How to Ravish a Rake

by Vicky Dreiling

  Why had he chosen her? Because he thought she was an easy mark. That night in Lord Beresford’s library, he’d told her he found her intriguing. She’d known he was lying. Tonight, however, she’d walked right into his trap. He’d taken advantage of her and now she felt stupid for letting him trick her.

  Obviously, he was a vile deceiver and didn’t care about anyone but himself. She would not blame herself. Granted, she knew his reputation, but she’d thought she was safe at a ton ball. Clearly, the proprieties meant nothing to him.

  She sat there for a while, indecisive. The last thing she wanted was to encounter him again, but she had done nothing wrong. She refused to allow him to spoil another ball for her. Part of her wanted to remain in the retiring room longer to calm her nerves, but others had seen her walking with the devil. If she didn’t return to the ballroom soon, someone might notice. She didn’t want to stir up any suspicion.

  Amy rose, shook out her skirts, and headed back to the ballroom. Once inside, she found herself surrounded by the same group of ladies who had flocked round the devil at Ashdown House.

  “Oh, my gracious,” Sally said. “Everyone saw you dancing and walking with the devil.”

  “I am so jealous,” Priscilla said. “However did you manage to capture his attention?”

  “Indeed,” Charlotte said. “Everyone is dying to dance with him, and you looked as if you wanted to kick him.”

  Amy affected a bored expression. She would never admit he’d tricked her. “He insisted on dancing and wouldn’t leave my side afterward.” She sighed. “I finally managed to escape him.”

  Sally, Beatrice, Catherine, Charlotte, and Priscilla all gaped at her.

  Mr. Osgood, Mr. Benton, and Mr. Portfrey joined them, precluding any further discussion of the devil. Everyone spoke at once, with the exception of Amy. She found it impossible to follow several conversations at the same time and took the opportunity to survey the ballroom. Fortunately, the devil was nowhere in sight, but he could be lurking somewhere in the crowd. If she encountered him again, she would give him the cut direct.

  Mr. Osgood turned to her. “Miss Hardwick, would you do me the great honor of taking a stroll out to the landing, where it is cooler?”

  “Yes, thank you.” He was everything a gentleman should be—kind, respectable, and gracious. Any lady would be lucky to have him as a suitor, but she cared for him only as a friend.

  He led her through the crowd and out onto the landing. There were a few couples standing near the stairwell, but he took her over to a wall niche with a statue of Diana.

  “Thank you,” she said. “My ears were ringing in the ballroom.”

  “Miss Hardwick, may I speak plainly?” he said in a solemn undertone.

  “Of course.”

  “I saw you dancing with Darcett,” he said.

  She regarded him warily.

  “Frankly, I grew concerned when he led you into the adjoining drawing room,” Mr. Osgood said. “Are you aware that his reputation is unsavory?”

  She found his concern a little endearing. “I would have to be deaf and blind not to know.”

  “Yet you allowed him to escort you.”

  “While I appreciate your concern, we were in full view of others.”

  “Please forgive me. I should not have said anything.”

  “I take no offense, Mr. Osgood. I think it is very kind of you to warn me, but I assure you that I’m in no danger of falling for his wiles.” Not anymore, she silently amended.

  He offered his arm. “Shall we return to the ballroom? You undoubtedly wish to dance.”

  “Are you asking me?” she said, smiling.

  “May I have the honor?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she said.

  They turned, and Amy hissed in a breath as she met the devil’s dark eyes. He stood with his back to the railing. His lips curved a little in the slightest of smiles. Then he inclined his head. As Mr. Osgood led her away, she could practically feel the devil staring at her.

  “You seem discomposed,” Mr. Osgood said.

  “Not anymore.” She vowed never to let the devil disturb her again.

  Will stood with his back against the railing. No doubt she thought Osgood safe company.

  She was no fool. He’d pushed too far and too fast tonight, and she’d rebuked him soundly. Ordinarily, he played the seduction game with more finesse, but desperation had led him to miscalculate, the same way he’d done at the gaming table. Now he’d lost again. After tonight, she would never speak to him. He didn’t blame her.

