Page 6
Story: From Rakes to Riches
“Very well.” Ashford gave him a cool nod. “I believe your sister is seeking you, Sir Ronald.”
Sir Ronald let out an aggrieved sigh. “She ever hunts for me, believing me up to no good. Has since we were five years old, though I wager you cannot imagine me as a chubby lad. Ta-ta, my friends.”
He fluttered a hand and began his bustle across the room—in the opposite direction from where his sister stood, Gemma noted. As he went, Sir Ronald grasped another gentleman by the lapel, pulling him aside to whisper his latest delicious gossip.
Did you see?Gemma wagered he was saying.Gemma Cooke and Sir Guy Lovell. Well, I never.
Guy held out his colorful arm to Gemma. “May I escort you, my dear? To avoid more collisions with well-padded obstacles?”
Gemma’s flush would not retreat. “I am trying to reach my aunt. Well, she is not strictlymyaunt, but …”
“Excellent. Let us seek her.” Guy turned to his friend. “Thank you, Ash. Your glowering countenance was just the antidote needed for the poison that is Sir Ronald Pugh.”
Ashford frowned at Guy’s humor and bowed courteously to Gemma. “Mrs. Cooke. My wife sends you her best wishes.”
“Thank you.” Gemma slipped her hand through the crook of Guy’s elbow. Warmth cascaded through her at the sensation of firm flesh beneath the silk. “Please greet Helena fondly for me and tell her I will pay a call on her soon.”
“I will do so.”
Ashford bowed a second time, and Gemma bent her knees in a hurried curtsy. She liked how steadily Guy’s arm held her as she did so.
The duke left them, the crowd parting for him and his long stride.
“The epitome of good manners, is Ash,” Guy said. “He ever tries to make me emulate him, but unfortunately I cannot maintain a straight countenance when I do so. I’m a frivolous being, I am afraid. You can discern this by the clothes I wear.”
Gemma felt giggles welling up inside her, giggles that hadn’t formed since she’d been Sonia’s age. She strove to suppress them, and they came out as a cough.
“Are you well, Mrs. Cooke? Perhaps a turn on the terrace? It is roasting hot in here.”
“Best not.” Gemma glanced at the ladies and gentlemen who stared as she and Lord Guy strolled past. “Sir Ronald already is beginning to circulate his stories, whether true or false.”
“That you and I were upstairs alone in a chamber? That storyistrue, as you know. The fact that we stood across the room from each other and spoke in halting politenesses will not be gleaned, I wager.” Guy heaved an exaggerated sigh. “Nothing for it. We must dance together.”
“We must? Why?”
“Because, first, it will be an excellent way to throw off any of your other unwelcome suitors. Second, if we dance, this will demonstrate that we are friends, fond of each other. Better an open interest than a clandestine meeting. If we are notembarrassed or secretive, then the speculators might conclude we’d done nothing untoward.”
“I am not certain I follow your logic, but I agree.” Gemma kept her gaze straight ahead and pretended not to notice the stares, the fans. Flitter-flutter. Whisper, whisper.
“Agree that we are not embarrassed?”
“To the dance,” Gemma said hastily. “I am very much embarrassed, yes.”
“Nonsense. We have done nothing shocking at all, and Sir Ronald has no evidence. If it will cool your cheeks, imagine our dear Sir Ronald as he bade us to, as a chubby lad of five years, fleeing his formidable older sister.”
The image flashed through Gemma’s head of a boy standing in the long grass of a meadow, peering fearfully through the stalks as a girl called his name. The trouble was, the little boy had the face of Sir Ronald as he was now, complete with beard.
She burst out laughing and quickly lifted her fan to cover her mouth. Guy winked at her.
He led her to one of the lines forming in the middle of the floor for the next country dance. The ballroom was enormous, with room for three separate columns of dancers.
Guy and Gemma joined the middle row, facing each other across a few feet of polished floor.
The orchestra began, and the ladies and gentlemen curtsied and bowed. Gemma caught the quick rhythm, and her slippers tapped. She loved to dance.
A few beats later, Guy’s hand came out, and Gemma went forward to meet it. He spun her around him, and handed her back to her place, then she went to the gentleman at her right corner while Guy approached that gentleman’s partner.
