Duke of Decadence (Lords of Hedonism Book 1)

by Violetta Rand

  “Sources say her father has grown impatient with her, demanded she choose a husband or he’ll do it for her.”

  He rubbed his chin, rather intrigued by the idea of seducing a lady who didn’t know who he was. “How old is she?”

  “Nineteen,” Graham answered. “Ripe for the taking.”

  Why did it bother Farrington to hear other men discuss her so carelessly? “Would you say such things to her father?”

  “Of course not!” Graham assured him. “We are all friends here.”

  Alonzo nodded; he could easily forgive their crude remarks—he had been equally guilty in the past—women being their shared passion. But not a duke’s daughter. Only courtesans and widows had graced his bedchambers across the Continent. There was nothing he could do about it now. Farrington would have to wait and see if she accepted his invitation for tomorrow evening. If she did, he’d get her alone in the countess’s gardens and begin the arduous but also fulfilling process of seducing her. If not, he would find a way to be formally introduced to her father.

  “I must go,” he said suddenly. “I cannot break with tradition, and in order to be in my best form tomorrow evening, I require extended rest.”

  “Rest?” Graham eyed him speculatively. “I thought you were the opera star, not an actor like me.”

  To Graham’s credit, he could spout off Shakespeare upon request, having memorized every line of every play, a habit he picked up at the age of seven.

  “What do you mean, Graham?”

  “You’re not going home to sleep. You have a bloody ritual that you follow religiously the night before any performance. Unfortunately, you’re a superstitious fool.”

  Alonzo grinned and straightened his cravat. “I am proud of it.”

  “Indeed. A rosewater bath, a fresh shave, three snifters of whiskey, a massage from your favorite maid, and a half dozen boiled eggs? Sounds more like the ingredients for a witch’s spell,” Damien teased.

  “Those indulgences have never failed me.” Alonzo bowed. “I am off.”

  “Wait!” Damien stopped him as he started to walk away. “Do you care to make a wager before you leave?”

  He had never shied away from a friendly bet, however, if such a wager was recorded in the book at White’s, then everyone would know he had an interest in Lady Julia. That would undoubtedly compromise her reputation.

  “No,” he said with conviction.

  “No?” Damien pressed.

  “Shall I spell it out for you, old friend?” He really needed to stop thinking about the lady and focus on preparing himself for the concerto. “I will see you both tomorrow evening. Good night.”

  Once he had his coat and hat on, he departed the club, realizing there were many hours left in the day. Too much time to waste wondering if Lady Julia would show up tomorrow.

  Chapter Five

  “You look lovely, Julia,” Willa said as she watched her spin about in front of the mirror. “The rose color of your muslin gown is perfect against your porcelain skin.”

  “And you? Do you regret wearing the blue?” How could she? Willa was beautiful, chestnut hair, dark eyes, and dimples that appeared whenever she smiled or pouted—which she did often.

  Their hair matched, intricate mixes of braids and curls arranged becomingly about their faces in the Greek style, with dozens of pearls woven into Julia’s abundant tresses. A single strand of pearls and sapphires graced her long neck, drawing attention to her low, square-cut neckline. She held a matching fan made of silk and ivory and decorated with matching jewels to her necklace.

  A generous friend, she had loaned a delicate gold chain with a ruby pendant to Willa. Both would draw attention when they entered the countess’s townhouse, especially since they had only been able to send confirmation of their attendance at the last moment.

  Pleased with their appearances, Julia signaled for her lady’s maid to bring their matching wraps, which would protect them against the evening air. Since her father had gone to his club for the evening, demanding only that she take an extra footman with the carriage and her lady’s maid as chaperone, it had been easy for Julia to accomplish the first part of her plan—give the pretend duke every reason to dislike but respect her. For no matter what, she would catch him in his lie, then possibly expose him for what he truly was.

