by Darcy Burke
“Fanny has a secret admirer. Like the Duke of Seduction but not.” Sarah laughed.
“I have a secret,” Lavinia blurted, her voice nearly a whisper. She didn’t want to keep this from her friends, and frankly, she had to tell someone. Beck’s behavior was confusing and irritating and she didn’t know what to do.
Sarah blinked at her in surprise. “You do?”
Lavinia nodded. She gave Sarah an apologetic look. “I should have told you sooner. At least the first part—when he kissed my neck.”
Sarah’s eyes widened. “Who kissed your neck?”
“Northam.”
“Aha!” Sarah’s expression gleamed with triumph. “I knew there was something between you.”
“Keep your voice down,” Lavinia urged. “There is nothing between us. I thought we were friends. But then we kissed in the library—”
“Tonight?” Sarah asked, cutting into her tale.
“Yes. During hide-and-seek.”
Sarah leaned around Lavinia and gave Fanny a knowing look. “I told you it was perfectly suited for that.”
Fanny laughed softly. “I don’t think anyone would dispute it.” She directed her attention to Lavinia. “What happened?”
“We both chose to hide in the library. We got, er, close. It seemed the natural thing to do.”
“And when did he kiss your neck?” Sarah asked. “You said that was the first part.”
Lavinia thought back. “Oh goodness… three weeks ago? Before—” She caught herself just before she said “he.” “Before the Duke of Seduction wrote about me. It was the Evenrude ball—the night we met you, Fanny.”
At Fanny’s nod, Lavinia continued. “I went to the library to read a geological manuscript, and while I was seated on the settee—my back was to the door—he kissed my nape.”
“You didn’t hear him come in?” Fanny asked.
“No. I was too engrossed.”
“Unsurprising,” Sarah said with a soft smile. “Why did he do that?”
“He thought I was the woman he was meeting to…you know.” Lavinia left her name out, as she’d promised him she wouldn’t tell anyone about it. Just as she’d said she wouldn’t tell anyone he was the Duke of Seduction. That information, however, was burning her tongue. Still, she was nothing if not loyal, so she’d simply go home and unburden her feelings about his interfering in her life to her diary. Yes, she hadn’t done that in quite some time, and she found she had a bit to say on the matter.
Sarah giggled. “Oh my. What did he do when he discovered you weren’t her?”
“He apologized. Profusely. I was rather angry.”
“As you should have been,” Fanny said. She leaned close, her eyes expectant. “But wasn’t it exciting?”
Exciting? At the time, it had given rise to panic. But since then, she’d thought of it—and him—so often that she supposed she could attribute some adjective to it. “It was…memorable.”
“Clearly, for you and he have developed an association—you talked at the Fortescues’, you’ve promenaded at the park, and he even took you home in his curricle after you pretended to faint.” Sarah’s eyes narrowed. “I asked if he was courting you, and you said no. Yet you kissed him tonight.”
There was so much Lavinia could reveal—about his secret, about their alliance, which came from that secret, about him giving her fossils… But she couldn’t say any of that, not without crafting a giant lie. Better to simply omit.
Suddenly, she wanted to leave.
“Yes, I kissed him. Or he kissed me.” Lavinia waved her hand and hoped she portrayed the appropriate level of insouciance. “It was a mutual curiosity, and one that won’t be repeated. Northam is a rake, and I shouldn’t want to be courted by one such as him.”
“Don’t write him off for that,” Fanny said with determination. “My sister did that with West and ended up being wrong about him. She has said multiple times that she’d never been more glad to be wrong about someone.”
Lavinia supposed she could be wrong about Beck, but he’d certainly demonstrated his penchant for “rakish things,” to use his words. She’d seen him talking with Lady Fairwell at the park. What if he was still carrying on with her?
“I don’t know that I’m wrong about Lord Northam,” she said, rising from the settee.
The others stood with her, and Sarah said, “I suppose time will tell.”
