Lord Rakehell's Love (The Curse of True Love) Page 2

  Ares gave them a brief glance. "We can return home then?"

  "So soon?" she asked with a pout. "I have scarcely set things in motion."

  He tugged at his neckcloth, growling. "These clothes are much too confining." He flexed his arm, the muscles nearly bursting the form-fitting sleeve. "It would be impossible to swing my sword in here, and not merely because of the number of people stuffed into this ballroom."

  Aphrodite bit back a smile at her warrior's frustration. "Surely you found something to amuse yourself while I brought these two together."

  His irritation evaporated, replaced by an infectious grin. "There was a lively dustup in the card room. A chap accused another one of cheating, so he was honor-bound to challenge him to a duel." He rubbed his hands together. "Looks like it will be pistols at dawn."

  Aphrodite nearly groaned at her bloodthirsty lover's enthusiasm. Still, he had his interests, and she had hers, and it made them the perfect pair.

  "I want to stay a bit longer." She stroked Ares' hair from his forehead, unable to resist any opportunity to touch him. "At least until after the wedding."

  "You are certain there will be a wedding?"

  She nodded toward the couple, who were so obviously smitten with each other. It had been too long since she had played matchmaker, and she was delighted with her instant success.

  "Oh yes," she answered proudly. "I am certain there will be a wedding. And I predict it will be the wedding of the century."

  Chapter 3

  Several weeks later

  St. George's Church, Hanover Square

  It was the wedding debacle of the century.

  Georgiana sniffled, hiding her distress in a weak smile and her lawn handkerchief. The very handkerchief from the evening she had fallen instantly in love with Simon. She had insisted on having it today, for purely sentimental reasons, while she plighted her troth.

  Unfortunately, the groom was not present.

  Nor was there any indication he was planning on being at the church anytime soon. If he was, surely he would have sent a servant to relay the news, along with a basketful of apologies. She was torn between wishing something dreadful had befallen him, and wishing he would arrive so she could be the one who caused something dreadful to befall him.

  It had been such a whirlwind romance. During the past weeks she had become the darling of the gossips, since it was unheard of for a Wallflower Row miss to receive an offer of marriage from a genuine London rake.

  Everyone had been incredulous when Lord Rakehell had declared himself in love, and ready to join her in holy matrimony. Perhaps he had not been ready after all.

  Georgiana sniffed again, fighting back tears she refused to let fall. If only she had heeded her mother's warnings about wedding a notorious rake. Yet how could she have attended Mama's entreaties to be cautious? She had been swept up into passionate and exciting moments she had never thought to experience.

  Perhaps instead of finding the love of her life, she had just committed the grandest mistake of her life.

  All at once there was a commotion outside the church, with the sounds of horses whinnying and shouts from an assortment of people. Her heart leapt, much as she chided it for doing so.

  In the next instant, Simon was walking toward her, his demeanor as sheepish as when the Dowager had called him a scandal. His clothing was in complete disarray, something she had never seen from him, even after the stolen moments they had shared when chaperones were scarce. His hair was mussed, but not in the careless manner that was so fashionable.

  No, it was as if he had just tumbled from bed, and dashed across town to the church.

  Georgiana steeled her features into the most disapproving of expressions.

  "Georgie!" Simon's arms were spread wide, as if expecting her to race into them and smother him with kisses.

  She had quite a different smothering in mind just then. "My lord."

  His smile vanished at the unwelcoming monotone of her voice. "Georgiana, I can explain."

  "I am eager to hear it." Her tone grew icier as she considered all of the possibilities. None of them would please her, she was quite certain of that.

  "Yes, well, I am not at all sure how it happened. Because I have been thinking of nothing else but this night. . . I mean, this day."

  Her cheeks heated, for she had spent a great deal of time pondering this evening too, but she pretended she did not take his meaning. Instead, she lifted her eyebrows, awaiting his explanation.

  Every one of the wedding guests leaned forward in the oak pews, unable to hide their interest in what he had to say.

  "Georgiana." Simon moved closer, his voice lowered so only she could hear him. "I know it is unforgivable, but I beg you to forgive me nonetheless. I have no idea how this happened. It was not intentional. I can assure you of that." His eyes begged her to relent. He leaned in until his lips were at her ear. "I shall spend the entire evening proving my devotion. As well as the next. And every night thereafter."

  She shivered. She had waited a seeming eternity for the moment they could explore the passion that flared between them on a constant basis. She almost fanned her face, but did not want the amassed audience to know how ardently he affected her.

  It was not such a terrible slight, was it? She knew without a doubt that he loved her. His eyes sparkled, as if he could see how close she was to capitulating. The devil knew how much she desired him and was using it to his advantage.

  Georgiana opened her mouth, ready to upbraid him for causing her such distress, and for handing the gossips additional reasons to chatter about the unlikeliness of their romance. Once she had given Simon a proper chastising, one that even the Dowager would admire, they could continue with the wedding, and the wedding breakfast, and, at last, the wedding night. . .

  She nearly swooned at the delights awaiting them. "Simon, I—"

  Another commotion at the entrance to the chapel stole her attention, as well as that of every person in the building. A high-perch phaeton could be seen through the open doorway, and Georgiana was certain she saw Lord Weyson at the reins, along with—

  "Lord Rakehell! Your hat."

