Dare to be Scandalous: League of Unweddable Gentlemen, Book 3

by Gill, Tamara

  “Perhaps you are right, Miss Perry. A ball is much more suited to your character, and the fun I speak of is not. We are different beasts, on very different paths. I will ensure my conversation remains intellectual.”

  A footman passed, and Willow procured a glass of champagne. She drank deeply, suddenly needing the sustenance. Lord Ryley was unlike any gentleman she had ever met. That he was friends with Whitstone and Duncannon did give him respectability, in her eyes at least, but still, he was an enigma to her, a man whom she could not figure out.

  His short, elusive answers that were more like riddles did not help either.

  “Please feel free to mingle, my lord. My friends will return soon from their dance. I do not wish to keep you if you have acquaintances here.”

  He didn’t look at her, simply stared ahead into the crowd of guests. “I promised the duke that I would stay by you this evening. Keep you safe from gentlemen who may wish to force you into marriage by ruining your reputation. I will escort you to the retirement room should you need to go, or if you wish to stroll outside, but for tonight, my dear, you’ll have to put up with my invigorating company.”

  Willow shut her mouth with a snap when she became conscious that she was gaping at him over his declaration. He was cosseting her like a child!

  She glanced out to the ballroom floor and caught the duke and Viscount Duncannon sporadically glancing in their direction, keeping tabs while they danced. Those infuriating, maddening men! They would not get away with this.

  “I do not need a man to take care of me, Lord Ryley. You may continue on elsewhere to enjoy the ball.”

  “Ah, you’re angry. Let me assure you, Miss Perry, that it is because you’re hosting a masquerade that your friends have decided that you need an escort. I have nowhere else to go in any case. No one present draws my attention. I would sooner be back at my club than scuffing the floorboards here, I assure you. But when friends ask for help, you step up and assist in any way you can.”

  The society tumult that happened every year when the Season commenced was a social whirlwind that some found impossible to stomach. Even Willow had felt the same a time or two when escorting her aunt about town. The sly, pitying—and some disdainful—gazes that the set her aunt had circulated with were forever etched on her mind.

  Even so, hosting balls and parties, being present in the ton, was required if she were to marry and find true love like her friends. Granted, she may be more susceptible to fiends who would try and ruin her, but it was highly unlikely to occur. Not at events such as this.

  She glanced up at his lordship, watching as he sipped his wine. His Spanish blood was prevalent in his heritage, and her fingers itched to run through his thick, dark locks. Locks that were disheveled as if he’d just rolled out of bed. His eyelashes were as opaque as a moonless night, but it was his lips that held her attention. They were full and looked as soft as hers. She studied him a moment, wondering what he would look like if he smiled, and not simply out of politeness, but out of happiness, of finding something funny that amused him.

  Did he smile when at his club? If she were to visit his establishment, she could see for herself. If she found him as complicated as he was here, at least she’d know the truth of him in that small way at least.

  “Just because people are wearing masks doesn’t mean that I’m in any danger. Am I not standing next to the Spanish Scoundrel? Some would say that my friends have placed me directly in danger with you as my protector.”

  He coughed, looking at her sharply. “Afraid I’ll pull you behind a door somewhere, Miss Perry, and take your virginity? You are a virgin, are you not?” He took a sip of his wine, all nonchalance. “I’ve never deflowered a woman before, but I could make an exception with you. You are lovely,” he said, lifting her chin with his finger and staring at her longer than what was appropriate.

  Willow gasped, pulling her face free of his hold. The scoundrel! Had he really just said that? “Thank you, but I think I shall relinquish the offer. I’m going to marry a gentleman for love. A marriage similar to what my friends have been blessed with.” Not a union built on lust. An emotion she felt in spades the longer she stood beside Lord Ryley. He was too magnetic. Without words or touch, he could pull a woman to his side, all the while keeping himself distant and untouchable.

  “Love is all very well for some, but not suitable for everyone, I find.” He glanced at their friends who were finishing up their waltz.