  Posing as a member of the ton, especially a duke, was a crime. And if he was willing to do that so blatantly, she imagined he would have committed other crimes, too, like convincing hard-working people to extend him credit—bills she was sure he never intended to pay—fraud and theft of the worst sort.

  That thought made her dizzy with disapproval.

  Imagine doing such a thing!

  Comfortably arranged in her father’s ducal carriage, with Hamlin, her lady’s maid seated across from her and Willa, she practiced the art of opening and closing her fan properly, nearly forgetting the secret language all ladies of worth were taught from a young age.

  Willa watched her with interest, shaking her head. “If anyone has killed the art of gesturing with her fan…”

  “Killed it?” Julia rolled her eyes. “Am I that helpless?”

  “Follow my example, Julia.” Willa took up her own fan. “Carrying your fan in your left hand in front of your face means you are desirous of an acquaintance with someone.”

  Julia mimicked her graceful movements perfectly.

  “Well done. Now try this. Hold the handle to your lips, but do not touch it to your mouth.”

  Her eyebrows shot up. “To my lips but don’t touch it exactly?”

  “Precisely right.”

  “That is utterly confusing.”

  Even Hamlin could not resist chuckling lightly.

  Julia gave her a chastising look but smiled fondly at her maid. “That will be enough out of you, Hamlin.”

  “Of course, ma’am,” the maid said.

  “No, Julia, that’s all wrong. Watch again.” Once more, Willa displayed her fan in front of her bow-shaped mouth. “You are asking for a kiss in the only way a woman can without appearing vulgar.”

  “Why should I not just kiss the handle myself? That will make my message very clear, don’t you think?” She kissed her fan exaggeratedly.

  “Lady Julia!” her friend admonished in a playful tone. “How will you ever charm your duke if you cannot express yourself properly?”

  “He is not a duke, Willa. And the Lord blessed me with a capable mind and quite the vocabulary to communicate with.”

  “I am afraid by the time this evening is over, our reputations will be forever ruined, and we will both be mentioned in the gossip pages!”

  “Can you not hear it now?” Julia asked. “Lady J. and her dearest friend, Lady B…”

  “Do not wish ill upon us, Julia.”

  “I did no such thing.”

  “By verbalizing it, you are wishing it into existence.”

  Julia placed her gloved hand on her friend’s arm. “I never knew you to be so superstitious. Perhaps you have been reading too many of the books you sell in your shop.”

  Willa nodded. “I admit I have a fondness for obscure manuscripts about medieval myths—magic, even.”

  “I am sorry,” Julia said. “I have overlooked my responsibility to help find you a suitable husband. You have been left alone too often, I fear. Let us remedy that starting tonight.”

  In response to Julia’s thought, Willa began fanning herself vigorously. “Have you any idea what I am trying to communicate now?”

  “No.”

  “I am letting you know I am engaged.”

  “But you are not betrothed to anyone.”

  “Julia, if you think I didn’t notice your tactic of changing the subject, I did.”

  “All right. Show me how to tell someone I wish to be rid of them.”

  “That would be a terrible thing to do to the duke.”

  “He is not a duke.”

  “I believe he is. What are you afraid of? You could have asked your father
about him.”

  “And ruin my fun?”

  Willa gave her a sideways look. “Is that what all of this is about? You have grown bored with your charitable work, studies, and general rebellious behavior and require a new distraction?”

  “I never tire of charitable work, you should know that about me.”

  “I retract that part of my observation, but not the rest of it.”

  “I accept your retraction, and admit I have grown restless at times.”

  “How very brave of you,” Willa said. “As a reward, I will teach you the proper way to be rid of an unwanted suitor.” She placed her open fan on her left ear.

  “That is the most ridiculous thing I have ever seen.”

  “Why? It is a subtle gesture.”

  “What lady in her right mind would put a fan on her ear?”

  Willa shook her head. “Now you are just being difficult on purpose.”

