How to Seduce a Scoundrel

by Vicky Dreiling

  He looked at her. “You look very pretty tonight.”

  “Thank you,” she said.

  He cleared his throat. “I hope I didn’t offend you with that pamphlet.”

  “I took no offense,” she said. “Did you read it?”

  “Yes, I did. I was a bit dumbfounded,” he said.

  “Why is that?” she asked.

  “I didn’t know ladies played tricks on gentlemen.”

  “Tricks?” she said.

  “It’s not very nice,” Osgood said. “The author tells ladies to plant flowers in her drawing room to make a gentleman think others have been there before him.”

  “You don’t believe all is fair in love and war?” Julianne asked.

  Osgood blinked at her. “I don’t think it’s fair to hoodwink a gentleman. It’s not easy for men, you know. We have to get up our courage and risk rejection when asking a lady to dance.”

  Julianne winced. She’d not thought of it from a gentleman’s viewpoint. To her, it had always seemed that men held all the power, but Osgood had pointed out that men risked humiliation every time they requested a lady’s hand for a dance.

  “I’m tempted to write a rebuttal and present a gentleman’s guide to enticing a belle,” he said.

  “You’re a poet,” she said. “Writing a pamphlet should come easily to you.”

  “Do you think I should?” he asked.

  She shrugged. “Why not? You have nothing to lose by trying.”

  “By Jove, I will. Thank you for the encouragement, Lady Julianne,” he said.

  “Thank you for pointing out the difficulties of courtship from a gentleman’s perspective,” she said. “I might never have known if not for you.”

  “You would never be cruel to a gentleman,” Osgood said.

  Not intentionally, but as she thought back over the past four seasons, she realized she had treated men as if they were toys to take out and put away at her pleasure.

  “I say, there is Hawk by the stairwell,” Osgood said.

  Julianne craned her head. And then she saw him, standing with two sophisticated women wearing scandalous gowns. Their cheeks were painted with rouge. They stood on either side of him, clutching his arms.

  Her throat closed. No. Oh, no.

  “Lady Julianne, are you unwell?” Osgood said.

  “Turn around,” she said.

  “Why?”

  “Please, just do as I say.”

  He turned and started walking. “What is wrong?”

  How could Osgood be so oblivious? “Please just keep walking for a little while.”

  Osgood remained quiet. She was glad of his silence, because she could not bear to speak right now.

  Eventually, he halted. “I’m a blockhead.”

  She couldn’t look at him. “No, you’re a nice man.”

  “I’m sure it’s not what you think,” he said gently.

  What else could it be?

  “Do you want me to take you back to your friends?”

  “No. Go on,” she said. “Lady Rutledge’s box isn’t far.”

  The devil. She’d seen him with his two former mistresses.

  Hawk strode after her. Bloody hell, he had to explain. They had waylaid him. He’d greeted them to be polite. But Julianne had seen them. He’d hated seeing the flash of pain on her face.

  Osgood and Julianne stopped several feet away. Hawk saw the concern on the cub’s face. And then he walked off. She’d probably told him to leave.

  When she saw him, he strode faster, expecting her to evade him, but she stood there, glaring at him.

  “It’s not what you think,” he said.

  “I believed you this afternoon when you said you intended to start anew,” she said, her voice shaking.

  He shook his head. “I won’t pretend I don’t know them, but I only said hello.”

  “When is the rendezvous?” she said in a curt voice.

  “What happened to your unconditional belief in me?” he said.

  “I saw those strumpets clinging to your arms,” she said.

  “I spoke to them, and that is all.”

  “You were smiling.”

  “Either you believe in me unconditionally or you don’t,” he said. “If it’s the latter, tell me now. I’ve spent too many years living under the shadow of my past. Yes, they are part of my sordid past. I’m not proud of it, but I can’t change it. The one thing I won’t do is walk on eggshells because you cannot trust me.”

  “You don’t understand.”

  “Yes, I do. Last night when I told you my father said men like me never change, you said it wasn’t true. And I believed you. But if you only meant to comfort me, if you believe I’m incapable of being a better man, then tell me now. Because this will never work if we can’t trust each other.”

  “I’m afraid,” she whispered.

  “Of what?”

  “I don’t want to end up like my mother.”

  “Good-bye, Julianne.”

  “Don’t you dare walk away from me,” she said.

  “You said you believe in me unconditionally, but it’s not true. I can’t have you judging me based on a past I can’t change.”

  “I can’t change my past, either, and it’s made me scared. I’m vulnerable, too, but I’m willing to give this a chance.”

  “You want a chance? Fine, we’ll talk, but not here.”

  He took her hand and strode off. When he reached Hester’s box, he told the footman to inform his aunt that he and the lady were taking a hackney. Then he led her to the stairs.

  Moments later, they strode through the foyer.

  “My pelisse is in the cloakroom,” she said.

  “I’ll send for it later,” he gritted out. Then he instructed the doorman to hail a hackney.

  As they waited, he gave her an icy stare. “No games tonight, Julianne. Just the raw truth.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  A Scoundrel’s Advice: If you bed her, you must wed her.

