How to Seduce a Scoundrel Read online

  How to

  Seduce a

  Scoundrel

  VICKY DREILING

  NEW YORK BOSTON

  Begin Reading

  Table of Contents

  A Preview of How to Ravish a Rake

  A Preview of How to Marry A Duke

  Copyright Page

  To Mom for giving me a diary when I was ten years old and for encouraging me to write. P.S. This one has naughty bits in it, too.

  Acknowledgments

  My sincere thanks to my very talented agent Lucienne Diver (a.k.a. Agent Awesome Sauce) for being, well, awesome. And because you got me at hello.

  A big shout-out to my wonderful editor Michele Bidelspach for your amazing insights and for the laughter, too. Working with you is truly a joy. Merci beaucoup!

  Thanks to some other special people at Forever Romance for your support. Amy Pierpont for all the cheers and retweets, Samantha Kelly for arranging some fabulous promotional opportunities, and Anna Balasi for the cool blog tour and most especially that hilarious Blog Talk Radio interview. What fun!

  Thanks to my writing friends at West Houston RWA for all the support and friendship. I wouldn’t be here if not for our chapter.

  Hugs to my supportive family: Daniel, Regina, Amber, and Jonathan. And to the fur kids: Buttercup, Foxy, Sweetpea, and Pebbles. Love you all.

  Most of all, my humble thanks to all the readers who took time out to let me know you couldn’t wait to read How to Seduce a Scoundrel. xoxoxo

  Chapter One

  A Scoundrel’s Code of Conduct: Virgins are strictly forbidden, especially if said virgin happens to be your friend’s sister.

  Richmond, England, 1817

  He’d arrived late as usual.

  Marc Darcett, Earl of Hawkfield, twirled his top hat as he sauntered along the pavement toward his mother’s home. A chilly breeze ruffled his hair and stung his face. In the dwindling evening light, Ashdown House with its crenellated top and turrets stood stalwart near the banks of the Thames.

  Ordinarily, Hawk dreaded the obligatory weekly visits. His mother and three married sisters had grown increasingly demanding about his lack of a bride since his oldest friend had wed last summer. They made no secret of their disappointment in him, but he was accustomed to being the family scapegrace.

  Today, however, he looked forward to seeing that oldest friend, Tristan Gatewick, the Duke of Shelbourne.

  After the butler, Jones, admitted him, Hawk stripped off his gloves and greatcoat. “Are Shelbourne and his sister here yet?”

  “The duke and Lady Julianne arrived two hours ago,” Jones said.

  “Excellent.” Hawk couldn’t wait to relate his latest bawdy escapade to his friend. Last evening, he’d met Nancy and Nell, two naughty dancers who had made him an indecent proposition. Not wishing to appear too anxious, he’d promised to think over the matter, but he intended to accept their two-for-the-price-of-one offer.

  The fastidious Jones eyed Hawk’s head critically. “Begging your pardon, my lord, but you might wish to attend to your hair.”

  “You don’t say?” Hawk pretended to be oblivious and peered at his windblown locks in the mirror above the foyer table. “Perfect,” he said. “Mussed hair is all the rage.”

  “If you say so, my lord.”

  Hawk spun around. “I take it everyone is waiting in the gold drawing room?”

  “Yes, my lord. Your mother has inquired after you several times.”

  Hawk glanced out at the great hall and grinned at the giant statue next to the stairwell. “Ah, my mother has taken an interest in naked statuary, has she?”

  The ordinarily stoic Jones made a suspicious, muffled sound. Then he cleared his throat. “Apollo was delivered yesterday.”

  “Complete with his lyre and snake, I see. Well, I shall welcome him to the family.” Hawk’s boots clipped on the checkered marble floor as he strolled toward the cantilevered stairwell, an architectural feat that made the underside of the stone steps appear suspended in midair. At the base of the stairs, he paused to inspect the reproduction and grimaced at Apollo’s minuscule genitalia. “Poor bastard.”

  Footsteps sounded above. Hawk looked up to find Tristan striding down the carpeted steps.

  “Sizing up the competition?” Tristan said.

