A Season for Sin

by Vicky Dreiling

  After the worst of the shock passed, he’d been numb, but bit by bit he’d grown increasingly interested in the people and towns they visited. “It was a grand experience,” Bell said. “We traveled to France and Italy and lived like nomads.” He huffed. “We rode donkeys one time. Never again,” he said, shaking his head.

  Colin laughed. “Lucky you. I always wanted to go.”

  Harry stubbed out his cheroot and looked at Bell. “Are you setting up Rosalynn as your new mistress?”

  “No, she’s dedicated to treading the boards,” Bell said.

  “A pity,” Colin said. “Harry, tell us more about the widow.”

  Harry finished off his brandy. “My female cousins said she’s purported to be very proper. They heard no man can tempt her.”

  Bell’s blood surged as the word challenge echoed in his mind.

  “He’s probably not interested in a tepid ball,” Harry said.

  “But there’s the midnight supper,” Colin said, “and punch.”

  Bell made his decision. “If it’s too tame, we can always leave.”

  “Right,” Harry said. “So you’re in?”

  “Why not?” He intended to secure an introduction to the very proper lady, whom he just might lead astray.

  Two hours later, Bell waved Harry and Colin off in a hackney and stood watching as his carriage rumbled toward him. Masculine laughter alerted him. He looked out of the corners of his eyes and frowned at the trio of young men. The boy he’d seen last evening with the wheat-colored hair was staggering a bit. For a moment, he thought of saying something to them, because it was clear they were foxed and sitting ducks for London’s criminal element. But he didn’t know them.

  They were someone else’s responsibility.

  Yet, as he climbed in the carriage, he found himself wishing he’d given them a stern warning. If their parents didn’t take them in hand soon, the young men might find themselves in debt or worse. But their welfare wasn’t any of his affair. He knew better than to stick his nose in the business of others.

  Bell rapped the roof of the carriage. Minutes later, the vehicle jerked into motion. As the carriage rocked along, he tried to push the image of the young men out of his mind, as he’d always done when he didn’t want to think about something. But for reasons he didn’t understand, he found it difficult to forget them.

  Perhaps they reminded him too much of his own short-lived misadventures the year when he and his friends graduated from Cambridge. They’d managed to escape some tedious entertainment and found their way into a bawdy house. He’d been titillated and scared witless at the same time. If not for his friend Will’s older brother Hawk, who found them, the three of them might have ended up with the French pox. Bell remembered worrying that Hawk would spill everything to his parents. Instead, the earl had purchased some French letters and told them to use them if they valued their sorry hides.

  All of that had happened several years ago—a lifetime ago, when his world had seemed secure and full of possibilities. He’d soon learned how quickly and easily cruel fate could snatch away everyone he held dear.

  He huffed, thinking it was the brandy that had made him maudlin tonight.

  Yes, it was the brandy. And three young bucks who undoubtedly believed that nothing bad could ever happen to them.

  Chapter Four

  Laura was at her wit’s end as she paced the green drawing room. Every hour that passed increased her concern. She had rung the bell for the butler four times to inquire if Justin had returned. Eventually, she’d forced herself to stop troubling the servants when clearly they would inform her the moment he arrived home.

  Once again, she glanced at the mantel clock and fisted her hands. It was one thirty in the morning. When Justin returned home, she would blister his ears for running amuck like one of those irresponsible rakes. If he didn’t explain his whereabouts and apologize for making her worry herself sick, she would take him home on the morrow.

  Oh, she never, ever should have brought him to London.

  The worst part was that there was nothing she could do. London was a sprawling city, and any attempt to hunt for him would prove impossible. But she couldn’t stop worrying. Some horrid thief might accost him. Her sweet Justin could die on the streets without her ever knowing what had happened to him.

  Stop it. She was allowing her imagination to run away with her, and that would do her no good at all. She needed to be calm and collected when Justin returned. Then she would be firm about the consequences of disobeying her. He would spend the next week secluded in their town house as punishment for arriving home long after midnight.

