A Beginner's Guide to Rakes

by Suzanne Enoch

  * * *

  A few weeks ago Oliver would never have believed that Anthony Benchley would be the catalyst that gave him the opportunity finally to prove himself to Diane. Previously he’d thought Frederick expiring had been the best thing a Benchley would ever do for him. And yet it was because of the latest Lord Cameron that he stood in the drawing room of Adam House as an ally. Hell, he hadn’t even had to break in to get there.

  He’d been through the house’s doors a handful of times previously, mostly when the premises had been under reconstruction. And of course he’d snuck in through the servants’ entrance on several more occasions than even Diane likely knew about—and he’d searched thoroughly enough to know that the damned letter she held over him wasn’t there.

  Wandering over to the table beside the window, he poured himself a glass of whiskey from the well-stocked tantalus there. Lately he’d thought about that letter only rarely, and it concerned him even less. He wasn’t inside Adam House because of blackmail—and he hadn’t been for some time.

  Through the window he could see the corner of the stable and a number of the carriages and horses awaiting the return of their masters. Perhaps it was too early to claim success, particularly with Cameron breathing down her neck, but Diane had managed something of a miracle. New gentlemen’s clubs opened nearly every Season in London, and most of them didn’t last the summer. But she’d created a haven where the wealthiest and most sophisticated gentlemen could go and gamble, and spend the evening eating fine food and being flattered by pretty, intelligent young women.

  “What are you looking at?” Diane’s voice came from the doorway.

  Warmth spread through him, as though her presence brought him to life. “You’ve quite a crowd tonight, from the look of the stable yard.”

  “Our attendance keeps increasing. I hate to be overly optimistic, but it is encouraging.”

  He heard the hesitation at the end of her words. Interpreting what troubled her didn’t take a soothsayer. The more successful The Tantalus Club was, the more determined Cameron would be to wrest it away from her, either wholesale through the courts or piece by piece through backmail. Oliver turned around—and stopped dead.

  Instead of her usual sophisticated black, Diane wore a silk gown of deep, rich red. Red ribbons wound through her black hair, and red slippers peeked from beneath the lace hem of her skirt. He wanted to pull her into his arms and took a hard, deep breath to quell the impulse.

  It didn’t work, but it did give him a moment to recover himself. “I know that complimenting a woman on her attire is rather pedestrian,” he commented, his gaze lingering for a long moment on her bosom before he lifted his gaze to her face again, “but you made my knees weak just then.”

  She smiled, the warmth in the expression touching her green eyes. “Tomorrow night is a ladies’ night. I want the gentlemen in attendance tonight to remember to return on Wednesday.”

  Of course she hadn’t worn it for him, but that certainly didn’t stop him from appreciating it. “I don’t think you’ll have any trouble with that.”

  “Diane, dinner is served,” the French twist said from the dining room doorway. With a glance at him, she retreated again. With the way Diane seemed to rely on her friend, clearly he had two women to win over now.

  “After you, Diane,” he said, leaning in to smell her lavender-scented hair as she passed him.

  Platters of baked fish, potatoes, and a blood pudding lined the center of the table alongside a basket of bread and a large bowl of what smelled like pea soup. The footwomen who seated them immediately left the room and shut the doors behind them, so apparently the three of them were to serve themselves. Good. He didn’t care to have anyone else overhear some of the things he wanted to discuss.

  Deliberately he took the seat opposite Genevieve Martine, while Diane sat to his left at the head of the table. He approached nearly everything like a game to be won, assessing opponents and strategy with every breath. As he gazed at Diane spooning potatoes onto her plate, however, he knew this wasn’t just another game—she wasn’t just another game. He’d somehow found himself with a second chance to win her. This time he wasn’t leaving the table until the game was over. Not until he’d won.

