Passions of a Gentleman (Gentlemen of Honor #3) - Rose Gordon Page 0,7
rekindled her romance with her husband.
A shiver skated down her spine. When worded like that it made Simon sound like the worst sort of rakehell. A term that would only enhance his reputation with the swooning debutantes (and Brooke), no doubt.
“Is that amusement I see on your face, Henrietta?”
Henrietta started. “Perhaps.”
“Would you care to share? I could certainly use some humor about now.”
“I probably shouldn’t…”
The corner of Simon’s lips tipped up. “Now you must share.”
A burble of laughter caught in Henrietta’s throat and Simon’s hold on her tightened a fraction, keeping her from publicly embarrassing herself. “Thank you,” she murmured.
Laughter danced in his eyes. “You can show real penance by telling me what you were thinking about.”
“You being a rakehell,” she blurted.
Simon’s mossy eyes tripled in size for a mere half-second before he erupted with laughter.
Cough, cough. He slammed his open palm against his chest. “Excuse me,” he choked around another cough. “I…can’t…breathe,” he wheezed.
Well, if the mission was to have everyone take notice that Simon had moved on from his tendre for Lady Belgrave, their mission had just been accomplished.
Henrietta’s face burned. Never in her life had she had so many eyeballs focused in her direction. Clenching her teeth, she said, “Could you please—”
“No,” he interjected brashly, gasping for air. He let out another harsh laugh then sucked in a large breath of air. “You’re the one who said—” The rest of his sentence would forever remain a mystery—a mystery buried in a deep, rich, contagious chuckle.
“You goaded me into it.”
“I know,” he breathed, reaching for her to resume their dancing position—as if such a thing were possible now.
“Perhaps you should return me—”
“And cause more scandal,” he said in the worst sounding mock indignation she’d ever heard. “I think not, my dearest Henrietta.”
Unintentionally she winced.
Simon studied her, a smile playing on the corner of his lips. “Does my rakish cant not do my rakish ways justice?”
“No.” She twisted her lips. “Nor do I approve of you using my Christian name.”
“You find that more scandalous than the term of endearment,” he mused. “Interesting.”
“No, it's not interesting, it’s rude.”
“Rude?” He scoffed. “Forward perhaps, but not rude.”
“It is when your name is Henrietta,” she muttered. “Cruel even.”
“You don’t like your name?”
She almost laughed at the shock stamped on his face. “It’s a man’s name with ‘etta’ on the end.”
“But it’s a good man’s name,” he said with a smile. “The name of a great king.”
“Ah, then you might like to have been named Alexis?” She forced a shrug. “It’s a form of King Alexei, wouldn’t you agree?”
He grimaced. “Your point, my dear.”
“Thank you,” she said with a triumphant smile.
“Don’t thank me prematurely, I haven’t renamed you yet.”
Henrietta pursed her lips and poked him in the shoulder. “Don’t you dare!” she said on a laugh. Her younger brothers and sisters had always called her Henny, which, even she’d admit, was worse than Henrietta.
“I have it,” he said with a snap of his fingers.
Henrietta’s jaw clenched. “Don’t you dare,” she hissed, her recent goodwill toward him quickly evaporating.
“Henceforth you shall forever be known as Rae,” he said, ignoring her.
“Rae?” she repeated automatically, taken aback. Never had any of them suggested a name anywhere close. She rather liked it. Rae. It fit her. She smiled inwardly. She was going to consider herself Rae from this time forward, even if it was that awful Simon Appleton who had suggested it.
“You can shower me with your gratitude now,” he said, giving her waist a light squeeze.
Rae’s throat ran try. “I think we should finish what’s left of this dance.”
Fortunately for her and her quickly being stolen heart, that consisted of about three measures.
Unfortunately for her, Brooke stood in wait for her on the edge of the ballroom, a triumphant smile on her face. “A most enjoyable dance, Mr. Appleton?” the countess asked in a singsong voice.
“Better than any I’ve ever danced before.”
Rae would just bet on that.
“Good, then I suspect we shall be expecting you to call upon us tomorrow?” Brooke asked. Truly, the lady had no shame.
Simon reached for Rae’s hand. Did he plan to be so bold as to kiss her hand? Here? Now?
As if he sensed her discomfort, he dropped his hand, a hint of pink touching the tops of his cheeks. “I can think of nothing else I’d rather do on the morrow.” Then, with a bow to Rae, he took his leave of the ballroom not to return for the rest of the evening.