How to Seduce a Scoundrel

by Vicky Dreiling

  “Did you see the way he looked at her?”

  “Dear God, I thought he would kiss her.”

  “I almost melted into a puddle watching them.”

  “Oh, my,” Julianne said, her voice breathless.

  “Keep walking,” he muttered. Bloody, bloody hell. Half the damn ton had witnessed him clutching Julianne and gazing into her eyes like one of her many besotted beaux. Damn, damn, damn.

  In all her innocence, she’d managed to bewitch him. He’d fallen under a spell. That was the only explanation for his idiocy. No, it was worse. Far worse. Desire had flooded his veins—for his best friend’s sister. For God’s sake, he was her guardian. She was forbidden.

  He glanced at her sideways. Her dreamy expression made him feel like a cad. Obviously, she was still caught up in the magical experience of her first waltz and probably didn’t realize the significance of what had happened.

  If the damned scandal sheets hinted at an engagement, they would both find themselves in hot suds. How the devil would he ever explain it to Tristan?

  Stupid, bloody fool.

  He had to do something to turn the tide. When he spotted his aunt sitting by the wall, he knew he must leave Julianne with her. Then he’d make himself scarce in the card room and laugh off any gibes from the other gents.

  Heads turned as he led her through the crowd. He gritted his teeth and did his best to ignore the stares.

  He’d not gotten far when Amy Hardwick and Lady Georgette waylaid them. Their excited expressions spelled trouble.

  “Everyone is talking about your waltz,” Georgette gushed.

  “My heart nearly stopped when everyone applauded,” Amy said.

  He considered leaving Julianne with her friends, but Ramsey cut a swath through the crowd.

  “Ah, there you are, Lady Julianne,” Ramsey said. “I’ve come to claim the dance Hawk stole from me.”

  Hawk stared daggers at him. “She does not wish to dance.”

  Beside him, Julianne stiffened. Her friends watched with wide-eyed expressions. He didn’t care.

  Ramsey frowned. “And who are you to answer for the lady?”

  “Her guardian.”

  Ramsey laughed. “Famous. The hawk is guarding the henhouse.”

  Hawk gave him a freezing look. “You accuse me of having improper designs on the lady?”

  Ramsey smirked.

  Hawk narrowed his eyes. “Lest you or anyone else harbor the wrong idea, I will set the record straight. Lady Julianne is practically a sister to me.”

  All around them, heads turned. Several gentlemen chuckled and regarded him with amusement.

  Ramsey lifted his sandy brows. “Yet you object to her dancing with other gentlemen.”

  “I object to you.” He’d heard another disgusting rumor recently that Ramsey and six of his dissipated friends had sneaked a prostitute into one of the private rooms at the club and taken turns with her. There was no way Hawk would let the vile fiend dance with Julianne.

  Ramsey bowed. “Lady Julianne, I must withdraw my request. Your guardian objects.”

  After Ramsey left, Hawk blew out his breath. As the tension slowly drained from his body, he realized Julianne’s fingers were trembling on his sleeve. With alarm, he saw her face had turned pale. “Julianne, are you unwell?”

  Her lips parted, but she said nothing.

  “I had better find you a chair. Can you walk?” Hawk asked.

  Amy Hardwick took her arm. “We will escort her to the retiring room, my lord.”

  He thought Julianne looked ready to faint. “She is ill. I’ll fetch my aunt and take Julianne home.”

  “No.” Georgette glared at him. “We will take care of her. She is like a sister to us.”

  Amy shook her head at Georgette. Then she addressed him. “My lord, we will send for your aunt if Julie does not recover quickly.”

  As they retreated, Hawk frowned. Damn Ramsey for vexing Julianne. Obviously he had offended Georgette by refusing to allow her rakehell brother to dance with Julianne. Too bloody bad.

  Lady Julianne is practically a sister to me.

  In a cold daze, Julianne thrust the horrible thoughts from her mind and stumbled as she entered the lady’s retiring room. She could hardly recall walking there.

  Amy steadied her. “Have a care.”

  “There are no chairs available,” Georgette said. “She must rest.”

