How to Seduce a Scoundrel

by Vicky Dreiling

  Tristan’s skin tingled. No, he would not stoop to hiring her to find him a bride. He could practically picture the news in the scandal rags. The Desperate Duke has hired a matchmaker.

  He was not desperate. He was a bloody duke. With a mere crook of his finger, he could have any woman he wanted. The problem was he didn’t want just any woman. He’d formulated requirements for his ideal bride.

  All he needed was to find someone who met them.

  He thought about spending week after week trolling for a wife in ballrooms. He thought about fetching fans, handkerchiefs, and parasols. He thought about his need for an heir. His chances of finding his perfect duchess seemed remote at best.

  Tristan glanced at Miss Mansfield again and reconsidered. She needed money. He needed a bride. For the right price, Miss Mansfield would keep her involvement a secret from all but the chosen girl and her grateful family.

  He frowned, realizing he was basing his decision on one example—Broughton. Hiring Miss Mansfield meant taking a risk, but if her efforts proved unsatisfactory, he could dismiss her. Truthfully, a larger risk loomed. Marriage was for life, and as matters now stood, he was in serious danger of tying himself forever to an unsuitable wife. Or no wife at all, at this rate.

  Tristan sized up the situation and realized he had two choices: continue his haphazard search or hire Miss Mansfield. After weeks of pure hell shopping at the marriage mart, the matchmaker won hands-down.

  Of course, he had no intention of enlightening his friend. “I’m off to pay my respects to Broughton and his wife.”

  Hawk snorted. “This marriage business has addled your brain.”

  “I fail to understand what you find so amusing.”

  “Miss Mansfield is a happily-ever-after spinster.” Hawk clapped him on the shoulder. “Congratulations, old boy. You’ve just chosen the only woman in the kingdom who won’t wed you.”

  Tessa Mansfield wanted to kick herself.

  Heaven above, she’d practically flirted with that rake, the Duke of Shelbourne. She’d never seen him before tonight, but she’d heard about his reputation. The gentleman rake, they called him. Everyone said he didn’t gamble to excess. They said he never seduced innocents. Every other female, however, was apparently fair game.

  She prided herself on her ability to spot a rake at twenty paces. This particular rake had fooled her with his agreeable manner. But she knew rakes used their charm to disarm their intended victims. She recalled the duke’s slow smile and could not deny she’d let his handsome face turn her head.

  Tessa cringed as she recalled the way she’d chattered like a monkey. He must have thought she’d dropped her fan on purpose like all those silly girls she’d read about in the scandal sheets. Oh, how lowering.

  She took a deep breath, reminding herself she was unlikely to encounter him again. Thank goodness.

  “I am glad to see you, Tessa. I’ve missed you so.”

  Tessa returned her attention to Anne, her former companion and dearest friend in the world. “I missed you as well.”

  Anne’s eyes misted. “I never imagined I would make such a happy marriage. You made all my dreams come true.”

  For nearly a year, Tessa had promoted the match between Anne Mortland and Lord Broughton. More than once, Tessa had feared all would come to naught, but true love and a dusting of luck had culminated in this fairy tale marriage.

  Tessa glanced at Lord Broughton. “You both look well, my lord.”

  Broughton gazed at his bride with adoration. “I am the happiest of men.”

  Tessa’s heart contracted with a yearning for something she could never have.

  Anne clasped her arm. “Tessa, look quickly. You do not want to miss seeing Jane dance.”

  Tessa lifted up on her toes to see past the crowd. She caught a glimpse of her new companion, Jane Powell, but the fast approach of two fashionable and handsome gentlemen diverted her attention. As they neared, her heart thudded. She recognized the taller man with tousled black hair. It was the Duke of Shelbourne.

  She turned round, hoping he’d not seen her. To her mortification, Shelbourne and the other gentleman approached Lord Broughton.

  “Shelbourne, Hawk, this is an unexpected pleasure,” Broughton said, rubbing his hands.

