How to Seduce a Scoundrel

by Vicky Dreiling

Along the journey to Eton, they stopped twice at inns for tea and a meal and to change the horses. Brandon drank a good deal of milk each time. He was curious about the odd assortment of travelers and confessed his father didn’t travel much, except to Bath for the waters. Again, Hawk worried about Westcott’s health and the possible consequences for Brandon. Hawk’s lack of power frustrated him. He thought of making discreet inquiries with an attorney, but he knew the consequences of exposing the circumstances of the boy’s birth meant Brandon would lose his inheritance.

  At one inn, Brandon had watched a couple of lads kicking a ball. When they invited him to join in, Hawk had encouraged him to play. His chest had tightened while watching his athletic son running about. Afterward in the carriage, Brandon had told him the two boys were brothers. Hawk told him stories of how he’d taught his younger brother to climb a tree. He didn’t mention that he’d taught Julianne, but his chest had ached at the memory.

  The boy slept curled up on the opposite seat for the rest of the journey. He was undoubtedly exhausted from his adventure. A few miles from Eton, Hawk woke him.

  “We’re almost there,” he said.

  When the boy rubbed his eyes and sat up, Hawk took a deep breath. “You might want to write your father and tell him you met me. If you do, ask him to write me. You probably shouldn’t let on to your mates about me, just in case. It would wound your father if others found out.” He didn’t tell the boy that he would be the one to suffer the label of bastard.

  Hawk thought a moment about the journal and decided the best course. “You might want to put the journal in safekeeping until you return home. I suspect your father will worry when he finds out you read it.”

  “I don’t know if I’ll tell him,” Brandon said. “He’s not in the best of health, and I don’t want to make it worse.”

  “Perhaps you should put it back where you found it.”

  He glanced out the window. The round tower of Windsor came into view, signaling his time with Brandon was nearly over. Hawk drew in a deep breath. “I won’t pretend to know how you feel. In your shoes, I’d probably be angry and shocked. But the circumstances of your birth aren’t the most important thing. Focus on your father and your mates.”

  The boy frowned. “You’re not what I expected. I thought you’d cut up nasty about me invading your life.”

  “I’ve no right to do so. You have every reason to be angry.”

  “Well, you’re not so bad. You play a mean game of backgammon, and you sat on the floor to toast cheese. I’ve never met a grown-up before who was willing to do that.”

  His throat clogged, and he had to clear it before speaking. “Guess I missed being a boy last night.”

  “I bet you don’t miss school,” he said. “Latin is the worst.”

  “I hated it, too,” he said.

  When the carriage rolled to a halt, Hawk took another deep breath. “I won’t get out because it would be hard to explain how I came to deliver you back at school.”

  The boy nodded.

  Hawk’s jaw worked. “You probably won’t believe me, and I can’t say as I blame you, but not a day has gone by that I didn’t think about you.”

  Brandon frowned. “You feel really bad about what you did.”

  He swallowed. “Yes, but I’m glad I met you.”

  The boy held out his hand. Hawk grasped it.

  The driver opened the door and started to let down the steps, but Brandon jumped. Hawk watched his son run to the steps until he disappeared.

  When the carriage rolled into motion, he gritted his teeth and clenched his fists. His chest heaved. A hoarse sound came out of his throat. He wept for the first time since he was eighteen years old.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  A Scoundrel’s Advice: There’s no place like home.

  Hawk spent the next week making arrangements.

  He sent his aunt a letter, inquiring about Julianne and promised to call after he’d settled at Ashdown House. Then he gave up the lease on the love nest, found a new position for Smith, and packed his spartan belongings at the Albany. While sorting through his books, he found the notorious pamphlet and tossed it inside one of the trunks. As the servants carried away the last trunk, Hawk walked over to the hearth where he and Brandon had toasted cheese. He smiled a little, walked out of the refuge, and moved back home.

  The first two days at Ashdown House, he’d felt a little at sea. He had a difficult time as he sat at his father’s desk and sorted through the letters. He got rid of most of the papers, but he kept a magnifying glass his father used to let him look through when he was little.

