Seduced: The Scandalous Virgin

by Deborah Hale

  Seduced: The Scandalous Virgin

  Deborah Hale

  Fresh from scandal in India, headstrong Genia Vernon is being shipped off to England, where she faces a gray future as companion to her aged aunt. When she meets arrogant rake Blade Maxwell on board, she has her one and only chance for a hot, passionate fling…

  Blade wants to sow his wild oats one last time before duty forces him to marry. And being in such close proximity to fiery Genia has him more than tempted to break his golden rule—to never seduce a virgin!

  In 1819, the British established a trading post on the tiny island of Singapura, in a move to break a virtual Dutch monopoly on the lucrative East Indies trade. Since vast fortunes were made in those early years, I decided the heroes of my new trilogy for Harlequin Historical would be partners in a successful trading firm. Having amassed money and power, they now faced the far greater challenge of finding lasting love. Watch for the Gentlemen of Fortune series, beginning with Married: The Virgin Widow out next month in Harlequin Historical.

  Seduced: The Scandalous Virgin is the story of Blade Maxwell, a friend of the Vindicara partners returning to England from exile in the Orient. Eager to sow the last of his wild oats, Blade soon discovers the only available lady onboard is the beautiful, spirited Genia Vernon. Despite her attraction to Blade, Genia is still vexed with him for rejecting her overtures when they first met. Besides, she dares not risk being involved in any further scandal!

  I love to hear from readers, who are welcome to contact me by email at hrwdebhale@aol.com. I also invite you to visit me on the web at www.deborahhale.com or through my Facebook page Regency Author Deborah Hale.

  To my cousins and long friends, Dawn Kelly and Myrtle Graham, who know all my scandalous secrets!

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  Singapore, December 1820

  “A toast to my old friend, Blade Maxwell.” Ford Barrett raised a glass of potent Batavia arrack. “Perhaps it is no coincidence that the two greatest mischief-makers in the history of our school should meet up again so far from it. Though I am sorry to see him go, I wish him a happy return to civilization.”

  “To Maxwell.” Ford’s business partners, Hadrian Northmore and Simon Grimshaw, drank the toast while Blade nodded his thanks for their good wishes.

  He could not pretend he was sorry to leave Singapore. The British trading post had been founded on this tiny island less than two years ago and conditions were still primitive. Though Ford and his partners had made their fortunes as free traders, they all lived together in this simple, palm-thatched dwelling they’d built beside their warehouse. All food had to be imported, making it expensive and often unpalatable. The coming of winter would only relieve the oppressive heat by a degree or two. After three years’ exile in the sweltering East Indies, Blade longed for the familiar amenities of Penkensey Manor and a bracing Atlantic breeze.

  At the same time, he tried to forget the price he would pay for those comforts.

  “To your safe voyage.” Hadrian Northmore regarded Blade with greater cordiality than usual, now that he was about to leave. A North Countryman of humble origins, he’d made it clear he had little use for the son of an earl. “May your ship be spared from storms and reefs.”

  “Pirates and mutinies,” added Simon Grimshaw in a fierce tone Blade was at a loss to explain.

  “And may you not expire from boredom,” Ford concluded with a wry chuckle. “Though I doubt there’s much fear of that provided your fellow passengers include at least one fair female between the ages of eighteen and eighty.”

  Blade grinned and hoisted his glass. “To the ladies of the good ship Hartwell and the last few wild oats I have left to sow!”

  Ten long days later, Blade thought back to his last evening in Singapore as he gazed from the Hartwell’s starboard railing toward the Coromandel Coast of India. The ship had stopped to take on additional cargo and passengers from Madras before resuming its long voyage to England. Since this part of the coast lacked a proper harbor, everything had to be ferried out from the shore by native massoulah boats.

  “Let there be just one likely lady among them,” Blade muttered under his breath.

  The voyage so far had been deadly dull. The only female passengers were a middle-aged vicar’s wife and her niece, an empty-headed chit of seventeen who’d made a few awkward attempts to flirt with him. Though the girl was not ill-looking, Blade went out of his way to avoid her. Despite a well-deserved reputation as the black sheep of his family, he did have a few scruples about the sort of women he seduced. Happily wed wives were strictly off-limits, as were innocent virgins.

  He sought the company of women for mutual pleasure. He did not want his conscience burdened by the loss of some poor girl’s reputation and the lifetime of misery she might endure as a consequence. Neither could he risk being forced to wed one of his paramours. His family had made it clear that taking a wife other than one they chose for him would result in his being disowned and disinherited. No woman was worth that.

  Watching the rickety-looking boats struggle from shore through the pounding surf, Blade wished they might bring him just one lonely widow to console, or perhaps an estranged wife looking for a bit of excitement to enliven the coming weeks at sea.

  His hopes quickly faded as the new passengers were brought aboard. Neither of the women came close to meeting his modest standards. Much as he longed to get back to his comfortable life in England, he wasn’t certain he could settle down properly without sowing the last of his wild oats.

