Page 3 of The Rake I Wished For
Though not for long.
“So three weeks then,” Harlow said, as if picking up on her thoughts.
“If that suits you,” she answered.
He made a soft snorting noise as he glanced up at her, head still tilted down. “Let’s not pretend I have a say in the matter, hmm?”
She swallowed a laugh. “Fine. Three weeks then.”
He sighed and moved his rook without looking.
She glanced down and frowned. “Blast.”
Harlow tsked. “Jo, really. Language!”
She laughed aloud then, she couldn’t help it. He sounded too ridiculous when he mimicked her old nanny. Though her nanny hadn’t called her Jo. No one did except for Harlow, and he only used the silly nickname because it drove her mad.
“You’ll never win this time, JoJo,” he said with a smirk, doubling down on the nickname.
“Whatever you say,John,” she teased.
He curled his lip in a sneer that made her grin.
No one called him John. It was his father’s name, not his. That’s what he always said. And his father was hardly a man for whom he wished to be mistaken. Jocelyn hadn’t met him, but according to Liam, the man was a drunk, and a mean one at that. And he’d given Harlow nothing but a name.
Which, Harlow often pointed out, he was grateful for.At least I’m thelegitimateson of a penniless baronet,he’d say, making everyone laugh.
He was terribly good at making everyone laugh. Especially her.
“And you’ll talk to him, yes?” she said as she studied the board once more.
“Of course,” he replied.
It was always like this between them. Conversations picked up mid-stream as if they’d never been interrupted. They’d once gone weeks without seeing each other, then instantly struck up a bickering match precisely where they’d left off.
She made her next move and then leaned back to study him. Much as he teased that he didn’t have a say in the matter, Harlow could leave for Liam’s country estate and escape the London heat whenever he wished. “Are you certain you don’t mind waiting?”
He arched a brow in surprise as he glanced up and then his expression to one that could best be described as, well…wolfish. “Trust me, love, I have plenty to keep me occupied in London.”
She rolled her eyes. “No details, please. Save it for your friends at the club.”
He chuckled and went back to perusing the board.
Jocelyn could admit, a small part of her was curious to hear the details. From gossip she’d overheard over the years, and conversations she’d had with her brother, she knew quite well that Harlow was considered a rake.
He’d never ruined a lady’s reputation or been called out in a duel, or anything so sordid as that. But he’d always loved gaming hells and gentlemen’s clubs and, well…
Most likely other places to which she wasn’t privy.
But Jocelyn was hard pressed to say how much of his reputation was warranted and how much was just Harlow being…well…Harlow.
“I have no issue escorting you to the country in three weeks’ time,” Harlow said distractedly as his gaze roamed over the pieces before him. “But don’t think for a moment I believe your story.”
Jocelyn blinked in surprise when his gaze lifted, his smile small and knowing.
“What story?”
He arched a brow, silently calling her out for the feigned innocence act. “You want to stay behind at the finishing school…just so Liam and Rose can have some time alone?”
