Rakes and Rogues

by Boyd, Heather

  Hugh nodded. He knew that was the best advice, but for some reason he resisted it. He certainly didn’t want this responsibility. He wasn’t even sure he should take it on.

  His misgivings were not about the child being his. No, his concern was that while he was well versed in siring a child, he hadn't the slightest notion of how to actually parent one.

  Hugh groaned, dropping his head in his hands. What on earth was he to do?

  He felt a light touch on his head, more tender than a wretch such as he deserved. It filled him with a strange sense of peace, one he did not want to lose anytime soon. Yet he was terrified at being the utter failure his own parents had been.

  "I cannot have a child in my life right now," he blurted, with more ferocity than he had intended.

  The little girl stepped back. Her bottom lip quivered, and for the first time she lost her composure. Hugh could feel a wrench in his heart, and even though he struggled against the odd emotion, he was powerless when tears started pouring from those innocent blue eyes.

  His daughter. And he had been the one to finally make her cry.

  The lump in his throat nearly choked him. He pulled her onto his lap, holding her protectively, resting his chin atop her head while she sobbed. He rocked her back and forth, comforting her, and himself, with the sounds used throughout the ages to ease unbearable heartache.

  "What's your name, child?"

  "Lucinda," she answered, sniffling. Her breath caught. "What's yours?"

  "Lord Wast—" The hopeful expression on her tear-stained face changed everything. The wretched Lord Wastrel was no more. He had a child to care for—his child. "Lucinda, your father is Hugh Longford, the fifth Earl Weyson."

  She gave him a tentative smile. "Can I call you Papa instead?"

  Hugh's heart melted completely, all because of this child he had not known of until moments ago. Even so, he could not help but quake at what it meant to be a Papa. He squeezed her a little more tightly, for his own reassurance.

  Still, he knew without a doubt she had proved to be his salvation. He would not permit his profligate past to mar her future. Nor would he deny her the fine things in life to which she was entitled, even if she had the misfortune of being born on the wrong side of the blanket.

  He stood up with Lucinda wrapped in his arms, and strode outside the drawing room, heading towards the stairs.

  His head instantly filled with visions of what lay ahead of them, only this time he was not frightened. Now that he had been given this opportunity, this redemption, he couldn't wait to get started on his grand plans for their future.

  First, Lucinda would need a nursery. He would see to setting up a suite of rooms for his daughter, filled with every imaginable necessity, and every luxury she might desire. She would also need clothes, and toys, and—

  He halted at the base of the stairs. He truly had no notion of what a little girl might need. Haselton could no doubt handle the myriad details, with Lucinda's nursemaid assisting as well.

  But his daughter required more than devoted servants to help raise her into a proper young lady.

  "We must find you a mother." He kissed her forehead. "A perfectly biddable female. One who has no comprehension of the word scandalous."

  The words fell on deaf ears, for there was only so much excitement a four-year-old could endure before she fell asleep, safe and comforted in her father's arms.

  "Haselton," Hugh whispered, so as not to wake Lucinda. "I have need of a wife."

  "Indeed, sir," Haselton answered as calmly as if he'd been asked to deliver a tray to Lucinda's room. "And where shall you procure one?"

  "London is filled with dozens of such females. All I need do is pick someone respectable, marry her, and a perfect life for Lucinda will be set in motion. I'm sure it couldn't be any easier."

  Haselton nodded, his expression grave. "One would hope so, my lord. One would hope so."

  CHAPTER TWO

  Why was it so difficult to fall instantly in love?

  Lady Felicia Selby stepped into the crowded antechamber, accompanied by her Great-Aunt Aurore, and waited their turn to be announced. As soon as they delivered their felicitations to the happy couple, Felicia could return her attention to appeasing the family curse.

  Unfortunately her attempts to find her one true love had not met with success, despite months of valiant effort. Now she had begun to wonder if the man fated to be her husband truly existed.

  No, she could not let that notion take root. Nor could she permit herself to consider the consequences if she failed in this pursuit.

