Taming Wilde (Waltzing with the Wallflower #3)(8)
Author: Rachel Van Dyken

“Stop.” Anthony held up his hand and looked helplessly around the room. “We are not discussing what is past. We are discussing Wilde’s current path of self-destruction! Look at him!” Anthony pointed. Lady Maddox offered Colin a sympathetic smile and turned back to her husband.

“He is drinking coffee, my dear. He seems fine.” She patted Anthony on the hand and sighed. “Besides, before we were married, every article of clothing in your possession was black or gray. Perhaps he is taking after your impeccable sense of style, hmm?”

Colin laughed at Anthony’s irritated expression. Couldn’t really argue that point, considering Colin was only mimicking Anthony’s own good taste. He leaned forward and drummed his fingers against the table.

“Fine.” Anthony exhaled. “But truly, I wrote those journals when I was but a lad of one-and-twenty. Rules have, er… changed.”

“Have they?” Colin and Lady Maddox asked in unison.

“Of course.” Anthony stared into his coffee.

“And how, my dear, would you know this?” Lady Maddox asked, crossing her arms.

“My dear, up until last year I was…”

“Whoring around,” Colin finished for him. “Yes, we know. Now, will you help me or not? I mean to make certain my name is on the lips of as many women as possible. After all, does not your journal discuss the importance of keeping several mistresses at once?” He left out the part about Gemma’s face last night and how her expression had finally pushed him to desperation. He’d hurt her just like she’d hurt him. Funnily enough, those brief few seconds when their eyes had met, he hadn’t felt a thing. Not a blasted thing. He was finally numb. He’d looked into her eyes and his heart actually seemed to stop beating. He’d finally gone too far. If turning into a rake kept his heart in the same condition as it had felt in those brief minutes, then he would do it and never look back. It hurt too blasted much to continue on in this way. To continue living a life without Gemma in it.

Anthony choked on his coffee. “Apologies, memory’s quite fuzzy on that one.”

“Indeed,” Lady Maddox added. “Shall I leave you to your plans then, gentlemen?”

Colin nodded. “That would be best. After all, your husband has to polish me into the worst sort of rake the ton has ever seen.”

“God help us all,” Anthony muttered.

“Well, if last night was any indication,” Lady Maddox sighed, “you are halfway there. Good luck with your debauchery, gentlemen. I shall pray for your success.”

Anthony cursed. “My dear, that is blasphemous!”

“So is keeping a journal of your rakish escapades in the same location as your Bible, love.”

Colin burst into laughter. “And the point goes to your wife.”

“I—” Anthony grunted. “My dear, if you will excuse us, it seems I have my work cut out for me.”

“Absolutely.” She grinned and quit the room.

“Quite the wife,” Colin commented. Lady Maddox was Gemma’s dearest friend, which normally would put Colin in quite the pickle, but it seemed that Gemma hadn’t been conversing with her friends since her exile to the country. If they were still familiar, Colin would’ve had to find a different location to meet Anthony or Ambrose. It would not do to have Gemma suddenly show up and…

The butler entered into the room and cleared his throat. “Lady Gemma to see you, my lord.”

Colin had just taken another sip of coffee and choked wildly as Anthony nodded his head. “I can see her in the hall.”

“I am not afraid of seeing the woman, truly. She means nothing to me,” Colin answered, too quickly.

“Which is why we are turning you into a rake?” Anthony called his bluff.

Colin cursed. “Just be quick about your business.”

Anthony nodded to the butler. “You may send her in.”

“Yes, my lord.”

Within seconds Colin heard the pitter-patter of light footsteps, each one like a hammer to his chest. Would he never be rid of this unbearable pain?

He took another soothing sip of coffee and waited as the doors opened to the dining room.

“Lord Maddox.” Lady Gemma offered a quick curtsy but never once looked in Colin’s direction. To be fair, he was sitting at the far end of the table.

“What can I help you with, Lady Gemma?” Anthony rose and kissed the air above her hand.

Gemma sighed and then wrung her hands.

What the devil was she here for? And why Anthony, of all people?

“I need your help… to seduce a rake!” she blurted.

Colin choked for the third, or perhaps it was the fourth time that morning, this time nearly falling out of his chair.

“Oh.” Gemma’s face reddened. “Apologies, I did not know you were currently entertaining the devil. Perhaps I should return at a later time?”

Anthony was immobile. Colin wasn’t sure if he should toss something at the man. He seemed frozen with shock. “Er…”

“Intelligent,” Colin mused, though his voice was hoarse from all the choking.

“Oh, do shut up.” Anthony snapped out of his state. “My dear, perhaps it would be best for you to talk to my wife about such things.”

Gemma swallowed and looked down. “I have not spoken with her since my return. I fear she will be angry with me.”

Anthony wrapped his arm around Gemma and escorted her to the door. “You know Bridget as well as I. Although her temper is quick, she is also very quick to forgive. I am a prime example of said forgiveness. Now off you go. I believe you’ll find her in her favorite sitting room near my study. Conrad will direct you, my lady.”

Colin saw her back straighten as she walked in the direction of Anthony’s study. When Anthony walked back into the room, he slammed the doors and leaned against them.

“God is punishing me for my sins, I assure you. One desires to be a rake and the other wants to seduce one. This is my purgatory, my penance, my atonement.” Anthony closed his eyes and cursed. “I need a drink.”

Chapter Five

One does not simply jump on a horse without first asking the groom to saddle the beast. Gentlemen, let me put this in terms you might understand. When caring for your horse, you give it shelter, food, you brush its coat until it shines, you reward it with carrots, and you ride it when you feel the need for the wind across your face, or perhaps when you wish to show it off. Women are the same. You cannot simply feed one and expect her participation. No, you must first prepare her. You must compliment her, caress her, carry her on your arm like the trophy she is, and then, when she is fat and happy — much like your horse — you take her for a ride. —The Private Journal of Viscount Maddox