The Rakehell's Seduction (The Seduction Series Book 2)

by Lauren Smith

  “Hellfire! You bloodthirsty wench,” he growled and pulled her hard into him just as the music faded and the dancing couples split apart.

  “Let go of me,” Alex hissed. If someone noticed them, it could ruin her, especially given how close he was holding her and the fact that one of his hands cupped her bottom. It felt good—too good—and she didn’t like that either.

  Ambrose hesitated a moment too long before he moved back and dropped into a courtly bow.

  “Alex, thank you for the lovely dance. I believe I shall see you soon. Perhaps later this evening.”

  “Why?” she demanded. Her tone was more breathless than she would have liked.

  “I must return to the inn and have my things delivered to your father’s estate. His invitation to remain a fortnight as his guest is too kind. I wouldn’t want to insult him.”

  Oh no, she was not about to let a rake like him sleep under the same roof.

  “He won’t let you step one foot in our house. Not after I tell him what you said to me.”

  Ambrose’s laugh was soft and dark. “I wouldn’t do that, Alex. I might just tell him how well acquainted we are. He’ll insist I do the proper thing, and I shall of course.”

  “The proper thing?” Alex wasn’t following any of this.

  “Warn you father against me, and I’ll tell him I tossed your skirts up and claimed you as mine this very night. Then you’ll find you’re stuck with me as a husband.”

  Alex’s jaw scraped the floor. “Why would you do that? You don’t want to marry me. You don’t even know me.”

  “No, I don’t know you. But marriages have started on less. I know you don’t wish to marry me either. So we shall endeavor to keep our mouths shut, unless of course you wish to do other things with those lips than speak.”

  She weighed his words, trying to find a way around his threat of telling her father she’d been ruined. Even though it wouldn’t be true, her father would be inclined to believe Ambrose as a gentleman. And he seemed like just the sort of man who would marry her to get revenge.

  “You’re the wickedest man I’ve ever met,” Alex ground out, planting a fake smile on her face. He had won that small battle, but she was determined to win the war. She was going to make sure his stay at her home was less than agreeable, so much so that he’d run screaming back to London.

  “Why, thank you.” He brushed his lips over her knuckles and vanished into the crowd.

  Chapter 3

  Alex stepped out of the carriage, her feet aching from all the dancing she’d done tonight. She was looking forward to a hot bath and a warm fire before bed as well as her after-ball dessert left out by the cook. No matter how she tried to direct her thoughts as she walked toward her home, her mind kept straying back to one forbidden subject: Ambrose Worthing, the notorious rakehell from London.

  After her encounter with Ambrose and that waltz, he’d departed from the assembly hall, which had left her feeling safe and yet strangely disappointed. She didn’t want to admit it, but she’d longed to have one more dance with him, even though she had decided she didn’t like him. He was a marvelous dancer.

  Her father, James Westfall, the Earl of Rockford, greeted her at the door.

  “Papa, what are you doing awake at this hour! It’s close to midnight. You ought to be in bed.” She hugged him, noticing his bright smile and feeling a sense of unease creep through her. A footman removed her cloak as she stepped into the house.

  “We have a guest! I forgot to mention it this morning when you were here, but I’ve invited the son of an old friend to come and stay for a few weeks.”

  “But—”

  “There’s no need to fret. A room’s been prepared for him, and it’s all settled with the cook for our meals. Rest assured, I have handled everything.” Her father declared this proudly and then turned to the drawing room door that was ajar. “Worthing, come and meet my daughter, Alexandra!” he called out.

  Worthing? No…no…no… Surely this was a nightmare. She’d hoped to have a few more hours of solace before he arrived. Alex glared at Ambrose as he appeared in the drawing room door and flashed her a wicked, knowing grin.

  “Alex, this is Mr. Ambrose Worthing.”

  “A pleasure,” Ambrose said as he took her hand and lifted it to his lips, kissing the backs of her fingers.

  She frowned at him, which thankfully went unnoticed by her father.