  Then one last passenger was hoisted aboard, looking much the worse for her wild ride through the crashing breakers. Her hat had blown off, sending her long dark hair rippling over her shoulders. Seawater had soaked her light muslin gown, making the fabric appear almost transparent as it clung to her body’s alluring curves. The lady looked as delightfully tousled as she might after a vigorous encounter with an eager lover.

  For an instant Blade stood rooted to the deck as desire coursed through his body, igniting a hundred sensual fancies. Then his tardy sense of chivalry caught up with him.

  Peeling off his coat, he strode toward the lady and began to wrap it around her. “Pray make use of this, ma’am, until you find some better covering.”

  Pleased at being the first to reach her and ingratiate himself with this small favor, he bowed low and took the liberty of introducing himself as he waited for her thanks. “Blade Maxwell, at your service.”

  The words had scarcely left his lips when his coat came hurling back at him and a strangely familiar voice addressed him in a tone that conveyed more scorn than gratitude. “I know who you are, Mr. Maxwell, and I will thank you to keep your coat and your hands to yourself!”

  Blade looked up into the flashing hazel eyes of Genia Vernon, the only woman who’d ever seriously tempted him to break his rule about not seducing virgins. Her blazing glare warned him he would never get that opportunity with her.

  The sight of Blade Maxwell on the deck of the Hartwell sank Genia’s spirits even lower than they were already. She had thought nothing could make her voyage of exile worse. The presence of a far-too-attractive charmer who’d spurned and humiliated her would make the coming months at sea very much worse, indeed.

  “Why, M-miss Vernon.” Lifting his gaze to her face at last, Blade fumbled the coat she’d thrown back at him. “What an unexpected—” he seemed to grasp for a word that would not be too obviously insincere “—surprise.”

  His momentary awkwardness re
ndered the man even more attractive than the usual easy charm—drat his hide! The roguish twinkle had faded from his silvery-gray eyes, making him look rather lost and in need of something part of her yearned to give. He appeared leaner than when she’d last seen him, and his patrician features had a chiseled look.

  “I never heard of a surprise that was expected.” Genia seized a blanket offered to her by a crewman and covered herself with it, all the while trying to stifle her body’s wanton reaction to Blade’s touch. “If you will excuse me, I must retire to my cabin to change clothes before I catch a chill.”

  In truth, her wet gown felt quite refreshing, but it provided a good excuse to get away.

  “Of course.” Blade Maxwell made a graceful bow that seemed to mock her bedraggled state. His well-practiced charm overcame his momentary embarrassment at seeing her again. “We will have plenty of time to renew our acquaintance in the weeks to come.”

  Did he think she was too stupid to see through his two-faced pretence of courtesy?

  “Alas, I fear you are correct, sir.” With as much dignity as she could muster, Genia swept away.

  She managed to maintain her brittle composure until she’d been shown to her little cabin off the roundhouse. Even once inside she did not dare vent the full force of her feelings, for fear of being overheard through the flimsy deal walls. The best she could manage was a violent dumb-show, shaking her fist in the air and muttering curses under her breath.

  When the handsome Mr. Maxwell had arrived in Madras eighteen months ago, she’d been instantly smitten with him. The pulse-pounding attraction had been a most welcome diversion from her lingering grief over the death of her dearest friend and infant goddaughter. Desperately eager to seize any fleeting pleasure, she had flirted with him shamelessly, determined to leave him in no doubt that she could be his for the asking.

  He had responded by going out of his way to avoid her. When circumstances made that impossible, he treated her as if she were some ancient dowager, rather than one of the most sought-after belles in all of India. To compound the insult, he embarked on an affair with a vapid officer’s widow twice her age. Her social circle in Madras had been too small for his conduct to go unremarked. He had made her a laughingstock.

  That wasn’t true, Genia’s conscience forced her to admit as she gazed out the port window toward the retreating coastline. She had humiliated herself with her heedless behavior, just as she’d brought about her own disgrace and exile. But was she not being punished enough for her imprudence? Must she also suffer several months in the company of the man who’d spurned her, so he could now gloat over her downfall?

  She only hoped Blade Maxwell would make as strenuous an effort to avoid her on the Hartwell as he had during their first acquaintance. If she did likewise, the next few months might just be bearable.

  Genia took great pains to repair her appearance before her first dinner at the captain’s table. Unfortunately, her toilette made her so late that the only vacant chair was the one beside Blade Maxwell. Stifling a groan, she stammered her apologies and slipped into her seat.

  Her hopes that Blade might ignore her were quickly dashed when he turned toward her with a smile that would have thawed an iceberg. “Your drenching doesn’t appear to have done you any harm, Miss Vernon. I hope you found your accommodations satisfactory.”

  “I believe they will do very well.” She took care to avoid his gaze. A glimmer of well-feigned interest in those silver-gray eyes might tempt her to let down her guard.

  Her heart began to flutter in the most ridiculous manner when he leaned closer and whispered in her ear. “Make certain to keep your cabin door locked at all times.”

  “Why?” Genia cast a glance around the table at their fellow passengers. “You cannot suppose anyone would have designs on my person?”

  He gave the most maddeningly infectious chuckle. “You need have no fear on that score. All the unmarried gentlemen are lodged on the deck below. You should be more concerned about the designs certain crewmen might have on your possessions. Some would consider an unlocked cabin an open invitation to pilfer.”

