Lady Olivia and the Infamous Rake

by Janice Preston

  ‘Is this—?’

  Lucas tried and failed to hold in his snort of laughter and Hugo scowled at him. All that achieved was to draw a huge guffaw from his older brother.

  ‘Is this a condition of your offer, sir?’ Lucas ignored Mary’s attempts to shush him. ‘That my confirmed bachelor brother must set up his nursery? Is there a time limit?’ His dark eyes swam with tears of laughter. ‘Do you get to approve his choice of bride?’

  Hugo gritted his teeth and folded his arms across his chest. He’d rather have nothing than find his life no longer his own.

  ‘No, no, nothing of the sort.’ Sir Horace paced a little, his face anxious. He stopped before Hugo. ‘You must not think I intend for this to place any obligation on you, other than to help ease the burden on me and your mother. I only mentioned Cedar Lodge because I did not want you to feel obliged to live at Helmstone with us if you choose not to. I can always find another tenant for it if you prefer?’

  Hugo’s resentment subsided. ‘No. Cedar Lodge sounds perfect.’ He stood and thrust out his hand, which Sir Horace took. ‘Thank you, sir. I shall be delighted to accept your offer. I won’t let you down.’

  Chapter Eight

  As dinner progressed, Hugo grew steadily more accustomed to this change in his circumstances. By the time Mama and Mary withdrew to leave the three men with their port and cigars, he realised he already relished the idea of having more purpose to his life—quite a turnaround for a man who had spent his entire adult life sidestepping any commitment or permanence. Sir Horace’s faith in him brought a lump to his throat and a hitherto rarely felt emotion drifted through him. It took several moments before he identified it as pride, laced with gratitude.

  It was not long before Sir Horace left to join the ladies, leaving the two brothers alone.

  ‘So where are you off to later?’ Lucas eyed Hugo through a cloud of smoke. ‘Is it to be the delights of the flesh or delights of the gaming table?’

  ‘The latter, although I’m not sure I’d describe it as a delight.’

  ‘Why go, then?’

  ‘I made a promise to keep an eye on someone for a few nights. He’ll be there and so, therefore, will I.’

  ‘Sounds intriguing. Where is there?’

  ‘Sir Peter Tadlow’s place. He’s hosting a cards party.’

  Lucas tapped his cigar ash into an ashtray. ‘That reprobate’s still around, then? Never did care for him. Who is it you’re watching out for?’

  ‘Alex Beauchamp. Cheriton’s spare.’

  ‘Ah, he of the murderous glare. Care to tell me why or are you sworn to secrecy?’

  ‘Sworn to secrecy, I’m afraid.’

  Lucas’s teeth gleamed in a smile. ‘And does this have aught to do with the delectable Lady Olivia?’

  Hugo forced a nonchalant smile and rose leisurely to his feet. The conversation was becoming entirely too intimate for his liking. ‘It is time I went.’

  Lucas’s eyes narrowed. ‘You always were a deep one, Hugo—hiding your true feelings behind that mask of ennui you cultivate. You are like I used to be—wary of letting anyone close, afraid you’ll turn out like our old man but, trust me, you are nothing like him. All that belief gained me was years of loneliness and misery. Give yourself a chance.’

  Hugo arched one brow. ‘Marriage has turned you into an authority on how I feel, has it?’

  ‘Marriage...love...has opened my eyes.’

  Hugo’s gut tightened. Lucas was getting as bad as their mother, prying and poking into his private feelings. Well, it was none of their business. He’d managed his life well enough thus far. He could see no reason to change.

  ‘This conversation is irrelevant—your imagination is leading you astray. Now, I must go. Do you care to accompany me? It’ll be like old times.’

  Lucas tipped his head to one side as he studied Hugo. ‘I think not, Brother. I find myself drawn to staying at home with my Mary these days. I did wonder if that might change now we are in town, but—somewhat surprisingly—it seems it has not.’ He leant forward and stubbed out his cigar. ‘You will have to uphold the Alastair reputation on behalf of us both, I fear.’ He winked. ‘Enjoy your evening. Goodnight.’