  Bell emerged from the ballroom and joined him. “You seemed to have her in the palm of your hand. Then I saw her with Osgood.”

  Will turned and looked down at the checkered marble floor below. “Leave it alone.”

  “Something went wrong,” Bell said.

  “I’m done with this scheme.” He felt a little ill just thinking what he’d planned to do to her.

  “What will you do?”

  “Go to my brother when he returns,” he said.

  “There are other wallflowers.”

  “I can’t,” he said.

  Bell glanced at him. “Why?”

  “It seems I have a conscience after all.”

  Chapter Four

  Georgette came to Amy’s room early the next morning and flopped on the bed.

  Amy rubbed her eyes. “It’s very early, and we did not get home until very late last evening—or, rather, morning.”

  “I’m sorry, but I had to talk to you. You know my mother will sit and listen to us in the drawing room after breakfast. So I must speak to you now.”

  Amy sat up. “What is it?”

  “You will not believe what happened at the ball last night,” Georgette said.

  Amy thought about her horrid encounter with Mr. Darcett, but she said nothing because Georgette was clearly agitated and needed her. “Tell me.”

  “My mother embarrassed me last night. I overheard her telling Mrs. Jenkins that she expects Beau and me to be engaged shortly.” Georgette jerked up to a sitting position. “How could she do that to me?”

  “Oh, dear.”

  “She means to have her way. Yesterday, she told me to be sure to make myself agreeable to Beau. I asked her what she meant, and she chided me for being impertinent.”

  “You were having a wonderful evening with Beaufort last night,” Amy said.

  “Something else happened.” Georgette’s face crumpled.

  Amy found a handkerchief on the bedside table.

  Georgette dried her tears. “Beau asked me to walk with him in the ballroom, so of course I said yes. Then we saw his mother and mine sitting together. They beckoned us. I suspected trouble, and I was right. They made a big to-do about what a handsome couple Beau and I make. Then his mother said there would surely be wedding bells before the end of the Season. I could feel my face burning the entire time.”

  “I’m sorry. It does sound rather embarrassing.” The story made Amy appreciate her mother all the more. She’d often thought Georgette’s life was so much easier than her own, but now she knew that her friend had her share of problems.

  “It got worse,” Georgette said. “Beau actually cupped his ear and said he thought he heard bells.”

  “I think he is in love with you,” Amy said. “I know you care about him.”

  “Don’t you see? There are all pushing me to marry him. It is as if it is a foregone conclusion, and I’m simply supposed to agree, because everyone has expectations.” Georgette hugged her knees. “I feel as if they are all taking away my choice.”

  “Georgette, if you love him, do not let others come between you and Beau.”

  “Amy, he is pushing me as well. He assumes that we will marry. Imagine how you would feel if your parents were prodding you to marry Mr. Crawford. And add to that his assumption that you will marry.”

  “He has not directly mentioned marriage, but he has hinted,” Amy said. “And I really didn’t appreciate it when he asked my f
ather’s permission to correspond with me, when I never gave him leave to make the request.”

  “So you do understand,” Georgette said. “We should have the right to decide for ourselves.”

  Amy sighed. “There is one big difference. Mr. Crawford does not love me, and I’m fairly certain that Beau loves you.”

  “What happens after marriage?” Georgette said. “Will Beau continue to make assumptions? Will he make decisions for me, without asking? Will I ever have the right to make my own choices?”

  “Perhaps you should talk to Beau about your concerns.”

  “Yes, you’re right.” Georgette frowned. “Amy, you were gone from the ballroom for a long time. I saw you walking with Mr. Darcett.”

  She related the story to her friend. “I knew he was an unprincipled rake, but I thought I was safe with so many others about.”

  “Why would he do such a thing?” Georgette said. “It is one thing for him to parade around with some of those immodest widows, but he knows such conduct is forbidden with maidens.”