  Hawk grinned. “The devil. It’s the old married man.”

  “I saw your curricle from the window.” Tristan stepped onto the marble floor and clapped Hawk on the shoulder. “You look as if you just tumbled out of bed.”

  Hawk wagged his brows and let his friend imagine what he would. “How is your duchess?”

  A brief, careworn expression flitted through his friend’s eyes. “The doctor says all is progressing well. She has two more months of confinement.” He released a gusty sigh. “I wanted a son, but now I’m praying for a safe delivery.”

  Hawk nodded but said nothing.

  “One day it will be your turn, and I’ll be the one consoling you.”

  That day would never come. “And give up my bachelorhood? Never,” he said.

  Tristan grinned. “I’ll remind you of that when I attend your wedding.”

  Hawk changed the subject. “I take it your sister is well?” His mother planned to sponsor Lady Julianne this season while the dowager duchess stayed in the country with her increasing daughter-in-law.

  “Julianne is looking forward to the season, but there is a problem,” Tristan said. “A letter arrived from Bath half an hour ago. Your grandmother is suffering from heart palpitations again.”

  Hawk groaned. Grandmamma was famous for her heart palpitations. She succumbed to them at the most inconvenient times and described them in minute, loving detail to anyone unfortunate enough to be in the general vicinity. Owing to Grandmamma’s diminished hearing, this meant anyone within shouting range.

  “Your mother and sisters are discussing who should travel to Bath as we speak,” Tristan said.

  “Don’t worry, old boy. We’ll sort it out.” No doubt his sisters meant to flee to Bath, as they always did when his grandmother invoked her favorite ailment. Usually his mother went as well, but she’d made a commitment to sponsor Julianne.

  A peevish voice sounded from the landing. “Marc, you have dawdled long enough. Mama is waiting.”

  Hawk glanced up to find his eldest sister, Patience, beckoning him with her fingers as if he were one of her unruly brats. Poor Patience had never proven equal to her name, something he’d exploited since childhood. He never could resist provoking her then, and he certainly couldn’t now. “My dear sister, I’d no idea you were so anxious for my company. It warms the cockles of my heart.”

  Her nostrils flared. “Our grandmother is ill, and Mama is fretting. You will not add to her vexation by tarrying.”

  “Pour Mama a sherry for her nerves. I’ll be along momentarily,” he said.

  Patience pinched her lips, whirled around, and all but stomped away.

  Hawk’s shoulders shook with laughter as he returned his attention to his friend. “After dinner, we’ll put in a brief appearance in the drawing room and make our escape to the club.”

  “I’d better not. I’m planning to leave at dawn tomorrow,” Tristan said.

  Hawk shrugged to hide his disappointment. He ought to have known the old boy meant to return to his wife immediately. Nothing would ever be quite the same now that his friend had married. “Well, then, shall we join the others?”

  As they walked up the stairs, Tristan glanced at him with an enigmatic expression. “It’s been too long since we last met.”

  “Yes, it has.”

  The last time was Tristan’s wedding nine months ago. He’d meant to visit the newlyweds after a decent interval. Then
Tristan’s letter had arrived with the jubilant news of his impending fatherhood.

  Hawk’s feet had felt as if they were immersed in a bog.

  After they entered the drawing room, Hawk halted. He was only peripherally aware of his sisters’ husbands scowling at him from the sideboard. All his attention centered on a slender lady seated on the sofa between his mother and his youngest sister, Hope. The candlelight gleamed over the lady’s jet curls as she gazed down at a sketchbook on her lap. Good Lord, could this delectable creature possibly be Julianne?

  As if sensing his stare, she glanced at him. He took in her transformation, stunned by the subtle changes. In the past nine months, the slight fullness of her cheeks had disappeared, emphasizing her sculpted cheekbones. Even her expression had changed. Instead of her usual impish grin, she regarded him with a poised smile.

  The sweet little girl he’d known all his life had become a woman. A heart-stopping, beautiful woman.

  The sound of his mother’s voice rattled him. “Tristan, please be seated. Marc, do not stand there gawking. Come and greet Julianne.”

