The Rake. Mary Jo Putney

glance before turning to Davenport. “What a pleasant surprise!” she said with a flutter of lashes.

      Eyelashes that had been carefully darkened, Alys noted. Blast Meredith for flitting in like a houri! Though most gentlemen could be counted on to see the girl for the innocent she really was, Davenport’s reputation was enough to put fear in the heart of any guardian. At times like this Alys regretted taking on the responsibilities of a parent.

      While Alys worried, Davenport and Merry were furthering their acquaintance. After a few moments of badinage, Meredith turned to Alys as if struck by a new thought. “Lady Alys, do you think Mr. Davenport might be persuaded to take his potluck with us tonight? Mrs. Haver is roasting a nice joint, more than enough for company.”

      So that was Merry’s main purpose in this little charade! Not just to meet Davenport, but to inveigle him over for dinner.

      In the face of Alys’s glower, Davenport hesitated. “I’m sorry, Miss Spenser, but your guardian has been in my company all day. It hardly seems fair to inflict me on her this evening as well.”

      Meredith said, “She won’t mind, will you, Alys?” accompanying her statement with a speaking look.

      Cornered, Alys said, “We dine en famille, Mr. Davenport. A bachelor might find it rather hectic.”

      Merry turned to him and said coaxingly, “I shall endeavor to keep my younger brothers quiet. Do say you will come.”

      Unable to refuse again without seeming churlish, he said, “It will be my pleasure, Miss Spenser.”

      After suitable expressions of delight, Merry took her leave and departed. Davenport resumed his seat and gave Alys a companionable grin. “Have you ever considered buying her a chastity belt?”

      “I certainly have!” Alys blurted out without thinking. At Davenport’s laughter she said in a doomed attempt at dignity, “That is a most improper thing to say.”

      “I warned you, no missishness. I may assist you into a sidesaddle, but I have every intention of being my normal vulgar self the rest of the time.” His voice turned ironic. “She’s a taking little minx, and she looks a good deal less ‘minor’ than your words had led me to expect.”

      “She’s nineteen, Mr. Davenport, and has seen little of the world.” Alys toyed with a Venetian glass paperweight. “Please remember that.”

      His humor evaporated. “I shall endeavor not to debauch her this evening. If it’s any comfort, I find virgins boring.”

      Alys tensed, wondering if the words were intended as an indirect insult toward her. “Merry is a bright, lively girl, and very sensible except for her flirtatiousness. She was only practicing her wiles on you because she meets so few new people.”

      “Nonetheless, if you want an experienced rake’s advice, find her a husband, and soon,” he said dryly.

      Alys glanced down at her hands, tensely linked on the desk. He had a talent for touching on sensitive issues. She’d invested considerable thought in the question of a husband for Merry. “I’d like to, but the choices are limited. All the eligible men in the neighborhood are mad for her, but they are either callow lads, or widowers looking for mothers for their children. She deserves better than that.” Alys sighed. “Actually, I think she would make quite a splash in London if she could make her come-out there.”

      “The girl is definitely a diamond of the first water,” Davenport agreed, “but does she have the birth and fortune to match her face?”

      “That’s the rub,” Alys admitted. “She’ll have a respectable portion, but it’s not a great fortune, and her father was a London merchant. She has no family connections that could introduce her to the ton.”

      “She may be better off doing her husband hunting here. London can be a dangerous place for the innocent.” Dismissing the topic of Merry, he asked, “Whatever persuaded you to take charge of three young people? The girl represents one set of problems, and the boys will be just as much trouble in different ways. It would be a heavy burden for anyone, and you aren’t even a relative.”

      It was none of his business, of course, but his question seemed to come from genuine interest rather than idle curiosity. She propped one elbow on the desk and rested her chin on her hand as she considered her reply. “The obvious answer is that there was no one else Mrs. Spenser trusted. She had no children of her own. In fact, she was only their aunt by marriage, no blood relation at all, but she loved them. She wanted to make sure they were properly cared for.”

      “If that is the obvious answer, what is the unobvious one?”

      “They were my students, and I’m very fond of them. I’ve known William, the youngest, since he was in leading strings.” Alys gave a brittle laugh. “And this is the closest I’m likely to come to having children. I would have been a fool to pass up the opportunity.” She stopped suddenly, wondering what had made her reveal a deep and painful truth like that.

      Tactfully restraining himself from probing more deeply into what was obviously sensitive territory, Davenport said, “I hope they realize how fortunate they are to have you, Miss Weston.”

      Shaking off her mood, she said with a grin, “Merry might, but the boys look on me in the light of a necessary evil. I’m always nagging them to do their studying, mind their manners, and make at least a token gesture to the proprieties.”

      At the sight of her wide smile, Davenport sat up and leaned forward in his chair so he could scrutinize her face. “Lady Alys, you have dimples,” he said accusingly.

      Caught, Alys blushed. “I’m sorry, I can’t help it. I think God made a mistake and gave me someone else’s dimples.”

      Davenport stood, his tall form looming over her desk. “Don’t apologize. They’re quite delightful. Dimples are called the mark of Venus, you know.”

      He smiled that lazy, intimate smile, the one designed to make proper ladies forget their virtue. Alys found herself smiling back.

      He raised one hand and lightly brushed her cheek, right where a dimple lurked. It was a casual gesture that some women would hate, and others find utterly entrancing. Alys was of the latter persuasion. His touch was warm, and her hypersensitive skin recorded the faint roughness of the whorls on his fingertips. It was as erotic as a kiss, and she felt a reaction clear down to her toes.

      Lord only knew what showed on her face, because he dropped his hand and stepped back, his expression growing cool and detached. “If you would prefer not having me for dinner, I can send my regrets to your ward. You really should not have your employer forced on you after normal work hours.”

      She swallowed hard. “If you can bear it, it would be better if you came tonight. I’m afraid of what Merry might do to get you there tomorrow.”

      “If you’re sure you don’t object, I’ll be over at half past six.” He gave her a wry smile. “I’m sure the conversation at your house will be more enlivening than at mine.”

      He nodded and left the office, his head nearly brushing the lintel of the door. With a dazed mixture of alarm and amusement, Alys realized that it was not Meredith’s virtue she should be worried about. It was her own.

      After clearing her correspondence, Alys had just enough time to return home, bathe, change for dinner, and stop by Meredith’s chamber for a serious discussion.

      Merry sat at her dressing table trying a new hairstyle. She swiveled on her stool and gave her guardian a mischievous smile. “That worked very well, didn’t it? The boys will be delighted to meet Mr. Davenport.”

      Alys sat down on the bed with an inward sigh. Clearly she had her work cut out for her. “Merry, I’m very upset about your forward behavior today. Not only did it pass the line of what is pleasing, it was potentially dangerous.”

      Merry