  Tessa gazed up at the chandelier, wishing she could melt like the wax oozing from the candles. When she’d run away, he’d probably thought she wanted him to chase her. Belatedly, she realized her behavior only made her look guilty and a little foolish. She planted a serene smile on her face as Lord Broughton introduced her to the duke and Lord Hawkfield. Then she curtseyed and rose to find Shelbourne gazing at her. In the light of the chandelier, she could see his eyes were marine blue and fringed by thick black lashes.

  “Miss Mansfield and my wife are friends,” Lord Broughton said. “She is the one responsible for our happy union.”

  Lord Hawkfield raised his brows in an exaggerated fashion. “I say, a matchmaker? If only I had known of your skills when my sisters were single, Miss Mansfield. You might have saved me the trouble of finding them husbands.”

  His mocking tone vexed her. She’d encountered plenty of his kind before, always quick to ridicule her avocation. “I had no idea I had a competitor. Or do you only make matches for relatives?”

  Before Lord Hawkfield could reply, the duke cut in. “His self-proclaimed talent is highly overrated.”

  She arched her brows. “Should I be relieved?”

  “He never stood a chance against you.”

  His distinctive baritone voice sent an exquisite shiver along her arms. She mentally shook herself. He’s a rake, he’s a rake, he’s a rake.

  The music ended. Lord Hawkfield excused himself and disappeared into the crowd. The duke glanced at her, and then he closed the distance between them.

  She looked at him warily. Could he not see she wished him to leave her in peace?

  “I apologize for detaining you so long earlier,” he said. “Without a proper introduction, I fear you might have taken offense.”

  He’d apologized in a gentlemanly manner, even though she was equally at fault, perhaps more so, since she’d done most of the talking. “No apology is necessary. The circumstances were unusual.”

  He inclined his head. Though he did not smile, there was a natural curve to his full lips. His was not the pretty face of a dandy, however. Oh, no, not at all. His thick brows, angular cheekbones, and square jaw were all male. Little wonder women reportedly swooned at his perfection. No, not quite perfect, she thought, detecting a faint shadow along his jaw and above his full upper lip. His valet probably had to shave him twice a day. Her skin prickled at this evidence of the duke’s masculinity.

  “There is something I wish to ask you.” His voice rumbled, a sound as rich and irresistible as a cup of chocolate.

  Her heart thumped at the low, seductive notes in his voice. She’d thought herself unsusceptible to such tricks, but evidently her traitorous body was not.

  “May I call upon you tomorrow afternoon?” he asked.

  “Your Grace, if this concerns my fan, I beg you to forget the matter.” There, that should settle his concern once and for all.

  “It is not about the fan,” he said. “I have appointments early in the afternoon. May I call at four o’clock?”

  She regarded him with suspicion. “Why not tell me now?”

  “I prefer to discuss it in private, if you are amenable.”

  In private? Did he mean to make her a dishonorable proposal? Then her common sense prevailed. A handsome rake like him would have no interest in a plump spinster.

  His mouth curved in the merest of smiles. “You hesitate. I can hardly blame you after I discomposed you earlier.”

  She lifted her chin. “I was not discomposed.” What a bounder. She’d fled as if the engraving on his card read His Grace, the Duke of Devilbourne.

  “I will of course abide by your decision.” Then he gazed into her eyes with such intensity, she stilled like a ra
bbit in the woods. He drew her in, mesmerizing her with his arresting blue eyes. She felt the pull of his will like a swift current. And everything inside her said yes. “Very well,” she said breathlessly.

  “Thank you. Until tomorrow.” He sketched a formal bow and walked away.

  She let out her pent-up breath. Good God, he’d seduced her into agreeing.

  Anne approached, using her fan to shield her voice. “What were you and the duke discussing?”

  Tessa thought it best not to reveal his intended visit until she knew his purpose. “Nothing of consequence.” But he wanted something from her. She suppressed a shiver.

  “He spoke to you at length,” Anne said. “You must tell me what he said.”

  “You make too much of the matter.” Why had she let him turn her head?

  “He looked at you like a starving wolf. Stay away from him,” Anne said. “He is well-respected for his politics, but even Geoffrey admitted the duke has a notorious reputation with women. He probably has one hundred notches in his bedpost.”

  Tessa scoffed. “I’m sure he has no interest in carving one for an aging spinster like me.”