  “I know what you’re doing, my lord, and it won’t work. Not with me.”

  “Really?” he said, grinning and giving her a little sample of his hidden charm. “What am I doing?”

  “Trying to scandalize me, but while I may be shocked at the words that you use, I’ve not been sheltered my entire life. I went to school abroad and have friends who are of independent thought and highly opinionated. We talk about everything, men like you no exception.” After meeting Lord Ryley, she wanted to know even more, if only to cure her of her interest in him. He was certainly different from the other gentlemen of her acquaintance.

  “Give me time,” he said, throwing her a look that made her toes want to curl up in her silk slippers.

  She wouldn’t let him get in the last word. “You have the Season,” she taunted, spotting Evie and leaving him where he stood. The skin on her neck prickled, and she smiled, knowing he was watching her walk away.

  Abe drank down the last of his wine as he watched Miss Willow Perry flounce off. Her sweet, intoxicating scent of jasmine teased his senses, and he wanted to chase after her skirts and continue the amusing, if not highly inappropriate, conversation they were having.

  She certainly was different, perhaps even innocent in what he planned for her. Still, if she were all that was left of the Viscountess Vance’s family, then Miss Willow Perry would suffer the consequences for her aunt’s atrocious behavior toward his mother.

  He would ruin her, he decided. Financially perhaps with her newly inherited fortune. And mayhap her reputation too. Seduce her into thinking he was her future, and then rip it away like his security was ripped away from him as a boy.

  No gentleman would want her if they knew she’d been plucked. After he’d fucked her each way and sundry, she’d never look for anyone else, and the gentlemen of the ton would not look at her either. It was an act of delicious revenge since Miss Perry’s aunt had spread the rumors about his mother regarding her loose morals with the gentlemen of their set.

  All lies he’d waited years to gain retribution for.

  He watched Miss Perry walk out onto the dance floor with a masked gentleman. His eyes narrowed on the man, trying to garner who it was. Without thought, his gaze traveled down Miss Perry’s gown of black and red silk. She was dressed as Boudica, and he could imagine what delectable flesh lay beneath the gown. For her common blood, she was a fine specimen of feminine beauty. Her golden locks, coiffured up high on her head, brought out her large, blue eyes, her lips pouty and of the softest pink. Abe inwardly groaned, wondering if her nipples were the same light shade.

  “You told her, didn’t you?” Whitstone said, coming to stand beside him, looking out toward Miss Perry.

  “You knew I would, and as expected, she is not at all impressed with you or Duncannon. I should expect a set down from her viperish tongue at some point. She certainly is very stubborn.” Abe watched as Miss Perry’s dance partner pulled her close during a spin during the waltz. He clamped his jaw shut, reminding himself that he was to keep an eye on her, nothing more. He certainly did not want any rumors circulating about town that Marquess Ryley was showing a marked interest toward a woman that he had every intention of ruining.

  His blood pumped fast through his veins at the thought of seeing the only living relative of Viscountess Vance fall on his sword. A woman he had access to through mutual friends. He grinned, taking a sip of his drink.

  “What are you planning? You look like you’ve concocted a scheme.” Whitstone came to stand before him, cutting off his vie
w of Miss Perry. “You’re not to dally with Willow unless you intend to marry her. Do not cross me on that, Ryley.”

  He raised his brow at Whitstone’s gumption. “We’re friends, and I will always have your back, but don’t tell me what to do. Not with anything.”

  Whitstone didn’t move, simply stared at Abe. Abe stared back, not giving an inch. He didn’t take nicely to bullies, and even though Whitstone was his friend, he still would not tolerate being told what to do. His mother had been bullied, practically forced to scuttle back to Spain. Never would he tolerate the same treatment or influence in his life.

  “She’s a sweet woman and Ava’s best friend. Do not play with her.”

  “I have no intention of playing with her,” he said, only partially lying to his friend. While he may not physically play with her, not yet at least, he would play with her security. He’d lost his mother and the security of her presence at a young age. It was only fair that Viscountess Vance’s niece suffered the same fate.