  For now, she must try to rein in her agitation. She made herself pick up a book and sit in a chair to read. When she settled on the cushion, she realized that she’d managed to choose a volume of Shakespeare’s sonnets. With a sigh, she remembered the sound of her late husband Phillip’s voice as he’d read to her during their brief courtship. The Earl of Chesfield had been twenty-seven years her senior when she’d met him, but he’d been kind to her, even though she was far beneath him. Although she’d been only twenty, she and Phillip had shared a love of walks and poetry. Despite the great age difference, she’d loved him.

  When Phillip had proposed, her father had been aghast, but Laura had known her prospects of marrying were frankly below sea level. Her papa had tried hard, but with ten children, he couldn’t provide the sort of dowry that would attract husbands for his four daughters. Her mother had said it was a practical decision and was proud that Laura had married so well. Laura had been very grateful to Phillip for providing financial assistance to her family, but more than anything, she’d loved being his wife. When he’d confessed he worried she’d made a bad bargain with an old man, she had told him never to speak the words again.

  Her biggest regret was that she’d never been able to provide him with more children, because he’d grown ill early in their marriage. Phillip had felt guilty, but she’d always shushed him. Four years after his death, she still missed him on a daily basis, but she kept busy with her charitable projects, reading, and looking after Justin.

  Justin was the light of her life, the only son of her late husband. For the past eight years she’d been the only mother he’d ever really known. Phillip had gotten married late in life to his first wife, Eleanor, who had produced Justin and died in childbirth along with the infant one year later. A succession of nannies had looked after the boy, until Laura had agreed to marry Phillip.

  It was times like this that she missed her late husband the most. When she’d married Phillip, she’d adored his son, and Justin had loved her as well. Back then, she’d not anticipated the difficulties that lay ahead with parenting a seventeen-year-old who thought himself invincible, but she would manage. As with most things, there were always bumps in the road. Long ago, she’d learned to tackle one problem at a time. It was the only thing that had saved her sanity while nursing her severely ailing spouse. She’d hated watching him suffer, but at least he had not been alone.

  Those thoughts dampened her spirits considerably. She always tried to focus on the positive, but tonight, she found it more of a trial than ever. The clock chimed twice, and Laura massaged her temples. If only she knew where to look for her stepson, she would scour the city. Laura was grateful to have one friend here, because it made the homesickness for Hampshire more bearable.

  The sound of masculine voices alerted her. Laura gathered up her skirts and rushed out onto the landing. She pressed her hand to her chest upon seeing Justin with his two friends George and Paul.

  Relief replaced her anger, but only momentarily. She descended the stairs, focusing primarily on Justin. She noticed that his friends wouldn’t look her in the eyes, and that bothered her more than anything. Only someone with something to hide would look away.

  “Laura, we had an accident,” Justin said. He looked at his friends as if seeking corroboration.

  “Right,” George said. “One of the horses threw a shoe,
and there we were, stuck on the dark street, looking for a hackney.”

  “It took a long time before we found one,” Paul said.

  “You’ll need a ride home, I suppose,” Laura said.

  Paul gave her a blank look. “The hackney is waiting for us.”

  “We’d better be off,” George said.

  After the two young men left, Justin started to walk away, but Laura put her hand on his arm. When he turned to her, he lurched a little. That was the moment she smelled the spirits on his breath.

  Her lips thinned. “Come with me to the drawing room.”

  “Aw, not now,” Justin said.

  “Yes, now,” Laura said.

  When they reached the drawing room, he sprawled in a chair with a sullen expression.

  “Justin, I know you’ve been imbibing strong drink.”

  He rolled his eyes. “I only had one drink.”

  “You cannot fool me,” she said. “We spoke about the dangers of London before we left Hampshire. You promised me that you would use caution.”

