Duke of Decadence (Lords of Hedonism Book 1)

by Violetta Rand

  “Truly?” His friend gave a lopsided smile, bereft of denial or innocence. “And what could I possibly stand to gain from such an arrangement?”

  Alonzo strutted across the chamber, stared out one of the windows, then back at his friend. “A blind eye.”

  “Perhaps you could clarify what you mean by that.”

  The duke cleared his throat and shook his head. “You are an intelligent man, are you not, Ganes?”

  “I am many things… most I will not admit to.”

  “You would betray your own mother if…”

  “Now see here…” Ganes shot up from his chair, his controlled manners suddenly gone.

  “Ah.” Alonzo grinned in satisfaction. He knew how to exasperate the mildest of creatures, and his friend was no exception. For in reality, the earl loved his mother dearly. “I sought only to get a rise out of you, old friend.”

  The earl blew out a harsh breath, then sought another gulp of his brandy. “You are the devil in finery.”

  “With the voice of an angel,” Alonzo reminded him, seeking to ruffle his feathers more.

  “You seek a confession from me? That I will gladly do whatever it takes to remove you from direct competition of the ladies I wish to pursue.”

  “I wish you to admit that you feed information to the lowest sort of beings—primordial beasts that seek to destroy those more privileged than they are for the right sum.”

  The earl rubbed his hands together, the denial Alonzo hoped to hear left unsaid. “I have never exchanged information, as you call it, for money.”

  “The right sum does not necessarily mean monetary gain. Which brings us back to my original claim…”

  “A blind eye,” Ganes stated uncomfortably.

  “Yes.”

  “You could destroy the reputations of innocent people at this house party if you choose to act as you normally do.”

  “I am not heartless, Alonzo.”

  “But you are shrewd. And what benefits you is always at the forefront of your mind, not what aids the rest of us.”

  “Perhaps… under normal circumstances.”

  “What is it you require to keep silent?” The duke came straight to the point. “Friend or not, I cannot trust you to be honorable without offering you recompense.”

  Ganes rubbed his chin, obviously thinking. The two had been friends, more like brothers, since childhood, yet always in competition for everything. Women. Praise. Talent. Fame. Fortune. It was an endless list. And both were equally blessed in life with good looks, intelligence, and wealth. The only thing that raised Alonzo above him—his title. For a duke overshadowed an earl, and his friend had never taken it lightly.

  “You will seduce Julia Castle?”

  “I will invest my time and attention in her, if that is what you are implying.”

  “What has happened to you, old friend?” Ganes wondered aloud. “Whenever a woman caught our unbridled attention, none of us ever kept it from the other.”

  Alonzo could only guess he meant their intimate group of associates that met at White’s whenever possible, or at other places about Europe where they often assembled while traveling. It was a tradition kept out of some kind of unspoken, sacred duty. The unusual group of men alike in every way—titled, rich, and talented—blessed with the abilities to sing, write, play an instrument, and even act upon the stage.

  Shakespeare would have called them a noble brotherhood. But as of late, Alonzo considered them a pack of spoiled lads up to no good. There were no formal agreements between them, only men who understood what it was like to be famous and wealthy and in high demand by the peerage. They provided friendship to one another, helped each other live out their dreams.

  Alonzo blamed Julia Castle for his guilt—making him feel filthy in a way no other woman could, even though he had just bathed and dressed. No, this layer of grime sank below the surface, in places only a pure-hearted woman could see.

  “I’ll not have you spying on me, Ganes. Troubling Lady Julia with your uninvited presence. I know what you’re about.”

  This time his friend rewarded him with an uninhibited smile. “I believe you might be accusing me of something unsavory, perhaps even criminal.”

  Alonzo rolled his eyes. “Predatory is a better description of your character. Name your price.”

  “Would it trouble you to give me some time to think about your offer?”

  Alonzo walked to the table where the bottle of brandy waited and refilled his glass. “What do you need time for?”

  The earl’s smile faltered momentarily. “To be honest, I like the idea of you being indebted to me.”

  “I am not a patient man with such trivial things, Ganes. And you are not a man in need. Trifling with me for the sake of doing so will only make me less likely to be generous and understanding of your exploitative nature. Do we understand each other?”

  The earl staggered to his feet from the deep, cushioned chair he had been sitting in. He smelled as if he had bathed in the expensive brandy he drunk. “We are friends, Alonzo—surely that means something.”

  “It always has.” The duke grasped his shoulder. “It always will, but someday, someone might mean more, if you can understand such a notion.”

  Ganes remained silent and undoubtedly drunk but cognizant of the situation. Perhaps he imbibed in order to live with the consequences from his debauchery—from taking what he could from the unsuspecting people that admired him, that wanted and often begged to be a part of his life.

  Of all the members of their group, Ganes had the most to lose, had committed the most sins. But as they grew older and the demands of their positions became clearer, even undeniable, the earl would have to choose a path, just as Alonzo was forced to do now.

  “I understand perfectly,” the earl muttered. “You are evolving.”

  “Into what, precisely?”

  “That remains to be seen. But when you figure it out, do let me know.”