  Realization hit him like a punch to the gut. Initially blackmailed into being there or not, he wanted Diane in his life. He wanted to be a part of her life. She was the one woman he’d ever met who didn’t acquiesce to him, who wasn’t afraid to stand toe-to-toe with him. And the changes he saw in her now made her even more attractive to him. These days he enjoyed her company as much out of bed as he had in bed two years ago. And it terrified and thrilled him all at the same time.

  “Why are you staring at me?” the object of his affection and desire asked.

  Thinking fast, he rolled his shoulders. “You said we couldn’t kill Cameron,” he returned. “How far are you willing to go?”

  “The shorter answer would come from you asking me what I’m not willing to do.”

  He smiled. “That’s what I hoped you’d say.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  “I think you need to be more specific,” Oliver said, nudging the edge of her parasol so it would stop poking him in the head.

  Diane stifled a grin. “About what?”

  “What did you mean last night when you said, ‘Jenny can convince him; she once fooled Bonaparte’?”

  “I’m surprised you waited until this afternoon to ask me that.” She was also surprised that she was enjoying the walk through St. James’s Park in his company. It had seemed too mundane and domestic, and yet it was also something she’d never done with Frederick. He’d never asked her.

  She had the sneaking suspicion that this was what was supposed to have happened five years ago—when she’d been eighteen and naïve and ready to fall in love. A simple walk in the park. Oliver had had to bargain her into it today because she’d ceased to believe in things such as romance, but in a sense the effort he’d gone through to get her here made the afternoon more … meaningful.

  “I would have asked over the fish,” he returned, “but I thought she might come across the table at me.”

  “She doesn’t like you much. Of course, I don’t, either.”

  He stopped, putting a hand on hers where it draped over his arm. “At the risk of leaving my innards exposed to a jab in the heart, how do you feel about me? Not overall, of course; that’s asking too much. But now, at this moment?” he asked quietly, his expression surprisingly serious.

  Goodness. It was very unlike him to leave such a large part of himself so unguarded. She met his gaze, then looked away again, abruptly uncomfortable. “At this moment, I like you. Will that suffice?”

  “Yes, quite well. And likewise, if I may say so. Now. Bonaparte. Miss Martine. Explain.”

  “I met Jenny when we were children. Her father was a diplomat serving in France, but her mother spent the summers here, at a cottage just across the valley from Fenhall, where I lived. She has an amazing grasp of languages, and even though she’s always considered herself to be English, she’s at least as fluent in French, German, Italian, Spanish, and I don’t know what else.”

  “And Bonaparte?” he prompted.

  “Five years ago, when she turned eighteen, she was approached by the foreign minister. And she spent the three years after that as … well, she spent them aiding England during the war.”

  He eyed Diane. “She was a spy, you mean.”

  “We don’t generally tell anyone that. So don’t tell anyone else.”

  A grin touched his mouth. “You do trust me a little, then.”

  “A little,” she conceded, barely recognizing herself in the company of this man who had, after all, once broken her heart. Diane took a hard breath. “And she’s very good with both pistols and knives. Don’t forget that.”

  “I shan’t.”

  They continued on their way. A barouche passed them, the trio of ladies inside staring openly at her, then looking away and whisp
ering behind their hands. Considering that one of them had appeared at The Tantalus Club a fortnight ago and lost forty pounds at whist, aside from noting that they were hypocrites, Diane could not have cared less for their opinion.

  “May I ask you a question?”

  Even with her attention on the departing carriage, she could feel his gaze on her. It was the oddest thing; this was a simple walk, and on an afternoon when she should have been at The Tantalus Club making certain the temporary male staff were arriving and all positions were covered. And yet the sensation running through her was the same one she’d felt when he’d taken her up in the balloon—excited and electric and very aware of the handsome devil of a man standing beside her.

  “What sort of question is this, if you need my permission to ask it?” she finally said.

  “I’m attempting to be gentlemanly.” Amusement touched his gray eyes.

  “Just ask me, for heaven’s sake.”

  “Very well. Have you seen your parents since you returned to England?”

  Diane frowned. “What does that have to do with ridding myself of Anthony Benchley?”

