Taming Wilde (8 page)

“Ah, Lady Montgomery, how do you do this fine evening?” He purposefully lowered his
gaze to her bosom, pausing for a brief second before meeting her eyes and winking.
“Beautiful as always, I see.”

Lady Montgomery pulled out her fan and giggled. “We are familiar, are we not? Please,
call me Alice.”

“Then allow me the same. I imagine
Colin
would sound lovely across those lush lips of yours.”

“Colin.” Her eyelashes fluttered, and for some reason Colin found himself slightly
irritated. He shook his head to focus.

“I was just thinking what a lovely evening it would be for a walk.” He held out his
arm. She looked at it then behind her.

“And what of the fireworks?”

“Ah yes, the fireworks at midnight.” Colin tilted her chin with his free hand and
smirked. “Shall we make our own?”

With one last look behind her, Alice nodded and took his arm, following him deep into
the dark garden trails.

“Oh dear, my fan!” Alice exclaimed the minute they were past the first few trees.

“Allow me.” Colin backtracked and located the fan immediately; she must have dropped
it. He brushed it off with his gloved hands and stood, just in time for his head to
hit the low-hanging branch. With a curse he fell to his knees.

Devil take it! His eye throbbed with pain as he continued cursing into the night air.
Where was Alice? He tried to open his eye but failed. Stumbling to his feet, he walked
in the direction she had gone, trying his best not to allow his one bad eye to stop
him from this seduction. After all, true rakes could seduce a woman if they were blind.
Surely he could do the same! Resigned to his mission, he marched down the path and
noticed Alice sitting on a bench near the middle of the trail.

He covered his eye and sat down next to her. “My lady, your fan.”

“Thank you.” Her throaty reply somehow made the pain dissipate in his eye, but it
was only a brief reprieve, for the next minute, as he leaned in to kiss her, the fireworks
went off, causing Alice’s head to slam against his in surprise.

Make that two black eyes. Perhaps he could shoot for a third bruise? After all, the
night was young!

“Oh! Oh dear! I’m so sorry, Colin. I—”

“—Lady Montgomery!” a voice shouted.

“Oh no,” Alice wailed. “You must hide me!”

“Hide you?” Colin sputtered. “Why the devil would I hide you? Need I remind you, you
are an adult, a widow to be exact, and you are able to—”

“Oh, do shut up!” Alice smacked Colin on the shoulder. “I am newly engaged! If Hawke
finds me, I will be ruined!”

“Hawke?” Colin repeated. “Do you mean the Marquess of—”

Alice put her hand over his mouth. “It was just arranged! It is a smart match. My
money and his money will—”

But she did not finish speaking. Instead, she ran into the bushes headfirst and stayed
there while Colin was left alone on the bench, nursing two black eyes and a headache
at his temples.

“Oh, it is you,” Van Burge said once he came into view. “I thought I heard a woman’s
voice.”

“Yes, sometimes I speak higher in order to amuse myself.” Colin rolled his eyes. “Good
evening, Van Burge.”

“Say…” Van Burge stood in front of Colin, blocking his path of escape. Perhaps he
would get lucky and find himself knocked out? “Have you seen Lady Montgomery?”

The bush next to Colin’s boots moved erratically.

He sighed heavily and cursed. “Can’t say that I have. Tell me of whom you are speaking
again? I find the women I spend my time with begin to have the same needy face. It
is often difficult to tell them apart.”

“If you touch—”

“I haven’t.” Colin glared. “Now, run along. It seems you are missing your
fiancé
e
.”

“Yes, well… good evening.”

Colin shook his head and made his way toward the main path. Of course he would try
to seduce Gemma’s brother’s
fiancé
e
. It did nothing but affirm his original fears. He would be joining Anthony in the
Lake of Fire.

The walk back was interrupted by yet another snag. Gemma’s voice. Without thinking,
Colin hid. A man was speaking to her about the fireworks. She laughed her musical
laugh that, unfortunately, did nothing for his headache or his heart. Deciding he’d
had enough pain for the evening, Colin turned to go back a different way, when his
head hit yet another branch.

He fell to the ground cursing. “Are all trees united against me now? Has nature taken
a vote and decided I am no longer deserving of respect?” He threw his fist into the
air and continued yelling at the offending tree, when all of a sudden his blurry eyes
focused on Gemma and her escort, Mr. Everett, as well as Gemma’s maid.