  Yet with only a few weeks' time remaining before her twenty-second birthday. . .

  "The heat is so stifling." Great-Aunt Aurore dabbed at her forehead, careful not to dislodge her elaborate headdress. "Is all of London in attendance this evening?"

  "It is the event of the season," Felicia said. "I cannot imagine anyone refused an invitation."

  The elegantly decorated room was filled to overflowing with eligible bachelors, many of them devastated to see one of their own succumbing to parson's mousetrap, with others visibly gleeful at retaining their freedom a while longer. An equal number of matchmaking mamas were plotting how to advance their daughters' matrimonial aspirations before the gala affair concluded.

  "I had always anticipated your betrothal ball would be a veritable crush too. But with the family curse—"

  "Do not forget my impatient nature," Felicia added, giving them both a hearty chuckle.

  "No, dear, you were never meant to follow the traditional route to marital bliss."

  All at once the whispers commenced, softly at first, then growing in volume as the news of Felicia's presence spread throughout the assembly. She was accustomed to the gleeful "It's Flighty Felicia!" announcements wherever she went. The less-than-subtle nudges and stares were part and parcel of every outing too.

  This time there were even a few silk fans snapped open, no doubt to hide comments about the latest in Felicia's long string of failed elopements.

  She bit back a laugh, especially when she saw her aunt's face flushed with excitement. "Great-Aunt Uproar" loved nothing more than gossip and scandal, no matter who was the source of it. Fortunately Felicia had managed to provide a great deal of enjoyment for her beloved relative.

  Several debutantes gazed longingly in their direction. They were clearly eager to chat about Felicia's most recent adventure, but doubtful about the propriety of approaching her.

  Felicia returned an inviting smile, and in the next instant, the emboldened misses had managed to surround her, peppering her with questions.

  "The latest on dit is someone with a fast carriage awaits you at this very moment. Is that true?"

  "How did you manage to escape your last elopement?"

  "What happened when you eloped with Lord—"

  Felicia quickly placed a finger to her smiling lips. "Shh. We must give the gentlemen some privacy. At least until they have recovered from the scandal of linking their name with mine."

  The girls giggled, thrilled to be part of the inner circle of the notorious Flighty Felicia.

  Great-Aunt Aurore beamed. A proper chaperone would be frowning and ahem-ing and changing the subject abruptly. Instead, her aunt merely raised her eyebrows, as if to say, "What could it hurt to regale them with a few tales?"

  Felicia agreed. It was not as though she was ashamed of her quest to find her one true love.

  However, the ton knew nothing of the family curse that drove her. They had seen Felicia eloping at least once a fortnight, and after gossiping and speculating about her behavior, they had dubbed her "Flighty Felicia".

  Instead of becoming a pariah—thanks to being the sister of a very eligible Duke—she had turned into a darling of Society. Everywhere she went, crowds of young women clamored to hear more of her escapades.

  Felicia was more than happy to satisfy their curiosity.

  "All I wanted was a husband with a sense of humor," she began cheerfully, "which is
what Lord. . .Thus-and-such possessed. But then our carriage broke down in the midst of a dreadful storm and we waited in a nearby inn before the wheel could be repaired. It was abundantly clear his sense of humor was only available during Society events."

  The misses tittered and fluttered their fans.

  "I also like a man with a strong sense of style, and Lord D. certainly had that." She frowned. "At least until he insisted on bringing his valet along on our elopement, because he had no idea what waistcoat should be paired with which pantaloons, at least not without constant guidance."

  One of the girls choked, while another hid her amusement behind her gloved hand. Great-Aunt Aurore's expression was a bit more compassionate. She was the only one who knew just how disappointed Felicia was at not discovering the man she would love the rest of her life.

  "Being a good conversationalist has always been of prime importance," Felicia continued. "Unfortunately, during our race to the Scottish border, Lord M. prosed on and on about the pitfalls of tree blight, never realizing I had not spoken a word." She chuckled. "I doubt he realized it even after I sneaked away at the last post inn to ask for assistance in returning home."

