by Lavinia Kent
Angel in Scarlet is a work of fiction. Names, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
A Loveswept Ebook Original
Copyright © 2016 by Lavinia Kent
Excerpt from A Very Ruby Christmas by Lavinia Kent copyright © 2016 by Lavinia Kent
All rights reserved.
Published in the United States by Loveswept, an imprint of Random House, a division of Penguin Random House LLC, New York.
LOVESWEPT is a registered trademark and the LOVESWEPT colophon is a trademark of Penguin Random House LLC.
This book contains an excerpt from the forthcoming book A Very Ruby Christmas by Lavinia Kent. This excerpt has been set for this edition only and may not reflect the final content of the forthcoming edition.
ebook ISBN 9780399593864
Cover design: Caroline Teagle
Cover image: © Inara Prusakova/Shutterstock
randomhousebooks.com
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Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
By Lavinia Kent
About the Author
The Editor’s Corner
Excerpt from A Very Ruby Christmas
Chapter 1
“I want to trap a man.” Angela stared across the elegant parlor at the redheaded Madame Rouge, saying each word with care, trying to calm the nerves that had taken her from the moment she’d decided on this course of action. She still couldn’t believe that she was here—in a brothel, talking to the infamous Madame Rouge.
Madame Rouge stared back, her bright crimson lips forming a slight moue, only the barest rise of her delicate brows indicating she found Angela’s request at all surprising. “Not what I was expecting.”
And what had Madame been expecting? Angela couldn’t even begin to guess. She’d only dared to approach Madame Rouge because of a few hints her dear friend Bliss had let drop. Bliss had not been at all forthcoming or explicit, but she had indicated that Madame Rouge was willing to help ladies with delicate situations and that she’d helped with Bliss and Duldon’s courtship. Angela couldn’t imagine how, but she’d heard enough whispers about Madame Rouge to know that the madame had experience in what she needed to learn—seduction. “I am convinced you are the only one who can help me.”
“I am sure that’s not true.” Madame Rouge turned and strolled across the room with the slightest sway of her hips, a motion that drew the eye and held it.
How did she manage that? Angela was sure that she’d only look a fool if she tried such a walk. It hadn’t been a large movement, nothing overt, and yet that slight swing had been all woman, had made a promise that Angela could only begin to guess at.
But she had to keep her mind on her own problem, no matter how unpleasant it might be. Although perhaps if she’d known how to move like that, Colton wouldn’t have…No. She was not going to think like that. She was here for a reason. “And I am sure it is true. You are the perfect one to help me. Who else could begin to teach me how to trap a man as well as you?”
Madame Rouge laughed, the low rumble filling the chamber. “But I’ve never trapped a man or taught anyone else to do so.”
“But…”
Madame Rouge settled her lush curves on the chaise across the room, her long legs draped elegantly down its length. “It may seem surprising to you, but my dealings with men, and those of my girls, are all very honest. We never attempt to trap or deceive—or at least not more than a little rouge and a padded corset will allow.” She ran a hand down her side, emphasizing her full figure. “I think many society matrons have far more knowledge of how to lure a man into a compromising situation, how to be caught alone with him or to allow him just that slight bit of extra liberty from which he cannot withdraw.” Madame Rouge’s lips quirked at this last bit, as if finding a humor in it that Angela did not understand.
“That’s not what I mean. He’s too smart to be caught that way, and even if I could manage it that’s not what I want.”
“Then what do you want?”
A warm smile flashed into Angela’s mind, white teeth revealed between firm lips, a firm chin falling as deep laughter echoed about the park. No. She must not think of that. That was not what she wanted, not now. “I want him to feel as if he can’t resist me. I want him to burn for me, to beg for me. I want him to beg me to marry him, to feel that he’ll die if I say no. I want to be his everything.”
“You love him so much?” Madame smiled again, knowingly.
“No. Not at all.” She needed to be quite clear about this. Again, she pushed away the sound of joyful laughter, the memory of a perfect moment. “I might have thought I did, briefly, but I’ve come to realize I don’t care for him at all. Now I want vengeance. Vengeance and justice.” Angela pressed her lips tight, working to believe the words even as she spoke them.
“I think it would be best if you sat.” Madame Rouge gestured to a chair across from the chaise longue, near the gentle glow of the fire. “I have an inkling that this may be more complicated than I had imagined.” She sighed. “And I had intended to just tell you no. I find myself trying to finish things up, not trying to start new projects, but you do intrigue me.”
Angela could not afford a no. She needed this, did not know what she would do if it failed. She hurried on. “I don’t know that it’s complicated. Surely you teach women how to make men love them all the time.”
Madame laughed—low, husky, and filled with something that Angela could not identify. “I am not sure that I’ve ever taught anything close to that. Desire them, perhaps. Love them, never. And certainly never for such a reason.”
