A Rake's Ruin (Devilish Lords #1)(17)

And if she were ready to marry?

He waved the thought aside as he murmured the appropriate niceties to her and her family.

He already knew the answer. Even if she were ready for marriage, she would not choose him. That much she had made clear.

As he walked away he imagined he could feel her eyes on his back following his departure.

She would be safe here with her family, all right.

Safe from Swattle…and safe from him.





Chapter Five





This wasn’t right at all. Claire toyed with her fan, barely listening to Georgie prattle on about the gowns and the music. How could she concentrate when her mind and body were in such turmoil?

She’d only half listened as Galwin greeted her sister and bid his farewells. She’d been too busy trying to figure out what else she ought to say. The way they’d left things felt unfinished. She felt unsettled. Incomplete, even. As though she should have said something she did not, or perhaps done something…but what? All eyes had been focused on them. She’d been aware the entire time they’d danced of the prying eyes and the listening ears.

Well, not all of the time. Every so often he’d said something that had jolted her out of the moment, making her temporarily forget where they were and why.

“Claire.” Georgie’s voice interrupted her runaway thoughts, bringing her back to the moment once more. Her sister was watching her with concern. “Do you feel well? You look as though—”

“Fine. Fine,” she said, waving away her sister’s concern. “Just a bit overheated, that is all.”

Her sister’s pretty lips pursed with worry. “Perhaps we ought to step outside for some air. Would you like to take a turn in the gardens?”

Claire shook her head quickly. Heavens, anywhere but the gardens. She might not know much about covering her tracks but she knew well enough not to return to the scene of the crime. And sneaking back in to the ball with only a known rake as her companion? That was certainly the ton’s notion of a crime.

“I’m fine now,” she said again to Georgie. “I promise.”

Georgie hesitated for a moment before launching back into her gossip where she had left off. Something about her rival Mary Beaucraft’s jealousy over Anne’s good fortune. It seemed even that sourpuss Mary had been forced to admit that Anne’s ball was a rousing success.

Claire ignored her sister once more. Yes, yes. The ball was a success. They’d agreed as much hours earlier. Before she’d taken her reputation in hand and nearly destroyed it. Before she’d shocked the life out of herself by not only following her brother and Galwin, but by kissing him. She pressed her lips together at the memory of his lips crushing down on hers.

Or allowing him to kiss her, at the very least. Perhaps she had not instigated the kiss but she had done nothing to stop it. She nibbled on her lower lip as she remembered just how avidly she had participated.

Very well, perhaps she was equally at fault. Though she had a difficult time summoning up any sort of guilt over her part in the mistake.

And it had been a mistake, she reminded herself.

A beautiful, perfect, life-changing mistake.

It was also a mistake that could not be repeated. She told herself this sternly, her inner voice sounding remarkably like their former governess.

Why not?

That was the new voice talking, the one that had declared tonight a fresh start for Claire Cleveland. That was the voice that had also said ‘why not?’ to the thought of chasing after her brother in the dirty streets of London. It had been the voice that had squelched all protests when Galwin’s lips had met hers.

It was a dangerous voice, made all the more so since it had been caged away for all these years. She had never had much of a rebellious streak. She had never gone through those phases she had watched her siblings go through where they pushed the boundaries and defied the rules. Never. Not once.

Until tonight.

Perhaps she was a late bloomer, after all. She stifled a laugh at the thought. That was another phrase of her mother’s, the one she’d used when she would marvel at how well her eldest daughter had turned out despite those gangly, awkward years around ages ten and eleven.

Thank goodness you outgrew those hideous freckles, she’d say in front of Anne and Georgie, who both had freckles, though hideous they were not.

Claire had always hated moments like that. Those times when her mother made it abominably clear that Claire was her favorite and the rest were either tolerated, like Georgie, or ignored entirely, like Anne.

There were seven Cleveland siblings, and only four of them legitimate. Not that it was common knowledge or confirmed fact in any way. Their mother had taken in her philandering husband’s offspring and raised them as her own, ostensibly. Outside the house it would seem as though they were all treated equally.

Inside their home was another matter entirely.

Their whole lives all seven siblings had heard the whispers and the rumors. It was the worst for Anne and Collin. Two of the youngest, they also shared the fiery red hair of the notorious stage actress who’d been their father’s mistress.

It was difficult to dispute their illegitimacy when their hair acted as a beacon to betray them.

She and Jed were the least affected by the scandal, as they shared their mother’s fair looks and their births occurred prior to their father’s known philandering. That was why it had fallen on Claire to keep her reputation spotless—she’d been the bright, shining hope of marrying into a reputable family.