  A scantily-clad woman climbed down from the rig and carefully lifted the headgear from her curly red hair. For propriety's sake, she did her best to stay outside the church, although she was perilously close to falling outside of her bodice. "You forgot your hat!"

  Georgiana heard a gasp, and then a muffled thump, and turned to see her mother in a heap on the stone floor. The poor cleric had been unable to stop her fall, though judging from the way he painfully clutched his arm, he had made a valiant effort.

  "Georgiana," Simon said again, but this time his shoulders sagged, and his stricken expression made it clear he knew there was no recovering from this catastrophe.

  Not when the guests gazed at her with such pity on their faces. After such a public embarrassment, forgiveness was not a gift Georgiana could bestow, no matter how fervently Simon pleaded.

  She turned away from him and made it all the way out of the chapel before collapsing into hopeless tears.

  "How could this happen?" Aphrodite sputtered, watching the tearful bride flee the church. "They are meant for each other."

  "He is a notorious rake, while she is a wallflower."

  "That is what makes them perfectly suited!" She paced the length of the gallery overlooking the chapel, and then spun on her heel to begin another turn. "I must remedy this. Though it is not my fault. How could it be? It was all going so swimmingly until today."

  Ares shrugged. "Well, we did discuss cursing them, with true love. And that is what appears to have happened."

  "We may have discussed it, but this is not at all what I envisioned."

  "Did you use an enchantment? Or was it a spell? Maybe you should have attempted a love potion instead."

  Aphrodite frowned. "I appreciate your assistance, dearest. Truly I do. But it is akin to me advising you which helmet to wear in battle. Or how best to wie
ld a sword against your enemies."

  He grinned. "Perhaps they will mend things themselves," he attempted in a soothing voice.

  "No, I cannot leave it like this. It's possible they will find their way back to each other, eventually. But I cannot take that chance. Not after the last time—"

  "What's that, my love? What happened last time?"

  Aphrodite waved her hand airily, not wanting to discuss that less-than-stellar moment. "It was nothing. You were away at some war—"

  He didn't need to know she slipped away without him, on rare occasions. It was just one more reason she had wanted to return, to hopefully reverse the previous disaster. She had not intended on creating a new one.

  "I cannot leave now," she continued. "I have my reputation as the goddess of love to consider. You know how seriously I take that role."

  Ares laughed, but it was a low intimate sound that filled her with desire. "I believe you are more concerned with your reputation than with these star-crossed lovers."

  "You are horribly mistaken then. It distresses me to see them apart. And when I am distressed—"

  He pulled her into his arms. "You know I will not let you remain in such a state. What shall we do to remedy it?"

  She bit back a smile. The poor dear worried so about her distress—since it affected him personally as well. "It would make me happy to remain a while longer, at least until I can bring them together once more."

  "And then we can return home?"

  "Of course. But for now, perhaps we should retire for a few hours, to devise a solution for this misfortune."

  "An excellent suggestion," he said, his eyes promising her what plans he was at that moment devising. She shivered with excitement. The thwarted lovers could do without her assistance, at least for a little while.

  And who knew? Maybe the couple would ultimately benefit from Aphrodite's erotic interlude with Ares.

  She was more than willing to find out.

  Chapter 4

  A fortnight later

  "How could Georgiana not know I love her?" Simon stalked across his dining room once more. He stopped and attempted to lean against the marble fire surround, but he was too agitated to stand still for even a moment. "I love her beyond reason, but she refuses to believe me."

  Hugh raised an eyebrow. "Perhaps she is not convinced because you were late." He popped a morsel of meat pie in his mouth. "To your own wedding."

  "Must you remind me? It is the worst moment of my entire life."

  Hugh laughed. "We have had quite a few of them over the years."

  "True. Unfortunately, those infamous deeds have cast serious doubt on my credibility with my bride."

  "Your unwed bride," Hugh added helpfully. At Simon's glare, he threw his hands up in self-defense. "I am certain she shall be your bride. Very soon." He lowered his voice. "One day."

  Simon glared at his erstwhile best man. "And I have you to thank for embroiling me in this mess."

  "Oh, no. This is not my fault."

  "I might have persuaded her, if you had not arrived with your doxies in tow."

  Hugh grinned once more. "I was in a hurry to get you to the chapel. I did not have time to send them on their way beforehand."

  "It does not matter anymore who is to blame. I need to know how to gain her forgiveness. Surely I could just explain I had had too much to drink, celebrating my upcoming nuptials until the wee hours, and when I fell asleep—"

  Hugh clucked his tongue, shaking his head at the same time.

  Simon began pacing again. "That is not likely to win her favor, is it?"

  "I cannot see how it would. No, you must tear your heart out and present it to her on bended knee, weeping and asking for her eternal mercy."

  "Your fondness for gothic reading material must be curbed," Simon answered with a frown. "And soon."

  "Before your next crisis of the heart?"

  Simon wanted to throttle the man for the sardonic tone of voice. And for putting him in this position. And for making him blame someone else for his own faulty behavior.