“But Bliss—”
“I don’t talk about one patron to another—particularly if they know each other. It’s bad for business. But I will say that while I may on occasion have helped arrange the circumstances that led to love and marriage, I have never done more than that. Love comes when it comes, not because you will it to be there. Now, don’t look so disappointed, child. I can assure you that desire is more than enough to make a man beg as you wish. That I can teach you something about, but first you must convince me that I should help you. I am not at all sure I like the idea of trapping a man—even if it is for justice. I’ve always preferred to let nature take its course.”
“He deserves to be trapped, to want what he cannot have, to—” Her mind burned with the memories of all Colton had done to deserve such a fate, of all she could say and all she had trouble admitting even to herself. Again she heard that laugh, remembered that day in the park, strolling hand in hand, amused by a group of ducklings all trying to stand on one small rock, each pushing the previous one off. His fingers had been so warm, so strong. She’d felt so safe, and when he slid his hands up her arms and turned her toward him, she’d known he was going to kiss her. She’d felt her breath catch,
and then, when their eyes met and his gaze dropped to her lips…Except her maid had appeared and the moment had passed. As all moments pass.
Her mind jumped to that other moment, to that horrible moment, to hiding in the theater as he’d—
“Then you don’t want to actually marry him, you just want to make him beg?” Madame Rouge interrupted, rising from her chaise and strolling to the sideboard, her sapphire skirts swirling about her.
Angela let her gaze wander the chamber, trying to regain her equilibrium. It was a most elegant room. Several fine pieces of furniture, upholstered in deep-green brocade, filled the center of the space. A rich Arabian rug lay across the dark floorboards. A trio of small porcelain shepherdesses sat on an end table. Angela smiled; she rather thought her grandmother had the same pieces.
She did not answer the question. How could she when she still didn’t know quite what she wanted, just that she wanted?
“Would you like a glass of wine? I’ve a rather wonderful burgundy.” Madame lifted a decanter and filled a cut-crystal goblet. She paused before filling the next, her gaze fixed on Angela.
Wine? Would it be rude to say no? Angela rarely drank more than a sip at supper. “Thank you, that would be wonderful.”
Madame Rouge filled the second goblet and brought it to Angela before seating herself again and sipping at her own drink.
Angela held the goblet and stared down into the deep red. It was a very large goblet. It must hold three times as much wine as Angela was ever given with dinner. She took a sip. The rich flavor filled her mouth, the warmth of wine working its way down her throat. She took another sip. Wine was good for courage, wasn’t it?
Madame Rouge shifted and then drew her feet up under her, leaving a dainty pair of slippers with purple heels on the floor. Angela stared.
“You must forgive my poor manners,” Madame Rouge said. “I do know better, but when it is just us girls, I do like my comfort. You may do the same, if you wish.”
If she wished? She’d never even thought of such a thing. Her shoes did pinch her toes, but she couldn’t imagine taking them off in public. “I am quite comfortable already, but thank you, Madame.”
Madame gave a long sigh. “If we are going to even discuss doing this, you must call me Ruby. ‘Madame’ makes me feel quite ancient when used casually.”
“If you wish, Mada—I mean Ruby.”
Ruby leaned forward. “Now, I am afraid I must insist that you answer my previous question. Do you mean to actually marry the man?”
Oh dear, she’d been afraid it would come back to this. Her fingers clenched tight. “I don’t know. Mostly I think that I will quash his hopes and desires and be quite satisfied, but then sometimes I think I’ll marry him and then make his life a misery. But I am not so insensible as to not realize that is likely to leave me miserable as well.”
“Perhaps even more so. I do find that marriage tends to be less kind to women than to men. Men have more options open to them when things are not going well. Women end up trapped at home, alone. And that is far from the worst that can happen.”
Angela had certainly known enough women to know that was true. “I do know that,” she said. “Still, there is the temptation.”
Ruby nodded. “That I can understand, but you must remember to be sensible. A woman must always be sensible. You can decide later what your end goal is, but it is wise to decide what you want if you hope to achieve it.”
That did make sense. She had learned long ago that it was hard to make a decent decision when overwhelmed by emotion—and no matter how hard she tried to fight them, the emotions were there. “And wanting to make him mad with passion is not enough?”
That wonderful deep laugh echoed through the room again. “Filling a man with passion is the easy part; getting him to do what you want because of it, that is slightly harder.”
Angela was not at all convinced that filling a man with passion was easy—she doubted she’d be in her current predicament of wanting vengeance if it were. If Colton had felt any degree of passion for her, he would never have acted the way that he had, he would never have…Again she saw him standing on the stage, saw that woman…She shut that thought firmly away. She had determined never to dwell on it. “I will think on it.”
