The Rakehell Regency Romance Collection Volume 2(256)

Blake did not get out of the carriage immediately, but stalled for time by adjusting his cuffs and cravat shakily.



Damn. Blake had no idea how he was going to manage to maintain his composure in front of Randall given the huge secret he had undertaken to keep on Michael's behalf.



Blake's consciousness of his own deception was almost painful. But he had given his word...



Even worse, Matthew and Randall were rakes of the first order. Despite having been decent enough during their school days as part of the Rakehell set, once they had gone up to Oxford, they had fallen prey to all manner of temptations, and the chaste and devout young men had suddenly taken up the petticoat line.



"You look fine," she said after a time, when he continued to adjust his toilette but made no move to exit the vehicle.



She reached out to smooth down his cravat. He sat back with a hiss of sucked in breath as though burnt.



"Thank you, I can manage," he said in a tone which was unmistakably curt.



His reaction was not lost upon Arabella. She took it to be revulsion rather than panic, and shrank back into her seat once more.



Blake felt sure if he allowed her to touch him he would spontaneously combust. He also knew his delaying tactic here in the carriage would only forestall the inevitable, and sat back in his seat looking gloomy for a time.



Lady Pemberton's nephew was a real connoisseur of women, but at least if they did not enter together Matthew Dane would not have the chance to take Arabella over all night. He would naturally avoid Randall like the plague, without making it too obvious if he could possibly help it. They were all supposed to be friends, after all.



She looked at Blake levelly, then scrutinised her own ensemble while she waited. She peeped out the window.



"I think the men you are seeking to avoid will have cleared the hall by now. If I may stay with you to learn more about wine, that would be most interesting."



He looked at her in surprise. My, she was perceptive. And wine?



"It is not normally a subject upon which ladies are expected to be well informed, but if you would really like to know-"



She offered him her hand with a nod. "Really."



He took her hand and gave her a tight smile. "Very well, then. Off we go."



It would have been fair to say you could have knocked Lady Pemberton over with a feather when she saw Blake arrive with Arabella upon his arm.



"Bless my soul, my dear boy, I could not be more delighted! What a beauty! And I imagine she has a great deal of intelligence and fire. Just what you need to make your life complete."



His eyes rolled Heavenward, but he said in an even tone, "Yes, I have always been fond of children, so now indeed my life is complete. Please allow me to introduce my ward. Lady Pemberton, Miss Arabella Neville. Peter Davison's step-sister, don't you know."



Lady Pemberton, a well-preserved woman in her late forties with pale brown hair, if anything looked even more thunderstruck. "Ward, you say. Why-"



"Peter has been sent to India, Lady Pemberton," she supplied quickly, "so Dr. Sanderson here has been kind enough to undertake the completion of my education and upbringing."

"Very noble, I'm sure," she said, flabbergasted. Did the man not have eyes in his head?



"Have you a suitable chaperone for her? Not-"



Lady Radcliffe cut off her own sentence as her eyes flew even wider. Surely he would not use this young girl as an excuse to move in that doxy-



"Yes, Mrs. Evans, my near neighbour, has kindly agreed to undertake the role of duenna."



Lady Radcliffe's ample bosom, clad in navy blue silk, deflated with relief. "Well then, all I can say is welcome to you both, best wishes, and I hope you have an enjoyable evening."



"Thank you. I am sure we shall. Happy New Year." He bowed. "And now, as promised, I shall go see about the wine for you."



"Thank you, my boy. Come this way then, dear. I'll introduce you to my nephew-"



"That is kind of you, but I think I ought to help my guardian," Arabella said quickly, bestowing upon the older woman such a gracious smile that she could not possbily be annoyed.



With a polite curtsey, she took the hand Blake raised up to waist level and swept into the drawing room where the refreshments were being arranged.



Lady Pemberton stared after them. Guardian and ward indeed. They were the most handsome couple she had ever seen. Why, even their ensembles matched. Could he possibly-



But he had told her himself that she was his ward, and the girl had concurred in the tale, one which could easily be verified.



And she really had no reason to mistrust Dr. Sanderson's word upon the matter. He was a most upright young man, for all he had wasted time with that trull Leonore Ross, and devoted his time to fallen women in the East End of London.