The sweet little girl he’d known all his life had become a woman. A heart-stopping, beautiful woman.
The sound of his mother’s voice rattled him. “Tristan, please be seated. Marc, do not stand there gawking. Come and greet Julianne.”
Patience and his other sister, Harmony, sat in a pair of chairs near the hearth, exchanging sly smiles. No doubt they were hatching a plot to snare him in the parson’s mousetrap. They probably thought he was as besotted as the numerous cubs who vied for Julianne’s attention every season. But he was only a little taken aback by her transformation.
Determined to take himself in hand, he strode over to her, made a leg, and swept his arm in a ridiculous bow last seen in the sixteenth century.
When he rose, his mother grimaced. “Marc, your hair is standing up. You look thoroughly disreputable.”
He grinned like a jackanapes. “Why, thank you, Mama.”
Julianne’s husky laugh drew his attention. He set his fist on his hip and wagged his brows. “No doubt you will break a dozen hearts this season, Julie-girl.”
She regarded him from beneath her long lashes. “Perhaps one will capture my affections.”
Helen of Troy’s face had launched a thousand ships, but Julianne’s naturally raspy voice could fell a thousand men. Where the devil had that foolish thought come from? She’d grown into a stunning young woman, but he’d always thought of her as the little hoyden who climbed trees and skimmed rocks.
Hope stood. “Marc, take my seat. You must see Julianne’s sketches.”
He meant to make the most of the opportunity. For years, he’d teased Julianne and encouraged her in mischief. After sitting beside her, he grinned and tapped the sketch. “What have you got there, imp?”
She showed him a sketch of Stonehenge. “I drew this last summer when I traveled with Amy and her family.”
“Stonehenge is awe-inspiring,” the countess said.
He dutifully looked on as Julianne turned the page. “Those are some big rocks.”
Julianne laughed. “Rogue.”
He tweaked the curl by her ear. When she swatted his hand, he laughed. She was the same Julie-girl he’d always known.
Heavy footsteps thudded outside the drawing room doors. Everyone stood as Lady Rutledge, his great-aunt Hester, lumbered inside. Gray sausage curls peeked out from a green turban with tall feathers. She took one look at Hawk’s mother and scowled. “Louisa, that statue is hideous. If you want a naked man, find yourself one who is breathing.”
Hawk’s mouth worked with the effort not to laugh out loud.
The countess fanned her heated face. “Hester, please mind your words.”
“Bah.” Hester winked at Hawk. “Come give your aunt a kiss, you rogue.”
When he obliged, she muttered, “You’re the only sensible one in the bunch.”
Tristan bowed to her. “Lady Rutledge.”
Hester eyed him appreciatively. “Shelbourne, you handsome devil. I heard you wasted no time getting your duchess with child.”
Hawk’s mother and younger sisters gasped. Patience cleared her throat. “Aunt Hester, we do not speak of such indelicate matters.”
Hester snorted and kept her knowing gaze on Tristan. “I heard your duchess has gumption. She’ll bring your child into the world without mishap—mark my words.”
Hawk considered his wily old aunt with a fond smile. Eccentric she might be, but she’d sought to reassure his old friend. And for that alone he adored her.
He led Hester over to a chair and stood beside her. Her wide rump barely fit between the arms. After adjusting her plumes, she held her quizzing glass up to her eye and inspected Julianne.
“Aunt Hester, you remember Lady Julianne,” Patience said, as if speaking to a child. “She is Shelbourne’s sister.”
“I know who she is.” Hester dropped her quizzing glass. “Why are you still unwed, gel?”
Julianne blushed. “I am waiting for the right gentleman.”
“I heard you turned down a dozen proposals since your come-out. Is it true?” Hester continued.
“I’ve not kept count,” Julianne murmured.
Hester snorted. “There were so many you cannot recall?”
Noting Julianne’s disconcerted expression, Hawk intervened. “Mama, I understand we’ve a bit of a problem. Grandmamma is claiming illness again, is she?”
