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

by Lauren Smith

  He pretended to hesitate, his gaze traveling back up the stairs before he finally nodded.

  “Very well, one glass.”

  Vaughn’s smile was slight, as though he was surprised but a little glad that Ambrose had accepted. That treacherous twinge in his heart forced him to admit it might be nice to have a drink with an old friend and forget the years and circumstances that had created a wide chasm between them.

  The barmaid smiled coyly as Vaughn slipped her a few extra coins to cover the bottle of brandy and then some. But his old friend didn’t even glance at the woman. Ambrose, before he’d met Alex, would have been tempted to give her a kiss and a rakish smile. Now, though, he didn’t want to focus on anyone except his sweet country girl.

  “Shall we go upstairs? I’m not much for the rest of this company tonight.” Vaughn nodded at the happy, boisterous men at the surrounding tables who were singing and laughing.

  Ambrose had little interest in being around that crowd either, at least not tonight. All he could think about was Alex.

  Vaughn headed up the stairs, and Ambrose trailed behind, hoping he could get his friend thoroughly drunk so he could find a quiet moment with Alex. He and Vaughn entered their room, and Ambrose closed the door behind him. Vaughn collected two glasses from the small tray that had been brought up earlier with some cold meats to tide them over until morning. Ambrose settled in one of two chairs by the healthy fire that was devouring a stack of logs.

  Vaughn brought him a glass of brandy, and Ambrose took it, swirling it gently as he leaned slightly toward the fire, his arms resting on his knees.

  “Been a long time since we had a drink together,” Vaughn mused as he stood by the fire, his palm resting on the edge of the mantle. A small clock sat in the center of the mantle, its silver arms slowly moving to count down the hours until midnight. Ambrose sipped his brandy and counted the seconds, agonizing at how glacially each one seemed to pass.

  “It has been a long time.” Ambrose glanced his way.

  Vaughn stared at the flames, then drank his brandy and turned away from the fire. A melancholy expression filled his eyes, and he caught a hint of longing and regret in those cool depths, softening the other man’s eyes.

  “Where did it all go wrong?” Vaughn suddenly asked him.

  There was no ready answer, no quick thing Ambrose could say. His tongue felt a little heavy with dread at the thought of saying anything.

  “I don’t know. Gareth was married, and then he lost his wife, and you lost your parents…” And I lost myself. The realization was suddenly there, a piece of his life he hadn’t wanted to admit had been lost. He wasn’t sure what had changed in him in the last few years, but something had. He’d seen Gareth broken and hardened by losing the love of his life. Vaughn had lost his parents and turned to gambling and other means to survive. And Ambrose? He had lost himself in endless seductions, caring less and less for what the poets called love. Because he was afraid—afraid to love. The idea of being with a woman, one he could love and then lose like Gareth had, had terrified the bloody hell out of him.

  Vaughn took another sip of his drink, gazing in the flames. “Sometimes I feel as if we’re all damned.” Neither of them spoke, but there was a strange yet sad camaraderie between them in that moment as they both acknowledged the sorry state of their lives. Echoes of their boyhood laughter seemed to fill his head, and he could remember the feel of the grass beneath his feet as they ran through the meadows.

  Once upon a time when we were young and carefree…

  Ambrose raised his own glass again and took another drink. He was suddenly bone-weary, a weariness he didn’t want to fight. He stood, finished his drink, and gazed at his friend.

  “I think I’ll just turn in for the night.” He took two steps toward his bed, and then the world spun and he blinked, stumbled, and all went dark.

  Chapter 12

  Alex couldn’t sleep. She slipped out of bed, leaving Perdita alone, and fetched her dressing gown off the back of one of the chairs by the small fireplace. The silk slid against her skin and whispered against the worn floorboards as she crossed the room to the door. She shouldn’t go outside, but if she could get to Ambrose’s room…

  Honestly, she chided herself, what could they do? There was nowhere they could meet in secret, not while they shared their bedrooms with other people.