  Silenced by his friend’s less-than-clear observation, Alonzo moved aside as he watched Ganes half limp out of the library, a much different figure than the one he had joined an hour before. Perhaps, and it was just a baseless guess, the threat of one of them leaving their circle of friends had deeper implications than the duke had imagined. After all, women were their targets—to seduce and bed, to savor gently and thoroughly, but always to walk away from, never to keep.

  And though he did not know the extent of his fascination with Lady Julia yet, he found her worth the effort of treating her honorably. After all, she was the daughter of a duke. His equal. Almost. For the lady was lacking in the art of seduction. Something Alonzo would remedy immediately.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “What would it be like to be the lady of such a household?” Willa asked as she admired the general splendor of the drawing room.

  “The duke remains unwed,” Julia reminded her friend.

  That made Willa frown. “Though I do not begrudge a man his past, marrying anyone who had such a full life before I was even born would be too much of a challenge for me to undertake.”

  The duke had been married for sixteen years before the duchess died, leaving behind two children, a son and daughter. “Widowers are often desirous of a young bride.”

  Willa shook her head. “My children will be heirs to their father’s title and fortune, not the spare set of babes often forgotten once their sire dies.”

  A sad reality of the ton…half-siblings left meager inheritances… their mothers often forced to rely on wealthy relations to feed themselves. “I perfectly understand,” Julia said quietly, gazing about, from the matching, crystal chandeliers trimmed in gold and silver leaf, to the flawless marble floors, and the dark wood furniture that graced the open space. Even the chairs, all covered in heavy, gold velvet, were edged with gold. “But sometimes, as you know, dearest, circumstances force the hand of an otherwise independent woman to do what she must to provide for her family a secure future. One in which a bookshop, as belov
ed as it is, could quietly be sold and that money invested in a new wardrobe to attract a powerful husband.”

  Willa stopped and turned, her eyes filled with affection. “What a wonderful friend for having the courage to say such a thing—knowing those funds I would get were provided through her hard-saved pin money. You went without for so long, Julia. Just to see Mother and I settled after everyone else seemed to turn their backs on us.”

  “Nonsense.” Julia reached for her friend’s hand and gave her fingers a squeeze. “We are both fish out of water in this environment, I believe. Better to return to our chambers and let the players of such games get on with whatever they do.”

  “Such a pretty place to play a game, isn’t it?”

  “I will not deny the duke’s good taste,” she said. “However, I am beginning to regret accepting this invitation.”

  “But why?” a familiar voice sounded from behind them—a thrilling, masculine voice from an imperious duke.

  Willa smiled at him first, before Julia turned. She cringed at the idea of seeing him in his finery—such a gallant figure he made dressed in the traditional black and gray. But turn about she did, and her eyes were immediately drawn to his face. “Your Grace.” She curtseyed.

  “Lady Julia. Lady Willa.” He bowed with elegance, his smile reserved for Julia. She could feel it cutting into her even when his gaze strayed down to the floor momentarily. “What could possibly make you regret being here?”

  “Well…” Willa started, willing to answer for her.

  “Though I am accustomed to such comforts, the Duke of Stanhope’s home reminds me more of a palace.”

  “Ah.” He grinned. “The duke would take that as high praise, Lady Julia. Especially coming from you. Do you prefer the more humble surroundings of a…”

  “Bookshop,” Julia finished for him. The rudeness of her interruption did not escape Julia, but she blamed Alonzo for her mental and physical reactions to him. He tied her in knots.

  “Yes. A bookshop.”

  He could not deny nor forget where they had met originally. Even if she did not own the place, she frequented the shop, and that fact could, if anyone of consequence encountered her there, hurt her respectability. Not that she gave a damn, but her father did.

  “A special bookshop,” Willa added lightheartedly. “One that caters to the finer tastes in literature.”

  Once again, the duke appeared to take their small lies, or exaggerations, in stride. He had purchased one of those books and found it improper for a woman of high birth to read.

  “With a reserved space for women who would otherwise be denied access to certain tomes.”

  Did he remember everything Julia had told him? If so, she’d be all the worse for it, for the man made her want to reveal all of her secrets—good and bad.

  “Perhaps you will visit the shop again?” Willa asked.

  “If I ever require a new book, count on me seeking you out first, Lady Willa.”

  Julia fought to recover her breath, for no matter how hard she scrutinized the duke, he always seemed to say the right thing, though his eyes constantly challenged her, teased her. Perhaps even judged her. She shook her head, trying to rid herself of such dark thoughts. This party was meant to lighten her spirits, not burden her with unneeded doubts in herself and the people around her. She was a duke’s daughter. Born and raised for such events. She had butterfly feet as all the woman here did, capable of fluttering about and flinging praise and niceties at the most condemnable characters while smiling and stabbing them in the back at the same time. But she abhorred doing so.

  “Will you be singing tonight?” Willa asked, as always, filling the uncomfortable silence with her caressing voice.

  “I am not obligated to do so, but if asked, I will not deny the duke’s request.”

  “It must be difficult to separate yourself from your talent,” Julia said.

  He shrugged. “If I didn’t have the ability to sing, I would still be a duke.”