  After a great deal of trouble, he managed to locate William in Venice and informed him that he should return to England immediately so that he could attend the house party at Gatewick Park. Once Will was back on British soil, Hawk planned to have a discussion with his brother about career choices.

  While dining with friends at the club, he ran into Montague. He managed to shock his brother-in-law when he said he’d taken his advice about Will and that he’d also moved into Ashdown House. Montague told him he’d gotten rid of the mistress. Hawk had been relieved.

  He wrote his mother, who was ecstatic to hear he was moving home. Grandmamma said she would consider moving into Ashdown House now that Hawk had come home, but he doubted she would leave her friends in Bath.

  One of the hardest decisions he had to make concerned Ramsey. In the end, he decided to pay a brief call on him. He shook hands with him and said he forgave him for that long-ago incident. Ramsey, of course, had no idea of the consequences of his trick, but Hawk thought better of him for apologizing.

  While he’d half hoped to hear from Westcott, Hawk figured the boy had not told him that he’d traveled to London to meet his sire.

  He’d completed all of his plans. There was nothing to keep him from calling on his aunt and Julianne. He dreaded the call, but he’d made a decision. He meant to tell Julianne that he would leave his proposal open in the event she changed her mind. As he climbed into his curricle, he told himself the first meeting would be the most awkward. But the season was nearing the end, and soon he would escort her home.

  As he drove, he realized how much he’d missed her. He’d treated her badly that night at the love nest and couldn’t see any way to make amends. She’d turned down his offer of marriage, and her refusal still stung. He’d hated the circumstances, but he’d thought they could be happy together. The part that made him feel the worst was that he’d taken her virginity. Her lack of virtue could have grim consequences for her, and he wasn’t certain she fully understood that. Fair or not, husbands expected their wives to be virgins on their wedding day.

  He was, he realized, back in familiar territory. He’d made another mistake he couldn’t undo, not unless she agreed to marry him. And that seemed unlikely. He hoped he could talk to her today.

  The hunt for the anonymous lady who had written The Secrets of Seduction was the talk of the town.

  Julianne sat with Hester, the five cubs, and Amy, Georgette, and Sally in the Egyptian drawing room. She tried not to look as anxious as she felt, but she didn’t like being the anonymous prey of every furious bachelor, rakehell, and wastrel in London.

  Beaufort crossed his arms over his chest. “The latest theory about the author is ludicrous. I think Lady Elizabeth and Miss Henrietta Bancroft started the rumor about themselves being the twin authors behind the anonymous lady.”

  Amy huffed. “I cannot believe either of them could spell well enough to write a paragraph, much less an entire pamphlet.”

  Caruthers elbowed Osgood. “You were a good sport about the scandal sheets putting you up as the author.”

  “I’m planning to write one from the gentleman’s perspective,” Osgood said.

  “Don’t forget the stinky smoke,” Portfrey said. “Attracts the prettiest ladies.”

  “Pay no attention to their teasing,” Julianne said to Osgood.

  “I won’t let their ribbing get to m
e,” Osgood said. “After all, you encouraged me to write the gentlemen’s side of things.”

  Hester lifted her quizzing glass to her eye. “Most peculiar,” she said.

  Mr. Peckham shrugged. “I heard the publisher is looking for a similar pamphlet. The first one is selling so well he probably wishes to capitalize on its success.”

  While their talk of the pamphlet continued, Julianne sipped her tea. Her heart felt as heavy as a boulder inside her chest. She’d not seen Hawk for a week, and he’d directed his missives to Hester.

  After refusing his proposal, her doubts had set in immediately. He’d been so romantic, but he’d not said he loved her. He’d spoken about truthfulness, and in retrospect, she realized that this truly meant he did not love her. He’d made an honest offer to atone for her loss of honor and his. She’d hated turning him down, hated the look on his face, hated that she’d spoiled his sweet, beautiful proposal.

  Most of all, she missed him. Every single day and night. Nothing was the same. She missed bantering with him. She missed his jests and his beautiful brown eyes. And she missed his teasing as well.

