How to Tempt an Earl_Raven Club

by Tina Gabrielle

  What he’d told her was true—he was no gentleman. After years of disuse and disinterest, he’d lost any knack he’d once had. If he was going to do this, he needed a tutor. Someone born and bred in the bosom of Society, someone in whom the proper manners and etiquette were ingrained. Someone who would keep it a secret that Ian Swift, the Earl of Castleton, needed training.

  His thoughts turned to one woman.

  Chapter Three

  A week later she returned to the Raven Club. Ian had known she would. He’d done everything in his power to ensure it.

  A busy night found him on the second floor of his club, overlooking the gaming activity below. A boxing match had taken place earlier in the back room, and the same men now gathered around Ian’s whist and vingt et un tables, losing the money they had won a mere hour ago.

  Despite the crowd and the haze of cigar smoke wafting to the ceiling, Ian spotted her as soon as she stepped through the door. She wore a different half mask and hooded cloak, but her graceful movements were unmistakable.

  Look at me.

  As if on command, she raised her head to the window. Ian knew the glare from the blazing chandeliers prevented her from seeing him clearly. Nonetheless, her gaze remained and her brow furrowed above the mask.

  He wanted her very much. Despite his strong physical response, he wouldn’t act upon it. He needed her for more.

  It hadn’t been difficult to discern her identity. Soot had followed her and had reported where she’d lived. A few inquiries and Ian had learned her name, and he’d since looked into her family.

  Miss Grace Ashton was the only daughter of Baron Newbury. The baron also had a young son and heir. Grace’s mother had died from consumption three years ago, during Grace’s first Season. The baron had begun frequenting the Raven Club months ago, and he’d come three to four days a week since. He drank too much whisky before and during his ventures at the tables, often betted recklessly, and his debt had risen to a considerable amount. He’d most likely frequented other gambling clubs before Ian’s, but he’d been refused admittance after not paying his debts in a timely fashion.

  He watched as she spoke with Brooks, who was manning the door tonight. Ian experienced a strange pull of jealousy as the tall Irishman leaned down to speak to her. The foreign emotion was odd and uncomfortable.

  Ian had left explicit instructions for his man to bring her to him. She held the hood of her cloak with one hand as she wove her way through the casino floor and followed Brooks to the back staircase. Heart thudding in anticipation, Ian went to the large oak desk and sat. A minute later there was a rap on the door.

  “Enter,” he said.

  Brooks opened the door, and the lady flew inside with the force of a fierce summer gale.

  “You blackguard!”

  Ian didn’t rise. “Good evening, Miss Ashton.”

  She stiffened at the use of her name.

  Brooks had taken her cloak, and she stood before him in a modest gown of blue alpaca that covered her from her neck to the tips of her shoes. It was an unflattering dress, but her clothing did not diminish her beauty or hide the swell of her breasts. Her distinctive lavender scent wafted to him.

  “Leave us, Brooks.”

  Brooks nodded curtly and quietly shut the door.

  “Please be comfortable.” He motioned to one of the leather chairs before his desk.

  She ignored him. He shrugged and leaned back in his seat. “To what do I owe the pleasure of another visit?”

  Her eyes flashed blue fire, and she placed her hands on her hips. “You know precisely why I’m here. Not only did you entice my father to your tables, but you let him win until he was in a fever of excitement, then you permitted him to continue to gamble until he lost his winnings and more. You took advantage!”

  “I run a business, not a charity house.”

  “You’re a liar. You tricked him. You knew his debt to you would double.”

  Ian laughed gruffly. “Double? Since the baron began frequenting the Raven Club months ago, his debt has reached six thousand pounds.”

  Her mouth gaped. “Six thousand pounds! That’s not possible.”

  “I assure you it is. I have his IOU to prove it.”

  “You are incorrigible.” Her cheeks flushed. Her breaths came in short gasps of anger, her breasts rising and falling beneath the bodice of her modest gown.

