5
A Young Rake
It seemed that the woman Sebastian had craved for the remainder of the night was George’s widow after all.
With nothing better to do after riding and then cleaning up, he had ventured outdoors to discover his host overseeing the setting up of the rather large canvas tent, and rather than sit about and do nothing, Sebastian had set right to work assisting Danbury and the manservants employed to the task.
Once it had been raised, Sebastian had located the necessary equipment required to play a game of paille-maille and designed a rather challenging course for any of Danbury’s guests who might be so inclined.
By the time he’d completed setting up the game and finished sending the yellow ball flying through all of the circles, several of Danbury’s guests had made their way outside. It went without saying that most of the unmarried females drifted casually in his direction. As did several married ones.
Sebastian would hazard to guess he’d conversed with damn well every lady under the age of sixty and half the ones over it and still not identified the woman who had fled from him the night before.
Until Margaret Coates, the Countess of Asherton, had arrived. From a distance, even before he’d known her name or heard her voice,he’d known.
She’d managed to hide most of her long silken hair beneath her bonnet, strands he’d threaded through his fingers, and yes, she wore a less-than-notable gown…
But it was her.
He had simplyknown.
And when he’d sat down beside her, he realized that if his eyes hadn’t recognized her, his body would have. The world stood still, and he could almost imagine himself being filled with an overpowering sense of completion.
As he’d stared at the delicate skin of her wrists, just above her gloves, he could not help but think that marriage between her and Uncle George must be some sort of a joke. But why?
She was not destitute. As Danbury’s sister, she would never want for anything. And if not for security and position, why would a woman such as she engage herself to his uncle?
She was obviously a beauty. The dress could not hide her gentle feminine curves nor was her bonnet able to conceal all of the long ebony strands beneath it. When she glanced up from behind thick lashes, he became momentarily mesmerized by eyes the color of scotch one moment and the deepest green the next. Hazel eyes. How absolutely delightful.
A beauty, by God.
The undeniable attraction he experienced when he took her hand and then kissed the back of her glove was incomparable. Her subtle and sexy perfume, combined with the essence of the lady herself, both excited and stirred him.
It was the same hand that had grasped the sides of his head, the same fingers that had tugged at his hair and urged him to taste all of her.
As she’d pulled her hand away from his hold, she’d trembled.
She, too, had known it was him. Of course, though; he’d told her George was his uncle. By God, she had fled from his chamber as though the hounds of hell chased after her.
And after throwing the bowl of sugar into the air, she’d run away again, although with considerably less prowess.
“Dashed nuisance,” his uncle complained to nobody in particular, brushing his jacket the moment Lady Asherton was no longer in earshot.
“I’ll send for a towel and hot water,” Lady Danbury offered helpfully, frowning in the direction in which her sister-in-law disappeared.
Sebastian remained standing although the other gentlemen all returned to their seats.
“Let me help you, My Lord.” Miss Drake rose to brush at Sebastian’s coat with a lacey white handkerchief. As she did so, he caught a whiff of lilac-scented perfume—too strong. It overpowered the subtle scents worn by the lady who had just taken flight.
He stepped away from Miss Drake. The shiver that ran through Lady Asherton had been either attraction of fear. On the basis of last night’s encounter, he’d wager it was more likely attraction. Then again, maintaining the reputation of a proper lady, she might also be concerned that he intended to expose her ratherunladylike nocturnal activities.
Or simply tell George. Her fiancé, a gentleman who adhered to the strictest proprieties as a rule—in public, that was.
“If you’ll excuse me.” He supposed he ought to put the widow out of her misery and assure her that he had no intention of revealing their encounter to her future husband or anyone else.
Good God! Surely, she didn’t intend to actually marry his uncle!
But why the engagement then?
