A Taste of Temptation

by Amelia Grey

  “I don’t know,” Chandler said. “It’s not me. How about you, John?”

  “Certainly not me,” John answered cautiously and picked up his glass of port and raised it in salute to Andrew. “I have plenty of time. It’s good to have you back in Town.”

  “I’ll drink to that and add it was good news to hear your financial troubles were settled once you learned the problem was that your estate manager was stealing from you,” Chandler added.

  Andrew picked up his port and clicked it against his friends’ glasses. “Right. I should have checked up on Willard Hawkins long before I did.”

  “All that matters is that you got to the bottom of this mess. Though, too bad he took a shot at you and escaped before you could turn him over to the local magistrate.”

  “Yes, the bloody criminal needs to be chained to the walls of Newgate,” John said.

  Andrew had made light of the fact that Hawkins had shot at him. He didn’t want his friends to know the bullet had grazed his arm. It hadn’t occurred to Andrew that his estate manger might carry a pistol, so he hadn’t been prepared to be shot at.

  “He will be caught soon enough,” Andrew assured them. “I met with a Runner from Bow Street today. He’s heading to Derbyshire first thing tomorrow to find him. Hawkins has relatives in that area so I’m thinking he’s hiding out somewhere around there.”

  “Sounds reasonable,” John agreed.

  Chandler laughed suddenly. “In our younger days, we wouldn’t have even thought to ask for help from a Runner, the Thames Police, or anyone else to find the thief.”

  “We would have gotten on our best horses and ridden after the bastard ourselves,” John added.

  “And we wouldn’t have stopped until we found him,” Andrew said.

  “I still have my pearl-handled rapier. That would put a scare in him.”

  “I was always better with a pistol. He wouldn’t get past a shot from me.”

  “Well, if you both remember I’m pretty good with sword and pistol,” Andrew bragged good-naturedly.

  Chandler gave him a friendly punch on one shoulder while John gave him a thump on the other.

  They all laughed and tipped their glasses together again before taking another drink. For a moment Andrew felt like his old friends were back at the table with him. They were having a good time, bragging and drinking just like they used to. There was the possibility of an adventure in the air.

  The year Andrew had spent at his country estate had been good for him. Instead of spending his nights drinking and gambling and his days sleeping he’d taken the opportunity to study and learn about his lands. He spent time with his tenants, helping them break horses and tend fields during the day and was so exhausted in the evenings he’d had no trouble sleeping. His body was firmer, stronger, and healthier.

  His mind was sharper, too.

  Doing physical labor was uncommon for anyone of the gentry or the peerage, but Andrew was glad he’d done it. Being with the farmers and seeing what they produced helped him know that the figures in Willard Hawkins’s books had to be wrong.

  “You know, we can still do that,” Andrew said when he put his glass down.

  “What?” Chandler asked.

  “Go to Derbyshire and find Willard Hawkins ourselves. I wouldn’t need the Runner if I had the two of you helping me.”

  “Are you serious?” John asked, the smile fading from his face.

  “Why not? No one rides, hunts, or fights better than we do. As I recall, there was a time when if we set our minds to it, we could do anything we wanted. That hasn’t changed, has it?”

  Chandler and John glanced at each other again and Andrew felt the excitement that was between them just moments before ebb away.

  “No, we haven’t changed, but our lives have,” John said.

  “You know we’d love to do it, Andrew, but we have responsibilities now. Best you let the Runner handle it for you this time,” Chandler said.

  In that moment Andrew knew what it was that stood between him and his friends.

  Their wives.

  John and Chandler were no longer carefree bachelors who could take off at a moment’s notice. And Andrew was also getting the feeling they were both quite pleased with their new lives as husbands rather than rogues. The Terrible Threesome, the name they had each worn with honor, was a distant memory to them.

  He looked at his friends in a whole new light. They looked happy, and Andrew didn’t understand that. He couldn’t imagine loving one woman enough that he’d rather be with her than out gaming, drinking, and carousing with his friends.

  Andrew might not like the change in their relationship, but he had to accept it—not that he was going to let them know that.

  He leaned back in his chair, lifting the front legs off the floor and chuckling low in his throat. “You’re both unbelievable.”

  “In what way?” Chandler asked, lifting a brow.

  “Marriage has made weak-kneed sops out of the both of you.”

  John’s dark eyes narrowed and he scowled at Andrew. “That’s going a bit too far, even for a best friend.”

  “Really?” Andrew challenged again, a hint of a smile lurking at the corners of his mouth. “How so? You’re not interested in adventure anymore. Now that I have money in my pockets neither of you are willing to gamble the night away with me. And I think it’s safe to say you’ve both given up your mistresses since marriage.”

  Chandler answered, “That doesn’t make us sops. We’re both quite happy with our wives. We were actually thinking that maybe you had come back to Town to tell us you were ready to consider making a match.”

  Andrew laughed again and let the legs of his chair hit the floor with a thud. He was content with his life. He was free of any responsibility and he had no hankering for married life and all the chains it put on a man.