  Julianne inched over in the hackney when Hawk climbed inside.

  He knocked his cane on the ceiling and the hackney rolled off. When she tried to move to the other side, he caught her and hauled her back. “Afraid?” he said.

  “I think you had better take me home,” she said.

  “That can be arranged, my dear. But not tonight. It’s a long drive to Gatewick Park.”

  “I meant to your aunt’s house,” she said.

  “Oh, no, we’re going to have a look at my past.”

  “Don’t do this, Hawk. You’ll only regret it.”

  “No, I’m done with regrets,” he said.

  “You don’t have to prove anything to me,” she said. “I only wanted you to understand.”

  “Oh, I understand,” he said, turning to her. “Earlier today, you were willing to trust me, but when faced with the evidence of my past, you couldn’t stomach it.”

  “I saw those women and assumed the worst. I made a mistake.”

  “Because you don’t want to end up like your mother,” he said bitterly.

  “I spoke in anger.”

  “You told me the truth—it comes out when we’re in stressful situations, you know. Like the day my father said men like me never change. He told me what he truly believed. He’d judged me based on my uncle’s behavior and my own. My uncle was one of the worst libertines. Did you know that? He was the spare, my father’s brother. My father bailed him out of trouble time and time again. But my uncle never changed. So when I found trouble, my father assumed I was cut from the same cloth. He told me the truth—as he saw it, based on his past experience.”

  “He was wrong,” she said.

  “Not from his perspective,” Hawk said. “You’re in a similar boat where I’m concerned. Your father was a notorious rake. He humiliated your mother repeatedly, and you witnessed it. So your greatest fear is marrying a man who will betray you. I’m right, aren’t I?”

  “Yes, but it doesn’t mean I can’t change. It doesn’t mean t
hat we cannot work together on our faults and make something better of ourselves.”

  “An interesting point. But here’s the thing. You will always look at my behavior based on your past experience. You’ll make assumptions every time you see me speak to another woman. Then you’ll say you’re sorry, and I’ll forgive you, but I’ll resent having to do it, because it won’t happen just once. But if I make the mistake you fear the most, you’ll never forgive me. Because you’ll assume based on your past experience that it will happen again and again.”

  “You look at the situation fatalistically. But it is possible to change. I failed you tonight, but it doesn’t mean that I will always.”

  “You say that, but you don’t really know if you can. More important, I don’t know if you can. So tonight is the test. I’m going to show you the hard truth about my past. If you’re repulsed, I’ll know and you will know that you cannot accept me unconditionally, sordid past and all.”

  Her heart thudded in her ears. “Where are we going?”

  “You haven’t guessed? I believe you expressed interest in it once before. It’s apparently the talk of the ladies’ retiring room.”

  He meant to take her to his love nest. Fear gripped her heart. She knew he meant to show her the bed where he’d lain with countless women. He meant to make her face his ugly past—and all those faceless women she’d hated because he’d taken them to bed.

  “I can take you to my aunt’s house if you’re unable to stomach it,” he said.

  She lifted her chin. “I am my mother’s daughter. There is nothing I cannot face with my head held high.”

  “We shall see.”

  He knew a moment of hesitation as he fumbled with the key. The better man would apologize and beg her forgiveness. But he’d spoken the truth in that hackney. Unless she saw the evidence of his past firsthand, neither of them would know if she could truly accept him unconditionally.

  The door creaked as he pushed it open. He fumbled with the tinderbox on the hall table and lit a branch of candles. Holding it high, he said, “Behold, the love nest. I fear it is deserted.” He smiled at her. “I dismissed the staff after your brother insisted I give up raking for the duration of the season. He didn’t want you to be disappointed if you found out I was a notorious rake.”

  She put her chin up again and walked into the hall.

  He followed her in order to illuminate the dark interior. “Notice the lack of marble floors, carpeting on the staircase, and pastoral paintings. Rather spartan, isn’t it? I prefer it, you know. My rooms at the Albany are similarly utilitarian.”

  “You live in stark circumstances by choice to show you are not attached,” she said.

  “An astute observation, one I’d not thought of before. Come, let me give you a tour of the parlor. It’s just past the stairs.”

  He’d expected her to tell him to take her home, but she marched past him and opened the parlor door. He followed her inside. “No fire, I’m afraid. I’d not planned on having a guest tonight, despite your earlier assumption.”

  “If your aim is to provoke me, save your breath,” she said.

  “Oh, I’m saving the provoking part for last,” he said. “Notice the ugly mismatched furnishings. They came with the place when I let it years ago. I didn’t bother to replace them.” He flashed her a grin. “We don’t serve tea and cakes at the love nest.”

  “You’ve never made the purchase. Permanence scares you.”

  “It’s a love nest. Nothing is ever permanent here. I bring the women and send them packing when I tire of their demands. Temporary lovers suit me. I can change them out like an old coat.” He knew he was being crass, but her cool demeanor brought out the worst in him.

  “You dismiss them because you don’t want to know them.”

  “I know them in the biblical sense,” he said.

  “You don’t want to think too much about what drives them to accept your propositions. Because you know they need the money, and it troubles you.”