  “Thank you,” Whitstone said, clapping him on the back and guiding him toward Duncannon. “Now, come with me. Duncannon and I are looking to invest in sugar and we’d like your opinion.”

  “Of course.” Abe let the duke guide him over to Duncannon. He sporadically watched Miss Perry as her dance partner escorted her back over to where the Duchess Whitstone and Countess Duncannon stood. She smiled and dipped into a neat curtsy to the gentleman, bidding him a thank you. Her eyes met his over the gentleman’s shoulders. His gut clenched as if he’d been physically punched, and he took a deep, calming breath. What the hell was wrong with him? Too little wine he’d imagine.

  The way Miss Perry looked at him told him she’d be an easy mark. She may be annoyed tonight that she’d been manhandled by her friends, but with a few sweet words, and gentlemanly behavior, he’d gain her trust. And then and only then would he take his revenge.

  He must have grinned a little as a light, rosy hue spread across her cheeks before she looked away, severing their moment.

  Abe nodded to something the duke said, trying to gauge what his friends were discussing. The Season had only just commenced, and perhaps this year, to gain all that he wanted, he would have to partake a little more than usual.

  Not the most terrible inconvenience to suffer. Not when at last he’d get what he’d always wanted.

  Revenge.

  Chapter 4

  Willow sat before Ava and Hallie in the duchess’s private parlor at their London townhouse and fought to keep her calm. “You had your husbands and their friend guard me the entire night of the Masquerade. What were you thinking, doing such a thing?”

  Ava worked her hands in her lap, her face ashen. She should be ashamed. Never would Willow ever think to do such a thing to either of them. “I’m sorry, Willow. We were only thinking of your best interest.”

  “Really?” Willow said, raising her brow. “When you came to London before you married the duke… Did I follow you home when you left one particular ball only to find out later that you met with the duke in my aunt’s parlor? I never chastised you over your actions that night now, did I?”

  At her friend’s silence, Willow turned to Hallie. “Nor did I impose on you every day at your dig site in Somerset to ensure you were always well-chaperoned. Which, if you remember, I should have since you had intimate relations with the viscount in a tent.”

  Hallie giggled and slapped her hand over her face. Willow glared at her friends. They were impossible! “Going forward, I think we can safely say that you will stop mollycoddling me as if I’m a child. We’re almost the same age. I have a chaperone and two companions. Tell your husbands, the dears that they are, that they need to walk away and leave me to enjoy the little freedom I have before I marry.”

  “You’re engaged?” Ava asked, sitting forward on her chair.

  “Who to?” Hallie blurted a second later.

  Willow sat back in her chair, sipping her sweet tea. “Oh, I’m not betrothed just yet, but I’m sure that will happen this Season. I know I’m unable to live as I am forever. Society would eventually shun me for such insolence, and I do wish for a family, and so the prospect is agreeable. But to meet a man that makes my heart beat fast, my skin to prickle, I must be left alone to have the opportunity to speak to him.” The image of Lord Ryley flittered through her mind. He’d made her heart thump so loud in her chest she thought he might hear, and as for her senses, each time he touched her, it was as if a million little pins pricked her flesh, making the fine hairs stand on end.

  Not that she would look at him as a possible husband. He was rude, abrupt, authoritative, and there was something about him that was raw, unkempt. Animal-like. A wolf perhaps. Unpredictable, and one never knew if it would bite or lick you.

  Heat rushed up her neck at the idea of Lord Ryley licking her. Oh, dear lord, she needed to stop thinking of him.

  “And Lord Ryley, Willow?” Evie queried. “Did you wish for Ava and Hallie to have his attendance on you cease?”

  “I do, yes. I shall leave that in the hands of you fine ladies. And now there is something else I wish to ask you all.”

  “What is it?” Molly sat herself down on the settee between Ava and Hallie, her cheeks pink from standing in front of the window these past minutes. London was warm today, and Willow had planned on going for a ride in Hyde Park this afternoon. Not that it was the social hour, but she didn’t care about that. She merely wanted Rotten Row all to herself.