“Are you unwell?” Mr. Everett asked.

“I am perfectly fine, just having a conversation…”

“With a tree?” Gemma asked, her eyes widened in either horror or amusement — he wasn’t
quite certain which, considering he was seeing at least six sets of eyes at the moment.

“Has the tree… offended you, Sir Wilde?” This from Everett, who was now coughing with
disapproval behind his hand.

“Yes.” Colin cursed again. “For it is erect, while I am on the ground suffering from
a headache.”

“Well, we shall leave you to it, then.” Mr. Everett chuckled. “Come along, Lady Gemma.”

“But…” She looked down at Colin and frowned. “He might have a head injury.”

“Then perhaps he should stop living his current lifestyle of debauchery and try to
keep himself from consuming his weight in whiskey. After all, his eyes are bloodshot,
and he looks completely foxed! He’s speaking to trees, for heaven’s sake! Come along,
my lady, you are in my care, and I will not have you ruined.” Everett wrapped his
fingers around Gemma’s arm and gestured toward the path.

Gemma pulled her arm from his grasp and took a step toward Colin. Was she going to
stay? Nurse him back to health? Kiss his wounds and… Colin had to stop daydreaming,
lest he become aroused. That was the last thing he needed, for rumors to spread that
not only did Colin talk to trees, but they affected him in ways… he could not even
complete the thought. It was too horrid to dwell on. He closed his eyes.

“See? He has already blacked out!” Mr. Everett exclaimed.

Colin waited for them to leave. Though it took more coaxing, Gemma finally relented,
and he was left under the tree, wondering how this night of seduction had ended so
horribly. At least now he was alone, able to nurse his headache without any irritating—

“Wilde! Got yourself in another scuffle, did you?” Anthony laughed raucously.

Colin gestured something inappropriate with his hand and moaned. “Leave me be! Let
me die in peace.”

“Trees do not kill people.”

“Can embarrassment?” Colin wondered aloud.

Anthony sat next to him on the ground. “I take it the seduction did not go as planned?”

“I found the perfect woman. She was beautiful, not too amiable, and available for
an assignation.”

“What was the problem? Lacked the courage, eh, Wilde?”

“We were interrupted by Van Burge. It seems Lady Montgomery has gotten herself a
fiancé
.”

Anthony burst out laughing. “But of course she did. They announced it just last night.
Where the devil were you?”

Colin hit Anthony in the leg and cursed. “You know blasted well where I was last night!
The same place you told me you used to frequent. The women had more facial hair than
the men, and don’t think for one second that I did not see money exchanged between
you and that bearded barmaid.”

Anthony shrugged. “I have no idea what you mean. Are you foxed?”

“No,” Colin ground out. “But I am going to go home.”

“The night is young! Rakes do not quit when things get difficult; they press on! There
are plenty of women. Persevere, my friend!”

“I want my bed! I do not want more whiskey. I despise the smell of most women’s perfumes,
and by my soul, if you tell me to go to another gambling hell I will strike you!”

“But you are a rake!”

“I am not a rake!” Colin all but yelled.

Anthony muttered something under his breath that sounded a lot like
finally
before he pushed to his feet and offered Colin his hand. “Tea, my friend. Go home
and drink some tea.”

“And tomorrow? What do I do tomorrow?”

Anthony pulled out a cheroot and lit it. “Tomorrow, my friend, is a new day. But I
imagine if you put this rake business behind you, you will see life isn’t as bad as
you’ve made it out to be.”

“It is.”

“It isn’t.” Anthony slapped him on the back. “The best remedy for a broken heart is
not to get under the first woman you see, or over, if you get my meaning. Time. Time
is the best remedy. Well, that and tea with a splash of whiskey, but that was always
my preference. Go home, Wilde.”

Gentlem
e
n, there comes a time in every man’s life when he has to ask himself the question
,
“Am I a rake? Or simply a gentleman who believes himself to be a rake
,
when truly all I want to do is sit on my backside and read?” If you paused after asking
yourself this question, you have your answer. If you asked the question in the first
place, then it is safe to say you never
were
a rake to begin with. For rakes do not question their purpose. They define it.
—The Private Journal of Viscount Maddox

Gemma couldn’t help but glance back over her shoulder toward Colin as Mr. Everett
led her back up the path. They had left him there, lying in the dirt. It ground against
every fiber of her being to leave him there without providing assistance, making sure
he was well.