It would, and in the meantime, Lavinia wouldn’t wait around to find out.
* * *
Strolling into Brooks’s the following evening, Beck went directly to the small drawing room where he might run into Felix. If he was there. It was a bit early yet, and Beck would be content to simply sip a whiskey.
Or five.
He’d slept late and spent the day closeted in his study with his guitar and pen. It had taken Gage to pull him out of his thoughts and force him to bathe and go out this evening. Gage was nothing if not attuned to Beck’s moods.
And his mood had been rather dark following last night’s encounter with Lavinia. Rather, encounters. First there had been the kissing, then there had been her attempt at flirtation. He’d botched both.
Fine, maybe he hadn’t botched the kissing. It had been quite nice. Quite nice? It had been sublime. He’d messed up in that he shouldn’t have kissed her in the first place. Just as he shouldn’t have gone into the library looking for her, because that was precisely what he’d done. Actually, in hindsight, he shouldn’t even have joined the game. Hell, he could do better than that. He shouldn’t have gone to the damn party to begin with.
But he had. And he’d kissed her. Furthermore, it had been divine. He’d drunk himself silly last night in an effort to banish her from his mind. He’d slept fitfully, dreaming of her. Then he’d awakened early and frigged himself, and still she lingered as he fell into an exhausted slumber that lasted until afternoon.
Immersing himself in music and words had helped, though the outpouring of emotion had been dark and dissonant, leaving him feeling unsatisfied and a bit…empty.
He was used to that feeling. It came to him now and again, less often since he’d become the Duke of Seduction. However, since he’d found the letter from Helen a few days ago, he found himself falling back into the old pattern.
A footman brought a glass of whiskey as soon as he sat at a table. Beck thanked him and took a sip of the rich, pale amber liquid. It was heavy and spicy and exactly what he wanted. He needed fortification.
He couldn’t continue to fixate on Lavinia. She was a charming and intelligent young woman who deserved a husband who would give her light and love. And science. Beck definitely couldn’t do that.
What Beck needed to do was find out who had told his sister she was better off dead. That needed to be his priority. He considered speaking with the Duchess of Kendal, but if she’d been embroiled in a scandal, she might not wish to discuss that time period. It was also possible that she didn’t know Helen or who those other women might be. No, he’d be better off finding someone else who could help him.
Beck sipped his whiskey and looked about the room, cataloguing the handful of gentlemen in attendance, none of whom were better than acquaintances. From the corner of his eye, Beck saw someone enter. He turned his head, hoping it was Felix, who would undoubtedly be able to help him think of someone to talk to. Which would mean revealing his sister’s secret. On second thought, maybe he couldn’t do that.
Only it wasn’t Felix.
It was Lavinia’s father, Lord Balcombe. And he was walking straight toward Beck.
Hell.
Beck finished his drink and prayed the footman would come immediately with another.
He didn’t, however. Instead, the earl arrived at Beck’s table and bid him good evening. “Do you mind if I sit?”
Yes. “Please.” Beck gestured to one of the empty chairs at his round table.
“When I saw you sitting here, I thought I should come over so we could have a talk. I regret I didn’t get a chance to speak
with you at the Kilves’ last night. Perhaps I should have played hide-and-seek.” The corner of his mouth ticked up, and Beck wasn’t sure if he was trying to hint at something. Did he know what had happened in the library? No, how could he? Unless Lavinia had told him…
She wouldn’t have done that. Beck would stake all the secrets he harbored on that.
“It was an enjoyable evening,” Beck said.
Thankfully, the footman arrived with two more glasses of whiskey, which he deposited in front of them on the table.
The earl scooped his up in his fingertips and held the glass aloft. “To new relationships and looking to the future.”
Beck held up his whiskey, then took a robust drink. He wasn’t sure what Balcombe was about, but he had a sinking feeling the earl had a specific purpose for this meeting.