  “No,” Julia disagreed. “I am trying to understand why anyone would waste valuable time inventing a secret language of the fan at all. There are so many useful languages to learn, real ones that would advance the minds of many silly English girls.”

  Hamlin coughed behind her raised hand.

  “What is it?” Julia asked her.

  “We are about to arrive at our destination, ma’am.”

  “Thank you, Hamlin. You are always sensible.”

  “You are very welcome, ma’am.”

  “See,” Julia said to Willa. “Hamlin provides useful information.”

  “So do I,” Willa said. “You are one of those silly English girls, by the way.”

  Julia frowned at her friend and stared out the window of the carriage. “I speak fluent French and Italian, and can read Latin better than most men of the cloth!”

  “You are accomplished,” Willa said, “but still a debutante.”

  The carriage pulled around the curved driveway and stopped in front of the grand entrance to the countess’s Mayfair townhouse. The footman opened the door to the carriage and helped Julia and Willa down. They climbed the three marble stairs to the elegant entrance lit by four brass lanterns on either side of the open double doors.

  The countess had purchased the adjacent corner townhouse after her husband, the earl, had died and spent two years having their original townhouse and the new one turned into a single home. The result was one of the most elegant structures in Mayfair.

  The entrance hall boasted white marble floors, four decorative pillars, and stained-glass windows overlooking the front of the home. A carved staircase led to the first floor, where Julia and Willa were announced and received by the countess.

  “You will be the talk of the ton, Lady Julia,” the countess whispered. “Whatever has lured you out of your father’s library and into my home is already being bet on at White’s.”

  Julia gave the countess a small smile and curtsied to her hostess. “With a limited number of invitations sent out for this delightful event, I am sure you already know where I received mine from.”

  The countess gave a firm nod and winked at her as Julia walked away, allowing the guests behind her to greet the older woman.

  “She winked at you, Julia,” Willa said breathlessly.

  “Perhaps the countess knows something we do not,” she said rather distractedly as her gaze swept over the lovely décor.

  The first floor had two oversized drawing rooms divided by folding doors. However, the doors were now open, creating a generous space. Two white marble fireplaces were ablaze and three crystal chandeliers cast the room in brilliant light. Mirrors adorned the walls, and bouquets of hothouse flowers were placed in Grecian style floor vases, the exotic colors as beautiful as the rich fabrics of the women’s expensive gowns.

  The first drawing room had been transformed into a music room, a pianoforte and harp arranged by a small dais where two silver floor stands alight with dozens of candles awaited the night’s performance. Julia counted the chairs that had been set out for the audience—there were sixty-eight.

  “A rather small gathering,” Julia observed.

  “You mean intimate,” Willa said.

  “There are Lord and Lady Bellingham. The Duke of Keller and his betrothed. Is that not the Earl of Wesley?”

  “You’re doing it again, Julia.”

  “What?”

  “Avoiding the subject at hand.”

  “No. I am simply pointing out who is here. And you did not answer my question.”

  “Yes,” Willa said. “That is the Earl of Wesley.”

  “He is a rather handsome specimen, is he not?”

  “Men are not specimens.”

  “Jean Baptiste Pierre Antoine de Monet would disagree, I think.”

  Willa gave her one of those what-nonsense-are-you-talking smirks. “And who is this Jean fellow?”

  “A French naturalist who claimed organisms had to change with their environments in order to survive.”

  “Did he consider men specimens?”

  “Not directly, but one can assume humans are living organisms like any other creature.”

  Willa sighed. “So, what would you consider the ton?”

  Julia gazed about again, watching the men and women interact. It was as if everyone within the peerage were characters in a play, all in costumes and all upon a great stage. “Most definitely creatures.”

  Willa could not hold in her unladylike giggle, which caught the attention of Lord Ashton and several older women standing nearby.

  “Lady Julia,” one of the women said. “Where is your father?”

  Julia gave the older woman the respect and attention she deserved. “He had important business tonight, Lady Hamilton. But I will be sure to let him know you asked after him.”

