A Rake Like You
by Becky Michaels
About to turn thirty, Charles Finch finally realizes his luck has run out. He’s twenty thousand pounds in debt, his entire family hates him, and the powerful Duke of Rutley is watching his every move. So Charles sets out to do what any handsome but impoverished earl would: find a young lady with an impressive dowry to marry him and replenish his coffers.
Louisa Strickland much prefers managing the successful estate her father left her to the company of society. But now that her younger sister has come of age, Louisa finds herself in Mayfair, forced to protect her family from desperate fortune hunters like her neighbor, Charles Finch. And when Charles sets his sights on Louisa’s sister, Louisa will do anything to avert his attention elsewhere.
As Charles and Louisa find themselves rekindling an old friendship that once went up in flames, Charles begins to wonder if there could be something more between them. He only needs to prove he’s not the man he once was. But unfortunately for Charles, it will take much more than passionate kisses and giving up brandy to convince independent Louisa to marry a rake like him.
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Chapter Seven
Louisa walked away from Philip Hayward feeling irritated and
embarrassed, muttering a multitude of oaths against men under her breath. She
had never received such individual attention from someone so handsome before,
but then to find out he was married? From Charles Finch, of all people? She
cursed her rotten luck. Charles was surely gloating inwardly at that very
moment.
She discreetly checked over her shoulder to see if the earl was
still following them. He was. Quietly huffing, Louisa stopped walking and
turned to her sister. “Perhaps you ought to go find your mother. She will be
wondering how your dance with Lord Bolton went.”
Flora frowned. “But what about Lady Rosamund? You said she might
know something about Viscount Fitzgerald.”
By then, Charles had caught up to them, slowing as the two girls
spoke furtively by one of the columns at the edge of the ballroom. Charles
flashed a pleasant smile, but Louisa eyed him suspiciously before turning back
to her sister, whispering, “I will report back what I learn in the carriage
later this evening. Until then, you should allow your mother to show you off to
other suitors.” Despite whispering, Louisa wasn’t really trying to be discreet.
She shot a pointed look at Charles, who frowned. “You mustn’t put all of your
eggs in one basket, after all.”
Flora let out an unladylike sound, but Louisa silenced her with a
warning look. Even if Louisa didn’t want Charles marrying her sister, Flora
still must act like a lady around him. Men talked to other men, after
all—especially men like Charles. Flora turned to him, offering a quick curtsey
in his direction. “Thank you for the dance, Lord Bolton.”
He bowed, then watched her go. When Flora was out of earshot,
Louisa turned to him, finally free to speak what she was feeling. “You did that
on purpose, didn’t you?”
Charles looked at her, his brow furrowed as if he didn’t quite
understand, though Louisa suspected he did. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
“Must you be so thick skulled?” Louisa asked. When Charles still did
not give any sign of understanding, she felt her hands starting to curl into
tiny fists at her side. “You asked him about his wife to embarrass me!”
His face fell. “That couldn’t be further from the truth,” he
argued. Louisa shot him an unconvinced look. “I only brought it up because I
doubted he told you himself. What were you thinking dancing with a man like
that? Have you any care for your reputation? You are lucky I was there to
rescue you.”
Louisa wasn’t sure what Charles meant. Hayward seemed no different
from anyone else she might meet in a London ballroom: overly conceited and
self-important. “And what sort of man is Mr. Hayward? I have never heard of
him.”
“He only owns the most notorious gaming hell in all of London,”
Charles said, his voice low. “I would not advise dancing with him again.”
Louisa made a tiny sound of frustration, looking away. This was
why she hated society. If a handsome gentleman asked one to dance, one could
not say no for fear of being rude. But handsome gentlemen did not exactly come
with warnings that they were married and owned a notorious gaming hell.
Oh, why must society dealings be so complicated?
Louisa sighed, finally meeting Charles’s inquisitive gaze. “Who do
you advise I dance with, then? Is anyone acceptable to you? Or is a spinster
having a spot of fun with someone truly that shocking?”
“You could dance with me,” Charles said with a shrug.
She laughed. “I highly doubt that would be enjoyable for either
one of us.”
Charles stared at her for a long moment, and then he leaned in to
say something in her ear. Right away, Louisa could tell he smelled different.
Gone was the odor of expensive brandy, since replaced with a mixture of fresh
laundry and unoffensive cologne. She found herself so surprised by it she could
hardly move, allowing his warm breath to assault her ear as he spoke.
“I am only looking out for you, Louisa,” Charles said. He pulled
away, their eyes meeting. For a brief moment, she softened toward him. The back
of her mind told her she would regret it, but she stupidly ignored it. “You are
far too innocent to understand what sort of fun Hayward enjoys.”
Her face fell when she realized the back of her mind had been
correct. “Innocent? Innocent?” She made a half-hearted attempt to
mollify her anger but failed miserably. Her nostrils flared. “What do you know
of my innocence? Need I remind you that I once caught you ravishing an opera
singer in your aunt’s library? Do you truly think I am so innocent that I do
not understand what sort of fun a man truly wants?”
Louisa thought she saw the beginnings of a blush forming on the earl’s cheeks. “I’d hoped you had forgotten about that,” he mumbled.
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