  “Why don’t we all sit by the fire for a minute before going up to bed? I’d like for you both to get properly acquainted,” her father suggested happily as he led her and Ambrose back into the drawing room.

  Alex didn’t immediately follow. She stood there, rooted to the spot, her mind racing frantically. What if he told her father she’d kicked him in the groin? What if her father guessed he had tried to kiss her? What if—

  “Are you coming, Lady Alexandra?” Ambrose asked, leaning one shoulder against the doorway, forcing her to come face-to-face with him if she wished to get inside the room. She approached hesitantly and then stopped inches from him.

  “Ahem,” she coughed politely, and with a cheeky grin, he stepped back, letting her brush past him so she could take a seat by the fire.

  The fire crackled and popped, shooting sparks to the edges of the fireplace. Alex warmed her hands over the flames before sitting down.

  “Thank you again for the invitation, my lord. It has been years since I’ve been here.” Ambrose took a seat, his muscled frame lounging back into a winged chair. A smug grin curved his lips when she dared to glance at him. Anger sparked beneath her skin, and a flush of embarrassment came when she remembered that kiss. How dare he come in here, smiling like that…in her house! She struggled to compose herself.

  I can handle this. I can deal with him.

  So he thought he could make himself comfortable here? She bit her lip to keep from laughing. He wouldn’t be for long. She’d see to that.

  “It has been an age, hasn’t it? Since before you left for Eton. Alex was still a babe in the nursery when you two came down for fishing.” Her father’s face had softened as he spoke, and a wistfulness made his eyes gleam.

  Alex hadn’t thought her father was lonely—both he and Alex weren’t much for social gatherings—but perhaps he did wish to see his friends more. She visited Perdita often, but her father didn’t leave the house much except when she convinced him. He preferred his books in his study and going hunting or fishing, but those activities were best enjoyed when he was with companions.

  The old resentment at her mother—who spent half the year in London and when home was always busy—rose up in Alex as the thought of her father’s loneliness took off. She knew her parents weren’t a love match, but a political one. The alignment of two strong English families had been more important than marrying for passion. Alex had grown up all too aware of that fact. It wasn’t that they didn’t care for each other. They did love each other in their own way. But there was little passion in that love.

  “How is your father, Ambrose? Last he was here was before Christmas of the previous year.” Her father set his spectacles aside on the small reading table near him and leaned closer to their guest.

  “He is quite well. He and my mother are staying with friends in Edinburgh for the Little Season.”

  “Are they? Good for them. But you must tell him to come down here and hunt with me in the fall. Shooting has been excellent these last few years. You should come too, if you’re not otherwise engaged.”

  Alex chose that moment to cut in. “Papa, I’m sure Mr. Worthing has much better things to do than come down here to shoot.”

  Her father harrumphed. “Nonsense, dear, men like to shoot things. Don’t they, Worthing?”

  “Indeed.” Ambrose winked at Alex, making her shake with rage. “A man loves to hunt all sorts of things.” His eyes seemed to tell her what his lips did not. Like pheasant, foxes, and…women.

  “Excellent! We shall invite you down then this fall.” Her father suddenly sat up. “
Goodness, I haven’t even properly introduced you to my darling girl, have I?”

  Alex sighed. This was why her mother didn’t bring her father to London. He had no head for society’s expectations of introductions and formalities.

  “I did indeed have the pleasure of meeting her and dancing with her at the assembly rooms tonight.” Ambrose smiled.

  “Ah, good, good.” Her father was still blushing. “Alex, dear, would you pour us some glasses of brandy?” He nodded at the decanter, which sat on a table at the back of the room.

  “Of course, Papa.” She shot an unamused look at Ambrose and then got up to pour the gentlemen glasses.

  “How is the Countess of Rockford?” Ambrose was behaving like a perfect gentleman. There was not one hint of impropriety, not one glint of lust in his eyes as he conversed with her father like an old friend.

  “Irene is well. She too is off visiting people. She’s in London with her sister for the next month. Alex and I are quite beside ourselves with boredom, aren’t we, dear?” Her father was teasing of course.