  Lady Hamilton’s expression softened, and then she looked at Willa. “Lady Willa, how is your mother?”

  She curtsied. “She is very well, Lady Hamilton. Thank you.”

  “Let her know I will call on her sometime next week.”

  “She would be delighted.”

  Julia took her friend’s arm and ushered her away from the crowd and into a corner overrun with ferns and flowers. “Tell me we didn’t make a mistake coming here tonight.”

  “You are nervous, Julia.”

  “No,” she denied. “Uncomfortable, perhaps, but not nervous.”

  “Have you seen the duke?”

  “No. Which leads me to believe…”

  Just then, Duke Emerton and the countess walked to the center of the room and called for the attention of her guests. The people grew quiet.

  “Though an informal gathering,” the duke said, “my sister wishes all of us to be seated, for her special guest, the surprise she has struggled to keep secret, is about to be introduced for his first performance.”

  The guests did not stay silent for long. In fact, excitement took over as everyone speculated about who would be performing tonight.

  “I think we should find our seats,” Willa suggested.

  Julia shook her head. “Actually, if you do not mind, I prefer to stay here, well hidden from probing eyes.”

  “His eyes?” her friend asked.

  “Any eyes,” Julia lied, knowing full well she did not wish for her fake duke to see her just yet.

  Chapter Six

  The Duke of Pridegate took a last look in the mirror and smiled. His dark, curly hair had been combed to a luster. His hair, though somewhat unfashionably long, was an attribute woman loved.

  His tailcoat and vest were charcoal, his form-fitting pantaloons a shade lighter. But it was the intricate mask in his left hand that he admired most. He had a collection of Italian-made costumes to wear when he performed, and most included a mask.

  Tonight, he would not wear a costume, only the half-mask of a mythical beast featured in George Frederick Handel’s Rinaldo—from which he would perform an aria.

  His valet circled him a last time, stopping at his crisp, white cravat.

  “Well Anderson, is there s
omething amiss?”

  “No, sir,” the valet said dispassionately. “I only wish to assure that your necktie is what it should be.”

  “Very good.” Alonzo trusted his valet completely.

  Just then, the door to the small salon opened and the countess floated inside, all smiles. “We are ready for you, Alonzo,” she addressed him with comfortable familiarity. “I do believe some of the ladies are frothing at the mouth in anticipation of whom my very special guest might be.”

  He grinned at the lady, one of his closest advisors and allies, once his mother’s best friend. “I will not disappoint, Frederica,” he said as he secured his mask over his face.

  She clapped and followed him from the salon and into the drawing room. The assembled guests settled down, some knowing who he was by his mask, for no other opera singer dared to wear what he did on stage. And who would criticize a duke?

  For the guests that had never heard him sing or had never experienced the type of stage presence he had, well, he would win their admiration tonight, as he always did—men and women alike, noble or commoner—it did not matter.

  The chandeliers had been muted, leaving the silver floor stands with dozens of candles as the main source of light. He stepped onto the dais and signaled for his accompanying musicians on the pianoforte and harp to begin. Alonzo had sung this piece dozens of times, and it was one of his favorites.

  The slow but passionate rhythm filled the chamber, building to a wild crescendo. The music always overtook his senses, plunging him into a place that stole a piece of his soul every time he performed. It was only during these moments that he truly felt free. Released from the bonds of his title and wealth, from the ton that demanded so much of him, including his siblings and aunts, two of whom were in the audience tonight.

  But his restless mind sought another, his gaze working quickly to find the pretty woman who had doubted who and what he was—Julia Castle. Had she accepted his impromptu invitation? From what he’d been told about her, and judging by the betting book at White’s, she was a wildly popular target for gossip and undeserved speculation. Though none of the rumors actually sullied her reputation directly but did paint her as a hoyden. The kind of hellcat he preferred in his bed.