  Her razor-sharp observations unnerved him, but he’d be damned before he admitted she was right. “I pay them handsomely. They supplement their unsteady incomes from acting, make out like bandits, and move on to the next wealthy protector.”

  “To quote my friend Amy, it must be very frightening, and I would add degrading, to have to sell your body in order to survive.”

  “You imagine them as tragic figures, but I assure you they visit the same high-priced dressmakers as you do. Their jewels are courtesy of Rundell and Bridge. I know. I’ve paid the bills.” He closed the distance between them. “As for degrading, you’re wrong. They’re performers, but if they’re lucky, they find a protector who knows how to pleasure them.”

  She didn’t flinch. “You say they are performers. I imagine an accomplished actress could convince any man he was a great lover—for the right price.”

  He chuckled. “Your innocence is showing, Julianne, but let us have a tour of the stage where these performances take place. You’re under no obligation. I will certainly understand if the prospect offends your tender sensibilities.”

  “But you have a performance to complete tonight, do you not? You wish to shock me. Aren’t you curious if you can succeed?”

  “Oh, I know I can,” he said.

  “By all means, prove it.”

  He’d underestimated her. She was his best friend’s sister, and he’d gone too far already. Taking her into that bedchamber would make him the worst sort of scoundrel.

  “Having second thoughts?” She arched her brows. “Give me the candle branch, and I’ll find my own way there.”

  She’d do it, too. He knew her pride was in it now, but if he backed down, nothing between them would ever be resolved.

  He offered his arm. “Since you insist,” he said, meaning to make it clear she’d made the choice.

  But as he led her out of the ugly parlor and up the plain staircase, his conscience roared. They continued down the short corridor, and as he neared the door, he stopped. “Enough,” he said.

  “Finish what you started,” she said.

  He shook his head. “No, I’m taking you to my aunt’s house.”

  She stepped past him and opened the door.

  “Bloody hell,” he gritted out as she walked inside.

  He followed her. “Julianne, let us leave now.”

  She glanced around the room and then back at the bed with its crimson bed hangings and matching counterpane. “I confess I’m disappointed,” she said. “I was expecting something gaudy.” She regarded him. “I suppose you expect me to swoon after picturing you writhing in that bed.”

  He set the candle branch on the bedside table. “Imagine how many women have lain in that bed,” he said. “Countless, and I literally mean countless. There have been so many I can’t recall them all.”

  She walked to the bed and ran her hand over the post. “What? No notches?”

  He admired her. She’d yet to crack, but he had another surprise for her. “Do you not wonder about preventative measures?”

  She regarded him warily, and he knew she didn’t have the faintest notion what he’d meant.

  He walked to the bed and patted the mattress. “The performances that take place here can have consequences. Do you take my meaning?”

  She swallowed. “Yes.”

  “Do you not wish to know how it’s prevented?”

  When she said nothing, he walked over to the bedside table and opened the drawer. “They’re used for more than preventing pregnancy. I’ve an aversion to disease.”

  She met his gaze. “I understand now, but I doubt you do. My guess is that somewhere deep inside, you wanted me to see those painted women tonight. You sought a confrontation because you wanted to push me away.”

  He shook his head. “You’re imagining things.”

  “No, I don’t think so. You’ve been doing it since the night of the Beresford’s ball.”

  He shut the drawer and folded his arms over his chest. “I hav
e no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “You tease and then you back away because you don’t want anyone to get close enough to see the scars. You push others away before they can hurt you. That is the reason you choose to live in rented rooms rather than with your family. That is the reason you told everyone at that ball I am practically a sister to you.”

  He frowned. “I did it because I’m your guardian, and others assumed that waltz meant more than it did.”

  Her eyes welled with tears.

  “What the devil?”

  Her lips trembled. She ran toward the door.

  He caught up to her and pinned her wrists against the door. “What did I say?”

  A sob erupted from her.

  He turned her around to face him. “Julianne, what is it?”

  She fought him, trying to escape. He wrapped his arms tightly around her. “Stop struggling.”

  She raised her chin. “Take me h-home now.”

  “I don’t know what I said, but I can’t help if you won’t tell me.”

  “No. I won’t let you humiliate me again.”

  “I’m not letting you go until you explain.”

  She glared at him.

  He looked at her tear-stained face and thought about the moment she’d broken. “The waltz?” he said, still not understanding.

  She turned her head.

  He thought about the way her husky voice had called to him like a siren’s. He’d stupidly held on to her for far too long. So long that a crowd had gathered and burst into applause. All he’d worried about was preventing rumors of an impending engagement.

  Then he’d confronted Ramsey, and she had grown very pale. He thought back to the heated words he’d exchanged with Ramsey, and then he felt as if he’d just opened draperies to a blinding sun. He stroked her hair. “It was because I said you were practically like a sister to me.”

  When she said nothing, he knew he’d hit the mark. “Julianne, I only said it so that others wouldn’t make assumptions about us.”

  She pushed against his chest. “Take me home now.”

  “I think we need to talk.”

  “No, let me go.”

  He tightened his hold on her. “Is that the reason you escaped to the retiring room at the ball?”