  Envy stirred as Hugo left the house after saying his goodbyes to Mama, Sir Horace and Mary. That deep contentment that pervaded both couples...would he ever experience such a thing? A year ago he would not have given a passing thought to that. But now...despite Hugo’s denial, Lucas’s words had touched a nerve.

  He rolled his shoulders as if to shake off that feeling of, somehow, being excluded from a desirable club.

  * * *

  A couple of hours later he stifled a yawn as he and his companions finished yet another hand of whist at the table set up in Tadlow’s salon. There were five tables and around thirty guests, of both sexes, including Beauchamp who, so far, had been playing hazard, rolling the dice with moderate success. Hugo kept watch on Alex from a distance. Tadlow noticeably spent much of his time with the young man, clearly keen to gain his trust, but the game appeared honest.

  * * *

  Just before midnight, Lord Clevedon arrived and paused in the doorway, casting a cautious look around the company before venturing further into the room.

  Hugo pushed his chair back and stood. ‘If you will excuse me, gentlemen, ladies—I shall vacate my seat for another player.’

  His chair was filled immediately as he wandered over to Clevedon, delighted the man was finally back in town. Their friendship might be on the wane, but Hugo had a necklace to retrieve and here was his chance. Then, as soon as the Duke returned to London, Hugo could hand over all responsibility for the Beauchamps and concentrate on his own life.

  ‘I haven’t seen you since your birthday, Clevedon.’

  Clevedon grimaced. ‘Had to beat a strategic retreat, dear boy. Got some nasty types on my tail. Thought m’grandmother might stump up enough blunt to help, but she proved remarkably stubborn.’

  Hugo frowned. ‘Thought you had more sense than to get mixed up with moneylenders?’

  ‘They’re not—’ Clevedon snapped his jaw shut as a flush coloured his face.

  Hugo’s heart sank at the whiff of desperation from the other man—it gave him scant hope Clevedon would easily give up his plan to compromise Olivia.

  ‘What d’you say to a hand or two of piquet?’

  Clevedon shook his head. ‘I’m in no mood to play—I only looked in to see if Sudbury is here but, as he’s not, I’ll be on my way.’

  Damn! There goes any chance of winning the necklace from him.

  Hugo thought fast. He had an idea...not a brilliant one, but it was all he had. ‘That plan of yours,’ he said. ‘The one involving the Beauchamp girl?’

  Clevedon eyed him. ‘What of it? You’re not turning all moral on me again, are you, Alastair?’

  ‘No...but I got to thinking, after you told me about it. It’ll never work, you know.’

  And it wouldn’t. He could see that now. But what could he suggest to Clevedon as an alternative? He still needed an incentive to return the necklace.

  Clevedon cast a glance around the room. ‘Come into Tadlow’s study. It’s more private.’

  They left the salon, Hugo’s brain working furiously as he examined the ramifications of his idea.

  The minute the study door closed behind them, Clevedon demanded, ‘Why shouldn’t it work?’

  ‘Because the scheme was always flawed and you’d know it if you’d bothered to think it through, you fool. Do you really believe Cheriton would force his daughter to marry against her wishes?’

  ‘She will be ruined if he does not.’

  ‘You’ve given the girl no reason to trust you. She’s likely to dig in her heels and refuse to be forced into marriage and—even if her reputation is ruined—there are plenty of other fellows out there who would
gladly take her on. Think about it, man. She’ll have alternatives and, after the way you treated her at Vauxhall, you are the last man she will choose.’

  Clevedon scowled. ‘I never thought of that. But what am I to do? I’m up to my neck in it, Alastair.’

  ‘What are you up to your neck in?’

  Clevedon tugged at his neckcloth, his mouth thinning. ‘Nothing.’

  Despite himself, Hugo felt sympathy at the stricken look in the other man’s eyes but he hardened his heart, remembering Clevedon’s plan to entrap Olivia. The thought of a vibrant young woman like Olivia shackled to a man who could never love her...never satisfy her...enraged him.