She and her gentleman switched positions and soon she was paired with Guy again as they promenaded down the line and around to a new place.
Sir Ronald let out an aggrieved sigh. “She ever hunts for me, believing me up to no good. Has since we were five years old, though I wager you cannot imagine me as a chubby lad. Ta-ta, my friends.”
He fluttered a hand and began his bustle across the room—in the opposite direction from where his sister stood, Gemma noted. As he went, Sir Ronald grasped another gentleman by the lapel, pulling him aside to whisper his latest delicious gossip.
Did you see?Gemma wagered he was saying.Gemma Cooke and Sir Guy Lovell. Well, I never.
Guy held out his colorful arm to Gemma. “May I escort you, my dear? To avoid more collisions with well-padded obstacles?”
Gemma’s flush would not retreat. “I am trying to reach my aunt. Well, she is not strictlymyaunt, but …”
“Excellent. Let us seek her.” Guy turned to his friend. “Thank you, Ash. Your glowering countenance was just the antidote needed for the poison that is Sir Ronald Pugh.”
Ashford frowned at Guy’s humor and bowed courteously to Gemma. “Mrs. Cooke. My wife sends you her best wishes.”
“Thank you.” Gemma slipped her hand through the crook of Guy’s elbow. Warmth cascaded through her at the sensation of firm flesh beneath the silk. “Please greet Helena fondly for me and tell her I will pay a call on her soon.”
“I will do so.”
Ashford bowed a second time, and Gemma bent her knees in a hurried curtsy. She liked how steadily Guy’s arm held her as she did so.
The duke left them, the crowd parting for him and his long stride.
“The epitome of good manners, is Ash,” Guy said. “He ever tries to make me emulate him, but unfortunately I cannot maintain a straight countenance when I do so. I’m a frivolous being, I am afraid. You can discern this by the clothes I wear.”
Gemma felt giggles welling up inside her, giggles that hadn’t formed since she’d been Sonia’s age. She strove to suppress them, and they came out as a cough.
“Are you well, Mrs. Cooke? Perhaps a turn on the terrace? It is roasting hot in here.”
“Best not.” Gemma glanced at the ladies and gentlemen who stared as she and Lord Guy strolled past. “Sir Ronald already is beginning to circulate his stories, whether true or false.”
“That you and I were upstairs alone in a chamber? That storyistrue, as you know. The fact that we stood across the room from each other and spoke in halting politenesses will not be gleaned, I wager.” Guy heaved an exaggerated sigh. “Nothing for it. We must dance together.”
“We must? Why?”
“Because, first, it will be an excellent way to throw off any of your other unwelcome suitors. Second, if we dance, this will demonstrate that we are friends, fond of each other. Better an open interest than a clandestine meeting. If we are notembarrassed or secretive, then the speculators might conclude we’d done nothing untoward.”
“I am not certain I follow your logic, but I agree.” Gemma kept her gaze straight ahead and pretended not to notice the stares, the fans. Flitter-flutter. Whisper, whisper.
“Agree that we are not embarrassed?”
“To the dance,” Gemma said hastily. “I am very much embarrassed, yes.”
“Nonsense. We have done nothing shocking at all, and Sir Ronald has no evidence. If it will cool your cheeks, imagine our dear Sir Ronald as he bade us to, as a chubby lad of five years, fleeing his formidable older sister.”
The image flashed through Gemma’s head of a boy standing in the long grass of a meadow, peering fearfully through the stalks as a girl called his name. The trouble was, the little boy had the face of Sir Ronald as he was now, complete with beard.
She burst out laughing and quickly lifted her fan to cover her mouth. Guy winked at her.
He led her to one of the lines forming in the middle of the floor for the next country dance. The ballroom was enormous, with room for three separate columns of dancers.
Guy and Gemma joined the middle row, facing each other across a few feet of polished floor.
The orchestra began, and the ladies and gentlemen curtsied and bowed. Gemma caught the quick rhythm, and her slippers tapped. She loved to dance.
A few beats later, Guy’s hand came out, and Gemma went forward to meet it. He spun her around him, and handed her back to her place, then she went to the gentleman at her right corner while Guy approached that gentleman’s partner.
She and her gentleman switched positions and soon she was paired with Guy again as they promenaded down the line and around to a new place.
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