  This latest failure had nearly made Felicia wish she had never heard of the family curse. But then she remembered the "stirrings" her newly-wed friend Georgiana had described so rapturously, something Felicia was intent on experiencing with her own husband one day. . .

  The frustrated sigh escaped before she could stop it.

  "Has Flighty Felicia's reign come to an end?" one miss asked, clearly stricken by such a notion.

  Several of the women eyed Felicia with disbelief. Others showed their deep concern at being required to transfer their affections to a new cause célèbre.

  "There is a dearth of eligible bachelors just now," Felicia replied. "At least, ones I have not eloped with previously."

  It had not escaped her notice that many of the unmarried men that evening had assiduously avoided looking her direction, for fear she might successfully tempt one of them into an ill-fated elopement.

  "You could extend your search into the next shire," a young woman suggested quite earnestly. "That would increase the number of eligible males considerably."

  "It would be a better use of my time to open an academy," Felicia said with a laugh, "instructing young ladies on how to elope."

  Great-Aunt Aurore's eyes widened with interest. A flurry of excited whispers confirmed the debutantes' approval of the idea.

  "I jest! Besides, who would attend an elopement school with a spinster as the headmistress?"

  "Spinster?" Great-Aunt choked out, as if she had swallowed the smelling salts she now desperately needed. She tried to utter the word again, but could not get it past her lips.

  "You must admit," Felicia said, giving her aunt a sympathetic look. "Love has proved most elusive for me. Perhaps it is finally time I admit defeat—"

  "Oh, no," a woman said. "You must not give up on love."

  Felicia twisted to see who had just spoken so fervently. She was struck by the woman's regal beauty, her air of classical elegance, as well as a most beguiling smile. Her graceful long neck was set off by a stunning piece of coral jewelry, along with several strands of exquisite pearls.

  Felicia could not recall ever being introduced to the woman, but ignoring her would have been impolite, since they were all crushed together in the antechamber.

  As if divining Felicia's thoughts, the woman said, "Surely we can forego the formalities this once. I am Lady Aphrodite Carramont." At Felicia's gasp, the lady's eyebrows lifted in a knowing fashion. "Now you can understand why I am such a staunch champion for love."

  Felicia made the rest of the introductions before confessing, "I, too, have been a staunch champion, until recently—"

  "You have merely had a run of bad luck." Great-Aunt Aurore harrumphed, and would have crossed her arms across her massive bosom if there had been room in the crowded foyer. She had to content herself with frowning instead.

  "I am certain love will find you soon," Lady Aphrodite said. "When you least expect it." Her eyes were filled with kindness, as though she could see the doubt mingling with hopefulness in Felicia's heart. "And where you least expect it."

  Felicia was eager to hear more details. It seemed her prayers had been answered, at last. But the crowd surged forward unexpectedly, jostling everyone en masse. Lady Aphrodite bumped into Felicia, and grabbed her hand to stay upright. Felicia felt a tingling race from her fingers, up her arm, and straight to her heart.

  The room seemed to tilt and then spin around, making Felicia as lightheaded as when she twirled during a lively waltz.

  She blinked several times, anxious to dislodge the dizziness. She turned to inquire if Lady Aphrodite was experiencing the same sensation, but she had disappeared.

  "Great-Aunt, did you see where she went?" Felicia stood on her tiptoes, scanning the crowd, but there was not a trace of her anywhere.

  "No, I did not. But it cannot be so difficult to find a woman as beautiful as she is." Great-Aunt's eyes narrowed for a moment. "You know, I am quite sure I have seen her previously."

  Felicia squeezed her aunt's arm affectionately. "You say that about everyone you encounter."

  "Lest you forget," Great-Aunt Aurore said, her lips set in a prim line, "I have seen one or two generations come and go."

  Felicia was about to tease her some more, but the sensation of being submerged in champagne bubbles nearly overwhelmed her. She rubbed her nose, unable to breathe properly.

