How to Seduce a Scoundrel

by Vicky Dreiling

  Eastham leaned across the table, his intent gaze on Hawk. “Do you have a talisman?”

  “No.” Most gamblers were superstitious and kept all sorts of lucky charms on their person while playing. Far too many lost fortunes and called it capricious luck. He’d amassed a considerable fortune simply by leaving the table when he was ahead. When he’d attempted to use his winnings to pay for a mistake he’d made long ago, his father had refused to take the money. The memory still burned, but he shoved the useless thought aside.

  At the approach of a footman, Hawk frowned.

  “Lord Hawkfield, your aunt requests you attend her in the ballroom,” the servant said. “She asked for Lord Ramsey as well. The matter is urgent.”

  Hawk’s heart drummed in his chest as he shoved his chair back. Julianne could be dangerously ill, and he’d wasted precious time. He strode from the card room, fearing the worst. Ramsey followed close behind.

  Hester waited near the door. Hawk noted the other guests were leaving the ballroom, probably for the midnight supper.

  “Where is Julianne?” Hawk asked his aunt.

  “With her friends in a bedchamber adjoining the lady’s retiring room.”

  Hawk envisioned Julie-girl shivering on the bed. “My God, how bad off is she?”

  “All three girls are in a shocking state,” Hester said.

  Ramsey stiffened. “I’ll find Beresford and have him send for a doctor immediately.”

  Hester shook her head. “That would be unwise.” She looked about her as if checking to be sure no one listened. Then she leaned toward them. “They drank an entire decanter of wine.”

  Silence reigned from the retiring room next door.

  “Everyone has gone downstairs for the midnight supper by now,” Amy whispered.

  “Oh my God, I cannot let my brother see me foshed,” Georgette said.

  “You mean foxed.” Julianne hiccoughed again. “I will have to convince Hawk to say nothing to Tristan. Otherwise, my brother will make me return home.” The very thought made her stomach roil.

  “I have a plan,” Georgette said. “We will disappear until their tempers cool.”

  Amy made an exasperated sound. “Hiding will only postpone the inevitable and make everyone angrier with us.”

  “Hah! You’re not the one who must face the f-firing squad.” Georgette lurched to the door and opened it. “Meg, come inslide.”

  “She means inside.” Julianne hiccoughed.

  After the maid entered, Georgette spoke. “We need to go to the water cl-closet.”

  Meg looked uncertain. “You had better wait for the lady to return.”

  “I cannot wait,” Georgette said. “Tell Lady Rut-Rutledge to meet us downstairs if we mish her.”

  “My lady, you’d better stay put,” Meg said. “The wine has gone to your head, it has.”

  “No.” Georgette motioned to Julianne and Amy. “Come.”

  Julianne hesitated. “Georgette, we’d better not.”

  “I’m going,” Georgette said. She walked unsteadily out into the corridor.

  Amy rose. “Julianne, we must stop her.”

  They hurried to the door. “Georgette, come back here,” Julianne hissed as her friend weaved the wrong way down the corridor.

  Meg followed them to the door. “My lady, come back. The stairs are the other way.”

  Georgette giggled and continued on.

  “I’ll fetch her,” Meg said.

  “Meg, I fear she’ll not listen to you,” Amy said.

  Julianne took Meg’s candle. “We’ll return quickly, I promise.” She cupped her hand around the candle flame, but it went out as they hurried along.

  Georgette’s white gown was like a beacon. At the end of the corridor, she stopped and stared at a door.

  When they reached her, she swayed on her feet. “There was a noise.”

  “Come, let us return,” Amy said, tugging on Georgette’s arm to no avail.

  Something started thumping rhythmically against the door. Julianne hiccoughed and stared in horror, fearing whoever was in there would fling it open.

  A man grunted again and again.

  Georgette frowned. “Is he ill?”

  The door thumped harder. A woman started making repetitive high-pitched noises, sounding like a squealing pig.

  Julianne frowned. “What are they—hic—doing?”

  “We must leave,” Amy whispered.

  The thumping turned into banging, and the man’s grunting grew louder. “Feel my mighty sword.”

  “He has a sword?” Georgette asked.

  The woman behind the door screamed.

  Georgette gasped. “He killed her.”

  “I’m coming,” the man said.

  “Not inside me,” the woman said in a curt voice. “I don’t want a brat.”

  Julianne dropped the candle and clapped her hand over her mouth. She’d thought a bed was required. As she stared at the door, she tried to work out how the amorous couple had managed, but she failed.

  “We must go,” Amy hissed. “Now!”

  The three of them lifted their skirts. Shrieking with laughter, they hurried down the corridor. Julianne sprinted ahead and looked over her shoulder.

  “Look out!” Amy cried.

  Julianne plowed into something big and male. She gasped as two large hands caught her by the shoulders.

