Seductive Scoundrels Series Books 1-3: A Regency Romance

by Collette Cameron

  Why, she couldn’t even recall the name of the ballet they’d watched.

  Dabbing a bit of lily of the valley perfume behind each ear and upon each wrist, she grinned at Caesar sprawled before her balcony doors, muzzle on his black forepaws, and his big soulful eyes watching her every move.

  He’d taken to her, almost as if he sensed she needed unconditional love, and Aunt Theo didn’t seem to mind. Or if she did, she kept the knowledge to herself. But Jemmah’s aunt also loved her without restriction, and even that would take time to become accustomed to.

  She would, though.

  She had every reason to, and he’d be here shortly.

  Jemmah’s stomach tumbled in that wonderful wobbly way it did whenever her thoughts gravitated toward Jules. A wonder she could hold her food down with all the cavorting taking place in her middle these days.

  “Miss Jemmah, that color becomes you. You look like a real lady, you do.” Mary’s mouth tipped into a cheeky grin as she fluffed the bed’s pillows. “Forgive my impertinence, but your sister would gnash her teeth if she saw you now.”

  Undoubtedly.

  “I’m so glad you’re here, Mary.”

  Within a week of Jemmah’s leaving, Frazer Pimble had approached Jemmah and revealed Mama had dismissed Mary without reference. And since Aunt Theo insisted Jemmah needed a lady’s maid—to do what, for pity’s sake?—quite naturally, Jemmah had been determined to see Mary have the position.

  Having two Pimbles in the household caused a bit of a conundrum at first, but Aunt Theo, always one to throw convention into the gutters, advised everyone to simply call the maid by her given name.

  After tying her bonnet’s ribbons, Jemmah gathered her reticule and parasol.

  Everywhere one looked, signs of an early spring were evident. Including the bright vivid green fern fronds, sunny jonquils, cheery primroses, and the shining orb in the sky splaying its golden fingers across the heavens.

  Her heart glowed with warmth every bit as permeating and pleasurable.

  These had been the happiest weeks of her life, and sometimes when she awoke in the middle of the night and the familiar despondency cloaked her, she had to remind herself she’d left her oppressive life behind.

  Goodness, so much had changed in such a short while.

  Not the least of which was Jules’s actively courting her—

  Without permission.

  Mama had refused to receive him each time he’d approached her on the matter.

  He vowed he wouldn’t give up, that she’d eventually come around.

  He didn’t know Mama.

  She held a grudge and was about as malleable as dried mortar.

  Sighing, Jemmah booted her unhappy musings aside.

  As Jules had done every day since Jemmah had come to live with Aunt Theo, he’d be here momentarily for their daily outing. They’d explored all of the major parks and Covent Garden, visited Astley’s Amphitheatre, eaten ices at Gunter’s, and shopped along Bond Street several times.

  Today’s plans included an excursion to Vauxhall Gardens.

  She intended to return in the evening sometime too, but for this initial visit, she wanted to see the famed gardens in the daylight.

  A soft knock rapped at her bedchamber door.

  “Come.”

  Jemmah drew on one soft kid glove.

  “His Grace, the Duke of Dandridge, awaits you in the gold parlor, miss.” Pimble winked at his sister. “Let me know if Mary gets sassy. I’ll straighten her out, right quick, I shall.”

  Mary stuck out her tongue and laughing, chucked a pillow at her brother’s head.

  Observing their antics, Jemmah twisted her mouth into a wistful smile.

  She didn’t remember ever playing like that with Adelinda.

  “Never fear. Your sister attends her duties with conscience and efficiency. Mary, collect your cloak. I don’t want to keep the duke waiting.”

  Ten minutes later saw Jemmah comfortably seated in Dandridge’s landau as his driver expertly tooled the conveyance along the busy lane. Mary dutifully sat in the rear groom’s seat to allow Jemmah and Jules privacy while still acting the part of chaperone.

  As he was wont to do, despite the slight impropriety, Jules promptly tucked Jemmah’s gloved hand into his buff-clad one. He bent his head near, his breath tickling her ear.

  “I called upon your mother again yesterday.”

  “And?”

  Jemmah searched his face, reading the answer in his compassionate gaze.