His mother and sisters protested that they must assume Grandmamma was truly ill. Finally, Aunt Hester interrupted. “Oh, hush, Louisa. You know very well my sister is only seeking attention.”
“Hester, how can you say such a thing?” the countess said.
“Because she makes a habit of it.” Hester sniffed. “I suppose you and your girls are planning to hare off to Bath on a fool’s errand again.”
“We cannot take a risk,” Patience said. “If Grandmamma took a bad turn, we would never forgive ourselves.”
“She ought to come to town where she can be near the family. I offered to share my home with her, but she refuses to leave her cronies in Bath,” Hester said.
“She is set in her ways.” Hawk grinned down at his aunt. “Few ladies are as adventurous as you.”
“True,” Hester said, preening.
The countess gave him a beseeching look. “Will you write William to inform him?”
“I’m not sure of his address at present,” Hawk said. His younger brother had been traveling on the Continent for more than a year.
Montague, Patience’s husband, lowered his newspaper. “It’s past time William came home and stopped raking his way all over the Continent. He needs to choose a career and be a responsible member of the family.”
Hawk regarded him as if he were an insect. “He’ll come home when he tires of wandering.” He’d hoped Will would return for the London season, but his brother hadn’t written in over two months.
Montague folded his newspaper. “He’d come home soon enough if you cut him off without a penny.”
Hawk ignored his least favorite brother-in-law and returned his attention to his mother. “What of Julianne? Her brother brought her all this way. Mama, can you not stay behind?”
“Oh, I could not ask such a thing,” Julianne said. “I can stay with either Amy or Georgette. My friends’ mothers would welcome me, I’m sure.”
“Her friends’ mothers will be too busy with their own girls,” Hester said. “I will sponsor Julianne. She will be the toast of the Season.”
A long silence followed. Hawk’s mother and sisters regarded one another with barely concealed dismay. They thought Hester a few cards shy of a full deck, but he knew his aunt was prodigiously clever, if a bit blunt in her manners.
The countess cleared her throat. “Hester, dear, that is too kind of you, but perhaps you have not thought of how exhausting all those entertainments will be.”
“I’m never tired, Louisa,” she said. “I shall enjoy sponsoring the gel. She’s pretty enough and seems lively. I’ll have her engaged in a matter of weeks.”
Hawk schooled his expression. Julianne married? It seemed so… wrong. Even though he knew it was customary for ladies to marry young, the idea didn’t set well with him.
Tristan eyed Hester. “Granted, she’s been out four seasons, but marriage is for life. I’ll not rush her.”
Hester looked at Julianne. “How old are you, gel?”
“One and twenty,” she said.
“She’s of age, but I agree marriage should not be undertaken lightly,” Hester said.
Tristan regarded his sister. “I must approve any serious attachments.”
When Julianne rolled her eyes, Hawk grinned. He didn’t envy any man bold enough to ask Tristan’s permission for Julianne’s hand. The old boy had kept a tight rein on her for years—as well he should.
“Now that the matter is settled, let us go to dinner,” Hester said. “I’m starved.”
After the ladies withdrew from the dining room, Hawk brought out the port. His sisters’ husbands exchanged meani
ngful glances. Tristan kept silent but watched them with a guarded expression.
Montague folded his small hands on the table and addressed Hawk. “Lady Julianne cannot stay with Hester. Your aunt’s bold manners and rebellious ideas would be a bad influence on the girl.”
Hawk met Tristan’s gaze. “Join me in the study?”
Tristan nodded.
They both rose. When Hawk claimed a candle branch from the sideboard, Montague scrambled up from the table. “Patience will stay behind and look after Julianne.”
“My sister is determined to go to Bath,” Hawk said. “She will not rest easy unless she sees our grandmother is well.” The last thing he wanted was to expose Julianne to his sister’s acrimonious marriage.
“You know very well your grandmother feigns illness,” Montague said. “If your mother and sisters refused to go, that would put a stop to this nonsense.”
