“I’ll be sixteen next month,” Olivia said. “You haven’t forgotten, have you?”
She had fair hair and green eyes that twinkled with mischief. “Never. But I admit to being flummoxed as to what present you’d like.”
“It’s simple. Take me to Vauxhall Gardens to see the fireworks.”
Ian grinned. “I’d be honored.”
Ellie tugged his hand and led him to the sofa. “Sit with us.” She had red hair, a porcelain complexion, and bright blue eyes. At seventeen, she was close to her debut, and Ian suspected all the young bucks and beaus would swarm around her.
He obliged, and his sisters swiftly occupied cushions beside him on the sofa.
“We haven’t seen you since…since Matthew’s funeral.” At the mention of the tragic day, Ellie’s voice wavered.
“I keep thinking he will walk through the door,” Olivia said.
Ian’s gut knotted.
“When we learned you were here, our spirits lifted. You must visit us more often,” Ellie said.
After the old earl died, Ian made an effort to visit his sisters, but not as often as he’d liked. The Raven Club demanded more and more of his attention of late.
“I find it hard to believe my visit is that pleasing. I know you two have many friends,” Ian said.
“There has been little time for friends,” Ellie said. “Since the funeral, Mother has been consumed with my debut—language, painting, and dance lessons take time. She even insists I take pianoforte lessons, and I despise pianoforte. My life has been busy with seeing one teacher after another. She’s focused all her energies on me rather than to think of Matthew.”
Already? Ellie’s debut wasn’t until next year. Was it necessary to begin the preparations so soon? “From what I’ve heard, most young ladies anticipate their coming out. You’ll be able to attend all the balls and events of the Season.”
A strange look crossed Ellie’s face, before she shook her head. “Mother retained the services of a chaperone, an influential widow, Lady Taddlesworth. She is acting as a tutor of sorts. Lady Taddlesworth said I’m too spirited for my own good, and that no man will want an opinionated lady as a wife.”
“She’s wrong,” Ian said.
“Lady Taddlesworth said I’m too talkative, and I must cease chattering,” Olivia said.
What kind of advice were they receiving? “Don’t listen,” he said, his tone sharp. “Only a man who admires you for your traits, deserves your affection. No one else.”
Ellie embraced him. “Oh, Ian. I’m so glad you’ll be there for me for my debut.”
He stiffened. “I’m not certain my presence will be for the best.”
Ellie pulled back, her blue eyes watching him. “Why? Because you own a gambling hall?”
His gaze snapped to her face. “Wherever did you hear that?”
“I’m not a child, Ian. I overhead you arguing with Father in the past. I also heard gossip at my friend Silvia’s birthday party.”
“They say you fight with your bare fists for money in the back of the club. Is it true?” Olivia asked, a look of fascination on her face.
Christ.
He didn’t want his sisters tainted with his reputation.
Ellie was to have her debut soon. As the Earl of Castleton, Matthew would have escorted his sisters and mother about town, his manners gracious. Elegant—as Grace would have observed. There would be no rumors or gossip. No torrid tales about the Raven Club or the prizefighting that took place there. His sister’s futures would be promising and bright. Wealthy, titled gentlemen would dance with them at Almack’s, enjoy riding with them in Rotten Row during the promenade hour, and court them with the intent of marriage.
Instead, they were saddled with him—the new Earl of Castleton. His actions not only affected them at social events but impacted their very future.
How large a dowry would it take for a suitor to offer marriage to the sister of a disreputable blackguard? In his experience, all men could be bought.
“We know what you’re thinking,” Olivia said.
He doubted it.
“We don’t care what others say. You are our beloved brother.”
His heart skipped a beat as he looked into Olivia’s innocent green eyes.
Could he change? Could he be worthy of their love, their trust?
Only one true obstacle stood in the way.
His selfishness.
He enjoyed his lifestyle. It was all he’d known or desired since he’d rejected his father’s demands that he wed a simple-minded heiress and walked out of his childhood home. He’d chosen his path, made his way on his own terms. He’d sworn he’d never be forced to do anything again. Yet here he was, sitting on a sofa between both sisters.
Hell.
He didn’t want to give up his casino or the freedom it offered him. He didn’t want to stop prizefighting. He liked the thrill, the strategy of outwitting a larger opponent, the win. He relished being lord of his own domain—to look down on the gaming floor from his office window and experience the thrill at the power he had over those who thought themselves his better. The avarice and desperation of some members of the aristocracy was their downfall, and Ian thrived on it. He was a scoundrel. A blackguard. He took from those with weaknesses they could not control.
He’d sworn long ago to bow to no man. And he had no desire to change.
An image of Grace rose to his mind. Dark hair, piercing blue eyes. When she’d first walked into the Raven Club, she’d looked at him with ill-concealed judgment, a haughty distain that he’d been on the receiving end of before, and it had provoked him. But her response when he’d pulled her into his arms and kissed her had told another story. Her pupils had dilated, and the pulse at her throat had throbbed in excitement. For those few moments, her body had molded to his, had yielded in sweet surrender.
Had surprised even him.
Disgust at his lack of control roiled inside him. The lessons she could provide were his best hope of helping his sisters, and all he could think about was that one kiss.