  At this, Alex couldn’t resist laughing. They were both glad to be left alone in Lothbrook.

  They’d been excited at the prospect of a quiet home for a month. Her mother loved to entertain and attend every social engagement that came her way. But Alex and her father found it exhausting.

  “We’re delighted you came to visit us. Aren’t we, Alex?” her father prompted cheerily.

  “Yes,” Alex replied coolly. Her father didn’t notice her tone. Ambrose did. She could swear his lips quirked the slightest bit. Had he ever really smiled, one that wasn’t intended to seduce? Each time his eyes flicked to her, those sensual lips quirked. And each time, she was drawn to those lips, watching them, even though she hated herself for it.

  “Well, the hour is late. You two have been dancing the night away. No doubt you both wish to be tucked into bed. Come, Worthing, I’ll have a footman escort you to your room.”

  The second her father’s back was turned, Ambrose licked his lips, eyeing her the way a cat did a fat canary. Alex flushed. It was imperative she get out of this room and to the safety of her chambers after she’d had a chance to set some of her plans in motion.

  “Goodnight, Papa, Mr. Worthing.” She kissed her father’s cheek, and without looking back at Ambrose, she left.

  She rushed down to the kitchen. The large kitchen was carefully swept, pots hanging from the wooden rack over the primary preparation counter. Spices hung from twine near the windows, scenting the room with basil and rosemary. She found the cook, Mrs. Cooper, taking stock of the inventory in the larders.

  “Eggs, flour…salt, and lemons. I want to make a meringue in a few days.”

  The scullery maid, Beth, had a paper with a pencil and was jotting down notes of what they needed. Alex smiled. If there was one thing about her father that she loved more than anything, it was that he insisted his staff be educated in reading and writing—not just the upper staff, but the lower staff right down to the scullery maid.

  Beth pursed her lips as she scribbled down “Lemons.” Then she glanced up and saw Alex, and with a startled but shy smile, she nudged the cook in the back.

  “What is it, girl?” Mrs. Cooper turned around and brushed back a lock of dark hair that had fallen out of her cap. “Oh, Lady Alex, what can I do for you?”

  Feeling a tad guilty but determined not to change her mind, she approached the cook. “Mrs. Cooper, our guest, Mr. Worthing, has very particular appetites.”

  “Oh, aye? What does he like? You know me, my lady. I can fix anything.” Mrs. Cooper looked proud.

  “That’s just it—he prefers porridge for breakfast and luncheon. And he wishes to be served in his room at six o’clock in the morning on a tray. He doesn’t like to dine with the others.”

  “Porridge? Surely…” Mrs. Cooper frowned and scratched at her head.

  “Yes,” Alex said. “And don’t sweeten it with any sugar or fruit. He prefers it bitter, with some extra salt.”

  Beth made a sour face at the description, and Alex couldn’t blame her. Porridge was bad enough, but salty porridge—well, that was quite another horror on its own.

  “Are you quite sure, my lady? I’d be happy to prepare some nice eggs and—”

  “Just the porridge, Mrs. Cooper.” She had to bite her lip to keep from laughing at what poor Ambrose would do when he had to eat salty porridge tomorrow morning.

  “Very well,” Mrs. Cooper sighed. It wasn’t in her nature to prepare anything distasteful. She took pride in her culinary abilities.

  “Oh, and can you tell Mrs. Marsden that we’ll need a footman to act as Mr. Worthing’s valet tonight. His own valet will be coming down from London tomorrow.”

  “Of course.” Mrs. Cooper nodded and bustled off toward Mrs. Marsden’s office. The housekeeper would know which of the young men would be most suited as a temporary valet. Alex would let him have that at least. She grinned and had to keep from rubbing her hands together in glee. If he insisted on testing her, she was going to see that other things would go awry while he was here.

  Really, I ought to be ashamed of myself. But I’m not.

  Alex went back upstairs to her own bedchamber. Her lady’s maid, Mary, was tidying up her vanity table, and she smiled when Alex walked in.