  “You are only six and twenty,” Anne said. “Why must you always demean your charms?”

  She ignored her friend’s question. “Do not worry. I am in no danger of falling for a rake’s wiles.” Even if he’d persuaded her to let him call tomorrow, and she’d accepted against her better judgment.

  Anne drew closer. “He has a reputation as a legendary lover. Women throw themselves in his path. I heard he can persuade a woman to do his bidding with his eyes.”

  Tessa gulped, knowing it was true.

  Anne surveyed the crowd and grabbed Tessa’s arm. “Look, there he is now by the hearth. Do you see that woman with him? That is Lady Endicott, a formerly respectable widow—until she met Shelbourne.”

  Tessa glanced in that direction. A tall, raven-haired beauty with jade feathers in her bandeau slid her finger along Shelbourne’s lapel. Then the widow leaned against him and whispered in his ear. He turned his head and flicked her earbob.

  Tessa gasped. Stars above. She’d invited that shameless rake to her drawing room.

  His teeth flashed in a roguish grin. Then he winked at the lady and strode off.

  “How could he engage in such brazen flirtation when his sister is present?” Anne said, her voice outraged.

  Tessa swerved her gaze to Anne. “His sister?”

  “Lady Julianne,” Anne said. “She is dancing with Lord Holbrook.”

  The dark-haired young woman laughed as she skipped past her partner. Her complexion glowed with the radiance of youth, and her gold-netted gown set off her slender figure to perfection. A sliver of envy lodged in Tessa’s throat. Long ago, she’d missed her own opportunity to have a season. Most of the time, she refused to dwell on the past, but once in a while, regret shadowed her heart.

  Anne regarded Tessa. “Lady Julianne is purported to have declined more than a dozen marriage proposals since her come-out three years ago.”

  “She sounds very particular.”

  “Perhaps it is her brother who is particular,” Anne said. “Some say the duke believes no man is good enough for his sister.”

  Tessa stilled. Did he mean to ask her to make a match for his sister tomorrow? No, surely he would rely on his mother’s advice. Why then had he insisted on calling?

  THE DISH

  Where authors give you the inside scoop!

  From the desk of Vicky Dreiling

  Dear Reader,

  While writing my first novel HOW TO MARRY A DUKE, I decided my hero Tristan, the Duke of Shelbourne, needed a sidekick. That bad boy sidekick was Tristan’s oldest friend Marc Darcett, the Earl of Hawkfield, and the hero of HOW TO SEDUCE A SCOUNDREL. Hawk is a rogue who loves nothing better than a lark. Truthfully, I had to rein Hawk in more than once in the first book as he tried repeatedly to upstage all the other characters.

  Unlike his friend Tristan, Hawk is averse to giving up his bachelor status. He’s managed to evade his female relatives’ matchmaking schemes for years. According to the latest tittle-tattle, his mother and sisters went into a decline upon learning of his ill-fated one-hour engagement. Clearly, this is a man who values his freedom.

  My first task was to find the perfect heroine to foil him. Who better than the one woman he absolutely must never touch? Yes, that would be his best friend’s sister, Lady Julianne. After all, it’s in a rake’s code of conduct that friends’ sisters are forbidden. Unbeknownst to Hawk, however, Julianne has been planning their nuptials for four long years. I wasn’t quite sure how Julianne would manage this feat, given Hawk’s fear of catching wife-itis. After a great deal of pacing about, the perfect solution popped into my head. I would use the time-honored trick known as The Call to Adventure. When Tristan, who can not be in London for the season, proposes that Hawk act as Julianne’s unofficial guardian, Hawk’s bachelor days are numbered.

  In addition to these plans, I wanted to add in a bit of fun with yet another Regency-era spoof of modern dating practices. I recalled an incident in which one of my younger male colleagues complained about that dratted advice book for single ladies, The Rules. I wasn’t very sympathetic to his woes about women ruling guys. After all, reluctant bachelors have held the upper hand for centuries. Thus, I concocted The Rules in Regency England.