The door opened and his mother stepped inside. Ian rose.
“Ardmore informed me you were here.” She looked to her daughters. “Girls, your French tutor has arrived.”
Ellie rolled her eyes. Oliva made a face. “Mother, we’d rather stay with Ian.”
“Go.”
“Mother’s right. We have matters to discuss.” Ian kissed his sisters’ cheeks and they departed.
The countess glided into the room. “I was surprised to learn you were here.”
“I wanted to visit Olivia and Ellie. I’ll leave.”
“No. Please stay.”
Ian nodded.
“I’m attending Lady Sheldon’s dinner party tonight. I am going with a friend, Lady Taddlesworth, who is also acting as a chaperone for the girls. It would please me to have you escort us.”
“Olivia and Ellie dislike her.”
“She can be harsh in her opinions, but she is highly respected, a paragon of Society, and a friend of the patronesses of Almack’s. A good word from her will ensure Ellie a coveted voucher.”
“You don’t need her. You are capable.”
“No. I haven’t been myself since your brother’s death. I want to go to Bath.”
“Why? Are you ill?”
“I suffer no physical ailments but rather a melancholy. I want to visit my sister, your aunt, Lady James. I need to be sure the girls will be looked after. If you escort Lady Taddlesworth and me to tonight’s ball, it will be another step toward ensuring Ellie’s future.”
“No.”
Her spine stiffened another inch. “Why?”
“I haven’t attended a dinner party in quite some time, remember?” How much to tell? “I must refresh my manners. In fact, I have engaged someone to assist me in this.”
His mother sat forward in her seat, her gaze glinting with interest. “Someone is aiding you?”
He eyed her warily. “Informally.”
&n
bsp; “Have you sought out Lord Winton? He is a longtime family friend.”
“I cannot say.”
An image of Grace returned to his him. Lovely and pure. Far from the elderly Lord Winton. She had agreed to tutor him. No, he had blackmailed her into agreeing, but she’d agreed nonetheless. He was determined to keep his distance, no matter how tempting he found her. It was the least he could do, not for his mother, but for his sisters. He’d escort Ellie to her debut and dance with her at her ball, and no one would have a reason to whisper.
Then he’d return to his club.
His mother regarded him, seeming uncertain what to make of these turn of events, but then she nodded. “If Lord Winton is helping you, please give him my regards.”
He made to rise and she placed a hand on his arm. “One more item. Your brother resided here. I wish you to as well.”
His lips thinned. “I have my own residence now.”
“After I leave, I need to know that your sisters will be looked after in my absence.”
“Of course, I will. But what about Ellie’s presentation at court?” Ian asked.
“That is not until next year. I will come back for her presentation, then return to the country.”
Ian recognized a trap when he saw one. Assuming the title was one thing. Living in this house was another entirely.
Chapter Eight
The carriage waited that night. After Ian’s kiss on their first encounter, Grace considered not going, but sending a note reneging on their bargain. In the end, she went—not because her father had once again stayed out late gambling, but because she had given her word and she prided herself on never breaking a promise. And she needed what Ian had offered.
Don’t think about his kiss.
The coachman nodded in greeting and lowered the step as she approached. Grace took a breath and stepped inside. Her muscles tightened in anticipation of encountering Ian sitting in the carriage.
The seat was empty.
He hadn’t bothered to escort her tonight. An unexpected stab of disappointment pierced her, but she pushed it aside. It was for the best. The less time she spent alone with Ian the better. She clutched the sheets of foolscap on her lap. She had come prepared tonight, having drafted a list of tasks that she wanted to accomplish.
She’d keep to the business arrangement between them. Never mention their shared kiss, no matter how many times she thought of it. He had no need to know how it had affected her, and she was determined not to allow him liberties again.
The coach came to a stop. The driver opened the door and helped her alight. She pulled her hood forward to cover her hair, then made her way to the servant’s entrance and climbed the steps. Before she reached the top step, the door opened to reveal Ian waiting for her. He leaned against the doorjamb, his arms folded across his broad chest. He was dressed in shirt and trousers. He desperately needed the services of a valet. His dark hair gleamed beneath the moonlight, and his full lips curled in a wicked smile.
Goodness. He was all lean muscle and coiled tension, and she had never seen such a masculine specimen.
“You’re late.”
She wrinkled her nose at his tone. “I had to wait for the household to sleep.”
He took her arm and guided her inside. “And your father?”
Her senses heightened at his touch and nearness. “Is out.”
“I assure you, he’s not at the Raven Club. His table remains closed.”
“Thank you.” She looked away and bit her lower lip.
“Don’t fret. I sent Soot to find him.”
She turned back to him. “Soot?”
“A street waif I took under my wing. One of my most trusted employees. He has a knack for finding people and following them. Your father is at the Dolly Club.”
She’d heard the name before when the baron had returned home intoxicated and had passed out on the parlor settee. He’d mumbled the name, and Grace has learned it was one of the worst gambling hells in Pall Mall.
“The owner of the Dolly knows me. I sent a note to the man to turn the baron away before he begins to lose.”
She blinked in surprise. “Why would you do that?”