“Good. And now for the important part: Who is this man? And what did he do that warrants such vehement feeling?”
“I have to tell you who he is? Surely you don’t need to know that.”
“Each man is different. If I don’t know who he is, how can I tell you what he would like? And you must explain why you are so angry. I do not want to be involved if the gentleman is not deserving.”
“He is no gentleman—well, he is, but he certainly doesn’t act like one.”
Ruby leaned forward, her eyes intent and demanding. “I’ve known many men who fit into that category. Tell me which one you are concerned with.”
She forced the name to her lips, refusing to let his image form in her mind. “Lord Colton.”
“Ahh, Colton.” A slow smile spread across Ruby’s face. “I do see why he might drive a woman to madness, but you must tell me exactly what he has done to you.”
How had she not seen the question coming? How could she ever reduce the feelings of her heart into words? What had happened between them had been far more than words. Although Colton had certainly said a few when he told her he did not intend to pursue their relationship any further. “He led me on. He made me think he cared and then he told me that it had all been in my fantasies, that he’d never had any serious intentions toward me. I was willing to be the perfect wife, to…to forgive him anything, and he…I will just say that he made it clear that I was not enough.”
“And this was after he made you care deeply about him?” Ruby’s eyes focused on hers.
How did Madame see so much so quickly? “A great deal. I thought we would be wed—and he let me believe it. I could imagine our lives together. I believed my dreams were finally coming true, that I had found my purpose for being.”
Ruby shook her head sadly. “A woman should never let a man be her purpose for being. It never ends well. Men can bring joy—and quality—to life, but one must never let them be its purpose.” She spoke as if lecturing a small child. “I find it almost intolerable that society encourages such belief. Ah well, you cannot help what you have been taught—and I daresay shown again and again by example.”
Angela had no reply to that. Wasn’t marriage and motherhood the desired purpose of any young lady’s life? Still, she did not wish to argue. She needed Ruby’s help.
Leaning forward again, Ruby questioned further. “And it was not his wealth and title that you desired, that you mourn?”
“I do not think so. No, I know it was not. I would not be so angry if it had been merely money and position. I admit that he seemed to be exactly the man I had been brought up to dream of, a wealthy earl, slightly older than myself. It was more than that, though. Other men have pursued me. I had three suitors last year and all of them were titled and wealthy, but none drew me the way Lord Colton did, none of them made me want the things he did.”
Ruby’s gaze stayed focused upon her face, her eyes direct and questioning. Angela could not be sure what Ruby looked for, but after a moment she seemed to find it.
Leaning back and making herself comfortable, Ruby settled in her chair. “Now, why don’t you begin at the beginning and tell me the whole dastardly tale, explain to me why you need vengeance, and then we will see if I can help you. Although I should warn you that after we talk you may decide that Lord Colton is not who you want, not what you want.”
“I never said I wanted him.” But even as she said the words, Angela knew she lied. She might not want to want Lord Colton; still, she knew that if she closed her eyes she would see his face bending toward her, feel the imagined softness of their only kiss. She shifted in her seat as now-forbidden longing filled her. “It is really a very simple tale. Boy and girl meet and begin to fall in love, o
r so girl believes. And then girl finds out that boy has another lover. Still she does not leave boy, because her love is true—but then boy turns on her and tells her she has never been worthy of his love, that none of it is real.”
“Well, that does not sound simple at all. And I do begin to understand your extreme emotion. Why don’t you give me the details and let me judge. I assume it all began with an invitation to tea with Lady Perse?”
“How did you…?”
Ruby just smiled. “It is how so many of these stories begin. Now, tell me everything, most especially about his betrayal. I must be able to judge for myself if Lord Colton deserves such a punishment.”
Angela’s lips parted, ready to begin, but her mind betrayed her, skipping not to Colton’s betrayal but rather to that kiss, that single wonderful kiss.
She’d stood outside the door to her parents’ parlor, only a few steps from the doors that led out to the garden. They’d just returned from the Strumbridges’ ball, and her mother had granted them a moment of privacy before Colton left. And it had been time; it had been past time. Colton smiled at her as only he could, his lips still while his dark eyes shone with enjoyment and life, those tiny lines forming at the corners. He lifted her hand to his lips, pressed his warm mouth to her chilled skin. She felt the heat of his breath, the moisture. And she wanted more. She needed more. Inching forward, she’d stared boldly at his mouth, licked her lips—and waited. His eyes had flickered down to her mouth, but he had taken no action. She’d moved her gaze back to his eyes, back to his lips, his eyes again. Her tongue darted out.
Still nothing.
She stepped forward.
Nothing.
She tilted her chin up. Another inch closer.
And then it happened. He stared at her, his eyes growing darker by the second.