Balcombe set his glass down. “Fine whiskey here at Brooks’s.” He looked over at Beck, his dark eyes assessing. He squinted slightly, and Beck wondered if the man also suffered from myopia. “My wife and I require your assistance with our daughter. Well, more help than you’ve already provided.”
The sinking feeling intensified, and Beck had the sensation that the floor beneath him was turning to dust. “I beg your pardon?”
“You needn’t prevaricate,” Balcombe said pleasantly, but with a touch of steel. “We know you’re the Duke of Seduction.” He pursed his lips and let out a soft, nasal sound. “Such a ludicrous nickname.”
How the hell did they know that? Gage never would have revealed his secret—not that they would’ve learned such a thing from his butler. That left Lavinia. Why had she told them? Had she been angry with him after he’d told her they couldn’t kiss again?
Beck set his ire and his burning curiosity aside. “How do you want me to help her beyond what I’ve already done?”
“It seems your…efforts aren’t bearing the same fruit as some of your other subjects. Lavinia is unique and perhaps requires an additional nudge.” Balcombe sipped his whiskey, behaving as if this were a friendly conversation he had with regularity. “We’d like you to court her.”
Beck bit back his instant refusal. “I do not wish to marry.”
“We’re not asking you to marry her. We want you to court her so that other gentlemen—those who’ve expressed an interest—will accelerate their courtship.”
As angry as Beck might be with Lavinia for exposing him, he hated that her parents sought to manage her life in this way. “Why not wait for things to take their natural course? Is there some reason you need to rush into a wedding contract?”
The earl’s eyes darkened, and he leaned slightly forward. “I don’t care for your insinuation, Northam. I came here prepared to make a deal, but you may force my hand. I won’t hesitate to reveal your hidden identity to the world.”
It was to be extortion, then. “I wasn’t insinuating anything,” Beck said with heat. “I find your management of your daughter’s marital affairs overbearing.”
“You may keep your opinions to yourself. I’ll ask if I’d like to hear them.”
Beck gripped his whiskey, his hand choking the glass as he brought it to his mouth and took another healthy drink, not quite finishing it. He set it back down on the table, perhaps a trifle too hard as the liquid sloshed up the sides of the tumbler. “Has it not occurred to you that I am providing a service to young women, including Lady Lavinia? Just because she is not yet betrothed doesn’t mean she won’t be. You can see my poems have elevated her visibility.”
“Yes, but we want her wed this Season. You’ll court her, and things will move with alacrity.”
“And if they don’t?” Courtship often led to a betrothal, and Beck wasn’t prepared to agree to that. Hell, he wasn’t prepared to agree to any of it.
“We’ll deal with that problem should it arise. The countess and I are confident your interest will spur a few men in particular to make their move. Let us worry about that maneuvering.”
Maneuvering? Christ, would they manipulate the other suitors as well? Any anger he had toward Lavinia dissipated. For all he knew, they’d done something to manipulate her too.
The earl cleared his throat and straightened, adopting the stature and tone of someone conducting a business transaction. “You’ll call on Lavinia tomorrow and walk with her in the park some time this week. And dance with her at your earliest convenience. We will be attending the Halliwell ball and expect to see you there. If you fail to meet our terms, we will publish your identity as the Duke of Seduction in the Times.”
Beck glared at the man across the table. “Your manipulation is rather despicable.”
“No more so than your meddling and unsolicited ‘help.’” Balcombe finished his whiskey and stood. “See you tomorrow.”
Fury raged through Beck as he watched the man leave the room. He was so focused on the earl’s retreating back—and staring daggers into it—that he failed to notice Felix approach.
He sat down in the chair Balcombe had abandoned. “What the devil was that about? You look as though you’d like to run him through.”
“I would, actually,” Beck said tightly.
Felix cast a look toward the door through which the earl had departed. “Why?”
Beck couldn’t explain without telling Felix everything. And he might—just not right now. He was too angry. “Never mind. I don’t want to discuss it.”