  "How did I make such a mess of this?" Simon slumped down in a nearby chair. "It started so perfectly. As though it were decreed by the gods themselves. I swear I fell in love with her at first sight." He sighed. "Or maybe it was that delightful moment when she mocked my flirtation skills—"

  "If I ever have that dreamy quality to my voice when describing a woman I want to bed—"

  Simon scowled at him.

  "Wed," Hugh amended. "A woman I want to wed. March me to the most public spot in Hyde Park and aim my own duelling pistol at my heart."

  "I am an excellent shot, Weyson, but even I am unable to make a direct hit on an invisible target."

  Hugh merely grinned, searching for another treat amongst the food piled on the breakfast table. "It is so amusing, seeing you like this. Who would have ever guessed it?"

  "Certainly not I."

  "Is it possible you slept late to keep from being legshackled?"

  Simon did not even have to think before answering. "That is impossible. I love Georgiana. If I had to face the future without her, I would be—I cannot imagine ever smiling or laughing again if she does not spend the rest of her days with me." He growled. "But she will not permit me to explain. She is never 'at home' to me. What can I do?"

  "The females need grand gestures," Hugh said, choosing amongst delicacies similar to those planned for Simon and Georgiana's wedding breakfast.

  Simon heaved another sigh. On his wedding day he had planned to steal away with his bride and feed her in their bedchamber, seducing her with her favorite tidbits before they spent the entire rest of the day delighting each other. Instead, she had left him in the chapel with a congregation of astonished guests, none more so than he.

  He had been so certain he could win her forgiveness, just by smiling and asking for her indulgence, tempting her with the passion they could scarce wait to explore. What a fool he had been. A prideful, lovesick fool. One who needed to convince her of his undying love, before he spent the next eternity alone.

  Or, God forbid, watching her wed another man one day.

  "Grand gestures?" Simon was willing to try anything to win her back. "Do you have an example?"

  Hugh nodded, and then continued eating.

  "Do you care to enlighten me?" Simon asked with some asperity. "And while you are at it, could you explain why I would be taking marital advice from you, Lord Wastrel himself?"

  Simon knew the ladies clamored for his friend's attention at every social event—and for many more private ones. Hugh was both the most sought after, as well as the most shunned, guest for country house parties, thanks to his rakish behavior and devilish good looks. In short, women of every age found him well nigh irresistible.

  He was precisely the person to be giving advice on how to win a woman's heart.

  Hugh's arched eyebrow delivered the same message.

  "Fine," Simon said. "I am desperate enough to hear you out. Though I cannot imagine I shall meet with success."

  "If it matters so little to you—"

  "So little? My entire future hinges on this campaign. I cannot afford another mistake. I must persuade Georgiana that I shall make an excellent husband."

  "Despite your rakish background." Hugh waved his hand in faux obeisance. "Lord Rakehell."

  Simon growled. "You are enjoying this predicament more than you should. I am nearly convinced you played a large part in this."

  "If I wanted to amuse myself, I would not have to do it at your expense. Besides, I like Georgie. She deserves a great deal better than you."

  When he paused, his head tilted as though considering the possibility of her for himself, Simon glared. "Do not even think it, Weyson. She loves me." He faltered, hoping it was still true. "And I must remind her of that, as well as of my complete devotion to her future happiness."

  Hugh let out a theatrical sigh. "If you insist."

  "I insist. So tell me, what grand gesture will win her hear
t once more?"

  "You are going to the Eversby ball tomorrow?"

  "No! I do not have the stomach to attend any more events this season. The matchmaking mamas—" He dragged a hand through his hair. "It is even worse than before the wedding, since now they believe Lord Rakehell can be tamed by another." He nearly groaned at the thought of dodging all of the matrimonial-minded misses during the upcoming months.

  "That is unfortunate, since I have heard Georgiana may be making an appearance. Her first since your wedding debacle."

  Simon sat up. "You are certain? She has not attended any events this past fortnight."

  "I am well aware," Hugh said drily, "since you have bemoaned that fact each night for the preceding two weeks."

  Simon frowned again, but it only made Hugh laugh harder.

  "So I should attend the Eversby ball," Simon mused.

  Hugh shook his head. "No."

  "No? Then why did you even mention the blasted thing?"

  "You must do more than attend," Hugh said, as if addressing a simpleton. "This is your opportunity to persuade her you have changed—"

  "It has only been a fortnight," Simon scoffed. "Even if a miracle had occurred, she is not likely to believe I have transformed in such a short time. She would box my ears for slighting her intelligence in such a fashion."

  "True," Hugh said, nodding. "Which is why you must rely on the grand gesture."

  "Which would be what precisely?"

  Hugh shrugged. "That is for you to decide. Besides, I might have need of a grand gesture myself one day. But, I have it on good authority that females find it quite enticing when a man grovels with his heart in hand."

  Simon narrowed his eyes. He was not convinced this was the manner in which to prove his love to Georgiana. He had made similar protestations at their wedding, but to no avail. He had sent flowers to her home each day, along with heartfelt letters begging her forgiveness.

  Every single bloom and missive had been returned without a reply.