  “Nothing whatsoever. You left England nearly three years ago, when you were barely twenty. I’m curious.” He paused. “My father died when I was twelve, and my mother seven years later. I say that to forestall any protests you may have about me sticking my nose into your personal affairs when I haven’t told you anything of mine.”

  Simple, cordial conversation. With Oliver Warren. A few weeks ago, she never would have been able to even imagine it. Yet now it seemed … natural. Comfortable, even. “No, I haven’t seen them. They have three other daughters and a son. I turned eighteen, married, and left home as I was supposed to. And that is that.” Intentionally she bounced the parasol off the side of his head again. “It was a very efficient and proper household. They wouldn’t approve of what I’m doing now, and I don’t see the point of encouraging their interest or censure.”

  “Very logical of you.”

  “I’m not afraid of them, if that’s what you’re implying.”

  “I’ve never seen you afraid of anything, my fierce warrior queen.”

  “We are allies for the moment,” she said, attempting to ignore the warm tingle of his words. “I am not yours. Or anyone’s.”

  “Very well. You fierce warrior queen. Better?”

  “Infinitely. Is your curiosity satisfied, then?”

  “For the moment. I sup…” Oliver paused, then nodded and sent a grin at a passing acquaintance. “Appleton.”

  “Haybury.” The fellow pulled up his bay gelding and tipped his hat at her. “You must be Lady Cameron. I keep waiting for Haybury to invite me to his new club, but I’ve barely seen him in the past month.”

  “I live above a gentlemen’s club, James,” Oliver returned. “Having found paradise, I’m reluctant to leave it.”

  Mr. Appleton grinned, nodding. “That I understand. I owe you a luncheon, however. The Society tomorrow?”

  “The Tantalus Club, at two o’clock.”

  “That’s good of you, Oliver. I’ll see you there.”

  Diane watched the man ride off again. “I hope Mr. Appleton proves less troublesome than your other friends.”

  “Greaves and Larden are not my friends,” he stated flatly. “Manderlin and Appleton are.”

  She reconsidered what she’d been about to say. “Greaves has applied for membership at the club.”

  “I’m not surprised. The Tantalus Club is becoming the place to be seen. I won’t be voting in his favor, however.”

  He hadn’t asked her to do the same. A small thing, perhaps, but she considered it significant. At the beginning he’d attempted to step into her business, but lately he’d seemed to realize how angry that made her. Either that or he approved of what she was doing. Not that she cared about that, but he had spent a great deal of his time in gentlemen’s clubs. If an expert supported her efforts, well, naturally she would be pleased by that fact, she supposed.

  Oliver glanced around them. “I was about to say that I can’t imagine you simply returning to your parents’ house and living off their good graces until you could marry again.”

  “Is that what I was supposed to do? It honestly never occurred to me to return home.”

  “Why would it? I’ve yet to see you retreat from anything.” He cleared his throat. “I’ve another question for you.”

  “Aren’t you the curious one today? Just remember that I may have some questions for you, and now I’ll expect you to answer every one of them.”

  “Agreed.”

  “Then ask away.”

  “Before me, you had never been with any man but Frederick, had you?”

  Her heart thudded a little harder. “No, I hadn’t. You were the first time I realized that my ‘wifely duty,’ as my mother called it, could be so very pleasurable. Thank you for that, I suppose.” Halfway across the park she caught sight of Lady Dashton in her barouche, two of the viscountess’s Ladies of Moderation with her. Diane sighed.

  She’d actually liked Lady Dashton on their first meeting, and she had the feeling that it was Lord Dashton’s drinking rather than The Tantalus Club that had the viscountess squawking so loudly. The Ladies of Moderation were yet another problem she would have to save for another day, though it was beginning to seem that she would run out of days before she ran out of problems.

  Oliver tugged at her arm. “What did y—”

  “Oh, no, you don’t,” she cut in. It made her feel too vulnerable to have him asking so many questions of her. “It’s my turn now. Why were you in Vienna two years ago? The truth, if you please.”

