but I pray you will save me a dance ’til the next time we meet.” He bowed over her hand.

      She gave him a stiff smile. Had there been something familiar in his request, or was she being overly sensitive? “I shall look forward to it, Mr. Booth.”

      Alone now, the ladies proceeded to discuss Mr. Booth and his various attributes—the width of his shoulders, the color of his gray-blue eyes, the size of his…bank account. Gina relaxed, the conversation so similar to those she’d had with her sisters long before any of them married.

      “And you, Miss O’Rourke? Who do you prefer?” Miss Race asked.

      “I am far too new to the scene to have a preference,” she said, though Jamie Hunter’s face came to mind.

      “My dear,” Harriett said, “I know just what you mean. Why, if Miss Race hadn’t already taken Mr. Metcalfe, I might cast my cap in that direction.”

      Gina seized that opportunity. “When am I to meet Mr. Metcalfe?”

      Missy Metcalfe rolled her eyes heavenward. “I can’t imagine where he’s been keeping himself. Between his friends and his club, we scarcely see him at home anymore. Why, Christina sees him more than we.”

      They all turned to Miss Race for confirmation.

      “I, uh, did see him earlier tonight. I believe he said he was gambling with a few of his friends.”

      “Men,” Hortense said, as if that explained everything.

      Miss Race drew herself up as if she’d made a sudden decision. “Accompany me to the ladies’ retiring room, СКАЧАТЬ