The Love of a Rogue (The Heart of a Duke #3)(12)

“A family friend,” he reminded her. “And if you are this polite, it is no wonder that he—”

Imogen shot a hand out and cracked him on the cheek with her palm.

The force of her blow sent his head reeling to the side. He flexed his jaw. Well, the lady could deliver quite a blow, and if he were being truthful with himself, it was a well-deserved one.

Horror filled her face. “I… Oh my… I …” Usually such stammering and incoherence was reserved for behind chamber doors. Though he suspected he’d have more of a likelihood of rousing such sentiments in any one of the most staid matrons at Almack’s than this disapproving, young lady.

He waved a hand. “No apologies are necessary, my lady.” Imogen, with her proud indignation, rose in his estimation. “That was uncalled for on my part.” He’d not debate the veracity of his words with her on the merits of ladies of the ton who carefully guarded their reputations and, when they eventually married, sought out the spare to an heir.

“It was,” Imogen said unapologetically. “Rude of you, that is.” She clasped her hands together and studied the interlocked digits. “Still, it would not do to hit you, Lord…Alex,” she amended at his pointed look.

“I have it!”

Their gazes swung in unison to the door. Chloe brandished a copy of the scandal page, a triumphant glimmer in her eyes. Then her smile died. She looked back and forth between him and Imogen. “What is it?”

Alex sketched a low bow. “Imogen was merely saying how anxious she was to begin your plan.” Whatever cracked scheme his sister had concocted.

Imogen’s eyebrows shot up.

“Splendid,” Chloe said with a widening smile.

Alex winked at Imogen and took his leave. At last, he knew what could be a good deal worse than being tasked with the role of chaperone.

It would be serving as a chaperone to that tart-mouthed, fiery crimson-curled, young lady.





Chapter 4

The following afternoon, in the marble foyer of his brother’s home, Alex pulled out his watch fob and consulted the gold timepiece. She was late. Nearly thirty-minutes late, and he noted that particular detail not because he gave a jot about timeliness or any such nonsense, but rather, until he saw to his responsibility, then he was otherwise prevented from spending his day as he wished—at his faro tables with a delectable beauty his only desired company for the night.

With a silent curse, he glanced up the staircase for a hint of his sister, damning Gabriel to the devil for the thousandth time that day. Chaperone. On a trip to Bond Street. Alex shuddered. The devil was likely exacting his due for all the sinful deeds Alex had been guilty of through the years. Bedding widows and other lightskirts. The excessive wagering. Oh, he had little plan to cease his roguish ways, but he could appreciate that his brother sought to punish the badness out of him.

Hadn’t Gabriel realized their father had tried at that? Tried and failed. Alex gave his head a disgusted shake. He should be at Forbidden Pleasures, a crimson beauty with a lush mouth and blue eyes curled on his lap. The rapid flow of thoughts came to a jarring halt. “Where in hell did that come from?”

“Where did what come from, sir?” the old, grey-haired butler asked in nasal tones.

He spun about. “Bloody hell, Joseph, must you scare a man?”

The ghost of a smile played about the lips of the servant who’d been with their family since the old monster of a marquess had been alive and in power, beating his children and… “My apologies, sir.” He held out Alex’s cloak.

With a murmured “thanks”, Alex shrugged into it. He shot another look up the staircase just as his sister appeared. “I’m so very glad you are able to join me.”

Joseph grinned, coughing into his hand to hide the expression of amusement.

Either ignoring or failing to hear his droll words, his sister bounded down the steps with a lack of ladylike decorum that would have shocked their mother. Alex had ceased being shocked by anyone and anything when he’d been a child who’d felt the fury of his father’s fists.

“Alex,” she greeted with a smile, as a footman rushed over with her cloak. “I hope you were not waiting long.”

“I was.” For a shopping trip that he wanted nothing to do with. The only shops he visited were to select fine baubles for well-sated mistresses, not wherever it is unwed innocents like his sister visited.

Joseph pulled the door open.

As though she’d not heard the dry reproach in his words, Chloe sailed outside and made her way to the waiting carriage. “I’m quite looking forward to our trip shopping.”

“You’ve never enjoyed a trip to Bond Street,” he mumbled. Not as a small girl when he’d thought to do a brotherly good deed and take her to the Bond Street Bazaar and not when she’d been a lady who’d made her Come Out and he’d escorted her one last time for a bonnet. Or had it been a ribbon?

Chloe beamed and tugged on her gloves. “No, that is true.” With that odd statement, she continued on, prattling about their plans for the afternoon, and then the evening, and then tomorrow evening and…God help him. They reached the front of the carriage and she gave a set of directions to the driver. She resumed her blurred ramblings. “…First we shall collect Imogen and…”