Rogue Grooms by AMANDA MCCABE Page B

day.”
    “Oh, not every day,” Georgina answered lightly. “Every other day only, Lord Wayland.”
    “Then, I shall have to make it every day,” he said. “If you will but do one thing for me.”
    “What might that be?” said Georgina, hoping against hope that it might be a kiss.
    “Will you call me Alexander? Or Alex. Lord Wayland makes me feel too fusty! It makes me look about for my father.”
    Georgina smiled. Well, it was not a kiss, but it was a very nice thing nonetheless. “Very well. Alex suits you so much better than Lord Wayland. And you must call me Georgina.”
    He smiled in return. “Done.”
    As they turned into Hyde Park and joined the parade of worthies, Georgina thought that Alex seemed more at ease than he had when he first arrived at Elizabeth’s house. When she had emerged to greet him, she had had the very odd sensation that he had not quite been expecting her to be there; as if he had arrived to escort someone else and had gotten her by mistake. He had looked quite surprised.
    In the midst of all her excited anticipation, she had felt a small prick of uneasiness. She liked him so very much, had so carefully prepared for their drive. What if he did not like her so much? What if all the easy accord she had sensed the night before had been all in her imagination? What if she was making a wigeon of herself over a man who could have no regard for her?
    The confident, sophisticated artist existed only in front of the scared, lonely, awkward orphan she had once been. At the thought of looking foolish in front of this man, little Georgie Cheswood completely took over Mrs. Georgina Beaumont.
    But not now. Now Alex seemed more the man who had fished Lady Kate out of the river, who had waltzed so vigorously with Georgina. He was smiling, at ease, seemingly happy as he nodded to the people they drove past.
    So Georgina, too, relaxed, and set herself to enjoying the sunny afternoon and the lovely man beside her.
    “Your horses are very grand,” she said.
    “Scylla and Charybdis. They are not perfectly matched, I fear,” Alex answered ruefully. They were, in fact, a pair that had once belonged to his brother, and were now almost all that remained of the Kenton stable. “Not at all fashionable.”
    Georgina examined them, one perfectly chestnut and one with a white star on its brow and white socks. They were prime goers, even if not perfectly matched. “Perhaps not. But they are strong and healthy, and very graceful. Good-looking, too.” Much like their master, she reflected. “I should love to have some like them for my own curricle.”
    Alex looked at her, one brow raised in surprise. “You own a curricle., Mrs. Be—Georgina?”
    “Oh, yes. It is not here, of course. It is at my villa. When I want to drive here, Elizabeth’s husband gives me the loan of his.”
    “Yes,” he said slowly. “I did hear that you and Lord Pynchon were to have a race.”
    Georgina laughed. “So you have heard of that! Yes. That silly popinjay was spouting off about how women should never drive, because we are so slow and such menaces on the road. So I asked if he cared to make a small wager on that point.”
    “Did you?” Alex’s voice was quiet. “Do you often gamble, Georgina?”
    Georgina remembered then, much to her mortification, that Alex’s brother, the late Duke of Wayland, had caused a great scandal with his huge gambling losses. Even in the ton, who often routinely lost hundreds of pounds on the turn of a card, he had been notorious.
    “Oh, no,” she hastened to assure him. “A bit at silver loo now and then, but never high stakes. And I hardly ever wager. Only to bring ridiculous loobies like Pynchon down a peg. I have much better things to do with my money.”
    “Such as that charming bonnet,” Alex murmured. “Well, if you ever need to go driving, my horses are at your disposal.”
    “Why, thank you, Alex!” Georgina cried. “They are darlings. And you must be sure to come and watch