  ‘But I must get some funds,’ Clevedon burst out. ‘Or...’ He paced across the room and back. ‘Maybe the prospect of money...yes, that might work. Once my name is linked with hers, maybe they’ll give me more time.’

  Hugo thought quickly. He must, somehow, persuade Clevedon to return the necklace tonight. His idea wasn’t perfect, but it was all he had.

  ‘Then why not court her the traditional way?’ It was risky, but surely Olivia would not trust Clevedon after their encounter at Vauxhall? ‘You know—dance with her; call upon her; take her flowers; speak to her father? You never know...it might work. You have all the qualities a father would look for on his daughter’s behalf.’

  It was the truth. Clevedon had a title, a decent reputation and he was charming. He was accepted everywhere. He might not be a man who loved women, but that was not widely known.

  ‘Except that daughter now despises me, as you pointed out.’

  ‘Not if she believes you returned the necklace to her out of the goodness of your heart—a magnanimous gesture to encourage her to think well of you. Except...’ Hugo paused.

  ‘Except what?’

  ‘Well...’ he spoke slowly, as though thinking out loud ‘...she would know then that you recognised her all along on Saturday night and that you deliberately targeted her. That will do nothing to endear you to her.’

  A frown creased Clevedon’s forehead and Hugo waited, hoping he would reach the obvious solution.

  ‘Alastair, my good friend. You shall return the necklace on my behalf and collect my winnings.’

  ‘Me? Oh, no.’ Hugo shook his head, hiding his satisfaction at having hooked Clevedon. ‘How would I explain that?’

  ‘You shall tell the Lady Olivia that my conscience has been troubling me as the necklace is so much more valuable than her debt but, as I did not know Beatrice’s true identity, I had no way of changing our arrangement. I confided in you and—as you had recognised her on Saturday—you offered to return the necklace and to recoup the winnings on my behalf. And you must make very certain to tell her that you did not reveal her identity to me. I do not want her to feel uncomfortable in my company.’

  ‘How will that help you to win her hand?’

  ‘Firstly, she will feel kindly disposed towards me and, secondly, I shall take your advice and pay court to her and encourage her to fall in love with me. You’ll see. I’ll soon have her eating out of my hand.’

  His smug smile, brimming with confidence, made Hugo itch to punch him on the nose.

  ‘And if you fail?’

  ‘I shall accidentally compromise her. By then I will have gained her good opinion of me and she will be happy enough to accept me.’

  Hugo strove to keep his expression blank. Had he inadvertently made matters worse? He would be able to return the necklace, but at what cost? He had relied on Olivia not fully trusting Clevedon, but hadn’t foreseen that the Earl might still try to force a marriage. Hugo vowed to stay close to Clevedon for the few weeks left of the Season to make sure he kept abreast of any further mischief.

  ‘How shall you accidentally compromise her?’

  ‘Details.’ Clevedon waved a dismissive hand. ‘I shall think of something when the time comes, never fear, dear boy, never fear.’

  * * *

  Guilt wormed its way into Olivia as she lay in bed, the covers up to her chin, facing Aunt Cecily the next morning.

  ‘I have been sick three times in the night.’ Her voice sounded suitably weak and wavering. ‘I cannot face a carriage journey. Please say I may stay at home.’

  Aunt Cecily frowned, then raised her nose and gave an audible sniff. Her green eyes narrowed.

  ‘Hetty has been in to clear up,’ Olivia added hastily. ‘Oh, Aunt Cecily... I cannot face the rocking and the lurching of the carriage. And what if my sickness got worse? I should hate to be the cause of you missing Uncle Vernon’s wedding.’

  She also hated the fact that she would miss Uncle Vernon’s wedding, but she knew she could not enjoy it with this business of the necklace hanging above her head. The mattress dipped as Aunt Cecily sat beside Olivia. A cool hand caressed her forehead.

  ‘You do feel rather warm.’ Aunt Cecily’s green eyes softened. ‘Mayhap you are right...we shall have to travel at a fast pace if we are to arrive at Stourwell Court in time for the wedding.’ The door behind her opened to admit Olivia’s maid. Aunt Cecily leant down to kiss Olivia’s cheek. ‘I hope you feel better soon and, when you are well enough to go out and about, you are to do as Lady Glenlochrie says, do you hear me, Livvy?’