  Naturally, the road to true love is fraught with heartbreak, mayhem, and, well, a decanter of wine. Matters turn bleak for poor Julianne when Hawk makes his disinterest clear after a rather steamy waltz. I knew Julianne needed help, and so I sent in a wise woman, albeit a rather eccentric one. Hawk’s Aunt Hester, a plain-spoken woman, has some rather startling advice for Julianne. Left with only the shreds of her pride, Julianne decides to write a lady’s guide to seducing scoundrels into the proverbial parson’s mousetrap. My intrepid heroine finds herself in hot suds when all of London hunts for the anonymous author of that scandalous publication, The Secrets of Seduction. At all costs, Julianne must keep her identity a secret—especially from Hawk, who is determined to guard her from his fellow scoundrels. But can he guard his own heart from the one woman forbidden to him?

  My heartfelt thanks to all the readers who wrote to let me know they couldn’t wait to read HOW TO SEDUCE A SCOUNDREL. I hope you will enjoy the twists and turns that finally lead to happily ever after for Hawk and Julianne.

  Cheers!

  www.vickydreiling.com

  From the desk of Jane Graves

  Dear Reader,

  Have you ever visited one website, seen an interesting link to another website, and clicked it? Probably. But have you ever done that about fifty times and ended up in a place you never intended to? As a writer, I’m already on a “what if” journey inside my own head, so web hopping is just one more flight of fancy that’s so easy to get caught up in.

  For instance, while researching a scene for BLACK TIES AND LULLABIES that takes place in a childbirth class, I saw a link for “hypnosis during birth.” Of course I had to click that, right? Then I ended up on a site where people post their birth stories. And then…

  Don’t ask me how, but a dozen clicks later, my web-hopping adventure led me to a site about celebrities and baby names. And it immediately had me wondering: What were these people thinking? Check out the names these famous people have given their children that virtually guarantee they’ll be tormented for the rest of their lives:

  Apple Actress Gwyneth Paltrow

  Diva Muffin Musician Frank Zappa

  Moxie Crimefighter Entertainer Penn Jillette

  Petal Blossom Rainbow Chef Jamie Oliver

  Zowie Singer David Bowie

  Pilot Inspektor Actor Jason Lee

  Sage Moonblood Actor Sylvester Stallone

  Fifi Trixibell Sir Bob Geldof*

  Reignbeau Actor Ving Rhames

  Jermajesty Singer Jermaine Jackson

  No, a trip around the Internet does not get my books written, but sometimes it’s worth the
laugh. Of course, the hero and heroine of BLACK TIES AND LULLABIES would never give their child a name like one of these….

  I hope you enjoy BLACK TIES AND LULLABIES. And look for my next book, HEARTSTRINGS AND DIAMOND RINGS, coming October 2011.

  Happy Reading!

  www.janegraves.com

  From the desk of Paula Quinn

  Dear Reader,

  Having married my first love, I was excited to write the third installment in my Children of the Mist series, TAMED BY A HIGHLANDER. You see, Mairi MacGregor and Connor Grant were childhood sweethearts. How difficult could it be to relate to a woman who had surrendered her heart at around the same age I did? Of course, my real life hero didn’t pack up his Claymore and plaid and ride off to good old England to save the king. (Although my husband does own a few swords he keeps around in the event that one of our daughters brings home an unfavorable boyfriend.) My hero didn’t break my young heart, or the promises he made me beneath the shadow of a majestic Highland mountain. I don’t hide daggers under my skirts. Heck, I don’t even wear skirts.

  But I am willing to fight for what I believe in. So is Mairi, and what she believes in is Scotland. A member of a secret Highland militia, Mairi has traded in her dreams of a husband and children for sweeping Scotland free of men who would seek to change her Highland customs and religion. She knows how to fight, but she isn’t prepared for the battle awaiting her when she sets her feet in England and comes face to face with the man she once loved.

  Ah, Connor Grant, captain in the King’s Royal Army and son of the infamous rogue Graham Grant from A HIGHLANDER NEVER SURRENDERS. He’s nothing like his father. This guy has loved the same lass his whole life, but she’s grown into a woman without him and now, instead of casting him smiles, she’s throwing daggers at him!