  She sighed and opened her door just a crack. The corridor was empty. She slipped through the doorway and then stepped into the narrow corridor. It was close to midnight, and the sounds from the main common room below were quiet. She tiptoed to Ambrose’s door, her heart beating in her ears as she rapped her knuckles against the wood.

  Please let him hear me and wake before Lord Darlington does. He had whispered to her after dinner that he would wait up for her, but neither of them truly thought meeting up would be possible with so many companions traveling with them. But she couldn’t deny her desires and her insatiable hunger to be with Ambrose, even if it meant risking so much. She rapped her knuckles a second time and smiled as the door opened. Then when the dim light of the wall sconces lit the face of the person who answered, she froze in shock.

  Lord Darlington stood there, completely dressed, his cool blue eyes taking in her state of undress, and then he had the audacity to smile.

  “I daresay you were expecting Ambrose, but I will have to disappoint you, darling.” He moved fast—too fast. Suddenly she was dragged inside the room and tossed onto the bed nearest the door.

  “What are you—” She struggled as Darlington tackled her, a coil of rope in his hands. Alex bit, clawed, and kicked as he forced a cloth into her mouth, silencing her cries. But he was too strong. Several minutes later, her body was exhausted, her every muscle weak, and her breath harsh in the quiet room. Her hands and feet were bound, and a handkerchief had been shoved into her mouth too deep for her to spit out. She lay on her side facing Ambrose, who had slept through the fight in the bed against the wall. He lay fully dressed, on his stomach, out cold. Tears stung her eyes, and she blinked them away. He didn’t wake to save her.

  Darlington came over to stand in her line of sight. “He can’t help you. I drugged his evening brandy. He won’t wake until after dawn.” He came toward her, and when he moved to lift her into his arms, she flinched. Darlington scowled.

  “I’m not going to hurt you. I know you have no reason to trust me, but on my honor I will not.” He then lifted her up and threw her over his shoulder. His shoulder rammed into her stomach, making her sick, but she could only make muffled cries for help. He left the room and moved down the stairs into the dark common room of the inn. Alex tried to think. What was he planning to do with her if he didn’t wish to hurt her?

  The door to the outside opened, and he carried her into the darkness. Then she heard a voice.

  “You’re packed and ready, my lord,” the gruff voice said.

  Alex tried to kick out and make Darlington drop her, but he kept a firm hold on her legs and carried her into a coach. She was placed on the seat, and the doors were shut as he joined her, holding tight to her as he tapped on the ceiling of the coach with a cane. The coach jolted forward, and only when they reached decent traveling speed did he let go of her. She slunk far away in the corner, her body tensed, ready to fight should he try to force himself on her. He moved to sit across from her and then leaned forward and removed the gag from her mouth.

  “Don’t even think of crying out for help. The driver is aware of your situation, and I paid him a handsome sum to keep quiet. No one will hear you since we are far enough away from the inn.”

  His words sent shivers of dread through her.

  “Lord Darlington, why are you doing this?” she asked, amazed that her voice wasn’t tremulous. It was as though everything else inside her was shaking.

  He sighed and looked out of the coach window, pushing the curtains back to watch the moonlight upon the surrounding fields.

  “It is not personal, Lady Alexandra. You’ve b
ecome the subject of a wager, and I dearly need to win.”

  The wager. Ambrose was right to have been concerned. Maybe Darlington would tell her the details that Ambrose would not.

  “What wager?” she asked. “You say it’s not personal, but you kidnapped me. I deserve to know the truth.”

  He glanced her way, a rueful smile upon his lips. “I suppose that is true enough.” He let the curtain fall back into place. Only a small shaft of light illuminated his beautiful but cold features. More than ever, she missed Ambrose, his rakish smiles and boyish charm, yet he was just as masculine as Darlington. The difference was warmth. Ambrose was like a roaring fire on a winter’s night. Darlington was a cold breeze beneath a beautiful tapestry.

  “Someone put your name down in a betting book at White’s.”

  “What are the terms?” She sat up straight, resting her bound wrists in her lap and squaring her shoulders.