  ‘Yes, Aunt.’

  ‘It is fortunate she has not yet felt mobile enough to move back to her own house, or I should be compelled to stay behind, too.’

  Lady Glenlochrie—Nell’s aunt—had broken her ankle at the start of the Season, preventing her from chaperoning Nell for her debut and forcing Rosalind to come to London as her stand in. She had moved to Beauchamp House together with Rosalind, Freddie and Nell after Papa and Rosalind were betrothed.

  ‘I have also instructed Alex that, as he refuses to accompany us, he must hold himself available to escort you, Nell and Lady Glenlochrie to whichever evening entertainments you choose to attend in my absence. He was not—’ and her green eyes twinkled ‘—amused, but he did agree in the end.’ Aunt Cecily rose to her feet. ‘I shall write to let you know when we are due to return, but I cannot see it being before the end of next week. Now, I must go. The carriage will be outside before long. Goodbye, my dear Livvy. And...behave.’

  Olivia tried to project an aura of innocence. Aunt Cecily shook her head at her, smiled and left the room.

  ‘Hetty.’

  Olivia’s maid—round-cheeked and pretty—came to her bedside.

  ‘As soon as the carriage leaves, bring me some chocolate and rolls, will you? I am starving.’

  ‘Yes, milady.’

  Olivia closed her eyes and tried to come up with a plan to retrieve her necklace without putting either her reputation or her person in danger.

  * * *

  Hugo patted his pocket for the umpteenth time, checking that the necklace was still there as he cast an eye over the colourful, glittering mass of people crowding the Charnwoods’ ballroom, seeking the raven tresses of Lady Olivia Beauchamp.

  Of course it’s still there, you fool.

  It had been in his pocket all day as he haunted the places a young lady might possibly frequent, hoping he would see her, but to no avail. The Charnwood ball was his last hope. He raised his glass to his lips and sipped. At least the champagne was acceptable. Charnwood had clearly spared no expense.

  Trying hard to control his irritation, Hugo scanned the dancers once more. Balls were not his first choice of entertainment. He didn’t care for the noise. He didn’t care for the dancing. He didn’t care for the reminder that he was persona non grata as far as many members of the haut ton were concerned. He preferred more down-to-earth pursuits, where a man didn’t have to be on his best behaviour at all times. Clevedon was here, he noted, and dancing with Lady Helena Caldicot, so that must mean Olivia was present although she wasn’t currently dancing and he had yet to spot her.

  He glanced around at a sudden tug on his sleeve and
the delicious scent of violets assailed him. She was walking away from him, her slim hips—sheathed in ivory silk—undulating in a very feminine, sensual movement. His pulse quickened as she glanced over her shoulder and their gazes connected. With a flick of her brow, she communicated her demand that he follow. Hugo tamped down his natural resistance to being commanded to do anything by this minx and he prowled in her wake, up the steps leading from the ballroom. He emerged into the reception hall in time to see her disappear upstairs. He clamped his jaw, and followed. On the landing, he looked around, generations of Charnwoods staring down at him with haughty disdain.

  Where the devil...?

  A flutter of movement caught his eye and her face peered around a door jamb. She beckoned him imperiously and he stalked towards the door and past her, into the room.

  A bloody bedchamber. It would be.

  ‘This,’ he growled, crossing the room to put as much distance as possible between them, ‘is not wise.’ He glanced out of the window before turning to face her. It was still light outside—hopefully he could conclude his business with Lady Olivia and then move on. Except, of course, he couldn’t. Alex Beauchamp was here tonight and there was still no sign of the Duke having returned from his journey to the Midlands.

  ‘Never mind that. What have you been doing? Why have you not told me what is happening?’ She glided across the carpeted floor towards him, elegance personified, her blunt demands completely at odds with her appearance. ‘Do you not understand how frantic I’ve been? Have you got my necklace?’

  She halted in front of him, gazing up at him with such innocent trust in her silvery eyes that he felt something shift in his chest.