Hawk realized Montague had seized the opportunity to keep his wife at home. The man constantly queried Patience about her whereabouts and upbraided her if she even spoke to another man. “I’ll discuss the matter with Shelbourne. Gentlemen, enjoy your port.”
He started to turn away when Montague’s voice halted him.
“Damn you, Hawk. Someone needs to take responsibility for the girl.”
Hawk strode around the table and loomed over his brother-in-law. “You’ve no say in the matter.” Then he lowered his voice. “You will remember my warning.”
Montague glared but held his tongue. Hawk gave him an evil smile. At Christmas, the man had made one too many disparaging remarks about Patience. Hawk had taken him aside and threatened to beat him to a pulp if he ever treated her disrespectfully again.
As he and Tristan strode away, Hawk muttered, “Bloody brute.”
“Montague resents your political influence, your fortune, and your superior height. He feels inferior and engages in pissing matches to prove he’s manly.”
Hawk wished Montague to the devil. The man had campaigned for his sister’s hand and showered her with affection. He’d shown his true colors shortly after the wedding.
When they walked into the study, the scent of leather permeated the room. Hawk set the candle branch on the mantel and slumped into one of the cross-framed chairs before the huge mahogany desk. The grate was empty, making the room chilly. He never made use of the study. Years ago, he’d taken rooms at the Albany. His family had disapproved, but he’d needed to escape his father’s stranglehold.
Tristan surveyed the surroundings and sat next to Hawk. “The study is virtually unchanged since your father’s death.”
He’d died suddenly of a heart seizure eight years ago, closing off any chance of reconciliation between them. A foolish thought. There was nothing he could have done to change his father’s opinion of him.
“Your father was a good man,” Tristan said. “His advice was invaluable to me.”
“He admired you,” Hawk said.
Tristan had single-handedly restored his fortune after discovering his late wastrel father had left him in monstrous debt.
“I envied your freedom,” Tristan said.
“I had an easy time compared to you.” Hawk’s father had never let him forget it, either. Unbidden, the words his father had spoken more than a dozen years ago echoed in his brain. Do you even know how much it will cost to satisfy Westcott’s honor?
He mentally slammed the door on the memory. “Old boy, your sister may prefer to stay with one of her friends, but I advise you to refuse if she wishes to stay with Lady Georgette. I heard a nasty rumor about her brother. Evidently, Ramsey got a maid with child.” No honorable gentleman ever took advantage of servants.
Tristan’s face showed his revulsion. “Good Lord. He’s disgusting.”
“If you prefer, take your sister to Amy Hardwick’s mother.”
“No, your aunt is right. Mrs. Hardwick should concentrate on her own daughter.” Tristan frowned. “I cannot impose.”
Tristan probably felt a bit guilty because Amy and Georgette had devoted their entire season last year to his unusual courtship. “My aunt is a cheeky old bird, but she’s harmless enough. Hester will enjoy squiring Julianne about town.”
Tristan glanced sideways at Hawk. “I’ve a favor to ask.”
A strange presentiment washed over Hawk. He’d known Tristan since they were in leading strings, because their mothers were bosom friends. At Eton, he and Tristan had banded together to evade the older boys who liked to torment the younger ones. Hawk knew his friend well, but he’d no idea what Tristan intended to ask of him.
Tristan drew in a breath. “Will you act as my sister’s unofficial guardian?”
Hawk laughed. “Me, a guardian? Surely you jest.”
“As soon as the fortune hunters discover I’m out of the picture, they’ll hover like vultures over Julianne. I won’t feel easy unless a solid man is there to protect her from rakes.”
“But… but I’m a rake,” he sputtered. Of course, she’d blossomed into an uncommonly lovely young woman, but she was his friend’s sister. Even among rakes, it was a point of honor to avoid friends’ sisters.
“You’ve watched my sister grow up the same way I have,” Tristan said. “She’s almost like a sister to you.”
He’d never thought of her that way. To him, she was simply Julie-girl, always ready for a bit of mischief. He never grew tired of daring her to do something unladylike, but she’d never once backed down. “Old boy, you know I’m fond of her, but I’m not fit to be anybody’s guardian.”
