Free A Lady's Guide to Rakes by Kathryn Caskie

white confection of a gown with a staid lace fichu, making her look a bit like a frosted tea cake.
    Not her usual dress. At least he didn’t think so. On the last two occasions of their meeting, she had worn vibrant jewel tones, which were entirely more complementary, given her flaming hair and flashing blue eyes. Alexander raised his gaze from her ridiculous gown to her lovely face. Damn me, her daggered blue eyes. Why in bloody hell is she looking at me that way?
    He’d only arrived, what, maybe thirty minutes later than the invitation had suggested? And half an hour was not nearly so tardy as to warrant a glare like that. Why, her icy stare was enough to chase a lesser man’s jewels up inside his body for protection.
    Alexander hadn’t missed the perturbed glance from the gentleman beside her either.
    As he reluctantly studied him, to Alexander’s surprise, the man reached out his hand and set it atop Miss Merriweather’s. Alexander straightened his back and stretched out his neck for a better view over the annoying sway of feathered heads between him and the gentleman.
    There, he had them in his sights again. Damn it all He was still doing it— touching her , in plain view of her aunts, no less. Alexander bristled as he watched the man’s thumb gently caress the side of her gloved hand.
    Well, he’d been a bit too hasty in labeling the man a gentleman, hadn’t he? For, indeed, it was clear the man was not.
    And just where had he found that coat, anyway—in a dustbin?
    As the tinkling of piano ivories ended and the songstress rose to acknowledge her audience, Alexander studied the coat’s too wide lapel and coarsely woven wool.
    No, not a gentleman at all, or at least not of the level that belonged in the upper reaches of Society, that was for certain.
    Oh, how dull of me. Must be some poof relation the Feathertons were compelled to invite to their musicale.
    Yes, that had to be it, Alexander decided, for this particular man surely could not be Miss Merriweather’s supposed… betrothed.
    There was a shuffle of feet, and Alexander fought to regain his view through the tight crowd of shifting frocks and cutaways. Then, much to his frustration, someone blocked his view entirely. “I say, madam, would you please step to the left, I cannot see—”
    The woman before him cleared her throat.
    Damnation. “How can I assist you, madam?” Alexander tamed his gaze to her face and belatedly realized that it was none other than the sapphire-eyed Miss Merriweather standing directly before him.
    How delightfully perfect. She had come to him . Well, that made his task this eve all the easier, didn’t it?
    A pleased smile started to pull at the comers of his mouth, but then it skidded and faltered.
    For though Miss Merriweather was smiling warmly at him, the look in her eyes was still as frosty as icicles.
    Suddenly a high-pitched cry erupted from somewhere behind him. He tamed his head slowly to see a past-her-prime miss, who looked damned familiar too, standing shoulder to shoulder with an older woman with gray-streaked hair piled high atop her box-shaped head.
    “Mama, ‘tis him .” The dark-haired chit raised a finger and pointed, in the most rude fashion, directly at him. “Oh, take me home, take me home at once. I cannot bear seeing him.”
    The milling throng seemed to take notice exactly then and pivoted, almost as if they were one, to look at Alexander in anticipation of a scandal.
    Instead of hustling the young lady from the house, as Alexander truly had hoped the older woman might do— given the worried look in her eyes—she plowed forward through the crowd. Alexander tamed his body to face her, ready for an attack.
    The older woman poked him hard in the chest and spoke in low, fierce tones. “You, sir, are no gentleman, breaking my gel’s heart the way you did. Did you ever care for her?”
    Alexander looked over the crone’s shoulder at the dark-haired woman standing several feet behind her. He had