  Nothing had changed. She was still madly in love with him.

  Almost as if she’d conjured him, Hawk walked into Hester’s drawing room. Was it possible that he’d grown even more handsome since she’d last seen him? Her heart ached. She’d hurt him the last time he was here. Even though she felt she’d made the right decision, it still hurt very much.

  “I told the butler I’d see myself up. Looks as if everyone is here.”

  The cubs wanted to know where he’d been, and Hawk said he’d had to take care of personal matters. He took his usual seat but refused cake and tea. The dogs regarded him with forlorn expressions—probably bemoaning the cake.

  Julianne studied him. There was something different about him, though she couldn’t put her finger on it.

  Beaufort leaned forward. “I heard you moved out of your rooms at the Albany.”

  He nodded. “I’ve lived in bachelor quarters for many years. I’ll be glad when my family comes home. It’s easy to take your family for granted,” he said. “But they’re the most important people in my life. And that’s as it should be.”

  Julianne looked at him. He seemed to have changed overnight, though she knew it had been a little over a week since she’d last seen him.

  Mr. Peckham eyed Hawk. “Have you read the pamphlet yet?”

  “Actually, I finally had time to read it last night.”

  Julianne held her breath. No doubt he would criticize it. She’d have to remember not to throw anything at his head or he might guess the truth.

  “Well, what did you think?” Hester asked.

  “There was something very familiar about the author’s writing style.” He shrugged. “I don’t know why it struck me so.” He met Julianne’s gaze. “I found some of her phrasing quite lively and engaging.”

  “So you approve of the pamphlet?” Julianne asked.

  “Oh, no. The exhortations on how to trap bachelors are ridiculous.”

  She sniffed. “What is so ridiculous about them?”

  He held his hand up. “Here is a prime example of the nonsensical advice the author gives young ladies. She tells them to plant extra posies in the drawing room so that it will appear other suitors have beaten them to the door.” He gestured with his hands. “This, according to the author, will make the gentleman jealous and wild to jump into the parson’s mousetrap with his dishonest beloved.”

  When the other gentlemen guffawed, Julianne lifted her chin. How dare he make fun of her pamphlet? What did he know about the trials and tribulations of being a single young lady?

  Beaufort frowned. “Julianne, you always had a regular flower garden in the drawing room.”

  Her heart thudded. “Oh, isn’t that a coincidence.”

  “I have to give the author credit for her imaginative and spirited writing style.” He looked at Julianne and winked.

  She sucked in her breath. Oh, dear heavens, had she inadvertently written in such a manner that he recognized her as the author? Well, she’d never admit it even if he did accuse her. After all, he’d laughed at her pamphlet.

  The butler strode inside. “An express letter for Lady Julianne. It arrived moments ago.”

  Chill bumps erupted on her arms as she tore the letter open. Her hands shook as she opened it. Then she gasped. “Oh, it is news from my brother. Tessa was delivered of a healthy baby boy yesterday.”

  Everyone cheered.

  Hawk was a bit more subdued in his reaction. “That’s wonderful news. I know it’s been a long nine months for Tristan.”

  “And Tessa,” Julianne said. “She is the one who carried the babe, after all.”

  “I stand corrected,” Hawk said.

  Was she imagining a slightly melancholy look in his eyes?

  “Have they chosen a name yet?” Hester asked.

  “Oh, yes, how could I forget?” She scanned the letter. “Christopher George Gatewick. Tristan includes a note for you, Hawk.”

  When she handed him the letter, he read it quickly. “He wishes me to escort you and my aunt to Gatewick Park as soon as arrangements can be made.”

  Julianne bounced on the sofa. “Oh, I want to go tomorrow first thing.”

  Hawk regarded his aunt. “Can you be ready tomorrow?”

  “Yes, of course,” Hester said.

  “We can make it in one day if we leave very early in the morning,” Julianne said.

  Hawk gave her a speaking look. “The journey takes ten hours. That’s an awfully long time to be cramped up in a carriage, even with stops. It’s especially hard on ladies, I think.”

