Rogue Grooms Read Free Page A

adventure had ended so badly, but the man hung grimly on. Finally, they both stood before Georgina, dripping with great quantities of dirty water but safely on terra firma.
    “I believe, madam,” the man said, his voice brandy-rich, rough with laughter, “that this belongs to you.”
    Georgina laughed, hiccuped really, with embarrassment and consternation and a dawning realization of the utter absurdity of their situation. “Yes, indeed, it does! Thank you so much, sir. You have gone quite above and beyond the call of gallantry! I do not believe I can thank you enough.”
    “He is a hero, Georgie,” little Isabella Everdean piped up. She gazed up at their rescuer with adoring chocolate-brown eyes.
    Georgina very much feared she was doing the same. Gaping at him like the veriest moonstruck half-wit! It was just that he was so very beautiful, even dripping with mud and odd plant life, his light brown, curling hair plastered to his head. Her artist’s eye skimmed over his high cheekbones and firm jaw, lightly shadowed with afternoon whiskers. His nose was straight as a knife blade; his lips firm but strangely sensual. And his eyes, alight with laughter, were a clear, sweet, heavenly blue.
    And they were looking directly into hers as she gaped at him.
    She looked down, startled. Which was not at all like her! She was never startled by any man; she had met too many, had married three, and been propositioned by a numberless horde. She had thought herself rather blasé about men.
    This one, though, had her blushing. She could feel the heat creeping up her throat into her cheeks, no doubt clashing horribly with her hair.
    Elizabeth was looking at her rather peculiarly, so Georgina knew that her odd behavior was not going unnoticed.
    She forced her gaze back up to meet his, and she smiled. “How very rag-mannered you must think us, not even introducing ourselves after your heroic actions! I am Mrs. Georgina Beaumont.”
    He bowed, rather awkwardly with his arms full of wriggling terrier. “Alexander Kenton, at your service.”
    “And this is Lady Elizabeth Hollingsworth and Lady Isabella Everdean, her niece,” Georgina continued.
    “Lady Elizabeth, Lady Isabella.” He bowed again in their direction. “How do you do.”
    Isabella giggled.
    “Bella,” Elizabeth chided. “Say how do you do.”
    “How d’ye do,” said Isabella.
    “It was so good of you to rescue Lady Kate,” Elizabeth said. “I have told Georgina that she needs a stronger lead.”
    “You may be assured she will now have one!” Georgina snorted.
    “May I carry Lady Kate now?” beseeched Isabella, going up on tiptoe to pat the muddy dog.
    “You will get your frock all dirty!” cried Elizabeth.
    “Why don’t we wrap her in my coat?” Alexander suggested. “Then perhaps I could escort you to your carriage, and make certain she is safely stowed aboard?”
    “Oh!” Only then did Georgina notice the interested crowd they had gathered. Many a quizzing glass was turned in her direction, and two gentlemen in particular, a Viscount Garrick she had already met and a man she had not, had edged their horses in closer to their little scene.
    Ah, well. Georgina shrugged philosophically; she was quite used to people gawking at her escapades.
    “You have gotten yourself into a scrape, Wayland!” said Viscount Garrick.
    Alexander frowned at him, and shifted Lady Kate in his arms.
    Elizabeth looked over at the two horsemen. “Are they with you, sir?”
    “Unfortunately, yes,” Alex murmured.
    “Well, then, you must all come to my house for tea! We will have you dry and warm in a trice, sir. I am certain my husband will have some garments you could borrow.”
    “That is very kind of you, Lady Elizabeth, but...” Alex began.
    Elizabeth lifted her hand, forestalling all protests. “No, I do insist! We want to thank you properly. Is that not so, Georgina?”
    Elizabeth smiled at Alexander, and, slowly, like sun coming from behind the clouds, he smiled