  Patience and his other sister Harmony sat in a pair of chairs near the hearth, exchanging sly smiles. No doubt they were hatching a plot to snare him in the parson’s mousetrap. They probably thought he was as besotted as the numerous cubs who vied for Julianne’s attention every season. But he was only a little taken aback by her transformation.

  Determined to take himself in hand, he strode over to her, made a leg, and swept his arm in a ridiculous bow last seen in the sixteenth century.

  When he rose, his mother grimaced. “Marc, your hair is standing up. You look thoroughly disreputable.”

  He grinned like a jackanapes. “Why, thank you, Mama.”

  Julianne’s husky laugh drew his attention. He set his fist on his hip and wagged his brows. “No doubt you will break a dozen hearts this season, Julie-girl.”

  She regarded him from beneath her long lashes. “Perhaps one will capture my affections.”

  Helen of Troy’s face had launched a thousand ships, but Julianne’s naturally raspy voice could fell a thousand men. Where the devil had that foolish thought come from? She’d grown into a stunning young woman, but he’d always thought of her as the little hoyden who climbed trees and skimmed rocks.

  Hope stood. “Marc, take my seat. You must see Julianne’s sketches.”

  He meant to make the most of the opportunity. For years, he’d teased Julianne and encouraged her in mischief. After sitting beside her, he grinned and tapped the sketch. “What have you got there, imp?”

  She showed him a sketch of Stonehenge. “I drew this last summer when I traveled with Amy and her family.”

  “Stonehenge is awe-inspiring,” the countess said.

  He dutifully looked on as Julianne turned the page. “Those are some big rocks.”

  Julianne laughed. “Rogue.”

  He tweaked the curl by her ear. When she swatted his hand, he laughed. She was the same Julie-girl he’d always known.

  Heavy footsteps thudded outside the drawing room doors. Everyone stood as Lady Rutledge, his great-aunt Hester, lumbered inside. Gray sausage curls peeked out from a green turban with tall feathers. She took one look at Hawk’s mother and scowled. “Louisa, that statue is hideous. If you want a naked man, find yourself one who is breathing.”

  Hawk’s mouth worked with the effort not to laugh out loud.

  The countess fanned her heated face. “Hester, please mind your words.”

  “Bah.” Hester winked at Hawk. “Come give your aunt a kiss, you rogue.”

  When he obliged, she muttered, “You’re the only sensible one in the bunch.”

  Tristan bowed to her. “Lady Rutledge.”

  Hester eyed him appreciatively. “Shelbourne, you handsome devil. I heard you wasted no time getting your duchess with child.”

  Hawk’s mother and younger sisters gasped. Patience cleared her throat. “Aunt Hester, we do not speak of such indelicate matters.”

  Hester snorted and kept her knowing gaze on Tristan. “I heard your duchess has gumption. She’ll bring your child into the world without mishap—mark my words.”

  Hawk considered his wily old aunt with a fond smile. Eccentric she might be, but she’d sought to reassure his old friend. And for that alone he adored her.

  He led Hester over to a chair and stood beside her. Her wide rump barely fit between the arms. After adjusting her plumes, she held her quizzing glass up to her eye and inspected Julianne.

  “Aunt Hester, you remember Lady Julianne,” Patience said, as if speaking to a child. “She is Shelbourne’s sister.”

  “I know who she is.” Hester dropped her quizzing glass. “Why are you still unwed, gel?”

  Julianne blushed. “I am waiting for the right gentleman.”

  “I heard you turned down a dozen proposals since your come-out. Is it true?” Hester continued.

  “I’ve not kept count,” Julianne murmured.

  Hester snorted. “There were so many you cannot recall?”

  Noting Julianne’s disconcerted expression, Hawk intervened. “Mama, I understand we’ve a bit of a problem. Grandmamma is claiming illness again, is she?”

  His mother and sisters protested that they must assume Grandmamma was truly ill. Finally, Aunt Hester interrupted. “Oh, hush, Louisa. You know very well my sister is only seeking attention.”