  She was stunning in her anger. His cock jerked to attention, and he was glad he remained seated behind his desk, no matter how ungentlemanly his behavior. His arousal would be blatant if he stood, even to an inexperienced lady.

  “Why would you do this? I offered you my mother’s jewels. Surely they would have been enough then and—”

  “I told you, I won’t accept jewels, and I’ve decided I don’t want your money.”

  “Then what?”

  “I want something else.”

  Her expression immediately turned wary, and a blush crept into her cheeks. He was entranced at how easy she was to read. She’d make a horrible card player.

  “No,” she said, shaking her head. “I am a lady. My virtue is not for sale.”

  “I’ve never doubted you are a lady,” he drawled.

  “Then go seek one of the countless women who must throw themselves into your arms seeking a bedmate.” She bit her lip as soon as she blurted out the words. She had as much as admitted he was sufficiently attractive to have women crawling into bed with him.

  His lips curled into a smile. “Thank you, but a night in my bed, no matter how enticing that sounds, is not what I require of you.”

  “It’s not?”

  “Oh, don’t mistake me. I would do everything in my power to make it most pleasurable for you should you decide to accept my initial offer. But that is not what I want.”

  “No?”

  She almost sounded disappointed at his disinterest. Erotic images sprang to mind of him teaching her all types of sensual delights. He’d start by having her peel off her dowdy dress. No, he had to cease thinking of her that way. He needed her for more pressing reasons.

  He shifted in his seat and forced his thoughts to return to his dilemma. “I find myself in a predicament. I need a tutor.”

  Her delicate brows drew together. “You can’t possibly mean you want to learn Latin or French or the pianoforte?”

  “That’s not what I have in mind.”

  “Then what, for heaven’s sake?”

  “I need to enter polite Society.”

  Her blue eyes widened. “You mean you need me to teach you manners?”

  “Not just fine manners but how to act like a gentleman of the ton.”

  She gasped as if he’d requested her to perform magic. “But that’s impossible!”

  He arched a dark eyebrow. “Are you refusing?”

  “It’s just that…that…I don’t know if I’m capable.”

  “You are Miss Grace Ashton, the daughter of Baron Newbury, a lady of proper upbringing and standing in Society. A member of the Orphaned Children’s Relief Society, correct?”

  Her brows snapped downward. “You seem to know a considerable amount about my affairs.”

  “It’s in my interest to know about anyone who steps foot in my club. All their secrets and their desires.”

  A blush crept up her cheeks. “Yes, but someone else would be—”

  “I can’t think of a better tutor.”

  “Why? Why would you care to enter Society when you have,” her hand fluttered toward the window overlooking the casino floor, “all of this.”

  “It’s simple. My brother died.”

  She blinked, clearly taken aback at his statement. “I’m sorry for your loss, but—”

  “His Christian name was Matthew. He was my father’s oldest son and the Earl of Castleton.”

  Her features softened. “I heard of the tragic riding accident, of course, but I didn’t realize the earl was your brother. I’m truly sorry.”

  For some reason, her genuine sympathy distur
bed Ian. He didn’t want her pity. He didn’t want anyone to know his true feelings for his older brother.

  “Do not pity me,” he said tersely. “I’m now the earl and possess all the property and prestige that goes along with the title.”

  Her gaze sharpened. “Of course, but from all that I’ve heard, you are already a man of wealth, my lord.”

  The title made Ian stiffen. It represented everything he despised, everything he was now being forced to accept. “No ‘lord.’”

  “But you are now a lord. Proper titles will be one of the first steps in any lesson.”

  “No titles. Not when we are alone.”

  “What shall I call you then? Mr. Swift?”

  “No. Call me Ian, and I will call you Grace.”

  She looked at him incredulously. “That’s horribly improper.”

  “In private, remember? You may ‘lord’ me as much as you’d like while we are out and about, and I shall call you Miss Ashton. Now, do you agree to tutor me?”

  She shook her head. “You do not need me. You can easily hire someone. A gentleman would be best.”