  Julianne stared about the room, so numb she could barely feel her limbs. Three maids bustled around the women, repairing dangling curls and torn flounces. High-pitched giggling sounded from the window seat. None of it seemed real to her.

  One of the maids finished tidying an elderly lady’s coiffure and turned her attention to Julianne. The maid’s eyes widened.

  Georgette beckoned her. “Is there somewhere private we may sit?”

  “Yes, my lady. Follow me.”

  The maid found a candle and led the way. She opened a door to a bedchamber next to the retiring room. Julianne leaned on Amy’s arm as they followed the maid. While the maid lit a candle branch with the taper, Julianne sank onto a settee. She clutched her gloved hands in an effort to stop them from shaking.

  Amy sat beside her. “All will be well,” she whispered.

  No, it would not.

  The maid dipped a curtsy and addressed Georgette. “Shall I get her something? Poor gel looks sickly.”

  “Wine,” Georgette said. “For all of us.”

  The maid nodded and left the room quietly.

  After the door shut, Amy huffed. “Wine for all of us?”

  “I need something to soothe my nerves, too.” Georgette sat on Julianne’s other side. “Dearest, tell us what we can do to help?”

  Julianne covered her face. Despite her gloves, her fingers felt icy. The numbness started slipping away. Hawk’s words echoed in her ears again. Lady Julianne is practically a sister to me. Oh, God, he did not love her.

  “It’s natural to cry,” Amy said.

  “I cannot.” Julianne’s throat felt thick. “I don’t want him to see my splotchy face. Then he will know.”

  Georgette chafed her arm. “How could he be such a brute?”

  “Not now,” Amy hissed.

  “Well, I am angry on her behalf,” Georgette said. “He treated her abominably.”

  The threatening tears welled in Julianne’s eyes. She tried to hold them at bay, but it was no use. Her entire body shook as she wept.

  Her friends remained silent until she’d spent her tears. When Julianne shuddered, Amy gave her a handkerchief. “Lean on me,” she whispered.

  Julianne rested against Amy’s thin shoulder and swiped at her damp cheeks.

  “Georgette, there is a pitcher and bowl on the washstand,” Amy said. “Will you wet a cloth and bring it?”

  “Of course.”

  Julianne closed her eyes, but his words kept creeping into her thoughts. He didn’t even know he’d crushed her. She ought to be grateful, but pride wasn’t much of a salve for her wounded heart.

  Water splashed into the china bowl. “I shall never understand men,” Georgette said. A clinking sounded, likely the pitcher. “He was so attentive on the dance floor, and then suddenly he insisted Julianne was a sister to him.”

  Julianne started gulping air. She jerked upright. Panic clawed at her chest with every short breath.

  “Slowly,” Amy said. “Take one breath at a time. I am right here beside you.”

  Don’t think. Breathe. Don’t think. Breathe.

  Georgette’s skirts swished as she approached. “Amy, I’m frightened. She is gasping for air.”

  “Julie, focus on one breath. Just one,” Amy said.

  Julianne yanked at the gold chain holding the locket. She had to get it off. Now.

  “Hold still,” Amy said. “Georgette help me.”

  Georgette knelt and took Julianne’s hands. “Be still so Amy can unclasp the necklace.”

  As Amy fumbled at her neck, Julianne bent her head. When the
locket fell onto her lap, Georgette scooped it up. “Amy, put it in your reticule for safekeeping.”

  She never should have worn it. Never should have shown him.

  “Lean back,” Georgette said. When Julianne complied, Georgette dabbed the cool, damp cloth over her face and laid it across Julianne’s eyes. “This will help reduce any puffiness.”

  “I wish it would take away her pain,” Amy murmured.

  Julianne only wished for numbness.

  None of them said anything. Julianne appreciated their silence. For now, it was enough to have them beside her. She would not be able to bear being alone.

  After an interminable amount of time, she became aware of an aching in her neck. She removed the cloth and lifted her head.

  Georgette took it to the washstand. When she returned, she let out a long sigh. “Better now?”

  A hysterical laugh escaped her. “Oh, yes. All my dreams are dashed, but I’m perfectly content.”

  Her friends exchanged worried looks.