  Drat Mama’s obstinance and pride.

  “She refused me once more.”

  The sun bounced off the diamond in his cravat, and the hunter green of his jacket reflected in the jade flecks in his irises.

  Such kind, gentle eyes, yet also intelligent, alert, and assessing.

  “I’m not surprised. In her bitterness, Mama blames everyone else for her circumstances. She sees herself as the victim, and that prevents her from hearing reason.”

  Jemmah returned the mild, reassuring squeeze he gave her fingers.

  The comfortable clip-clopping of the horses’ hooves on the cobblestones, the sun’s caressing rays, as well as the vehicle’s plush seat had her blinking sleepily and fighting a yawn.

  “I’m sure it’s been quite difficult for her and Adelinda, now that Mary’s left and Aunt Theo has withdrawn her financial support.”

  Jules made a confirming sound in the back of his throat, causing his Adam’s apple to bob. “I’ve no doubt, but once we are wed, I fully intend to provide her with an allowance as long as she agrees—”

  Jemmah clutched his hand, and jaw sagging, she stared in stunned incredulity.

  Confusion yanked his brows together, and he patted her hand twice.

  “Why do you look at me like that? Don’t you want me to give your mother any funds? I thought you’d be pleased, but if not—”

  Shaking her head, Jemmah’s mouth quivered.

  “No, no. It’s not that at all. I think it very generous of you, and most forgiving too.”

  More forgiving than she was capable of so soon.

  Mama didn’t deserve Jules’s magnanimity.

  He bent nearer, and brazenly brushed his lip across the top of Jemmah’s ear.

  “Then what is it?”

  Jemmah slid Mary a covert glance.

  Completely absorbed in the passing scenery, the maid hadn’t heard Jules.

  Jemmah scooted a little nearer, brushing her thigh against his in a most provocative way.

  Keeping her voice low, so neither the driver nor Mary might overhear, she murmured, “You said... Well, at least I thought you said, ‘When we wed.’”

  She raised hopeful eyes to Jules’s.

  How pathetic she must look. How mortified she’d be if she’d misunderstood.

  They’d never discussed marriage, but his courting and repeated visits to Mama must mean he’d contemplated the matter at some length. And when the time was right, he’d broach the subject with Jemmah.

  Although, as long as Mama refused to let him officially address Jemmah, they’d little choice but to wait for her to come of age or elope to Gretna Green.

  Not an entirely awful notion by half.

  Actually, a rather grand one. Mayhap she should mention it to him.

  If he proposed.

  And if he didn’t? If she’d misheard?

  Well then, when the dowager returned to the country, Jemmah would accompany her.

  Thank goodness she had the promised position to fall back upon. The knowledge brought her a great deal of comfort.

  Tenderness bent Jules’s mouth and pleated the angles of his face, deepening his fascinating eyes to a simmering cognac.

  “Indeed, I did say that very thing, my precious Jem. I thought you understood that’s always my intention, my sweet, since I found you cozily slumbering in Theo’s parlor. To make you my duchess, the keeper of my heart.”

  She couldn’t quite subdue her tiny elated gasp.

  Su
dden wariness filtered across his face, and he straightened a bit. “Did I assume wrongly? Misjudge your affections?”

  “No, not at all, Your Grace.”

  “Jules,” he reminded her.

  Jemmah’s eyes misted and giving him a tremulous smile, she dragged her handkerchief from her reticule. Chin tucked to her chest, she angled her parasol and discreetly dabbed her eyes. “I didn’t dare dream something so wholly marvelous would happen to me.”

  “Dare I hope your answer is yes? It’s not too soon?”

  Jemmah gave a jerky nod, afraid she’d weep for joy if she spoke.

  The carriage gave an abrupt shudder as the rear wheel sank into a hole, jostling them against each other.

  Jules beaver hat smacked her parasol, skewing it to the side.

  As he straightened it, he sought her eyes.

  “Yes, it’s too soon, or your answer is yes?”

  “Yes, I’ll marry you, darling man,” she whispered, perhaps not as quietly as she might since she didn’t care who knew this wonderful news.

  They’d still Mama to convince, of course, but Jemmah refused to let that obstacle steal a single speck of her elation.

  Jules released a long, shuddering breath.