  “We were stuck, and it was deuced cold,” Justin said. “The driver had a flask.”

  “A likely tale.” She paused and added, “I don’t trust your friends. George wouldn’t even look me in the eye.”

  “Stop treating me like an infant,” Justin said.

  “I worried about you,” she said. “It is after two o’clock in the morning. If something happened to you, I wouldn’t even know where to look.”

  “You worry too much. I told you we got stuck,” he said, resting his chin in his palm.

  “I promised your father that I would look after you.”

  He shoved out of the chair. “I can look after myself.”

  She went after him. “Justin, do not walk out on me.”

  “Let go, Laura. I don’t need a nursemaid.”

  “Justin, I’ve half a mind to take you back to Hampshire on the morrow.”

  He ignored her and strode out of the drawing room.

  When the door closed, she looked up at the ceiling. “Oh, Phillip, I wish you were here to set him straight.” But he wasn’t, and it was up to her to ensure her stepson didn’t land in a situation that might prove disastrous. She straightened her spine, determined to have another talk with Justin in the morning. If he wasn’t cooperative, she would remove him from the city faster than he could blink.

  Like it or not, he’d find out soon that she was made of stern stuff and wouldn’t tolerate rebelliousness.

  The next morning, Bell attended his fencing practice at Angelo’s. Perspiration dotted his forehead as he attacked, but he’d learned the art of reserving his strength. The fencing master was familiar with his technique. For several minutes, they parried as usual. Then something rose up inside Bell. He surprised the fencing master by lunging earlier than usual. A surge of energy rolled through his veins as he went on the attack, moving quickly and ruthlessly. He was vaguely aware of a gathering crowd as he pushed harder and faster.

  The master parried, but Bell went on the attack again and again, gritting his teeth and giving his opponent no quarry. Some long-buried need to fight, win, and capture rose up within him. He didn’t think; he just gave into the primitive instincts coursing through him. Voices rumbled as their blades clanged, and then he rushed forward, forcing the master backward.

  When the assault ended, rousing applause rang out. Bell ignored it and shook the master’s hand. He wasn’t all that surprised by the aggressive feelings that had coursed through him. He had the blood of medieval warriors running in his veins, and despite his polite, albeit cynical, veneer, he figured he was only one step removed from his savage ancestors.

  He set aside the rapier and accepted a towel. After patting his forehead and chest, he looked up to find the trio of youngbloods he’d seen twice before. He probably wouldn’t have recollected them, if not for the lean one with the unusual wheat-colored hair. The other two were unremarkable in looks, but shared the same surly expression as their friend. The only other distinctive trait all three shared was bloodshot eyes. Bell walked past, determined to dismiss them altogether. But when he pulled his damp shirt over his head, their voices reached him.

  “Damn my eyes, did you see the muscles in his chest and upper arms?” one of the dark-haired boys said.

  “Looks as if he’s been chopping firewood,” the one with the wheat-colored hair said.

  Bell heard the sarcasm in the young man’s voice and looked at him with an intense expression.

  The young man pretended not to notice.

  Bell snorted and walked off. Oh, ho. He didn’t envy the father of this unruly young fellow.

  His thoughts turned elsewhere as he dried off and dressed. He had several matters to review before the sessions in Parliament this afternoon. Then he remembered the ball he’d agreed to attend with Harry and Colin. With a huff, he figured the widow was either fictitious or unattractive. There was, however, a slight chance she would turn out to be beautiful and willing. He snorted. Harry’s female cousins had probably fabricated the story in jest.

  Bell returned home that afternoon and went to his study to attend to the mail. His secretary’s pen scratched as he recorded Bell’s instructions to bankers, solicitors, and his steward in Devonshire. Next, he tackled the mountain of invitations for the following week and only accepted a few where he knew he would meet up with some of his political allies.

  When his secretary handed him a personal letter, Bell broke the seal. It was from his old friend Will. He dismissed the secretary and unfolded the letter.