“You’ve always looked out for her,” Tristan said.
Guilt spurted in his chest. His own family thought him an irresponsible rogue, with good reason. He didn’t even know how to locate his own brother. But clearly Tristan had complete faith in him.
Tristan pinched the bridge of his nose. “I should stay in London to watch over Julianne, but I cannot bear to leave my wife. No matter what I do, I’ll feel as if I’ve wronged one of them.”
Ah, hell. Tristan had never asked for a favor before. He was like a brother to him. Damn it all. He couldn’t refuse. “Anything for you, old boy.”
“Thank you,” Tristan said. “There’s one more thing. You’re not going to like it.”
He lifted his brows. “Oh?”
Tristan narrowed his eyes. “You will give up raking for the duration of the Season.”
He laughed. “What?”
“You heard me. There will be no ballerinas, actresses, or courtesans. Call them what you will, but you will not associate with whores while guarding my sister.”
He scoffed. “It’s not as if I’d flaunt a mistress in your sister’s face.”
“Your liaisons are famous.” Tristan tapped his thumb on the arm of the chair. “I’ve often suspected you delight in your bad reputation.”
He made jests about his numerous mistresses. Everyone, including his friend, believed his tall tales. While he was a bona fide rake, Hawk couldn’t possibly live up—or was that down?—to the exaggerated reports about his conquests. “I’ll not agree to celibacy,” he said.
“You don’t even try to be discreet. Julianne adores you. I don’t want her disillusioned.”
“I’ll keep my liaisons quiet,” Hawk grumbled.
“Agreed,” Tristan said.
He’d better forget the ménage à trois with Nell and Nancy. It rather aggrieved him, since he’d never dallied with two women at once, but he couldn’t possibly keep that sort of wicked business under the proverbial covers.
Tristan tapped his thumb again. “Write periodically and let me know how my sister fares.”
“I will,” Hawk said. “Don’t worry. Julianne will grow accustomed to my aunt’s blunt manners.”
“When the babe is born, bring my sister home to me.” He smiled. “Tessa already asked Julianne to be godmother. Will you be godfather?”
A knot formed in his chest, but he forced a laugh. “You would trust a rogue like me with your child?”
“
There is no one I trust more than you, my friend.”
Hawk cut his gaze away, knowing he didn’t deserve his friend’s regard.
THE DISH
Where authors give you the inside scoop!
From the desk of Vicky Dreiling
Dear Reader,
HOW TO RAVISH A RAKE stars shy wallflower Amy Hardwick and charming rake William Darcett, better known as “the Devil.” I thought it would be great fun to feature two characters who seem so wrong for one another on the surface but who would find love and happiness, despite their differences.
Miss Amy Hardwick is a shy belle who made her first appearance in my debut historical romance, How to Marry a Duke . When I first envisioned Amy, I realized that she was representative of so many young women who struggle to overcome low self-esteem. Amy doesn’t fit the ideal image of the English rose in Regency Society, and, as a result, she’s often overlooked by others. But as I thought back to my days in high school and college, I remembered how much it helped to have girlfriends who liked and supported you, even though you didn’t have the flawless skin and perfect bodies airbrushed on the covers of teen magazines. That recollection convinced me that having friends would help Amy to grow into the woman I knew she was destined to become.
Now, during her sixth and quite possibly last London Season, Amy is determined to shed her wallflower image forever. A newfound interest in fashion leads Amy to draw designs for unique gowns that make her the fashion darling of the ton . All of her dreams seem to be coming true, but there’s one man who could deter her from the road to transformation: Mr. William “the Devil” Darcett.
Ah, Will… sigh . I confess I had a penchant for charming bad boys when I was in high school and college. There’s a certain mystique about them. And I’m certain that the first historical romance I ever read featured a charming bad boy. They really are my favorite type of heroes. So naturally, I decided to create the worst bad boy in the ton and throw him in sweet Amy’s path.
How to Ravish a Rake Page 31