  “I think he believed me to be easy prey.” She fisted her hands. How dare he treat her so disrespectfully? The horrid man ought to be ashamed, but he was probably amused by what he’d done to her.

  “It makes no sense,” Georgette said. “He’s a rake. Why would he risk getting caught alone with a respectable lady?”

  Amy swallowed. “Because it is not the first time he’s caught me alone.”

  “What?” Georgette said loudly.

  “Lower your voice,” Amy said. “I don’t want anyone else to know. It could hurt my reputation.” Then she told Georgette the story about how he’d found her in the library.

  “We will give him the cut direct,” Georgette said. “He comes from a very good family, but he is not respectable.”

  “I hope I never see him again,” Amy said. But Julianne was his sister-in-law, and Amy suspected she might encounter him when she called on her friend at Ashdown House. If so, she would look through him as if he didn’t even exist.

  Later that morning, Amy and Georgette took their places at the round table in Lady Boswood’s drawing room. They both brought their needlework, as Georgette’s mother insisted they apply themselves to it daily.

  “Miss Hardwick,” Lady Boswood said, “I saw you dancing with Mr. Darcett last evening.”

  Amy exchanged a knowing look with Georgette.

  Lady Boswood sniffed. “He is a handsome young man, but his reputation is not the best. I am aware that it is gratifying to receive attention from young men, but I would caution you where he is concerned. Promise me, you will avoid him.”

  “You can be safely assured I will have nothing to do with him again,” Amy said. Her temper flared each time she thought of the way he’d gulled her.

  “Georgette, I was gratified to see you dancing and walking with Lord Beaufort,” Lady Boswood continued. “Everyone says you make a most becoming couple. And I expect one day you will be a countess.”

  Georgette bent her head to her needlework. Her fingers were trembling a little. Amy felt bad for her friend. She wondered when her friend would ever have the courage to stand up to her mother, but Amy acknowledged that it would probably do more harm than good.

  A footman arrived with a tray of mail. Although Amy was eager to know if her mother had written, she concentrated on her needlework. A lady did not openly show her impatience.

  Several minutes later, Lady Boswood handed a letter to her daughter. “It is from your aunt Marianne. And here is a letter for you, Miss Hardwick.”

  At long last, Amy thought. She was sure it was from her parents, but when she looked at the address, her heart sank like a stone to her stomach. This was not her mother’s handwriting.

  Lady Boswood’s face flushed. She unfurled her fan and applied it. “It is exceedingly warm in here. I don’t know why the servants insist upon building up the fire.”

  Georgette regarded her mother with wide eyes, with good reason, for the room was comfortable.

  Lady Boswood rose. “I must attend to the menu in my sitting room. Georgette, I trust that you and Miss Hardwick will occupy yourselves by answering your letters. You know my opinion on idling.”

  After Lady Boswood left, Georgette shook her head. “This is not the first time that my mother has complained about the heat. It certainly makes her very ill-tempered.”

  Amy shrugged. Lady Boswood seemed ill-tempered much of the time. However, her face had flushed bright red. “Perhaps she isn’t feeling well.”

  “She has been very irritable,” Georgette said. “Well, I’m glad she is gone, because I have no intention of reading Aunt Marianne’s letter. I’ll write to her later.”

  Amy broke the seal on her letter. “But how will you respond to her when you have not read her letter?”

  “She always complains about her various ailments, and then she asks when I intend to marry. So I write the same letter to her each time.” She regarded Amy with an impish grin and started speaking in a sugary voice. “Dear Aunt Marianne, I hope this letter finds you in better health. Mama and Papa are well. My brothers and their wives are well. I am still unmarried, but Mama has high hopes for me. Yours truly.” Georgette’s twin dimples showed as she grinned.

  “You are incorrigible,” Amy said, laughing. Then she unfolded her letter.

  “Is it from your parents?” Georgette asked.

  Amy sighed. “No, it is from Mr. Crawford.”