  “Not a chance in hell. Look at you two. You’re both squirming like worms in hot ashes. You can’t wait for our conversation to be over so you can go back to your quiet homes with your beautiful wives. No thank you. I’d rather chase the likes of Hawkins.”

  “And what do you think is wrong with being happily married?” John asked.

  “Boring comes to mind. So tell me what’s right with it?” Andrew asked. He spread his arms wide and looked around the room.

  “Are you suggesting we don’t have a good time when we are with our wives?” Chandler said.

  “If so, nothing could be further from the truth,” John added.

  John and Chandler gave each other that now familiar quick glance. Andrew threw up his hands and said, “I give up. I’m completely uninterested in spending the rest of the night watching you two with these ridiculous happy home expressions you keep giving each other.”

  Andrew pushed back his chair, ready to rise and seek his pleasure elsewhere.

  “Hold up, we’re not leaving yet and neither are you.” Chandler picked up the bottle and added port to all three glasses on the table. “When you fall in love you’ll come around to appreciating the simple pleasures of married life just like we have.”

  “God save me from such a dull state. I’d just as soon be in prison.”

  “That’s a lie,” John said with a laugh.

  “You’re right. Maybe that is going a bit too far.” Andrew grinned. “But I’m glad to know what took the starch out of the two of you. I’m definitely staying away from love and marriage.”

  “To do that you will have to stay away from all the young ladies.”

  “That’s right. John and I certainly weren’t looking for love.”

  “It found us. So, are you ready to swear off all women but your mistress?”

  “Hell no. I’ll just have to prove to you both that I can enjoy the young ladies without getting caught by one of them.”

  John and Chandler laughed.

&
nbsp; “What’s so funny?” Andrew asked, still not knowing if he was ready to forgive his friends for getting married and leaving him to his own devices every evening.

  “You, thinking you can run away from love,” John said.

  “I managed to outwit fate and not marry when I was down to mere coins in my pockets. I think I can dodge Cupid’s arrow for a few more years.” Andrew picked up his glass and saluted them. “So I won’t become a squeeze like you two, victims living under the cat’s paw.”

  “You are cocksure tonight,” John replied, not the least offended by his friend’s accusations.

  “I have reason to be. When I left London last year I didn’t know if I would ever have enough money to return. But I’m back, I have money, my estates are prospering better than ever. In fact, I intend to see about finding an agreeable mistress.”

  “With your attitude, a mistress is just what you need. A wife would never put up with you.”

  Andrew smiled. “Yes, but I need the parties, too, and I’m ready for them to begin. In fact, my Aunt Claude has planned an evening at my house the first week of the Season.”

  “A party? You don’t say,” Chandler said.

  “Naturally, I want to have a first look at all the young ladies who are making their debuts.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with that,” John told him.

  “And I’ll add: May love always be chasing you,” Chandler added with a grin.

  “But never catch up to me,” Andrew said.

  John and Chandler picked up their glasses and drank to Andrew’s proclamation.

  Two

  Olivia considered the receiving line at the Earl of Dugdale’s house ridiculously long. In the two previous nights that she and her aunt had attended parties in London they had not had to queue like this at anyone else’s home. Thank goodness it was a warm night.

  The inconsiderate earl had obviously invited entirely too many guests and as far as Olivia was concerned, Lord Dugdale was taking too much time greeting each person presented to him as he stood at the rear of the vestibule.

  She and Agatha had quietly arrived in London a month ago. But before they were unpacked and settled into their leased town house in Mayfair, word of Agatha’s arrival had spread throughout the city and invitations to parties, the opera, and teas were being delivered at the rate of three and four a day.

  It might have been more than a dozen years since Agatha Loudermilk had been in London, but obviously no one had forgotten the well-liked woman who had commanded the ear of every member of the ton. Word had spread quickly that the once grand spinster was back in Town.

  Agatha had been careful in her selection of parties they would attend. She was mainly interested in the smaller soirees that were given in private homes rather than the larger ones held in magnificent places like the Great Hall.

  During the prior two evenings Olivia had met several handsome gentlemen and three of them had asked to call on her. But she had declined them all. She had settled in her mind that she wanted to marry a man like the quiet-spoken Mr. Yost, and she wasn’t going to be persuaded from that goal by a handsome young Londoner with a title connected to his name. Neither her aunt nor her mother had found happiness with their choices of men from among the ton, so Olivia had concluded long ago that she wouldn’t either.

  The night was unbelievably beautiful and unseasonably warm for so early in the spring. There wasn’t even a hint of a breeze in the thick, unusually mild air.

  A small slice of moon offered the dark sky little light, but the walkway in front of the house was well lit with street lamps and lanterns from the half dozen or so carriages that waited to deposit their passengers. Music could be heard coming from inside the house and it mingled with the rumble of constant chattering and occasional laughter that could be heard up and down the queue.

  Aunt Agatha didn’t seem to mind the long line that inched its way up to the front steps flanked by an iron arch that had been decorated with fresh flowers. She chatted happily with the lady in front of them. Olivia found herself moving slightly to the side of the line, which happened to put her in a perfect place to observe the earl, who stood in the foyer of his house.

