Page 1 of From Rakes to Riches

A KISS FOR LUCK

JENNIFER ASHLEY

1

Ah, peace.

Lord Guy Lovell settled into an armchair in the little jewel box of a room high in Whitwell House and pulled a cheroot from his pocket. Downstairs, the ballroom thronged with guests—eager-eyed debutantes and their ambitious mamas on the prowl for potential husbands, along with wives and widows who sent sidelong glances at Guy, the bachelor second son of a marquess, with a reputation for pleasing his mistresses.

Here, a clock ticked in the silence, the pack of bloodhounds after the beleaguered fox comfortably far away.

Guy set his booted feet on a footstool, the enormous sleeves of his medieval doublet costume billowing over its arms. The gilt clock on the mantelpiece ticked tiny slices of time as Guy lifted a candle to his cheroot to light it. He leaned back, sending a gentle stream of smoke to the ceiling.

Sanctuary.

At the next tick of the clock, the door to the tiny room burst open, and a young woman darted inside in a flurry of gold and silver. She stopped short on the threshold, her deep blue eyes widening as she caught sight of Guy.

“Oh …Thimbles!”

Her voice was light, airy, beautiful, elegant, and extremely agitated.

Guy removed the cheroot from his mouth and came to his feet. “I beg your?—”

The young woman whirled to flee, halting abruptly when a male voice floated from the direction of the stairs. “Darling? Are you up here? Where are you?Darling?”

Dismay crossed the young woman’s face, and she quickly but silently shut the door.

Guy tamped out the cheroot in an exquisite porcelain bowl. “Madam?—”

The young woman jerked around. “Shhh!” She jammed a frantic finger to her lips.

She had rich brown hair, locks of which fell to a shimmering silver-and-cream striped gown covered by a thin gold lamé cloak. Guy wasn’t certain what her costume was meant to represent, and then decided the fact was irrelevant. She was graceful and charming, glittering when she moved. Her softly rounded face was flushed, red lips parted. An enchantress come to life.

The voice in the corridor grew more petulant as it neared. “My darling, where have you run to? Such a coquette. Youwantme to chase you, don’t you, lovely? When I catch you …”

The young woman, who was the furthest thing from a coquette Guy had seen in many a year, looked utterly appalled.

Footsteps approached. Guy gestured abruptly to a black-lacquered screen on the other side of the room and mouthed, “Hide there.”

The young woman dithered only half a second before she sped to the screen and ducked behind it. Guy waited until the pursuer had almost reached the door when he yanked it open and strode into the hall.

“Darling, there you—” The man’s words cut off as he pulled his gaze from the distance and focused it with difficulty on Guy. “Oh. Lovell. That you, old chap?”

“You may call medarlingif you wish, Wakefield,” Guy drawled as he closed the door behind him. “Though I wouldn’t suggest it at Brooks’s. Fellows would glance at you askance. Probably at me too.”

Wakefield peered at him with confused dark eyes. “Beg your pardon, my dear fellow. Thought you were someone else.”

“Clearly.” Guy surveyed the narrow hall with its lavish gilded molding and paintings of cavorting goddesses on the ceiling. “Who are you searching for? Who isDarling?”

“Oh. Er.” Wakefield’s face grew an unhealthy red color. “Not important.”

Hector Wakefield was a young dandy who believed he set fashion as a popular man-about-Town. Tonight, he’d eschewed becoming a Shakespearean character in favor of black close-fitting trousers, à la Brummell, topped with a lemon-yellow waistcoat and green cravat. Brummell thought Wakefield an idiot.

Guy leaned one arm on the doorframe, not about to let Wakefield into the room behind him. “Your errand must have been important for you to climb all the way to the top floor. The ball is downstairs.”

Wakefield vacillated and then apparently decided that attack was his best defense. “What areyoudoing up here, Lovell? Come for a tryst, have you? Are you hiding Mrs. Cooke in there?” His face softened. “Such a beauty, is she not?”

Guy forced a grin. “So that is who you are after. Are you a fool? And no, I am not conducting liaisons with lovely young widows but seeking a bit of solitude. There’s a crush below, if you hadn’t noticed.”

---