  Dear Bell,

  It’s been an age since last I saw you. Sorry for being so slow to write. It’s been quite busy since we moved last fall. I’m sure by now that Fordham has informed you of his marriage. Well, I never thought I’d see the day that our friend would settle down, but there you have it. He probably told you that Amy and I are expecting our first child this summer. I told her I wanted a girl to please her, but she didn’t believe me. My wife has always seen right through me.

  I hope you’ll visit us in the Cotswolds this summer. It’s quite cozy and rather scenic here. We take long walks, and I’ve even acquired a couple of setters. I thought them good dogs for a gentleman, but as it turns out they’re terrified of my cat. So now I’m stuck with a pair of cowardly setters, and a cat who thinks she’s the queen of our cottage.

  Amy sends her regards and says she will be sure to serve roast beef and pudding when you visit us. I hope all is well in London. Send a letter when you can.

  Yours, etc.

  W. D.

  Bell folded the letter, remembering the four years he and Will had spent journeying on the Continent. Lord, they’d had some wild adventures, but they were over now. Nothing would ever be the same.

  He ran his thumb over the seal, thinking perhaps he would pay his old friend a visit this summer, but he reconsidered. After all, he wasn’t keen on domestic bliss. Lord, dogs, cats, and soon an infant. Will had certainly turned over the proverbial new leaf, and now Fordham would follow in his footsteps.

  Bell sighed, knowing he should have foreseen it all, but somehow he’d just never thought of it.

  He stowed the letter in a drawer, stood, and walked out of the study. Tonight he would attend the ball, and if luck were with him, he’d find a new mistress.

  Chapter Five

  Laura tapped her foot in the drawing room while waiting for Justin to appear. When the clock struck nine, she lost all patience, marched upstairs to his bedchamber, and rapped her fist on the door. “Justin, are you ready yet?”

  “Go away,” he said.

  She inhaled, determined not to lose her temper. “Open the door, please.”

  When he didn’t answer right away, she inhaled sharply. “Either you open this door or I’ll take you back to Hampshire early tomorrow morning.”

  Heavy footsteps sounded. When he yanked the door open, a blond lock fell over his brow, and he regarded her with a sullen expression. At least he was dressed f
or the ball. Then he stepped a bit too close.

  Justin had developed the habit of using his height to loom over her, but she wasn’t the least bit intimidated. “Why are you so opposed to accompanying me?” Not so very long ago, he’d always been agreeable, but since coming to London, Justin had balked at being seen in her company.

  “I don’t see why you won’t let me go with my friends,” he said.

  She wouldn’t let him go with his friends because she didn’t trust them. Frankly, she didn’t trust Justin either, after smelling the liquor on his breath last night. There was no doubt in her mind that his friends were a bad influence.

  “Justin, you have two choices,” she said. “Either you accompany me or we stay home. I’m perfectly content to spend a quiet evening with a book.”

  “You can’t stop me from leaving,” he said.

  “Perhaps not, but if you insist upon rebelling, I’ll have no choice but to contact your uncle.” It was the last thing she wanted to do, because Montclief had made it clear he was too busy with his own large brood of children to be bothered, even though he was the boy’s guardian. At any rate, Laura felt she was the best person to see to Justin’s needs.

  “You always want to control me,” Justin said.

  Her temples throbbed. “You wouldn’t rebel like this if your father were alive.”

  Guilt flickered in his eyes. “It’s dashed embarrassing,” he said. “My mates will poke fun at me.”

  She took a deep breath. “It will be a large ball, and you will have plenty of freedom. There will be pretty girls you can dance with, and you can see your friends. I doubt they’ll notice you arrived with me.”

  He scuffed his shoe on the carpet. “I suppose so.”

  “That’s better,” she said, smiling. “I’m sure you’ll have a wonderful time. Shall we go to the ball now?”

  He nodded and followed her downstairs.