The footman came over and swept up Balcombe’s empty glass, then deposited a fresh one for Felix.
“I hope you don’t mind my saying so, but you seem a bit off lately,” Felix said, picking up his glass and taking a small sip. He swallowed, flexed his lips, then took another. “Have you been writing? Playing?”
“Both.”
“You aren’t seeing anyone right now, are you? Perhaps we should visit Madame Bisset’s again. I had a grand time the other night.”
“No, thank you. I’m not up for that this evening.”
Felix surveyed him a long moment. “You’re in another of your moods. I hope this doesn’t last long.”
His moods could last a few hours or a few weeks. Or, as in the case of Priscilla’s rejection, months. Beck hoped this wasn’t one of those times.
He finished his whiskey and decided he should engage in “rakish things,” reminding him of what he’d said to Lavinia at the Fortescues’ musical performance. “Let’s go play cards.”
“Brilliant.” Felix plucked up his whiskey and stood.
Beck rose and followed him into the card room. Tomorrow he would call on Lavinia and pretend to court her. She would be extraordinarily baffled given how he’d acted last night. He’d either have to convince her he was earnest in his desire to court her or tell her the truth about her parents’ extortion. Unless she already knew.
God, had she come up with this scheme after he’d refused her advances last night? She’d tried to flirt, and he’d rejected her. He’d told her they couldn’t repeat what they’d done in the library. He knew he’d disappointed her. However, he apparently hadn’t realized how much.
Disappointment washed over him too. He’d liked her so much. And now he didn’t know what to think. Tomorrow, hopefully, he’d find out.
Chapter 10
If wit were gold, her purse boundless.
If humor air, her world groundless.
If grace were rain, she’d fill the seas.
Her love’s warmth the cold heart unfreeze.
* * *
-From A Song for Lady Lavinia Gillingham
by The Duke of Seduction
* * *
Lavinia had allowed herself to stew about Beck’s rakishness for most of yesterday, but she didn’t plan to give him such time today. Though it was difficult not to think of him, because every time she looked at her expanded fossil collection, he was right there.
And she refused to return them.
So instead, she focused her energy on planning a geology-themed excursion. She often tried to find places around London where she could take a short ja
unt. It took some planning—convincing her mother to go with her, which hadn’t happened in a few years, or taking some other chaperone, such as her sister-in-law if she was in town.
Lavinia had a destination in mind and a chaperone. Hopefully, her mother would agree to both. In the meantime, she’d write to Diana and ask if she’d chaperone. It was rather helpful to have a married friend who was a duchess to boot.
As she sat down at the desk in the upstairs sitting room, the butler came in to announce the arrival of Sarah. Lavinia hadn’t been expecting her. “Send her up, please.”
The butler nodded and left. A few moments later, Sarah, who’d come up to this sitting room dozens of times, came in wearing a tense expression. She removed her gloves and took her bonnet from her head.
“Is something amiss?” Lavinia asked.
“Not amiss, but I do have something to share.” She perched on the small settee and waited for Lavinia to sit in the chair angled toward her.
“You’re causing me concern,” Lavinia said.
“I don’t mean to. I just—” Sarah dropped her gloves in her lap and set the bonnet on the settee. “After what you told us about Northam the other night, I felt I had to tell you what I’ve learned.”
Instantly, Lavinia thought of his secret identity, but doubted that could be it. “What’s happened?”
“Anthony saw him—Northam—at a brothel last week. He was there with his friend, Mr. Jeffries, and Felix, of course.”
Lavinia felt a bit sick. Which was ridiculous. Beck was a rake. He likely went to brothels quite often. In fact, he’d probably been many times during their acquaintance. Perhaps he’d even gone to one after leaving Violet’s party the other night. After they’d kissed. “Well, I guess we have our answer regarding his reputation.” And it stung.
“Still a rake,” Sarah said flatly. “I’m sorry. I knew you’d want to know.”