  “You are in deep trouble,” Hawk growled.

  Chapter Four

  A Lady’s Secrets of Seduction: Forget your mother’s well-meaning advice and take matrimonial matters into your own capable hands.

  When the carriage jerked into motion, Hawk slapped his hat onto the leather seat beside him. He’d never forget the sight of Julianne and her friends scurrying down the corridor, laughing like wild brats. Damn her. She’d tricked him.

  Aunt Hester patted Julianne’s hand. “Are you feeling bilious, dear?”

  He couldn’t hear Julianne’s reply over the clacking of hooves on the cobbled street. “Do let me know if you feel sick,” he said, raising his voice. “I’d prefer you didn’t cast up your accounts in the carriage.”

  “Marc,” Hester cried.

  He’d managed to shock his aunt for the first time in his life. “Should I have the driver pull over?”

  “I am not sick,” Julianne said in a seething voice.

  He huffed. “You’ll have the devil of the head tomorrow morning,” he said, projecting his voice to ensure she heard him.

  “Marc, leave her be,” Hester said.

  He would do no such thing. “Julianne, what do you have to say for yourself?”

  “You cured my hiccoughs.”

  “You seem to think the matter amusing,” he said in a terse tone. “But I assure you it is not. Did you consider your reputation?”

  “Now, now,” Hester said. “I’m sure Julianne did not mean to overindulge.”

  “My apologies. I did not realize her friends poured the wine down her throat,” he drawled.

  “I refuse to answer such a ridiculous accusation,” Julianne said in a bitter voice.

  “That’s just as well,” he said. “I’ve no intention of discussing the matter until you’re in a more sensible state.”

  She whipped her face to the window.

  He could hardly believe her capable of such deceit. But clearly she’d planned to hoodwink him, and she’d succeeded with her ruse. No doubt she believed him a soft touch. If she thought he would turn a blind eye to her rebellion, she would learn differently tomorrow.

  The carriage rattled to a halt. Hawk descended and helped his aunt negotiate the steps. As Hester started toward the house, Hawk held his hand out for Julianne. She refused him and wobbled. Damnation! He grabbed her by the waist to prevent a fall and swung her down. When she tried to pull away, he tightened his fingers. “Stop resisting me.”

  She averted her face. “Let me go.”

  When the front door opened, Hester turned to look back at them.

  “My aunt and t

he butler are watching. Take my arm,” he said.

  Julianne took a step away. In one long stride, he caught her arm and marched her to the door. Just before they reached it, he leaned down and growled near her ear, “You’d better be prepared to grovel when I call tomorrow, my girl.”

  “I’m not your girl.” An odd gurgle escaped her. Then she fled inside the house.

  An hour later, Julianne dried her face and walked to the bed. Nausea had struck, and she’d gotten horribly sick.

  Betty, the maid, had turned down the covers. After Julianne climbed into bed and pulled the covers to her chin, Betty frowned. “Miss, won’t you let me call Lady Rutledge? She ought to know you’re feeling poorly.”

  Julianne cleared her sore throat. “Please do not disturb her. A night’s rest will see me well.”

  The sheets smelled sunshine fresh, so at odds with the gloomy shadows in the room. Out of habit, she rolled onto her side and hugged the extra pillow to her chest—the same way she’d done every night since her first dance with Hawk at her come-out ball four years ago. And every night afterward, she’d imagined holding Hawk on their wedding night. Raw grief flooded her heart, and tears stung her eyes. She pitched the pillow aside. There would never be a wedding night for them.

  She rolled onto her stomach and sobbed into her pillow. How could she have been so stupid? So blind? She’d worn her heart on her sleeve. Even Hester had noticed.

  Damn him. A dozen gentlemen had proposed to her, but she’d turned them down because she’d wanted to wait for Hawk.

  She hated him. Hated the man she’d thought of every single day for four years. The man she’d fantasized about night after night. She’d tumbled head over heels for him and made him the focus of her whole life. And tonight he’d cut her heart to pieces.

  The door creaked open. “Oh, child,” Hester cried out.

  When the mattress sank beneath Hester’s weight, Julianne peeked out from the pillow. The flame from Hester’s candle wavered on the bedside table.

  Hester rubbed her back. “Tell me what is wrong?”

  Pride kept her silent.

  Hester rummaged in the drawer of the bedside table and produced a handkerchief. “Betty came to me because she is worried about you.”

  Julianne rolled over and blew her nose. “I asked her not to disturb you.”

  “Now, that is foolish. You must tell me when you are troubled,” Hester said.

  Julianne swallowed. “I’m sorry about the wine.”

  “I know.” She paused and added, “When you did not return to the ballroom, I suspected my nephew had done something to overset you.”