  “Hester, how can you say such a thing?” the countess said.

  “Because she makes a habit of it.” Hester sniffed. “I suppose you and your girls are planning to hare off to Bath on a fool’s errand again.”

  “We cannot take a risk,” Patience said. “If Grandmamma took a bad turn, we would never forgive ourselves.”

  “She ought to come to town where she can be near the family. I offered to share my home with her, but she refuses to leave her cronies in Bath,” Hester said.

  “She is set in her ways.” Hawk grinned down at his aunt. “Few ladies are as adventurous as you.”

  “True,” Hester said, preening.

  The countess gave him a beseeching look. “Will you write William to inform him?”

  “I’m not sure of his address at present,” Hawk said. His younger brother had been traveling on the Continent for more than a year.

  Montague, Patience’s husband, lowered his newspaper. “It’s past time William came home and stopped raking his way all over the Continent. He needs to choose a career and be a responsible member of the family.”

  Hawk regarded him as if he were an insect. “He’ll come home when he tires of wandering.” He’d hoped Will would return for the London season, but his brother hadn’t written in over two months.

  Montague folded his newspaper. “He’d come home soon enough if you cut him off without a penny.”

  Hawk ignored his least favorite brother-in-law and returned his attention to his mother. “What of Julianne? Her brother brought her all this way. Mama, can you not stay behind?”

  “Oh, I could not ask such a thing,” Julianne said. “I can stay with either Amy or Georgette. My friends’ mothers would welcome me, I’m sure.”

  “Her friends’ mothers will be too busy with their own girls,” Hester said. “I will sponsor Julianne. She will be the toast of the season.”

  A long silence followed. Hawk’s mother and sisters regarded one another with barely concealed dismay. They thought Hester a few cards shy of a full deck, but he knew his aunt was prodigiously clever, if a bit blunt in her manners.

  The countess cleared her throat. “Hester, dear, that is too kind of you, but perhaps you have not thought of how exhausting all those entertainments will be.”

  “I’m never tired, Louisa,” she said. “I shall enjoy sponsoring the gel. She’s pretty enough and seems lively. I’ll have her engaged in a matter of weeks.”

  Hawk schooled his expression. Julianne married? It seemed so… wrong. Even though he knew it was customary for ladies to marry young, the idea didn’t set well w
ith him.

  Tristan eyed Hester. “Granted, she’s been out four seasons, but marriage is for life. I’ll not rush her.”

  Hester looked at Julianne. “How old are you, gel?”

  “One and twenty,” she said.

  “She’s of age, but I agree marriage should not be undertaken lightly,” Hester said.

  Tristan regarded his sister. “I must approve any serious attachments.”

  When Julianne rolled her eyes, Hawk grinned. He didn’t envy any man bold enough to ask Tristan’s permission for Julianne’s hand. The old boy had kept a tight rein on her for years—as well he should.

  “Now that the matter is settled, let us go to dinner,” Hester said. “I’m starved.”

  After the ladies withdrew from the dining room, Hawk brought out the port. His sisters’ husbands exchanged meaningful glances. Tristan kept silent but watched them with a guarded expression.

  Montague folded his small hands on the table and addressed Hawk. “Lady Julianne cannot stay with Hester. Your aunt’s bold manners and rebellious ideas would be a bad influence on the girl.”

  Hawk met Tristan’s gaze. “Join me in the study?”

  Tristan nodded.

  They both rose. When Hawk claimed a candle branch from the sideboard, Montague scrambled up from the table. “Patience will stay behind and look after Julianne.”

  “My sister is determined to go to Bath,” Hawk said. “She will not rest easy unless she sees our grandmother is well.” The last thing he wanted was to expose Julianne to his sister’s acrimonious marriage.

  “You know very well your grandmother feigns illness,” Montague said. “If your mother and sisters refused to go, that would put a stop to this nonsense.”

  Hawk realized Montague had seized the opportunity to keep his wife at home. The man constantly queried Patience about her whereabouts and upbraided her if she even spoke to another man. “I’ll discuss the matter with Shelbourne. Gentlemen, enjoy your port.”