  “Evening, my lady.” A dimple formed in Mary’s cheek when she smiled.

  “Evening, Mary.” She closed the bedroom door and then turned her back to let her maid loosen the laces of her gown and then her stays.

  “I take it the ball was exciting?” Mary asked, her tone full of hope. Alex always shared with her the details of the events she went to, since Mary seemed to enjoy the tales of the wild hunts young ladies went on for husbands.

  “It was, but only because I ran into the infamous Mr. Worthing.”

  Mary gasped. “Isn’t he the guest who just arrived tonight?”

  Alex let the ball gown drop to the floor, and she stepped out of it and then shimmied out of her loosened stays before slipping out of her shoes.

  “Yes, but you remember I told you about him, one of London’s infamous rakes?” She lifted her foot onto the bed and unfastened her garters before peeling her stockings off one foot and then the other.

  Mary retrieved the gown and stays from the floor, draping them over the back of a chair while she collected the stockings.

  “I remember.” Her maid’s green eyes were large. “And he’s staying here?” This was added with a scandalized whisper. “Does his lordship not know of Mr. Worthing’s reputation?”

  Alex shook her head. “Papa doesn’t listen to idle London gossip, and he certainly wouldn’t trust it over his own feelings. He and Mr. Worthing’s father are good friends. So be careful around him, Mary. Rakes have roving eyes and wandering hands.” She didn’t honestly think he’d attempt to seduce a lady’s maid, but she wanted Mary on her guard all the same.

  “Don’t worry about me, my lady. I have two brothers. There’s not a man alive who can catch me unawares.” Mary giggled as she said this and picked up the white nightgown from the bed and helped Alex into it.

  A breeze outside the window suddenly dragged the branches along the glass in a screeching sound, making both girls jump.

  “Mrs. Cooper told us over supper it will likely storm tonight,” Mary said.

  Alex had to agree. The scent of rain had hung heavy in the air when she left the dance. She picked up her dark-blue dressing gown and slipped it on before approaching the window and peering out into the night. The garden below began to mist as the clouds let a sweeping rain move through. The drops splattered against the window.

  “Will you be needing anything else, my lady?” Mary asked as she collected Alex’s clothes.

  “No, thank you.”

  Alex watched the rain continue to roll in heavy waves across the garden and tried to forget how it had felt to waltz with Ambrose. It was a terrible thing to have a wonderful memory like that creep up on her over and over ever
since she’d departed the assembly rooms. But she simply couldn’t banish it from her mind.

  I should not be tempted by him.

  No matter what she told herself, she was tempted. It was a good thing she despised everything else about the man. She would not give in to such an arrogant, pompous arse.

  Lost in thoughts of scaring him out of her house with bad porridge, she was startled when her stomach growled. She should have nipped something from the kitchens when she’d been down there earlier.

  Might as well go back down. Mrs. Cooper always left her a delicious tart after balls. And she wouldn’t sleep well tonight; the sound of the rain always made her restless. She’d ride out the storm and feast on something sweet.

  And she would not think any more about waltzing with a rake.

  Chapter 4

  Bloody hell. I’m attracted to the little minx.

  Ambrose paced inside his bedchamber, mulling over the night’s strange turn of events.

  Alex was an intriguing creature. Wit, ferocity, and repressed desire, all bottled up in a body he ached to hold in his arms. Hell, he wanted to do more than hold her, but he doubted he’d get far tonight. But he certainly had every intention of fulfilling his end of the wager and seducing her.

  Once he realized who she was, the bet had seemed less important than his genuine desire to take her to bed. Part of him knew he was damned because once he’d fulfilled his bet, he wouldn’t be welcomed back into this house by her or her father. They would never know he’d sought to save her from a fate with a worse man than him.

  He buried the guilt deep inside, a talent he’d mastered over the years when he’d indulged in his wicked ways with the ladies of the ton. Rather than wallow in thoughts of burning bridges with a man who was like a second father to him, he turned his thoughts to Alex and her delightfully conflicting personality.