  A thread of unexpected anticipation wove through Olivia as she watched the handsome man smile and heard him flatter each lady who reached him. He bowed, kissed hands, and laughed with all the self-confidence of a wealthy, titled gentleman.

  She couldn’t help but notice the earl was the complete opposite from Mr. Yost in appearance and manner. The man from Kent was much shorter and fairer than the tall earl, but perhaps his face was a bit more handsome than Lord Dugdale’s. She had never seen Mr. Yost greet anyone with the self-assurance of their host for the evening’s party.

  There was no doubt Lord Dugdale was a likeable fellow judging from the faces of those he greeted, and he was far from shy. He stood tall and powerful looking with his black evening coat cut perfectly to fit across his straight shoulders and broad chest. The fabric of his royal blue waistcoat and expertly tied neckcloth spoke of prosperity and privilege, and he wore both of them well.

  The style of his fine, medium-brown hair was straight and attractive with the sides barely covering his ears while the back went past his nape. It fell in feathery wisps across his forehead and made him look a little roguish, a little daring, but also extremely dashing, and that made Olivia’s heartbeat speed up a little.

  His face was strong, masculine, and cleanly shaven. His lips appeared full and his mouth wide and manly. The narrow bridge of his nose heightened his well-defined cheekbones.

  Olivia continued to peruse the powerful-looking man at her leisure when suddenly she realized that the man was looking back at her, his gaze studying her face. Her heart fluttered and her stomach quickened deliciously, unexpectedly, when their eyes met.

  Olivia watched his gaze skim down her face, over her breasts, which were tastefully exposed by a low-cut ivory gown, before he glanced back up to her green eyes again. His obvious scrutiny made her tingle with awareness way down in the pit of her stomach.

  Unlike her usual well-controlled self, she felt her face flush. She lifted her chin a notch to counter his arrogance, though the thought that he looked her over as intently as she assessed him flattered her.

  Because of the distance between them she couldn’t read the expression in his eyes very well, but she had the distinct feeling that he approved of her inspection of him and that he enjoyed his evaluation of her.

  “What do you think of the earl?”

  Olivia’s attention snapped back to her aunt when she realized she’d been spoken to. She was a bit uncomfortable that Agatha had caught her staring at the man.

  In a voice much huskier than she intended, Olivia said, “I haven’t even met him yet. How can I know what I think of him?”

  “Well, you’ve certainly stared at him long enough,” her aunt bantered lightly with a teasing smile playing about her lips. “Do you think him handsome?”

  How like her aunt not to let her evade a question. “I suppose he could be called handsome—by some.”

  “Some? My dear, I’m certain every young lady in London would consider him one of the finest-looking men in all of England.”

  Olivia turned her back on the earl so she wouldn’t be tempted to cut her eyes around to look at him. “There should be more to attract a young lady’s attention than mere appearance.”

  “Yes,” Agatha said. “Wealth and titles are always nice additions.”

  “I was talking about things like character, kindness, and whether or not he’s benevolent.”

  “I’m sure the earl is filled to overflowing with all those worthy traits and more.”

  “Are you? I’m not. Don’t you remember the things we heard about him just last evening?”

  “You mean that he was once a member of a trio called the Terrible Threesome? But we’ve kno
wn that from years of reading Lord Truefitt’s tittle-tattle in the Daily Reader.”

  “Yes, and we also know that he has shamefully trampled on hopeful young ladies’ affections for years.”

  “Nonsense. He is merely a young man who’s having difficulty finding the right lady to be his wife,” her aunt said, looking up the line to where the earl stood. “Waiting to be sure you ask the right one is not such a bad thing. I do believe he’s the only one of the Terrible Threesome who isn’t married.”

  “That must mean he is the worst of the lot.”

  Her aunt laughed with such freedom that Olivia had to laugh, too, even though she’d never been more serious about what she’d said.

  And a moment later added, “The very kind Mr. Yost hasn’t broken any young lady’s heart that I’m aware of, and his standing in the community is sterling.”

  “He’s also a bore,” Agatha quickly countered. “Don’t you find Lord Dugdale’s reputation the least bit intriguing or tempting, or perhaps a little dangerous?”

  Olivia squared her shoulders. “A rogue who gives no thought to how many hearts he breaks? Absolutely not. Who would want to marry a rake, even if he is young, handsome, and titled?”

  “Obviously everyone but you, my dear,” Agatha said with a hint of merriment in her eyes. “I dare say Lord Dugdale is considered the most eligible bachelor in London this Season.”

  Olivia wasn’t surprised or daunted by her aunt’s words. The earl was a splendid-looking specimen. But he was not the kind of man Olivia would ever trust with her heart.

  Olivia smiled at her great aunt, whom she loved dearly. From what she’d heard about Lord Dugdale, he must be much like her aunt’s Lord Pinkwater. It was no wonder that Agatha was drawn to a man who resembled her past love.

  What Olivia couldn’t understand was how Agatha could still be controlled by the ghost of a beau who had stolen her heart and then left her to a long life of heartache and loneliness. Olivia wouldn’t let that happen to her. She felt sure she would be safe from such heartbreaks with a kind man like Mr. Yost.