A Season for Sin

by Vicky Dreiling

  Bell whistled as he strode up the walkway to his town house. Griffith opened the door and stiffened as Bell stepped over the threshold.

  “Is all well with you, my lord?” Griffith asked as he took Bell’s greatcoat.

  Bell’s brows drew together as he set the flask on the marble hall table. “Why do you ask?”

  Griffith hesitated.

  “Out with it, man,” he said.

  “You were whistling, my lord.”

  “God save us. The world is crumbling beneath our feet,” Bell said.

  “If you say so, my lord.”

  He regarded his butler suspiciously, but Griffith adopted his usual stoic expression.

  Bell stripped off his gloves and hat. Then he retrieved the flask. “Thank you, Griffith.”

  “It was entertaining, my lord.” Griffith paused and added, “The whistling, I mean.”

  Bell snorted and strode off to his study. Now and then, Griffith allowed his dry sense of humor to emerge. After sitting at his desk, Bell put the flask on it. He’d never much believed in coincidences, but there was no doubt that he’d accidentally encountered the wayward Justin and his stepmama on more than one occasion.

  He was a man who believed only in what he could see, touch, hear, and smell. But events had presented him with an opportunity.

  Her name was Laura. And he meant to find out more, much more.

  A few minutes later, the front bell jangled. “What the devil?” he muttered as he looked at the clock. It was after one o’clock in the morning.

  Footsteps clipped quickly, and Griffith entered. “Two gentlemen by the name of Harry and Colin wish to see you. I believe they’re inebriated, my lord. I presume you wish me to send them on their way.”

  Bell tapped his chin. “No, send them in.”

  Griffith’s brows rose.

  “Now would be fine,” Bell said.

  “As you wish, my lord,” Griffith said as if he thought Bell witless.

  A few minutes later, the pair invaded his study. Their eyes sparkled, and it was clear to him that they were excited about something. “I’d offer you a brandy, but my butler said you’re inebriated.”

  “Only a little,” Colin said.

  “He needed several drinks after his encounter with Lady Angeline,” Harry said.

  “She’s a witch,” Colin said. “I tried to be polite during our enforced dance, but she hurled insults the entire time—with a smile on her face so our mothers wouldn’t guess how diabolical she really is.”

  Bell leaned back in his chair. “Oh, come now. She’s a lady.”

  “She’s a shrew,” Colin said.

  Bell couldn’t resist teasing him. “But I understood you were promised to each other at birth. Sounds like wedding bells to me.”

  Colin recoiled. “I’d rather marry Satan’s mistress.”

  “That bad?” Bell said.

  “Worse,” Colin gritted out.

  Harry clamped his hand on Colin’s shoulder. “Look at the bright side. She didn’t blacken your eye this time.”

  Bell frowned at Colin. “Why did she blacken your eye?”

  A flush spread over Colin’s face.

  “He tried to kiss her,” Harry said.

  “It was the blasted Christmas mistletoe,” Colin said.

  Bell snorted.

  “Can we change the subject?” Colin grumbled.

  “Very well,” Harry said. “My mother is throwing a Venetian Breakfast next Friday. Only it’s in the afternoon, not morning, but I don’t know why.”

  “Your mother is throwing breakfast?” Bell said, pretending to be shocked.

  “Ha ha!” Harry said. “Very funny. The point is the widow will be there.”

  “But how will I know her?” Bell asked.

  “That might be a problem. I asked my female cousins to make the introduction, but they said no when they learned it was you.” Harry shrugged. “I’m sorry to be the one to tell you, but you have a terrible reputation with the proper ladies.”

  “I may go into a decline,” Bell muttered.

  “There’s a bright side,” Colin said, nudging Harry with his elbow.

  “My mother said you’re invited as long as you stay away from the nice ladies,” Harry said.

  “I suppose that includes the widow,” Bell said.

  “Well, don’t take it too hard, Bell,” Harry said. “My female cousins said you don’t stand a chance with the widow.”