  “Of course.” A fierce blush blazed in Genia’s cheeks. “Thank you for the warning.”

  Was Blade Maxwell deliberately trying to bait her into making a fool of herself again? What had she ever done to him but make her attraction too obvious?

  She sought to ignore him by turning her attention to the elderly gentleman her father had asked to watch over her on the voyage, but he was deep in conversation with the captain.

  Blade persisted in quizzing her. “What takes you back to England, Miss Vernon?”

  Genia nearly choked on a morsel of Bengal mutton. Blade Maxwell was the very last person in the world she wished to know the truth about what awaited her in England.

  “I am going to live with my father’s aunt,” she replied once she’d cleared her throat. “She means to make me the heiress to her entire fortune.”

  It wasn’t altogether a lie, Genia tried to placate her protesting conscience. Great-aunt Millicent might leave her a small legacy, though not likely enough to live in any comfort.

  “A most enviable situation.” Blade took a deep draft of his wine. “I congratulate you.”

  The newfound respect in his tone went to Genia’s head. “Yes. I shall be quite independent, able to live in perfect freedom without the encumbrance of a husband and children.”

  Was she only professing to disdain what she had no hope of getting? Genia asked herself as she strove to resist Blade Maxwell’s disarming charm. No, it went deeper than that. But she was not about to confide her most intimate feelings to a rake like him.

  Chapter Two

  A woman of independent means who wanted nothing to do with marriage would be the perfect partner for a shipboard seduction. That thought hummed a constant refrain in Blade’s mind all the next week, growing more insistent with each passing day.

  Now, as the passengers of the Hartwell gathered in the roundhouse to occupy the hours between luncheon and teatime, he could scarcely keep his mind on the cards in his hand. Instead, his ears were trained upon Genia as she entertained old Mr. Ramsey with a story.

  Ever since their departure from Madras, Blade had become daily more certain that Miss Vernon was by far the most interesting person aboard. With the other gentlemen, even the dullest, she was unfailingly affable and vivacious. But whenever he tried to avail himself of her sparkling company, she turned suddenly waspish. Was she trying to show him what he’d missed by discouraging her interest when he’d first visited Madras? If so, she’d succeeded all too well.

  Distracted by his constant thoughts of her, Blade played his cards so badly that his companions appeared relieved when he begged to withdraw from their game. “If you will excuse me, gentlemen, I could use a breath of sea air to blow the cobwebs from my brain.”

  Spying Genia temporarily on her own, he approached her with a smile that had seldom failed to beguile its object. “Might I beg the honor of your company for a turn about the deck, Miss Vernon?”

  A spark of irritation flashed in the lush, warm depths of her eyes. “I cannot prevent you from begging if you choose, sir. Indeed, it might be most amusing to observe. But I cannot promise you the answer you claim to desire. Have our recent encounters not persuaded you that my company might be more a trial than an honor?”

  “Quite the contrary.” Blade lowered his voice to an intimate murmur. “They have only demonstrated that your abuse is far more diverting than the civilities of anyone else aboard. Take pity on my abject boredom, I beg you, and indulge me with brief stroll.”

  “As you wish.” One corner of her full, wine-red lips arched. “But only because I am weary of making such effort to be agreeable to everyone. I shall relish the opportunity to be contrary or short-tempered if I choose. Let me go fetch my bonnet.”

  Watching her walk away, Blade pictured her gown drenched with seawater, clinging to her body like a translucent second skin. Had that provocati
ve glimpse of her fuelled his present combustible attraction? Or was he responding to the challenge she now represented? Whatever the reason, he found himself drawn to her far more intensely than when she’d pursued him.

  A short while later, as they emerged onto the open deck, he offered her his arm.

  “Such minor liberties are permissible at sea,” he explained. “For support, in case a lady should lose her footing on account of the ship’s movement.”

  Though she seemed dubious of his assurances, it did not prevent Genia from slipping her hand through the crook of his elbow. That innocent touch, together with the subtle whiff of jasmine that hung about her, roused Blade’s desire in a way that was anything but innocent. He could not help imagining what a playful, adventurous lover she might make.

  They had not strolled far when a school of dolphins caught their attention, bounding along beside the ship, leaping out of the sea then plunging back in. For a while, Blade and Genia stood at the railing, laughing at the creatures’ antics and marveling at their speed, strength and grace.

  “Intriguing creatures,” Blade mused as they resumed their stroll, “so free and full of life.”

  “Shall I tell you what intrigues me?” asked Genia.

  Though he sensed a slight threat in her question, it also piqued his curiosity. “By all means.”

  “I am at a loss to understand why you are suddenly so attentive to me. When you first arrived in Madras, I would have been delighted by any sign of interest from you. But you scarcely spared me a second glance. I do not think I have improved so much in the meantime. Is this a measure of your present desperation or are you after me for the money I may inherit?”

  Beneath her bantering tone, Blade sensed genuine hurt and self-doubt. He had never imagined he could inflict either upon a woman so lovely and sought after.