  Willow caught everyone’s attention, needing to ensure they were all listening. “I want to do something a little scandalous, and I want you all to do it with me.”

  Hallie chuckled, sitting forward. “Do tell us what you want.”

  Evie nodded vigorously.

  “You know as well as anyone that I’ve led a mundane life under the care of my aunt. And while I’ll be ever thankful for all that she did for me and for leaving me her estate, I want to live. I want to sneak into balls we’ve not been invited to. I want to spend a night at Covent Gardens, and lastly, I want to visit Hell’s Gate. Why should it be only the men who experience these places?”

  “I think you’re under an illusion if you think only men visit Hell’s Gate,” Ava interjected.

  Molly gasped. “Are you saying there are women of the demimonde that frequent there?”

  Ava chuckled. “And more.”

  “Has the duke ever been?” Willow asked, unsure what she thought of her friend’s husbands spending nights in such a lewd and dissolute place. Not that it made her any less curious as to what went on within its walls, but she wasn’t the one married here. A little voice reminded her she was female, however…

  “He’s not been since we married, but I do believe he used to visit quite often. Whitstone was frequently the talk of London if you remember.”

  Willow remembered well having spent some seasons in London with the duke before he earned back the love of her friend. “I want to visit there. We’ll wear masks or dress like men, but I think it would be fun.”

  Hallie threw her a consoling smile. “While I would love to see the inside of Hell’s Gate, I better not be caught there. I will, however, accompany you to parties and balls we’re not invited to and Covent Garden. I see no harm in that.”

  “I agree with Hallie,” Ava said.

  Willow looked to Evie and Molly, both of who were wide-eyed and quiet. “Well, are you in or out, you two?”

  “I’m in,” Evie said, smiling. “I’m definitely in.”

  “I think I’d prefer to read a book at home if you do not mind,” Molly stated.

  While Willow did hope for all her friends to come with her, she could understand their choices. “Very well, each of us must make her choice.” She turned to Evie. “It looks like it’s just going to be us two.”

  Evie stood, bouncing a little on the spot. “This is going to be so much fun. I can hardly wait to see what the men of our acquaintance get up to while in London.”

  “I should say quite a lot,” A
va interjected. “You must ensure that however you dress, you’re unable to be identified. Maybe a gentleman with his mistress may be less obvious, a disguise such as that.”

  “That would certainly work.” Hallie reached for the teapot, pouring herself another cup. “I’m sure Viscountess Vance has some old wigs that you could cut down into a man’s design.”

  “You’re taller than me, Willow. It’s probably best that you dress as a man,” Evie said with a decided nod.

  All true, but the thought of being dressed in breeches, to be so exposed, did make her question her choice. Could she do this?

  “Breeches are liberating, Willow. You’ll enjoy wearing them.” Hallie sipped her tea, grinning.

  Exhilaration drummed through her veins at the thought of being so scandalous and secretive. She’d never once stepped out of the proper shell her aunt had encased her in. That could all change now. So long as she didn’t get caught, behaved herself, her night at Hell’s Gate would end perfectly well. Dressed as a man, no one would recognize her, and Evie with a mask would be even less recognizable. Her friend had been languishing in the country, so the ton hardly knew who she was. It was a perfect plan.

  “When should we do it?” Evie asked, her eyes bright with expectation.

  “Tomorrow? I think I can have my maid be ready by then.” Willow chuckled and picking up her teacup, took a sip, cataloging everything she needed to prepare before their night out in London.

  A side of London they’d never seen before and would never see again. One night would be enough, and she’d been happy with that.

  “Sounds perfect,” Evie said.

  “Sounds absurd,” Molly retorted, shaking her head.

  Willow grinned at Evie. “You ready to play my doxie, Evie dear?”

  “Oh yes. I most certainly am.”

  The following evening Willow sat in the hackney cab they had hired for the evening, adjusting her cravat, and checking again the buttons on her breeches were indeed fastened.