  “I could, but you are here and are qualified. You are also not in a position to refuse.”

  “You are gravely mistaken. I am not in a position to accept. If word got out that I was tutoring you, my reputation would be ruined.”

  “I also prefer to keep my lessons a secret. I do not want my mother, the Dowager Countess, to learn of them.”

  “I have more to lose. My reputation is all I have.”

  “Then we must be careful.”

  She worried her bottom lip. His gaze once again lowered to her mouth. He realized she bit her lip when she was nervous. It would drive him to distraction during his lessons. He wanted to lick her plump bottom lip, nip it with his teeth, and suck it into his mouth.

  She shifted from side to side, oblivious to his erotic thoughts. “It would be impossible for me to visit a bachelor’s residence during the day. I’d have to come at night.”

  “I own a gaming club, remember? I’m accustomed to late hours. I will leave the club shortly after midnight for my lessons. My man, Brooks, will oversee the club during my absence.”

  She remained silent, and Ian knew she was considering his proposition. He was surprised how badly he wanted her to say yes.

  She tapped her foot as she thought. “I’d have to wait until the household was asleep, slip out of the house, and hire a hack after dark.”

  “No hack.”

  She stilled, and her gaze flew to his. “You would expect me to walk alone at night?”

  “No. I’ll have an unmarked carriage wait by the mews behind your father’s home each evening. I will return you to your home the same way before sunrise.”

  “If I agree to aid you, will this satisfy my father’s debts?”

  “Yes.”

  “All six thousand pounds?”

  Ian nodded.

  “Will you refuse him admittance here?” she asked.

  His mouth thinned. “That will not solve your problems. You must know he will seek out another gambling establishment.”

  She cocked her head to the side. “Then you must promise to help him reform his ways.”

  His jaw hardened. “Now you seek the impossible.”

  “Perhaps if you speak with him, he will listen.” Her voice held a note of desperation. “You are familiar with gamblers. You must understand the illness that drives them.”

  Ian contemplated her request. He felt an odd twinge of sympathy at her distress, but he shoved it aside. He knew better than to fall for a pair of pretty blue eyes. “Even if I speak with the baron, the likelihood is that I will not be able to help him. Only he can make the decision to walk away from the tables,” he said.

  “You must promise to try.”

  He didn’t think he could help her father. Ian was in the business of making money, not reforming gamblers. If the harm Baron Newbury suffered from his gaming wasn’t sufficient to stop the man from visiting the gambling halls, then what could Ian do?

  Yet, once again, the hopeful expression on Grace’s face made Ian hesitate. He wanted her to accept, needed her to.

  He nodded. “I will speak to the baron.”

  “How soon would you require my services?”

  “Tomorrow night.”

  Her eyes widened. “So soon?”

  “My mother insists I attend Lady Crowley’s ball.”

  Her jaw dropped. “Lady Crowley’s ball? But that’s in less than a fortnight!”

  “Then we must work hard. Do you agree to my terms?”

  …

  Grace stood still, looking into Ian’s dark eyes. Her mind spun as she considered his offer. Her sole purpose in coming here tonight was to confront him, to demand he turn her father away from the Raven Club. She’d known it was a foolish visit, but her temper had gotten the best of her.

  She’d been unprepared for his offer. She had little choice but to accept, and, truth be told, it wasn’t such a horrible arrangement. Even if she failed to turn Ian into a proper gentleman in time for Lady Crowley’s ball, he’d promised to forgive her father’s debt.

  All six thousand pounds.

  But it would be no easy task. He hadn’t even risen since she’d walked into the room. True, he’d offered her a seat, but when she’d refused, he should have remained standing. Even now, he sat behind his desk with his long fingers wrapped around the arms of his chair. In short, his manners were deplorable.

  Far from a gentleman’s.

  Could she do what he asked? Could she afford not to?