  “He was only trying to put my brother off the scent,” Georgette said. “Hawk would not admit his feelings before telling you.”

  Julianne huffed. “Are you deaf? He did tell me his feelings.” Then, realizing her harshness, she winced. “Forgive me, please.”

  “You are wounded,” Amy said. “We understand.”

  “I refuse to believe he isn’t halfway to falling in love with you,” Georgette said. “When he danced with you, he could not tear his eyes away.”

  “Georgette, it is no use.” Julianne shuddered. “He teased me tonight, the same way he’s teased me since I was a little girl.”

  “Where is your spirit?” Georgette laid her hand on Julianne’s shoulder. “You cannot give up so easily.”

  “Easily? I’ve waited four years for him. Nothing I do will change his feelings.” She hung her head. “I gambled on him. And I lost.” She’d convinced herself she could make him love her. The same way she’d tried so hard to win her father’s love.

  What was wrong with her?

  The maid returned bearing a tray with a decanter of wine and three glasses. Amy rummaged in her reticule. Coins clinked in her hand as she followed the maid over to the table, speaking softly. After the maid handed round the glasses, she left the room.

  “Her name is Meg,” Amy said. “I gave her a shilling.”

  “Oh, I didn’t think of it,” Georgette said. “You are always so thoughtful, Amy.”

  The three of them sat silently, drinking wine. After the first few sips, Julianne felt a tiny bit better. Each time thoughts of Hawk entered her head, she drank some more. After several minutes, she tipped the glass to her lips and frowned. It was empty.

  “More?” Georgette asked.

  “I’ll get it.” Her legs trembled a little, but the wine numbed her. She refilled her glass and returned to the settee. “I suppose I shall live.” Despite her brave words, sorrow flooded her heart.

  Georgette sniffed. “You will make him sorry.”

  “Georgette,” Amy admonished.

  Julianne contemplated her glass. “He is a swine.”

  “Amen,” Georgette said.

  “Let us talk of something else,” Amy said.

  Georgette gulped her wine. “All men are swine.”

  “They all take mistresses,” Julianne said, remembering what Hester had said about Hawk. “Even some of the married ones.” Like her late father.

  Georgette sighed. “Sometimes I think mistresses have all the fun.”

  Amy made an exasperated sound. “They are poor women who have no choice but to sell their bodies. It must be very frightening to be so dependent.”

  “But we are dependent,” Julianne said. “Men control our lives. They have all the power. We wait and wait for them. All the while, they dally with bad women and put off marriage. We pin all our hopes on them, and then, poof, they dance away because they do not want to give up their raking.”

  “You are right,” Amy said. “But do we not give them the power?”

  “This conversation is depressing my spirits.” Georgette rose. “I need another glass of wine. Amy, I’ll pour more for you as well.”

  “But I’m not done with this one.”

  “I’ll top it up.” Georgette snatched Amy’s glass, spilling a bit on her skirt. A red stain spread, seeping into the cloth. “Oops.”

  “You had better dab that damp cloth on the stain,” Amy said.

  “But then my skirts will be wet.” She giggled. “Oh, they are already wet.”

  They all burst out laughing.

  Georgette walked to the decanter and refilled the glasses.

  “We should take care not to become inebriated,” Amy said.

  “Oh, why not?” Georgette gulped her wine. “All the gentlemen are sure to be three sheets to the wind by now.”

  “But we are ladies,” Amy said.

  Georgette snorted. “We are foxed ladies.”

  “Not foxed enough.” Julianne sipped her wine. “How shall I hurt him?”

  Georgette returned with both glasses and handed one to Amy. “We could put a curse on him.”

  Amy set her glass aside. “Silly. We don’t know any curses.”

  “I do.” Julianne smirked. “Damn.”

  “Bloody hell,” Georgette said, lowering her voice in a bad imitation of a man.

  “The devil.” Amy snickered.

  The three of them planned various, ridiculous tortures for Hawk that included the rack and chains. A few minutes later, Georgette poured the dregs of the decanter into her glass. “Julie, I am still convinced he is in love wish you,” she said.

  “No, he isn’t.” A hiccough escaped her.