  “Yes,” she said. “You would.”

  “And who do most people like better? The performer in you, or the duke?”

  “Julia!” Willa swatted her arm.

  “Forgive me,” Julia said, inhaling the duke’s fresh scent—he smelled of smoke and leather, mint, and perhaps a touch of lemon. Perfectly normal, masculine scents, but on him, it struck her as dangerous and exotic. Nothing about him was familiar, even if she had seen him a thousand times, memorized his every expression, the sound of his voice, the way he held his head and shoulders, the way he leaned into her when he addressed her… it would never strike her as ordinary. Every meeting struck her as new and urgent. Potent and overwhelming. In fact, her head was spinning with words to describe him.

  “Have you had the pleasure of walking in the duke’s gardens?” he asked her.

  “I am sorry to say I haven’t,” Julia said.

  “Acres of roses and other desirable blooms, painstakingly color-coordinated for dramatic effect. It is said no garden has the collection of tulips the duke has assembled.”

  “But aren’t they out of season?” she asked.

  “Not for you,” the duke whispered.

  Julia gazed at Willa.

  “There are people everywhere,” her friend reassured her. “And three sets of balcony doors overlooking the gardens, all of them open now. I believe our host intends for everyone to enjoy the outdoors before supper.”

  “An innocent invitation, Lady Julia. If you would feel better with a chaperone…”

  “I am perfectly comfortable, Your Grace,” she said, knowing deep inside she was not. The man tempted her at every turn, knowingly forcing her to do things she never would have done a week ago. But if she failed to meet his challenge, to let her shyness overtake her, he’d have the right to claim he had bested her in some way—intimidated her.

  “If you are ready then.” He proffered his arm, and she rested her fingers gently on him.

  He ushered her around the small crowd of people, perhaps thirty guests, none too suspicious of them taking a walk together, for she could see other couples standing on the balcony, talking and enjoying champagne.

  Once they reached the balcony and alighted the carved, marble stairs to the ground level, a wide, cobblestone pathway broke off in different directions. Torches lit the path like summer sunshine, leaving no area in the shadows. It seemed the Duke of Stanhope would not allow any of his guests to create scandal.

  The flower-scented, warm air pleased Julia as they strolled silently for several minutes, the shrubbery giving way to the first flower beds filled with roses of every species, of every color.

  “You did not lie about the gardens, Your Grace.”

  “Why would I, Lady Julia? Do I not have the necessary assets to tempt a woman outside without the promise of flowers?”

  She faltered in her step, her heeled, silk slippers not meant for anything but elegance and slow walking. “Of course,” she said. “You are charming, and well you know it.”

  He pulled away from her, gazing down at her with a curious look on his face. “Shall I take that as a compliment, madam?”

  “Whether I intended it as one or not, you will take it as such. For your character requires constant praise, I think.”

  He chuckled, unaffected by her less than favorable opinion of him. “It might surprise you to find that there is more to me than the man you have heard about. Talked to. Tried to avoid.”

  There. He’d done it, forced her to face her fear of him. She suddenly regretted her last comment. “I can only speak about what I have experienced with you. What people say about you, though I will not deny I’ve heard many things, is of little importance.”

  “Truly?” He leaned closer, his breath warm on her face, his smile as entrancing as a metronome.

  “You are not to be trusted, Your Grace.” She meant it playfully, for he seemed to know where to stand, what tone to use, what perfect words to say to keep her confused yet comfortable, as if the conversation th
ey shared was casual, but they never really talked about anything of consequence. “This exercise is appreciated, but if you truly wish to know me…”

  “I know you are no empty-headed, shell of a woman, Julia.”

  When had she given permission for him to use her name that way? “Lady Julia.”

  “Of course. Isn’t that what I said?”

  “No.”

  “No matter,” he whispered. “Come.” He returned her hand to his arm and continued down the winding pathway, beyond a white gazebo with a brazier filled with burning incense, to a circle of mature trees in the center of a grassy area. “If you ask the Duke of Stanhope who designed this garden, he will take all the credit. But I have it on good authority, it was his duchess who dreamed of this place.”

  Eight bird cherry trees formed the circle, and a fountain with a young couple embracing sat in the middle beside a bench.

  “It is beautiful,” she said. “The scent unforgettable.”

  “You prefer this setting over Town?”

  “I do,” she didn’t hesitate. “The only reason I live in London is because of my father.”

  “He prefers the busy streets over country lanes?”

  “Yes, and staying close to where his money and investments live.”

  The duke laughed heartily. “I cannot fault a man for that.”

  “No,” she agreed, thinking of her father. “My mother left me an estate not ten miles from here. Nothing as impressive as this, but it is self-sustaining and lovely.”

  “Oh?”

  “Whitmore,” she explained. “My maternal grandmother’s birthplace. It will always be handed down to the eldest daughter of the next in line.”

  “It explains much,” he said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Why you are a veritable force. You are as self-sustaining as your estate. Your father’s funds, or that of a husband, are unnecessary.”

  “Perhaps you are right to some extent, but I am only nineteen, and cannot manage my own assets until I come of age.”