How forlorn he’d looked there in the shadows, cursing the tree that had fallen him.
Her heart had gone to him, but her escort would not allow it. What had he said to
her?
He would not have her ruined.
By helping an injured man? Everett had seemed the most congenial of Hawke’s friends,
but he was proving to be like every other man in her life: wanting to control her
and keep her under his thumb.

Her mind returned to Colin. Only he had not tried to control her. He had ever been
the gentleman.

“The fireworks are lovely, are they not?” Everett’s voice interrupted her thoughts.

“Hmm? Oh, yes. Lovely,” she answered half-heartedly.

Everett patted her hand on his arm and smiled. “Do not fret about Sir Wilde, my dear.
Men like him are never alone for long.”

No doubt he meant it to comfort her, but his words had the opposite effect. Her throat
tightened, and she glanced over her shoulder once more.

“What do you mean?”

“Only that men of his reputation are never lonely long. Someone will come along to—”
He cut off the thought, seeming to suddenly remember with whom he was speaking. “Think
no more on him, sweet. Let us speak of something more worthy.”

“More worthy? What might that be, Mr. Everett?”

He smiled warmly, and a surreptitious twinkle lit his eyes. Lifting his hand, he gestured
to a marble bench just off the path. She followed him to it and sat where he indicated.

“We might speak of the stars,” he said, as he took the seat next to her and pointed
to the sky.

Gemma looked up at the inky black sky, where the stars blinked back at her. They had
never held much fascination for her. Hardly a
worthy
subject, as he had put it.

“We might speak of the flowers,” he said and slid closer, waving his hand in a sweeping
gesture at the bushes around them.

She glanced at the blooms, tightly closed up for the night all around her. Their fragrance
hung faintly in the air, but they seemed shriveled and tired.

His warmth seemed to increase at her side, and she knew he was drawing closer still.
Far too close for appropriate association.

It was then Gemma realized Pearl was no longer with them. The girl had been so quiet,
Gemma wasn’t entirely certain at what point she had left them.

“We might speak of your lips,” Everett said, leaning ever nearer.

No. No. No.
Gemma cringed inwardly, but held herself together enough to sound confident and in
complete control of her own emotions.

“That hardly sounds like a proper subject, sir.” She was afraid to look at him. Afraid
it might give him the impression of an invitation. Instead she looked anywhere but
at him, then abruptly stood, wringing her hands. “Whatever happened to Pearl?”

“Your lady’s maid? Your brother had need of her.” He reached for her arm and pulled
her back down to the bench. “Do not worry, Lady Gemma. We are completely alone here.”

“That is what worries me, sir.”

He laughed. It sounded like a mixture of amusement and irritation. “You have nothing
to fear of me, dear Gemma.”

His familiar use of her name drove an icy shock through her.

“My brother would never allow me to be alone with a man, Mr. Everett. Surely he did
not intend for my maid to leave me without a chaperone. It was his order that she
accompany us in the first place.”

“It is your brother who chose this moment to call her. It is his dearest wish that
you and I come to an understanding, my love.”

Gemma tried to stand again, to put space between them. Hawke would never put her in
this position! Alone in Vauxhill Gardens at night with a man? Everett held her arm
tightly, refusing to grant her retreat.

“Come, sweet. It is my intention to marry you. Your family approves. You yourself
have told me I am preferable to Percival and Sumner. And I am certain, given half
the chance, I can convince you of the reasons you would prefer me to any other man.”
He lifted her chin toward him with his free hand and inclined his head toward her.

She tried to pull away, but he held her in place. His lips slowly descended. She closed
her eyes, not out of passion, but out of complete disgust. So this was how it was
going to happen? She would be ruined in Vauxhill Gardens, ruined to marry the man
of her brother’s choosing — a man who was completely like her brother in every way.
No doubt her brother had the whole thing planned out. Any moment now he would burst
through the brush with two or three witnesses to catch them in the act, then force
them to be married. The thought was revolting.