  “I never lied about it before; you just never asked me.”

  “I am now.”

  Oliver gazed across the park, though he didn’t seem to be looking at anything in particular. “As you wish. Two years ago I annoyed my uncle one too many times and he cut me off. I had some blunt I could use to support myself through wagering, but after Greaves cheated me out of it I could no longer afford to live in London. Hence my holiday in Vienna. And hence my less than honest behavior at the table that night when I played against DuChamps.” He glanced sideways at her. “Is that the one question you truly wanted to ask me?”

  The other question took more courage. Still, she was apparently now a fierce warrior queen. What was a bit of painful reminiscing to a warrior? “You’re certainly brave today,” she said aloud. “You’re actually encouraging me to bring that up?”

  Stopping again, Oliver slipped his arm from beneath her hand and instead clasped her fingers in his. “Neither of us is ever likely to forget. I’m aiming a bit lower.”

  She snorted. “Forgiveness, I presume? This had best be a very good tale.” The words didn’t have quite the sting she intended. Apparently his recent good deeds and the very lovely afternoon were having a greater effect on her than she’d realized.

  “Time to find out, I suppose.” He took a breath. “When I arrived at Lady Darham’s luncheon, I asked her who you were, sitting there in the corner by yourself and all dressed in black. She told me that you were English and your idiot of a husband had just died and left you penniless. You literally … stopped my heart, with that long black hair and your beautiful eyes. And I wanted you. I thought…” He stopped, keeping his gaze on her face. “I thought you would be easy to maneuver into bed.”

  “And I was. But that’s the beginning of the tale. I asked you about the end.”

  “Diane, y—”

  She pulled away from him. “I recognize that tone. Either tell me or tell me that you’re not going to tell me. Don’t attempt to change the subject.”

  Oliver caught her hand in his again. “Very well. But you’re not fleeing after I speak.”

  From the hard grip of his fingers around hers, she doubted she would be able to manage it even if she wanted to. “I asked the question. I imagine I can manage hearing the answer.”

  “I left because I was seven-and-twenty, had no fort
une, and was determined that I would not be some married, domesticated half-wit whose only escape was to leave home every night to go wagering with the few pennies I’d managed to scrape together.”

  “I never asked to be married to you.”

  “But I wanted to be married to you. I could scarcely think of anything else. And you were correct; it terrified me. It was the opposite of everything I thought I wanted for my life, and yes, I fled. I returned to London and went directly to my uncle and apologized for my ill advised behavior. Three weeks after he wrote me back into his will, he dropped dead in the middle of the House of Lords. His heart, the physician said. I’ve been attempting to forget you for two years, Diane.”

  She could feel herself breathing, but no air seemed to be reaching her lungs. Of all the things she’d expected to hear, that Oliver had liked her too much had never been one of them. His keen gaze studied her face intently, as though he was attempting to decipher what she was thinking. As she had no idea what to think, she wished him good luck with that.

  “Well?” he finally prompted. “Aren’t you going to hit or kick or shoot me or something?”

  “You … you left because you were too fond of me?” she finally managed, her voice as unsteady as her thoughts. “And all this time I thought…”

  “You thought what?”

  She shook herself. “Oh, no. That is one conversation we are not having. Not now.” Perhaps not ever.

  “My dear, I deserve whatev—”

  “I’d like to return to our discussion about Anthony,” she interrupted. “You intend on baiting him into doing something stupid. Are you certain you can manage that?”

  He was silent for a moment. “I excel at leading others astray,” he finally said, though he would obviously rather be continuing that other discussion. “You know that. And never fear, we will do something dastardly to him. But if he hurts you—or attempts to hurt you, Diane—I will end him. And I won’t compromise about that.”

  “When did you become so protective?”

  He shrugged, finally loosening his grip on her fingers. “I don’t know. But I assure you, I am perfectly serious.”