  He’d prove his friend wrong.

  “I heard there is a Cyprian’s ball next week,” Colin said. “I wouldn’t mind setting up a bit of muslin.”

  Harry sighed mournfully. “I wonder if any of the Cyprians would take pity on me.”

  “No,” Bell and Colin said simultaneously.

  “There really is a Venetian Breakfast on Friday,” Harry said. “You’re both welcome to attend.”

  “Why not?” Bell said. By then, he would have already made Lady Chesfield’s acquaintance, and perhaps he would see her at the fete.

  After Harry and Colin left, Bell opened up the flask and sniffed, expecting something akin to rotgut whiskey. “Good God,” he muttered.

  Evidently, young Lord Chesfield had very fine taste in brandy. It would make for an interesting discussion when he called upon the young man’s stepmama tomorrow.

  Late the next afternoon, Laura was feeling buoyant after spending the day touring London with Justin. He’d particularly enjoyed seeing the Tower of London. Laura supposed such ghoulish places would fascinate young men. Afterward, they’d taken a boat ride on the Thames and finished off the day eating ices at the infamous Gunther’s.

  “It’s been a wonderful day,” she said. “We’ve had lovely weather and have gotten to see so much. Perhaps tomorrow we could visit the circulating library.”

  “I have plans with my friends,” he said. “We’re taking fencing lessons.”

  “Oh, that sounds like a lovely idea.” She certainly approved of the exercise, and of course, she could visit the library by herself. “We might ride at Rotten Row tomorrow at five. Lady Atherton offered to share her carriage.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Laura, please don’t be angry, but I prefer to ride with my friends.”

  “Oh, well, yes, of course you do,” she said. “I just thought—never mind. I understand.”

  He looked out the window and said nothing. Laura realized she was losing him already, bit by bit, as he exerted his independence. Of course, he’d spent several years at school and had come home for the summer and holidays. Now that he’d graduated, she’d hope to spend more time with him.

  He was growing older and apart from her. Four years from now, he would reach his legal majority. When that happened, he would take over the house and all the properties. He wouldn’t want to live with his stepmother any longer.

  She shook off the thoughts. Those days would arrive soon enough. For now, she must enjoy what time she did have with Justin, rather than worrying over events in the future that she had no influence over.

  The carriage turned into Grosvenor Square at long last. Once the driver halted the horses, Justin opened the door and climbed out. Then he held his hand out to assist her on the step. “Thank you,” she said, shading her hand over her bonnet as the sun was in her eyes. Then she turned to walk toward the rented town house with him.

  Once inside, he bounded up the stairs. She wondered why he was in such a hurry and realized his intention was to escape her.

  With a sigh, she removed her bonnet, hat, shawl, and gloves. Then she took the mail with her upstairs to the blue drawing room. As she sorted the letters, she came across one from Montclief.

  Her heart beat a little faster. He never wrote to her, unless it was to inform her that he’d officially approved of releasing Justin’s quarterly allowance. And it wasn’t time for his allowance.

  Why had he written all of a sudden? Because she’d written to inform him that she’d taken Justin to London for the season. Frankly, she was surprised that he’d
even bothered to respond, since he never answered any of her letters.

  With shaking hands, she broke the seal and unfolded the letter. Her temper ignited upon reading Montclief’s words.

  You ought to have consulted me prior to taking him on a journey. I certainly hope you’ve the funds to pay for all the expenses, because I refuse to release his quarterly allowance for a trip that I did not approve.

  In the future, you will consult me before making travel arrangements for my nephew. He is my ward, and your role is only to follow my instructions.

  She stood and fisted her hands. How dare he suddenly decide to intervene in their lives when he’d not lifted a hand to help Justin for years? He’d actually told her that he was too busy with his own children to bother with Justin. Now, Montclief had suddenly decided to mount a high horse and start issuing commands. He was awfully late in establishing his authority.

  Laura started to tear the letter, and then thought better of it. Someday, she might require it as proof of his neglect to his own nephew, though she doubted any court would side with a woman.