  What was happening to her?

  She was tempted to find her way to the card room, to ask her brother Julian and cousin Tony to fetch the carriage so she could return home. But then she felt her heart slow down, beating with increased purpose.

  Her true love was near.

  Somehow she fought off the urge to push her way through the endless throng of people. Her true love was there, in the ballroom. How childish her previous attempts to find him seemed now.

  Was he impatient to see her? Had he despaired of not appearing in her life before the curse took effect? She smiled as she imagined him greeting her, with unabashed longing in his eyes, followed by a passionate declaration of undying love.

  Finally, with her limited patience stretched beyond endurance, Felicia stood at the landing, gazing at the ballroom below. It appeared brighter than usual, as though a thousand candles had been added to illuminate this fateful moment. The music swirled around her, bursting with romantic intensity, matching her own heightened emotions.

  The dance floor was crowded with numerous handsome men, some in elegant evening attire, others in military uniform.

  Felicia took an excited step forward and then halted. How would she know which of them was hers?

  Her heart squeezed, and she placed her palm over it, fancifully imagining she had been pierced by Cupid's arrow. Her pulse raced with unbearable excitement at finally seeing the man she would love forever—

  "Oh, no," she moaned, her knees close to buckling. "Not him."

  Great-Aunt Aurore's brow wrinkled with concern. She turned to follow Felicia's outstretched hand. In the next instant, Aurore shrieked and fell to the floor in a dead faint.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Hugh shifted his weight onto his right foot, his left one already numb. He was so dashed bored with the proceedings, not to mention the endless felicitations being heaped on him that night.

  He knew half of London was here to confirm that Lord Wastrel was truly getting himself leg-shackled. He bit back his discomfort and smiled at another guest who was clearly dying of curiosity, yet too well-bred to actually voice the question everyone had in mind: "Why now?"

  Not that he had plans to sate their curiosity anytime soon. Perhaps once Lucinda had reached the age of majority he would be willing to let the ton know of her existence. Until then he would keep her safe from their insatiable need for fresh gossip.

  A commotion on the steps leading down into the ballroom caught
his attention, but he kept his mind, and his gaze, on the perfect woman by his side.

  Miss Penelope Lansdale was biddable, and from a good family. Her voice was soft, her bearing serene, and her demeanor elegant. She was blessedly free of the spectacle accompanying every batch of debutantes that descended upon London each Season.

  In short, she was everything he had sought in a wife.

  He bit back a yawn. If only she possessed some spirit, even a hint of a backbone.

  No, that was not at all fair. He had deliberately excluded any young women exhibiting such qualities. His daughter needed parents who could help her overcome the difficulties of being born on the wrong side of the blanket. She did not need a mother who had a scandalous reputation to rival that of her father.

  "What is happening upstairs?" Penelope asked, blissfully unaware of his inner turmoil.

  "I have no idea. Though I am confident Haselton will set everything to rights."

  Penelope glanced up at him, shyly, and he returned a tight smile. He would surely grow to love her. One day. After all, hadn't he been surprised at how deeply he loved his unexpected daughter?

  It was worth it to wed a woman he merely admired and respected. There was no need to expect anything more of their union. If only his parents had respected and admired each other. Their lifelong love of scandal had precluded that, however.

  His thoughts were interrupted by an imperious throat clearing.

  "Lady Thornham." Hugh stifled a grin as he bowed over the dowager's hand. "I am honored you decided to attend my betrothal ball."

  "I had to see for myself that another scoundrel has been reformed. First Lord Rakehell and now you." She leaned forward and examined him through her lorgnette. "You are the one they call Lord Wastrel, are you not?"

  "Indeed." He gave her an apologetic look. "Though I have been called that, and much worse, before this evening."

  The Dowager bristled, trying to decide if he was mocking her, and then she studied Penelope for several moments. She gave a sniff of approval before returning her sharp gaze to him. "Marriage is precisely what you need to curb your wild ways, young man."