  She’d sent her maid to the milliner to deliver updated and balanced ledgers, and she’d returned with a small payment. Grace had been working for the milliner for six months and had saved every shilling. She planned to work more hours, maybe even have Rose ask other businesses if they could use her anonymous services, but nothing was guaranteed. As of now, her efforts were just sufficient to pay the staff’s wages for the month, but not enough to ease all her burdens. Certainly, not enough to pay her father’s debt to Ian Swift.

  “It must be a business arrangement, nothing more,” she said.

  His dark head nodded. “You have my word.”

  She didn’t want to point out that when they’d first met in his office he’d admitted to not being a gentleman but a businessman. Would his word as a businessman be as worthy as that of a gentleman? It was a risk she had to take.

  She took a breath, walked to his desk, and extended her hand. “I’ll agree to those terms.”

  Ian’s gaze dropped to her hand, then traveled back to her face. A humorous glint lit his dark eyes. He rose and came around the desk to stand before her.

  Her heart started thumping. He stood close, and she could smell his shaving soap and something else, something unique to him…something dangerous.

  “I may have lived in the shadows for ten years, but even I know ladies don’t shake hands,” he said.

  She needed to clear her head. “I see no better way to seal a business arrangement, and we do not begin our lessons until tomorrow.”

  “Very well.” His palm engulfed hers. Instead of shaking her hand as she had expected, he raised her fingers to his mouth and brushed his lips against the back of her gloved hand.

  Her skin tingled beneath the satin, and a shiver of awareness traveled down her spine. He looked into her eyes, and she trembled.

  “Good. We have an agreement,” he said.

  Chapter Four

  The following evening, Grace’s heart pounded as she opened her bedroom door and looked both ways to make sure the hall was vacant. She tiptoed down the stairs just as the long case clock in the grand entry chimed midnight.

  She snuck into the kitchen and cracked open the servants’ door leading into the back gardens. A half-moon faintly illuminated the hedges and bushes, and they appeared like eerie specters.

  Doubt crept along her spine. It wasn’t the first time she’d secretly left the house. She’d been m
aintaining the ledgers of the milliner for six months’ time, and when her maid, Rose, couldn’t deliver or collect the ledgers, Grace would have to do it herself.

  But tonight was different. Other than her two visits to the Raven Club, she’d never departed this late, and certainly never to go to a bachelor’s home.

  Could she do this? Could she tutor such a dangerous and dominant male like Ian Swift?

  Did she have a choice?

  Six thousand pounds.

  She took a breath, filling her lungs with air and courage. Her future was not as she’d predicted. She’d wanted to marry for love, have children, and live in a lovely Mayfair home with plenty of laughter.

  Just like her childhood.

  Grace pushed the dream aside. Regrets were childish and foolish.

  She took another deep breath, stepped into the night, and quietly closed the door behind her. She clutched her cloak tightly and made her way to the mews. It had rained earlier in the evening, and the impressions between the cobblestones were filled with puddles. Lifting her skirts, she moved quickly until the shape of a dark coach and matching pair of bays came into view. She would have been hard pressed to see the conveyance if she didn’t know to look for it.

  As she approached the carriage, the driver hopped down from his seat. “Miss,” he said, opening the door and lowering the step.

  Fearful that she would lose her nerve, she quickly stepped inside and sat on the bench. The driver shut the door.

  She leaned against the luxuriously padded leather squabs. She’d made it this far. She had the remaining journey to gather her courage and—

  “Good evening.”

  She let out a shriek and whirled. Dressed entirely in black, Ian Swift sat in the corner of the carriage, his long legs stretched before him. A shaft of moonlight from the window illuminated his hessians.

  She pressed a hand to her chest. “My goodness! You could have made your presence known.”

  He flashed a mischievous grin. “I didn’t hide. I thought it best not to light a carriage lamp just in case someone was looking out the window. I had your reputation in mind.”

  Her gaze narrowed. She didn’t think he had anyone’s interest in mind other than his own. “I didn’t believe you would come with the carriage.”