  Amy regarded her with a frown. “Julianne, everyone in the ballroom remarked upon the way he looked at you on the dance floor. He continued to hold you even after the music stopped. I think his actions speak louder than his words.”

  Julianne stilled. He’d teased her, and then he’d gazed at her longingly. “Amy, you’re right.” She hiccoughed again. “He made me believe he cared. But when he realized everyone was talking about our waltz, he got cold feet. How dare he—hic—toy with me?”

  Georgette smirked. “We will find a way to make him pay.”

  “We are not the only ladies who suffer because of those rogues who evade marriage,” Amy said. “There must be some way for all the ladies to take the power into their hands.”

  “How?” Georgette said.

  Julianne grabbed Amy’s arm. “You are brilliant.”

  Amy blinked. “But I have no solution.”

  Julianne grinned. “I do. Thanks to Hester. She told me how to entice a rake, and—hic—I foolishly ignored her.”

  “But do we want to entice rakes?” Amy asked. “Should we not concentrate on the nice gentlemen?”

  “What nish gentlemen?” Georgette grumbled. Then she polished off her wine.

  Amy frowned. “The younger ones are agreeable.”

  Julianne covered another hiccough.

  Georgette scoffed. “The cubs can barely utter a word without twipping over their tongues.”

  “You are both missing the—hic—point,” Julianne said, revenge on her mind. “We can entice the gentlemen by making them think we desire them. And then we will drop them like hot coals.”

  “We won’t remember this tomorrow,” Amy said. “Julianne, you have a terrible case of the hiccoughs. You had better stop drinking.”

  She hiccoughed again and nearly spilled her wine while setting the glass on the floor. “I remember every word Hester said and will write it down for the two of you.”

  “If we are to succeed, we need all the single ladies to join us,” Georgette said. “Then the gentlemen will notish.”

  Julianne frowned. Georgette was slurring her words.

  “We will have to sw-swear all our sisters to silence,” Georgette said. “I wager all the other girls are as disguised with the gentlemen as we are.”

  “You mean disgusted,” Julian
ne said, noting the glassy look in Georgette’s eyes.

  “But will we not drive the gentlemen into the arms of those hussies who troll the theaters? Or worse, those married women with no scruples?” Amy asked.

  Julianne gave her friends a smug look. “We will be—hic—like Anne Boleyn.”

  “What?” her friends cried out in unison.

  “She kept Henry the Eighth on a frustrated leash for years. If she could do it, so can we.”

  Her friends burst out laughing.

  The door opened.

  “Meg, you’re jush in time,” Georgette said. “Will you bring more wine?”

  “It appears you’ve had quite enough.” Hester strode past Meg.

  Julianne hiccoughed and clapped her hand over her mouth.

  Hester glanced at the empty decanter and turned to Meg. “Everyone is filing downstairs for the midnight supper. Do not let the girls leave. I shall return directly.”

  Hawk slouched in his chair at the card table. He assumed Julianne was well enough. Amy Hardwick was a responsible girl and would have alerted his aunt if Julianne had taken a turn for the worse. He wondered about Julianne’s sudden illness. Was it his confrontation with Ramsey or had the overheated ballroom made her ill? Hawk had never thought Julianne one of those delicate female creatures, but the devil knew his sisters complained incessantly of mysterious ailments.

  Despite his preoccupation, he’d automatically memorized the cards previously played. He visualized the remaining ones, an easy task given that he need only recall by a single suit, in this case hearts. Across the table, Ramsey frowned at his hand, hesitating. The reprobate had joined the game at the last minute. Over the years, Ramsey had taken every opportunity to needle him. Hawk had ignored him for years. Tonight, Ramsey had forced a confrontation.

  Hawk covered a yawn, growing bored with the tedious delays. Ramsey made a stupid play. With a smug grin, Hawk threw down his queen, winning the trick and the rubber, in this case, the best three out of five games.

  His partner, a young cub with a blade of a nose, crowed. “You’re a wizard,” Eastham said. “It’s almost as if you could see through the discards.”

  Hawk said nothing. Long ago, he’d learned to calculate the odds at cards.

  “The devil.” Ramsey’s partner, Durleigh, gathered the cards and shuffled.