Taming Wilde (Waltzing with the Wallflower #3)(12)

Colin cleared his throat. “You see if I just lean against the door here…” He motioned to Anthony who rolled his eyes and leaned his back against the door as well. “And then move like so…” Colin shifted from left to right making sure to be gentle about the noise so the ladies in the other room would not catch them spying. “You’ll notice I’ve done a very efficient job of—”

“Making a mess of yourself, yes, yes you have.” Ambrose shook his head. “What the devil is going on here? You two were at each other’s throats last evening and now you look thick as thieves.”

“It is quite simple, really.” Colin stepped away from the door. “He is going to teach me how to become a rake.”

“I take it the journal hasn’t been as helpful as you originally thought.” Ambrose laughed.

“It is working just fine.” Colin glared. “But not as fast as I would like. We know how much better I do with demonstration.”

Ambrose shook his head. “I’m painfully aware of how you seek your knowledge. Was it not just last year that Anthony tried to teach you how to kiss a woman?”

“Yes, and he used a hunting analogy. Quite ingenious,” Colin added, though since then, every time he went on a hunt he could not help but think of kissing, which meant he thought of Gemma, which led to him feeling empty and rejected once again. She had taken the fun out of everything in his life.

Ambrose’s eyebrows pinched together. “I admit I am still at a loss as to why you are both staring at the door as if it is suddenly going to burst into flames.”

“He’s spying.” Anthony pointed at Colin and shrugged. “And I am, um… supervising.”

“Spying on whom?”

Colin sighed. “It seems Lady Bridget is going to help Lady Gemma seduce a rake.”

At that, Ambrose burst out laughing.

A commotion was heard inside the room.

“They are going to hear us!” Colin half-whispered, half-yelled. “Quick, Anthony, Ambrose, do something!”

He did not even see the fist coming as it sliced across his jaw, sending him to the floor. Colin cursed a blue streak as the pain radiated to the back of his skull. The door swung open, revealing Bridget and Gemma, looking both smug and irritated.

“And that, gentlemen, is how to eliminate your competition!” Anthony shouted.

“Bravo,” Colin said through clenched teeth.

Ambrose clapped in mock amazement. “That was quite brilliant, Anthony.”

“Well.” Anthony offered a hand to help Colin from the floor. “We are off. There is much plundering, pillaging, and drinking to be done!”

“Huzzah!” all men said in unison.

“Are they planning to become pirates?” Lady Gemma asked Lady Maddox as the men slapped each other on the back.

“Worse, I’m afraid.” Lady Maddox sighed. “They are merely acting like themselves.” She shrugged and winked in Colin’s direction as though she wanted to reassure him. But nothing could help him anymore.

He would become a rake if it killed him. And it just might, by the measure of Anthony’s wallop. For he wasn’t sure he had what it took to be the type of rake he needed to be in order to sufficiently push Gemma out of his system. But he was going to try. By the saints, he was going to try.





Chapter Six


If a man truly desires to be a rake, he must at all times appear inebriated. It gives women the idea that he does not care a whit about propriety or society’s rules. I remember at one time being guilty of dousing my clothes in alcohol merely to suggest that I had been out gambling and whoring all night rather than nursing a head cold. A rake can never be too careful. Many years ago a certain gentleman turned rake, forgot this little rule, and was discovered drinking tea at a gambling hell. Tea! The next day he was laughed out of the country. So you see my point. Liquor, my friends, liquor. —The Private Journal of Viscount Maddox



“Are you sure this is wise?” Colin asked the following night at Beaumont’s dinner party.

“But of course,” Anthony assured him. “After all, you are halfway there. To be a true rake you must not be too polite, yet your smile must always be given freely to women.”

Colin smiled.

Anthony shuddered. “Not like that; a man only smiles that wide when he wants one thing, and it isn’t a woman. No, it’s a good clout to the jaw. Now watch.”

Anthony demonstrated the perfect rakish smile. Colin followed his example.

“I think you’ve got it.” Anthony stepped back. “I have nothing left to teach you. Go on, young friend, find a willing woman, enjoy your drink, and do try to appear as if you are not still pining over Lady Gemma.”

“Done.” Colin smiled and left Anthony in search of a willing woman, one who would not only spread rumors of his rakish charm, but kiss away the pain of Lady Gemma’s rejection. He took a turn about the room and froze.

Gemma was leaning against the wall, pinned was more like it, by a lothario of the first order, Sir Ainsworth, not the most dangerous of the group, but clearly not the type of man Gemma should be consorting with.

Without thinking, Colin pushed his way through the crowds and approached Gemma. He hated that he felt the need to rescue her, but clearly she was in over her head.