Page 30 of Every Rake Has A Silver Lining

“Oooh, Simon.” His eldest sister, Rebecca, turned toward him from where she had been admiring a portrait. His own situation made him wonder why, at three and twenty, she still hadn’t married. She was pretty enough. Of course, he found all women were pretty, and being his sister, he may have been a trifle biased.

“Yes,” Simon answered, reluctant to put forth too many details at the moment. He’d prefer they not make any judgments before meeting his intended. “Her brother is a marquess. And to answer Georgie’s question, yes, she’s very pretty with her dark hair and eyes. Fair warning, she’s a bit prickly. Outspoken, too.”

Frannie, his third eldest sister, straightened. “Did the duke introduce you?”

“In a manner of speaking. She attended Drake’s house party last summer.”

Smoothing her skirts, his mother gave himthe look. “I’m still disappointed in both you and His Grace for that act of duplicity. But I suppose since it worked out well . . .”

Like a naughty schoolboy, he grinned at her. “It was all Drake’s idea.”

“Really, Simon. You should show more respect. He’s a duke.” Always the odd woman out, Beth’s serious nature brought him to task.

“He doesn’t mind. Truly. I think if he’d had his way, he would have allowed me to continue acting as duke in his stead.”

“Thank heavens he didn’t.”

His head swung toward the door at the seductive alto. A teasing smile tilted her lips, and color rose to her cheeks. “Charlotte! You’re back.” Both he and his father bolted from their seats.

Charlotte’s gaze flitted to each of his sisters, finally piercinghim with her dark eyes. Lord, those eyes pulled him in and dragged him under until he struggled to breathe.

Georgie let out a little, “Oooh. You’re in trouble.”

More trouble than his adorable, rambunctious sister realized.

A seaof dark heads and laughing voices swelled before Charlotte. Panic knotted in her throat as seven smiling faces turned toward her. Were they all like her future husband? How would she endure so much ebullience all at once? All the happiness—thejoywould suffocate her. How could she trust so manynicepeople?

When Frampton had told her Simon was in the large parlor, she’d only wanted to tell him she had returned from the modiste. Even though Simon offered to take her in his phaeton, she insisted on going by herself, having barely survived Simon’s reckless driving previously. But at that moment, she’d wished she had simply gone straight to her room.

The older woman among the tide of females rose and approached, her hands outstretched in greeting. “My dear Lady Charlotte. Simon’s description of you pales in comparison to reality.” As the woman clasped Charlotte’s hands in her own, she turned toward the older gentleman. “She’s lovely, Teddy, isn’t she?”

“Indeed,” the man, who could only be Simon’s father, answered. Although older, he had the same merry blue eyes and handsome face. “Our son has acquired himself a diamond, Judith.”

Charlotte’s gaze snapped toward Simon. What in the world had he told them?

The man himself slithered up to her. “Lady Charlotte, may I present my mother, Mrs. Judith Beckham and my father, Mr. Theodore Beckham.”

A girl about ten or twelve—Charlotte was terrible with the ages of children—rushed up, grabbing Simon’s arm. “Me next, me next.”

“Georgie hates that as the youngest, she’s always introduced last.” He gazed down at the girl, his eyes filled with such affection it squeezed what Charlotte imagined was her heart. “This bit of fluff is my sister Georgina. But even at the ripe age of twelve, she prefers to be called Georgie. I think she was Father’s last attempt at another son, and she’s trying to accommodate him.”

The elder Mr. Beckham chuffed a laugh.

Charlotte thought Georgie was rather like a young Anne Weatherby. If so, Mr. Beckham had his hands full, poor man. “I’m pleased to meet you, Georgie.”

Simon continued the introductions.

Rebecca, the eldest, executed a perfect curtsy. Simon teased her that he would have to find her a husband because she was growing dangerously close to being on the shelf. “Why soon, you’ll be Charlotte’s age. How old are you again,darling?”

Charlotte glowered daggers at him, hoping one would land directly in his chest.

Beth, the second eldest, announced she was very pleased to meet a woman who could tolerate her brother enough to marry him.

“Whether I can tolerate him is yet to be determined, Miss Beth.” Charlotte stole a peek toward her intended, dismayed when he had no reaction.

“Oh, don’t change your mind,” fifteen-year-old Kate said, a genuine pleading in her voice. “Mama has been so worried he would never marry. Papa can’t live forever, you know.”

Mr. Beckham coughed. “Don’t bring out the shovel yet, Katie girl.”

---