  “You really wish to know?”

  She nodded. “I have to.”

  He leaned forward then, bracing his arms on his knees. “The man who successfully and publicly ruins you will receive five thousand pounds.”

  So much? The amount was staggering. A well-heeled gentleman of the ton tended to receive ten thousand a year in annual income. She couldn’t imagine anyone paying half that simply to ruin her.

  “What did the wager require specifically when it said public ruination?” she asked.

  “At least three or four gentlemen who could be trusted to speak the truth of what they saw would need to see you in a physically compromising position with a man. Such as being in a man’s townhouse in your dressing gown, or even better would be in a man’s bed.”

  Alex swallowed hard at the thought of any man aside from Ambrose seeing her unclothed in a bed. Her stomach gave a violent pitch at the thought of what was to come with Darlington. She tried to regain control and focus on what she needed to know, which was who wanted to do her such a great harm.

  “Who would do that?” She racked her mind trying to think of any gentleman who would dare to want to harm her like that.

  “His name is Gerald Langley. Do you know him?”

  “I’ve heard it somewhere, but I cannot recall…” The name seemed to dance at the edge of her mind. “And he mentioned me specifically in the wager?”

  “Yes, and the requirement was that it be public. It seems he has a great desire to destroy your reputation.”

  Alex tried to digest this, but a wave of horror and shock hit her as she fully understood how dire her situation was.

  “Are you…will you…” She failed to ask if he would force her.

  Darlington grimaced. “I’ll not touch you, not in that way. All I require is proof that you stayed in my townhouse unchaperoned, and once I’ve offered that proof, your lover will come to your rescue. I can be most convincing regarding your ruination.”

  Alex’s relief that he didn’t plan to force her was momentary.

  “My lover?”

  He smiled. The expression was smug. “I am all too aware of which man actually ruined you. Why else would you show up at our door looking for Worthing after midnight? I’m not a fool, darling. You’re besotted with him, and the sad fact is that you have no idea he is a part of all of this.” Darlington waved his hand around the coach interior.

  “What?” Alex barely got the word out. His declaration had knocked the breath from her body. Surely he was lying. Ambrose couldn’t—

  “I’m not the man who put his name down in the books beside your wager. Any man could try to satisfy the terms, but Worthing put himself directly into your wager with dozens of witnesses to see him. He’s the one who vowed to seduce you in front of a roomful of gentlemen. I’m simply the man trying to beat him to it.”

  No… Alex’s eyes burned with fresh tears, but she couldn’t move, couldn’t even breathe. Not Ambrose. Not after everything…

  Her heart gave a painful beat. Then it seemed to stop altogether as an awful hollowness took its place.

  She wasn’t sure how long she sat there in the silence of the coach as it rattled toward London. It was likely hours. She was numb by the time they’d entered Grosvenor Square. Pale early-morning light peeped warily through the parted coach curtains of the small windows. Alex gazed at the fine row of houses on Duke Street, watching the predawn light turn the white stones a pale pink and the trees a lovely shade of purple. But she didn’t really see it. Her mind was turned inward, dwelling on her pain.

  Ambrose had broken her heart, betrayed her, for the sake of some damned wager by a bunch of cruel men in a club. It was all about money, for him and for Lord Darlington. At least the latter had been brave enough to own up to his schemes. Ambrose had truly seduced her, not just her body but her heart. She cringed at how foolish she’d been to let her guard down and let him into her heart.

  The coach stopped in front of an elegant townhouse, and she let Lord Darlington escort her up the stairs and inside. There was little point in fighting him off or trying to escape. She was in her nightclothes and dressing gown. If she ran about in the streets dressed like this, it would ruin her and make her appear to be mad. Better to stay with Darlington for now until she could reason out a better alternative.

  “This way, my lady.” Darlington ushered her to an upstairs bedchamber that, while well furnished, was clearly outdated and a bit unkempt. It was clear Darlington was in dire straits just as Perdita had said.

  “Lord Darlington,” she began, turning to face him as he stood in the doorway, blocking any escape.