  Fortunately, she did have the means to pay for all of their expenses. She had never intended to make use of Justin’s quarterly allowance, even though she had every right to use it to pay for his clothing, food, and lodgings.

  She took a deep breath and blew it out. Well, she supposed the only reason Montclief had even responded was because she’d felt obliged to inform him about their activities. In the future, she would simply ignore Montclief, the same way he’d ignored Justin and her.

  The butler arrived at the door. “Lord Chesfield left a few minutes ago.”

  “Did he say where he was going?” she asked. He’d been home only twenty minutes.

  “No, my lady, he did not. However, you have a caller.”

  She rose. “Oh, it must be Lady Atherton. Please send her up.”

  “No, my lady. It is a gentleman.”

  “Who is it, Reed?”

  He held out the silver tray.

  Laura picked up the card, read the name, and dropped it.

  Reed retrieved the card and handed it to her.

  “Please inform Lord Bellingham that I am not at home,” she said, lifting her chin.

  “Yes, my lady.”

  After Reed left, she sank onto the red-striped sofa with gold-clawed feet and pressed her hand against her fast-beating heart. That horrid rake Lord Bellingham was the last person she wanted to see. She had no idea why he had chosen to call, but she didn’t care. As far as she was concerned, she could live the rest of her life without making that man’s acquaintance.

  A few minutes later, Reed returned to the drawing room holding a flask.

  “Did Lord Bellingham leave, Reed?” she asked.

  “No, my lady. He asked me to convey this flask to you.”

  She frowned. “Please return the flask to him. I do not want it.”

  “Yes, my lady.”

  After Reed left, Laura wondered why Bellingham had attempted to give her a flask. Well, it did not signify. She had no intention of making his acquaintance, especially after that letter from Montclief. The last thing she needed was for Montclief to learn that she’d befriended a well-known rake. Undoubtedly, Montclief would assume the worst, and then he would take Justin away from her. She could not afford to rouse even the slightest suspicion.

  Laura walked to the window and looked down at the street. That smart, shiny black carriage probably belonged to Lord Bellingham. Any moment now, he would emerge along the walk, and then she must step back, so that he wouldn’t know she had watched him.

  No doubt he thought himself a gift to women. He probably thought she had loose morals because she was a widow. Well, if he thought he could corrupt her, he was in for a surprise. She intended to keep far, far away from him, just as Lady Atherton had advised.

  Footsteps sounded outside the door and thudded on the carpet, but she kept her gaze on the street. Another carriage drew up. Well, that would be Lady Atherton. “Reed, I hope you sent the earl on his way.”

  “He tried, but I’m not so easily dissuaded.”

  Laura gasped and whirled around.

  About the Author

  Vicky Dreiling is a confirmed historical romance junkie and Anglophile. Frequent business trips to the United Kingdom allowed her to indulge her passion for all things Regency England. Bath, Stonehenge, and Spencer House are among her favorite places. She is, however, truly sorry for accidentally setting off a security alarm in Windsor Castle. That unfortunate incident led her British colleagues to nickname her Trouble.

  When she’s not writing, Vicky enjoys reading, films, concerts, and, most of all, long lunches with friends. A native Texan, she holds degrees in English literature and marketing. You can learn more at:

  VickyDreiling.com

  Twitter @vickydreiling

  Facebook.com/vicky.dreiling

  The adventure of Lord Bellingham and Laura, Lady Chesfield, continues in Vicky Dreiling’s sizzling new series…

  To save her stepson from his mean-spirited uncle, Laura will need the help of the devil himself.

  The last thing Lord Bellingham wants is a wife, until the beautiful Laura asks him to take part in a sham engagement—awakening his most wicked desires.

  See the next page for a preview of Book 1 in the Sinful Scoundrels series,

  WHAT A WICKED EARL WANTS

  Chapter One

  London, 1819

  Could this day possibly get any worse?