  She realized he meant Hester. Julianne had noted she sometimes had to lean heavily on the stairwell. “Yes, I see your point. I’d forgotten how uncomfortable it can be on such a long drive.”

  “Julianne, you are officially an aunt,” Georgette said.

  “I am.” She laughed. “I cannot wait until I can hold little Christopher in my arms.”

  Hawk rose and walked over to the window.

  She kept the smile on her face, but something was troubling Hawk. Once before, she’d noticed he’d reacted oddly to discussions about the babe. She shook it off. The idea that he wouldn’t be happy for her brother was bizarre, but it troubled her all the same.

  He lingered in his aunt’s drawing room, hoping he would have a chance to speak to Julianne alone. The cubs and her friends surrounded her, talking animatedly. His aunt walked out with Mr. Peckham. Hawk wondered if there was more than friendship between them, but he would not pry into his aunt’s affairs. If she wanted him to know, she would tell him.

  The cubs and Sally took their leave, but Amy and Georgette remained behind. Hawk idled about the drawing room while Julianne and her friends made plans to meet during the summer. Another ten minutes went by. He walked to the faux mummy and realized Julianne probably wanted to avoid discussing his proposal. She’d made her reasons clear for rejecting him. Nothing had changed.

  He glanced over his shoulder. The three were huddled together on the sofa. Undoubtedly, they wished for privacy.

  He’d wanted one last chance to let her know his offer of marriage would remain open in the event she changed her mind.

  But she obviously did not want to hear him out.

  Her husky laugh reverberated all along his spine as he walked out of the drawing room. He closed the door behind him and met his aunt’s sharp gaze. “I will bring my carriage round at eight in the morning if that suits you.”

  “We will be ready.” Hester took his arm and led him to the stairs. “Are you so easily defeated?”

  He didn’t pretend to misunderstand her meaning. “She won’t have me. I’ll not press when it is clear she does not welcome a renewal of my addresses.”

  “I know you’ve had regrets in the past,” Hester said. “Don’t let her be one of them.”

  “I don’t regret spending the season with the two of you.” The
n he walked down the stairs.

  Julianne walked around the bedchamber she’d occupied for one season. She trailed her fingers over the corner desk where she’d spent long hours writing the pamphlet. When Hawk had complimented the writing style in the pamphlet earlier today, she’d hugged her secret pleasure to herself. He’d winked at her, making her suspect he knew she was the author. She wasn’t sure if she’d imagined a secret message from him, but she likely would never know.

  She’d wanted to talk privately with him today, but she’d realized any further discussions about her reasons for refusing him would prove awkward for him and painful for her.

  Betty placed the last shawl in the giant trunk that Tessa had lent her. All her gowns, shawls, bonnets, and underclothes were neatly packed.

  “You might wish to check the drawers once more,” Betty said. “I’ll close it up in the morning after you’re dressed.”

  “Thank you, Betty,” she said.

  After the maid left, Julianne walked over to the bed, remembering all the times she and Hester had spoken late at night. With a sigh, she opened the drawer of the bedside table. The locket her father had given her years ago lay inside. She picked it up, recalling how her friends had helped her to remove it when she’d grown panicked.

  With a flick of her thumb, she opened the locket. She frowned at the miniature of her father’s handsome face. Oddly, that miniature no longer held the power to hurt her. She’d never really known him. He’d died fourteen years ago, and though she’d felt his rejection keenly all these years, she realized he’d never really had any influence on her. Her brother and Hawk had always been the men who had cared about her.

  She took the locket over to the trunk and kneeled before it. When she found the jewelry box Hawk had given her, she removed the locket, opened it, and looked at the empty ovals. Pain lanced her heart. She’d journeyed to London with high hopes he would propose to her. Ironically, she’d gotten what she wanted and had turned him down.

  She’d hurt him.

  The doubts returned. Would she always regret not giving him a chance? Her eyes welled with tears, but she blinked them back. She placed both lockets in the jewelry box, set it in the trunk, and stood. She was her mother’s daughter and strong enough to face whatever the future held for her.