“Because I know how it bothers you. And because I don’t want you indebted to another club owner. You need to focus on my lessons.”
Oh my. The way he said to focus on him made her heart race.
“Come.” He took her elbow and shut the door. She followed him upstairs to the library.
She seated herself in the same leather chair by the fireplace that she’d chosen on her first night here. Ian selected a chair across from her and stretched his long legs.
Straightening her spine, she clutched her reticule in her lap. She was determined that tonight would end differently from her first encounter with Ian in this room. Clearing her throat, she withdrew her notes from her reticule and handed them to him. “You’ll see I have made a list of tasks we must accomplish before you accept any invitations.”
Ian unfolded the foolscap. “Dressing. Servants. Dining. Proper address of peers. Dancing.” He looked up and arched a dark eyebrow. “Is that all?”
She shook her head. “No. Other topics are sure to arise. But we must start with these as they are crucial.”
“You’re much more organized tonight.”
“I didn’t know what to expect the first time. Now I know it’s best to avoid…to avoid distractions.” She was thinking of the kiss, and from the arrogant look on his face, she knew he was, too.
He stared at her. He didn’t intimidate her; rather, he looked almost humorous. “You mean our kiss?”
She frowned. “We shouldn’t speak of it. I’ve already forgotten it.”
“Forgotten it?”
“Yes.”
He touched a hand to his heart. “You wound me. The truth is, I’ve thought of little else.”
Really? The notion that the owner of the Raven Club, the new Earl of Castleton, had thought of their kiss made her stare at him in astonishment. It also made her stomach flutter.
“My lord—”
“Don’t call me that, remember?”
She did, but even if she thought of him as Ian, she should not call him by his Christian name. “Fine. But we discussed this last evening. There will be no kissing, no inappropriate behavior of any kind. We must focus on your lesson.”
“I haven’t forgotten my vow to behave as a gentleman. I consider it my first lesson.”
“Good.”
“But I never agreed not to discuss it.”
She glared at him. Talking about the kiss was turning out to be dangerous to her racing heart. She tried not to look at his mouth, and failed. The kiss had started out hard but had softened to a near caress that had captured her breath. His lower lip was fuller than the top, and she had touched it with the tip of her tongue. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, either.”
Leaning forward in his chair, his leg brushed her skirts. The simple contact made her tingle. “Then you must tell me the truth,” he said. “You’ve thought about it, haven’t you?”
Is that what the stubborn man was after? Her admission? Did he require her to blurt out the truth that she’d dreamed of the brush of his lips, the feel of him pressed against her? Would he leave the topic alone if she confessed the truth?
“Fine,” she said a bit too tersely. “I’ve thought of it, too.”
An arrogant gleam lit his dark eyes, and he leaned back in his chair. “Good.”
Her voice was hoarse with frustration. “Now shall we proceed with our lessons? I needn’t remind you that the ball is in less than a fortnight.”
His lips twitched and he stood. “Come.” He extended his hand. “I have something to show you.”
She glared at him warily. “Something other than our current topic of conversation?”
“Yes. You’ll be pleased that I am a quick study.”
What could he have learned from last evening? She rose and placed the tips of her gloved fingers
on his arm. She trailed behind him, curious as to what he had in mind.
He opened the library door and led her into the hall.
“Where are we going?”
“I sought the services of a tailor. I’ve paid him triple for his sole attention.”
He guided her down the hall, and his steps slowed as they approached the door to his bedchamber. A warning voice whispered in her head, and she immediately pulled back. “We discussed this. I will not be alone with you in your bedchamber.”
“Don’t worry. You won’t be.”
She eyed him suspiciously. “What do you mean?”
He opened the door, and Grace spotted a man standing inside. He was huge, with brown hair and eyes, and chest the size of a small armoire.
“You told me I needed a valet, and I’ve acquired one,” Ian said. “This is Brooks.”
She recognized the tall, large man as the guard at the door of the Raven Club.
“Good evening, Miss.” Brooks smiled at her, and she noticed a faint bruise under his right eye. She couldn’t help but wonder if the bruise was a result of prizefighting in the back of the club. Either way, Brooks looked like a militiaman or a guard, not a gentleman’s valet.
Her heart stuttered. “A proper chaperone is another lady, not a…a valet.”
“There are no other ladies present,” Ian said.
“What about your housekeeper? A proper gentleman should have one.”
“The house didn’t come with one. I’m searching to fill the position.”
She opened her mouth to protest, but he interrupted her. “Now will you please step inside?” Ian motioned her into his chamber.
“This is madness.”
“Perhaps. But how else are you to examine my new evening attire?”
“How is it even possible that in two days’ time you have been measured and ordered new clothes, and they have been made and delivered?” she asked.
“As I said, I paid the tailor handsomely to ensure it would be done. Once I set my mind to a task, I accomplish it straightaway.”
Clearly the man had the means to command favors. But his wardrobe was the least of her immediate concerns. Her feet were frozen on the threshold to his bedchamber. If she entered, she would see his personal space, see where he slept. It would be one step closer to an intimacy she did not want.
How to Tempt an Earl_Raven Club Page 6