  Laura Davenport, Lady Chesfield, rubbed her temples after her butler quit the drawing room. Doubtless, she was the only woman in London who had the temerity to refuse admittance to the wicked Lord Bellingham. Indeed, she suspected even the most genteel of ladies would flutter their fans and flirt outrageously with him. Since she was a vicar’s daughter, she liked to think she was made of sterner stuff. Unfortunately, she’d discovered last night that she was more than a little susceptible to the uncommonly handsome earl.

  She would not think about the way he’d let his gaze travel over her body last evening at the ball. Most certainly, she would not dwell on the way her skin had heated while he’d perused her. Above all, she would banish the illicit fantasies that had danced in her head while she’d tossed and turned in bed last night.

  Even if she wanted to dally with the notorious earl, she would not dare, especially after receiving the scathing letter earlier from her stepson’s guardian. Montclief was displeased that she had taken his seventeen-year-old nephew to London. She’d found his terse letter hypocritical and insulting.

  Yesterday, she would not have worried a jot about Justin’s uncle. For years, he’d refused to do his duty by his nephew, claiming he was too busy with his own large brood. His letter, however, had left her with no doubt that Montclief would take Justin away if he heard even a hint of a problem.

  Laura inhaled and exhaled slowly to steady her nerves. She would write a short letter to Montclief to reassure him that all was well in London. It would be an outrageous lie, for Justin had turned quite rebellious recently. She must impress upon Justin the necessity of steering clear of trouble. If he did not cooperate, she would have no choice but to remove him from London.

  She walked over to the window. The wavy glass distorted the view somewhat, but that shiny black carriage obviously belonged to the Earl of Bellingham. Any moment now, he would emerge from her town house. All she wanted was to see the back of him retreating.

  How had he discovered her name and address? The thought troubled her. She had no idea why he’d sent up a flask, of all things, but of course, she’d refused his strange gift. They had not been formally introduced, and she most certainly did not wish to make that rakehell’s acquaintance.

  Another carriage drew up along the street. Oh dear, it must be her friend Lady Atherton coming to call. She would likely encounter the earl as she walked to the door. The situation was terribly awkward, but Laura knew she’d done the correct thing by refusing Bellingham.


  Footsteps sounded outside the door and thudded on the carpet. Certain it was her butler, Laura kept her gaze on the street below, expecting to see Lord Bellingham striding toward his vehicle any moment. “Reed, I hope you sent the earl on his way.”

  “He tried, but I’m not easily dissuaded.”

  The deep male voice startled her. Laura turned around with a gasp to find the earl standing in her drawing room. She pressed her hand to her fast-beating heart. For some reason he seemed taller than last night. One thing was clear; the man was far too bold. “My lord, are you in the habit of dispensing with the proprieties?”

  His mouth curved sideways in a roguish grin. “As a matter of fact, I am.”

  Her butler arrived, huffing and puffing. “My lady,” he said.

  She glanced at Reed. “I will take care of the matter.”

  Her butler hesitated, and then he quit the drawing room.

  Laura returned her attention to the earl. For a moment, she found herself captivated by his handsome face and artfully disheveled dark hair. In the daylight, his thick black lashes added to the allure of his brilliant blue eyes. Then she recollected her common sense and gave him a withering look. “I made it clear that I am not at home to callers, and yet, you persisted, even though we have not been formally introduced.”

  “Lady Chesfield, I am honored to make your acquaintance.” He bowed. “Bellingham, at your service.”

  Her temper flared. “How did you learn my name and address?”

  “I asked Lady Atherton last evening,” he said.

  The news physically jolted her. Lady Atherton was her friend. “I find it difficult to believe that Lady Atherton would give out that information.”

  His brows drew together. “She did not wish to tell me, but I insisted.”

  “Why?” she said. “We are strangers. You can have no business with me.”

  He held up the silver flask. “Actually, my business is with your stepson.”

  She tensed, and within moments, a chill ran down her spine. Oh, God, had Justin stolen it? She would not voice the words, because she couldn’t make herself do it. “How do you know him?”