  “Yes?” He held his hat in one hand and watched her seriously, his blue eyes cool and calculating.

  “What if my father paid you? Would you let me go and not ruin me, at least publicly?” It was worth a shot, however small, to ask him that.

  Darlington studied her, and she could see him weighing the options she presented against the wager’s payout. There was a flicker of hesitation in his eyes as they softened to pity.

  “That wouldn’t work, at least not to save you from ruination. The bets are a serious thing, my dear. If it wasn’t me, another man, possibly one who wouldn’t be bothered to leave you truly untouched, would take up the challenge. I don’t believe either of us wishes to see you fall prey to another man.” He started to leave, but Alex rushed to him and caught his arm.

  “Please, Lord Darlington, let me go home. Don’t do this.” She’d never been one for begging, but in that moment she would’ve done anything to get free and escape ruination.

  “I’m sorry. Truly. It is not to my taste to seduce innocents or even pretend to. But this necessary charade will help me survive a little bit longer before I must sell the clothes off my back.” He hesitated and then sighed. “It will be over soon. All I intend to do is bring over the gentleman who arranged the wager and let him see you in my house dressed as you are. That should be public enough, I hope, to satisfy him. Then you may return home. Please stay in this room. There is nowhere else for you to go. I will send up a tray of food shortly so you may break your fast.” He bowed and then slipped outside, closing the door behind him and turning the key in the lock.

  Alex stood facing the closed door for several long minutes, her heart stinging and her body still numb. What would happen when her father and Perdita awoke to find her gone? What about Ambrose? She banished that thought from her mind. The last thing she needed to worry about was a man who had publicly accepted a wager to seduce her.

  If only I had listened to my mind and not my heart that night at the assembly rooms in Lothbrook. We never should’ve waltzed. He never should’ve set foot in my home.

  She had made too many foolish mistakes, ones that condemned her to ruination and heartbreak. This was worse than when Marshall had left her for a wealthy woman. Far worse. She hadn’t given Marshall everything, as she had done with Ambrose. He had her heart, body, and soul. She was the fool who would pay for indulging in such girlish dreams of falling in love and marrying a man who would love her back. Twice she had
been burned upon the altar of love, and she was done with it all.

  Love be damned.

  Chapter 13

  Ambrose woke to a world where everything was pounding, his head, the door…

  “Mr. Worthing! Please, you must wake up!” a feminine voice begged him.

  A foggy pain seemed to have settled in his head, and he could barely hear anything aside from the blood pounding in his ears.

  He struggled to sit up and realized he was still in his clothes from the night before. Why hadn’t he changed? Had Alex come to his room and he’d passed out and missed seeing her? He couldn’t remember a damned thing.

  “Mr. Worthing!” The voice came again.

  He tripped as he tried to get out of the bed. It took him a moment to realize Vaughn’s bed was empty. Then he reached the door and opened it, his head still pounding.

  “Mr. Worthing?” Perdita was dressed and watching him with shocked wide eyes.

  “I…Miss Darby, what’s the matter?” He tried to collect his scattered thoughts.

  “It’s Alex. She’s missing. I thought perhaps…she might be with you.” Miss Darby glanced around the room, and he couldn’t help but wonder how much Perdita knew about him and Alex. “Where is Lord Darlington?” she asked suddenly.

  The fog in his head was beginning to clear, and one thought jumped out and clubbed him soundly.

  Vaughn and Alex were missing.

  “I haven’t seen Lord Darlington since last night. Mr. Worthing, you look quite unwell. Are you all right?” Perdita touched his cheek and he flinched. Last night he and Vaughn had been talking, sharing old memories over a bottle of brandy…

  “Bloody hell, the bastard drugged me!”

  “What?” Perdita gasped. “Why?”

  “To get to Alex when I couldn’t protect her. Christ, we’re in trouble, Perdita.” He stumbled out of his room carrying his coat as he rushed to Lord Rockford’s room. He pounded on the door until the earl opened it, his brows raised.