Page 574 of From Rakes to Riches

“Has the Midas touch,” said Lady Beatrix. “At least, that’s his reputation. Known as a maths prodigy, I believe.”

“Well, if I were to lay odds on the Newmarket races,” said Julian, “the Archangel is where I’d do it. Best chance of not getting cheated.”

The duchess’s gaze cut across the table and landed to the right of Rake—on Gemma. A sharp glint lit within her luminous amber depths. Gemma didn’t seem to notice as she was presently scraping the cream sauce off her plate. As she sucked the last of it from the tines of her fork, Rake watched, transfixed.

“And you, Mr…” began Celia.

All gazes swung toward Gemma. It took a few beats of time for her to realize she wasMr…

Her fork clattered onto the plate, and she gave her mouth a hasty swipe of her napkin. “Erm.” She cleared her throat. “Cassidy,” she said. “Gem Cassidy.”

Celia’s mouth lifted into a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. The glint had sharpened into a point. “Mr. Cassidy,” she began, “are you a recent acquisition of the duke’s?”

Gemma froze in place. All except for her eyes, which blinked, as if not quite sure she’d heard what she thought she’d heard.

Then a shift occurred—one only Rake would recognize. Gemma’s jaw clenched and a responding glint sparked within her eye.

And here she was.

The Gemma he knew.

The woman who’d tamed an untamable horse and rode him fearlessly. The woman unafraid to mouth off to a duke when he needed it.

With this Gemma, the duchess with the butter-wouldn’t-melt-in-her-mouth smile didn’t stand a chance.

Rake braced himself.

“I’m afraid that isn’t possible,” she said, low and sure.

She was speaking not as Gem, but as Gemma. Rake doubted she realized.

“And why is that?” asked Celia with all the arch hauteur of a duchess.

“I cannot beacquired, because I’m neither object nor slave nor horse.”

How Rake had missed this woman these last three days.

18

Stunned silence expanded through the room, filling it to bursting.

Gemma had even stunned herself.

The Duchess of Acaster’s perfectly shaped eyebrows creased and released.

“Your Grace,” Gemma only remembered to add five seconds later.

Five of the longest seconds of her life.

She dared not look at Rake, though she felt the heat of his gaze on the side of her face.

Just when the stunned silence threatened to extend into the next century, the duchess broke it. “And neither are you a lady,” she said, holding up her recently refreshed coupe of champagne. “And you can trust me on this,erm,Mr.Cassidy, you’re the better off for it.” She downed the contents of her glass in a single swallow.

Not only did the woman look genuinely apologetic, but also thoroughly unconvinced of themisterportion of her words. She didn’t believe for a moment thatMr.Gem Cassidy was a lad.

Gemma stole a glance around the table. It was likely no one in this room thought her amister.

She was too clean. That was the problem. She lacked the concealing layer of grime that made Gem possible.

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