  “Thank God. I almost swallowed my heart. I think it’s still lodged somewhere in my throat.” After patting his neck, he winked and tucked her scandalously closer. “We can discuss the details while we wander Vauxhall, and I promise to propose properly. Too many ears, right now.”

  He waggled his eyebrows toward Mary.

  “But, I must tell you,” his voice dropped to a low purr, causing the most remarkable of sensations to sprout in unmentionable areas. “I adore you, Jemmah, love.”

  A plump tear did escape then. One of pure, unadulterated joy.

  “And I love you too, Jules.”

  Had for years, but she wasn’t ready to share that just yet. Not until they were alone, and she could show him just how ecstatic she was.

  Knuckle bent, he caught the wayward droplet. “I only want to see tears of happiness in your beautiful blue eyes from now on.”

  “They will be.”

  Sparing a glance overhead, Jules closed his eyes. “Doesn’t the sun feel glorious?”

  “Yes.” Though he was far more spectacular.

  Trailing her gaze over his refined profile, she put her other hand to her middle to still the odd spasm that always occurred when she gazed upon him thusly. She didn’t remember a time she hadn’t loved him, and that he felt the same...

  Galloping turtles, such glee made her lightheaded.

  Gone was the stiff, stern, unapproachable peer others had mocked for his severity. Jules now let the rest of the world see the man she’d always known existed beneath his prickly, protective exterior.

  A contented sigh passed between her lips.

  A half an hour later saw Mary settled beneath a tree with a book and several gossip rags, while Jemmah and Jules strolled the gardens. She’d lived in London her entire life and had never been inside Vauxhall.

  Father’s pockets had always been in dun territory, made worse by the funds he frittered away on his mistresses.

  “Have I told you how beautiful you are today, Jemmah?” Jules deep voice rumbled low in his broad chest.

  A pleasure-born blush bathed her that he would think her so. “No, but I know a taradiddle when I hear it. But it does my womanly pride wonders to hear the nonsense, nevertheless. You forget, I have a looking glass.”

  He tweaked her nose. “And you, my dear, are blind to your own loveliness.”

  “Well, isn’t this a coincidence. I was just speaking of you, Jemmah.”

  Upon hearing Adelinda’s spiteful voice, Jemmah spun around.

  Boils and bunions.

  Attired in a lovely emerald green and peach gown—new and expensive if she wasn’t mistaken—Adelinda hung on the arm of an attractive man Jemmah didn’t recognize.

  Where had Adelinda come by monies to purchase a gown of such high quality?

  And who was this newest admirer? Another of Adelinda’s unsuitable swains, no doubt.

  He might be handsome, but something unnerving, dark and oily, shadowed his soulless eyes.

  From the languid way his gaze slid over Jemmah before something more than polite interest sharpened his features, she’d bet all the buttons in France he wasn’t a respectable sort. In fact, he made her want to race home, dive beneath the bedcovering, and pull them over her head to block his leering gaze.

  Adelinda’s perusal of Jemmah was no less thorough, but the look in her eye could never be described as appreciative or cordial.

  “Miss Dament. Perkins.” Jules still possessively cradled Jemmah’s elbow, and he gave the new arrivals a distinctly cool and the briefest possible greeting.

  Not friends, then.

  “Dandridge.” Perkins’s equally frosty acknowledgement confirmed her suspicion. The smile Perkins then bestowed on Adelinda didn’t quite reach his shrewd eyes. “Aren’t you going to introduce me?”

  Mouth pinched in displeasure, Adelinda raised an annoyed brow.

  “My sister, Jemmah. Jemmah, Mr. Samuel Perkins. He owns a club on Kings Street,” she said all smug superiority.

  The last was declared as if he maintained a private suite at Buckingham Palace.

  “So, Adelinda, this is the younger sister you’ve told me so much about.”

  I’ll wager she has.

  Perkins’s lascivious chuckle sent Jemmah’s skin scuttling, and unnerved by the predatory glint in his eye, she edged nearer to Jules.

  His palm tightened on her arm the merest bit before he looped her hand through his elbow, the movement drawing her closer.

  “You misled me, my dear Adelinda,” Perkins said with another slippery upward twist of his mouth. “Your sister’s a diamond of the first water if I ever saw one.”