  Georgette hurried over to Amy and sat beside her. “What does it say?”

  “I just now broke the seal.”

  Georgette regarded her with a sly expression. “Read it aloud.”

  “You had better read your aunt’s letter and respond kindly. What if she intends to leave you her fortune?”

  “Ha. She’s more likely to leave me her stinky old hound, Herbert.”

  Amy laughed. “Is your aunt really that horrid?”

  “No, she’s worse,” Georgette said. “Oh, well, I’ll be dutiful and read the old curmudgeon’s letter.”

  Georgette grumbled under her breath while unfolding it. Amy smiled, but it faded when she started reading Mr. Crawford’s correspondence.

  Dear Miss Hardwick,

  I hope this letter finds you in good spirits. For myself, I fail to understand the attraction of London with its reportedly dirty environs and criminal element. To be frank, I am at a loss as to why you would choose London over your own wholesome home in the country.

  You know my objective, though I have not yet tendered that which I still hope you wish to hear. I was saddened by our parting. In all honesty, I was shocked that you would tell me not to wait for you. It was my understanding that you went to London at the request of your friend, but now I wonder if there were other reasons. I do not wish to offend you with suspicions. Perhaps you might write and reassure me that nothing has changed in your regard for me.

  Yours sincerely,

  F. A. Crawford

  “Amy?” Georgette said. “You look troubled.”

  She looked at her friend. “He still has not given up on waiting for me, even though I made it clear that I would not make a commitment. Apparently I wounded him. I did not wish to do so, and now I feel awful.”

  Georgette set her letter aside. “First of all, if he felt so strongly, he ought to have proposed, but he did not. I wager he had ample opportunity to do so. Second, he went behind your back to ask your father’s permission to write. In doing so, he ensured he could plead his case. But it was wrong of him. He is trying to manipulate you. Do not feel sorry for him,” Georgette said. “If his spirits are dampened, it is his own fault.”

  Amy folded his letter. “I believe he means well, but he is not without fault, and neither am I.”

  Georgette shook her head. “Why do you say that? You have done nothing wrong.”

  “Yes, I have.” She smoothed the folds of the letter. “I said that I came to London to be with you, and that was true. But I neglected to tell the whole truth. I came here for
myself, because I wanted one season where I wasn’t sitting on the wallflower row, and I wanted to find love. And I did not tell Mr. Crawford that last part. Perhaps I should have, but I think that would be harsh. My decision to tell him not to wait was the kindest thing to do.”

  “I suppose you will answer his letter.”

  “Yes, I must. I dread the task, but I think it is important that I tell him that we are not well suited after all. And I will wish him well.” She took a deep breath and released it slowly. “And then I must somehow explain my decision to my parents. I believe they are under the misapprehension that I wish to marry Mr. Crawford.”

  “Will they be disappointed?” Georgette asked.

  “I doubt I’ll ever know. They would be unlikely to tell me.” Amy wondered how she would ever tell them that she had considered marrying Mr. Crawford to please them. Then it occurred to her that they might be better off not knowing. Mama and Papa would blame themselves and feel that they had failed her. But Amy knew that her confusion and reticence in this matter had led her to make mistakes.

  Amy rose from the chair. “I will write to Mr. Crawford now. I fear if I do not do so that I will put it off, because it is an unpleasant task.” She took the letter with her upstairs to the little desk, drew out a sheet of paper, and opened the inkwell. At first, she froze as she sought the best way to tell him that there was no future for the two of them. Then she realized that simplicity and brevity would be the best course.

  Dear Mr. Crawford,

  I received your letter today and am sorry to have been the cause of any pain. It was unintentional. In your letter, you expressed shock that I asked you not to wait for me. In all good conscience, I could not. I determined that our interests and temperaments are very different. Yet my admiration for you is such that I have been conflicted for some time. After much reflection, however, I have concluded that we are not well suited.

  I hold the highest esteem for you and admire you very much for your devotion to the church. I know you put great store by being an example as well as a spiritual leader to the parishioners.