  Julianne picked at the covers. He had publicly rejected her. Pain sliced her heart again.

  “Will you not tell me what happened?” Hester said.

  She swallowed. “I do not want him to know.”

  “Of course not,” Hester said. “Perhaps if you confide in me, I might be able to help.”

  Her burning eyes welled with tears again. Hester found a fresh handkerchief in the drawer. Julianne dabbed at her eyes and haltingly told the story.

  Hester sighed. “I saw the way he looked at you during that waltz. It is not hopeless, dear.”

  “I have kept hope alive for four years,” Julianne said. “Every time he teased me, I convinced myself he was developing tender feelings. Nothing ever came of it. He does not love me, and he never will.”

  “He gave plenty of evidence that he desires you tonight. As I told you, that is the first step for a man.”

  He’d made it clear he didn’t want her. The thought sent a fresh jolt of pain to her heart.

  “Tomorrow, matters will not look so bleak.” Hester stood and drew the covers up to Julianne’s chin as if she were a child. “You are wounded, but you are more resilient than you believe. I promise all will work out.”

  She knew all was lost. “Thank you.”

  “I always wanted a daughter,” Hester said. “So you must allow me to pamper and spoil you.”

  Though Hester spoke in a light tone, Julianne heard the regret behind the words. “I apologize for all the trouble I caused,” she said.

  Hester rose. “You are exhausted and need to rest. Good night, dear.”

  After Hester left, Julianne stared up at the canopy, replaying every single event of the evening. When Hawk had gazed into her eyes, she’d thought he was at last showing his love for her.

  He’d humiliated her in front of everyone.

  She drew in a shuddering breath and swore to make him pay. Oh, yes, she would play the tease as Hester had suggested. Like Anne Boleyn, she would lead him merry dance and hold him at arm’s length. She’d make him mad to possess her, and when the moment was right, she would laugh and claim he was practically a brother to her.

  The next afternoon, Julianne crumpled the page marred by ink blots and rubbed her swollen eyes. For the past hour, she’d struggled in her pitiful attempt to record Hester’s advice. She’d concluded Amy was right. The other belles suffered the same plight when it came to reluctant bachelors. But her head still ached from the wine, making it difficult to think.

  The soft ticking of the bedside clock drew her attention. Earlier, she’d sent missives to Georgette and Amy requesting they call upon her. Julianne feared their parents had refused to allow them to leave their homes after last night’s debacle. She recalled the way Ramsey had barely contained his fury upon seeing his sister weaving down the stairs. No doubt Georgette had gotten ill, too. Even the slightest case of nerves made her heave.

  Betty brought her a cup of tea. “It’s dosed with willow bark and will ease your headache.”

  “Thank you.” After the maid left, Julianne capped the inkwell and sipped her tea. She would try to write later when she felt better.

  The knocker banged downstairs, startling her. Her heart thudding, she wondered if Hawk had arrived. She hurried over to the dressing table to check her reflection in the mirror. Despite the frequent application of a cold, damp cloth, her eyes were still puffy. Drat it all. She didn’t want him to know she’d cried.

  A tap sounded at her door. When she answered it, a footman informed her Georgette and Amy had come to call. She exhaled in relief. “Show them up to my bedchamber,” she said.

  A few minutes later, her friends entered. “I’m surprised your parents allowed you to call upon me,” Julianne said.

  Georgette, who looked remarkably well, straightened her neckline. “My brother made empty threats, but in the end, he told our parents I had suffered from motion sickness in the carriage. I’m sure he lied because he knew Papa would blame him.” She snickered. “They had no reason to doubt his explanation, given my history. Of course, my maid smelled the wine on my breath, but I gave Lizzy one of my straw bonnets from last year.”

  Amy’s lips parted. “Georgette, you bribed your maid.”

  “What of it? Lizzy will enjoy the bonnet.” Georgette’s wide smile showed her dimples. “Amy, it isn’t as if you told your parents.”

  Amy winced. “I should have done so, but I feared they would prevent me from seeing both of you today.” Then she opened her reticule and drew out Julianne’s locket. “I brought it for you.”

  Julianne flinched. Why had she even kept the necklace? She ought to have destroyed it long ago. “Throw it on the fire.”

  A slight frown marred Amy’s red-gold brows. “I beg you to reconsider. You will surely regret it.”

  Georgette snatched the locket from Amy, walked to the bedside table, and deposited it in the drawer. “Julianne, you can decide the fate of the locket later. We have more pressing matters to discuss.”

  Julianne nodded, relieved to put thoughts of her father aside. She bade her friends to join her on the bed. They kicked off their slippers, hiked up their skirts, and climbed onto the mattress.

  “Have you written the advice yet?” Georgette asked.

  “I tried, but my headache prevented me. The maid brought me a cup of willow bark tea, so I feel a bit better.”