  He dares address Adelinda by her given name?

  Appearing like she’d been served amphibians or reptiles for supper, Adelinda managed a sickly smile.

  “I’ve nearly convinced Mama to permit you to return home, Jemmah. If you put off your grand airs. After all, you cannot expect to take advantage of Aunt Theo’s benevolence indefinitely.”

  Still the same spiteful Adelinda, though granted, a trio of weeks was hardly time enough to change one’s character.

  It was long enough to fall more profoundly, marvelously in love with Jules.

  “I won’t be returning, Adelinda. Of that you may rest assured.”

  Jemmah sent Jules a secretive glance, but her sister saw it.

  Adelinda stepped closer, her perceptive gaze narrowed. “If you think—”

  “Dandridge, darling. I thought I saw you from across the way.”

  Oh, for all the kippers in Kensington.

  Two misses determined to trap Jules in their webs, and this one with the audacity to call him darling in public?

  Momentary uncertainty skipped about the tattered edges of Jemmah’s composure.

  Inhaling a bracing breath, she swung ’round to see Miss Milbourne, accompanied by two men she didn’t recognize, but whose unusual topaz eyes and honeyed hair decreed them Jules’s relatives.

  Jules’s forearm stiffened beneath Jemmah’s fingers.

  “Miss Milbourne. Uncles.”

  Ah, the famed Charmont uncles who believed Jules incapable of making his own decisions.

  Tension thicker than custard settled onto the uncomfortable group, everyone eyeing the other with speculation and suspicion.

  Miss Milbourne minced closer, absolute perfection in an exquisite ivory and plum confection, all frothy, feminine lace. And she smelled positively divine.

  Drat and dash it all.

  Why couldn’t she have a flaw or two or three?

  Buck teeth?

  A hairy mole upon her nose?

  Crossed eyes? Fangs?

  “I’ve missed you.” She ran her white-gloved fingers down Jules’s chest, and blinked coyly at him from beneath her pr
eposterously thick eyelashes.

  Brazen as an alley cat twitching her tail for a mate.

  “I’ve been otherwise engaged.” The steely look he impaled his uncles with had them shuffling their feet and raptly examining the foliage.

  Cowards.

  Acutely aware of the elegantly coiffed, perfumed, and hostile woman standing but inches away, taking her measure, Jemmah arched a starchy brow. She was newly-betrothed to the Duke of Dandridge, and for all of Miss Milbourne’s posturing and attempts to intimidate, the woman was, quite frankly, and most gratifyingly... the loser.

  Her condescending gaze flicked to Jemmah, and Miss Milbourne’s pupils contracted to pinpricks as she oh-so casually twirled her parasol.

  “So I see,” she drawled. “I’d heard rumors you were doing the pretty and escorting your godmother’s dowdy ward about town. I must say, I never took you, of all men, for a nursemaid, Dandridge. Most decent of you, inconveniencing yourself to oblige Lady Lockhart’s unreasonable requests.”

  Adelinda’s giggle, earned her an exasperated glower from Perkins.

  “Yes, quite right, Miss Milbourne. No man has ever willingly directed his attention at my frumpy sister.”

  At her sister’s barbed insult, Jemmah stiffened and set her jaw against the oath bucking to escape the narrow barrier of her lips.

  A duchess doesn’t tell ladies to go bugger themselves.

  Miss Milbourne and Adelinda exchanged a gloating glance.

  Enough of these two vixens trying to draw her blood with their jealousy. “You can both—”

  “Rest assured, ladies, I’m never coerced into doing anything I don’t want to.” In an intimate, comforting gesture, Jules laid his other hand atop Jemmah’s. “And you’re woefully incorrect if you presume there is any woman on earth I’d rather spend time with than my betrothed.”

  “Betrothed?” sputtered Miss Milbourne and Miss Dament in horrified unison.

  Each appeared to have swallowed wriggling spiders whole.

  Jules quashed his laugh, but couldn’t contain the slow, satisfied upsweep of his mouth.

  He bent his neck and murmured in Jemmah’s ear.

  “I beg your pardon for announcing it this way.”

  The Uncles stood slack-jawed and dazed, too.