Never Seduce a Scoundrel

by Sabrina Jeffries

  “True, they’re better known for their prowess at the tables than in battle. But that wouldn’t stop them from trying.”

  “And dying,” Lucas said calmly, though his hands had begun to shake so hard he could barely clasp the brandy glass. Now that the blood rush of battle was subsiding, it alarmed him how close he’d come to killing them. That was not why he was in England.

  He forced his glass to his lips and drank deeply, needing the burn to bring him back from a distant hell. What a cruel joke—having his quest take him to the one place he couldn’t stand to be, the one place he couldn’t be easy.

  Kirkwood gazed at him warily. “I should have discouraged you from wearing your uniform tonight, but with the war having ended so long ago, I foolishly believed you gentlemen would have put it behind you by now.”

  “I can’t speak for your soldier friends,” Lucas snapped, “but I have a bit of trouble letting bygones be bygones. What was done to me and my men was beyond the rules of war and common human decency.”

  “I realize that,” Kirkwood bit out. “And if I’d known Mother meant to invite so many officers, I would have nipped it in the bud. But a number of them have sisters who are heiresses, and she hoped to coax the females here—”

  “She’s determined to marry you off, isn’t she?” Lucas said, desperate to get off the subject of English officers, desperate to forget how close he’d come to murder. Kirkwood had once helped Lucas at great cost and trouble to himself, but some matters they would never agree on.

  His cousin wasn’t to be put off. “It doesn’t serve your purpose to make enemies here. No one will talk to you about Lady Tovey if you keep causing trouble.”

  Lucas swallowed more brandy. “They’re not going to talk to me about Lady Tovey regardless. Because I’m not one of them, and my father was in ‘trade.’”

  “Whatever the reason, your behavior hampers your investigation.”

  With a grim smile, Lucas thought of Lady Amelia. “Not necessarily.”

  Kirkwood stared at him. “What’s happened? Have you learned something?”

  “I will once I claim my waltz with Lady Amelia.”

  “Someone introduced you to her?”

  “Not exactly.” Lucas watched his cousin’s face carefully. “I caught her upstairs with a letter for you.”

  Kirkwood’s surprise looked genuine. “For me? Are you sure?”

  “Your name was on the envelope, and she put it on your pillow.”

  He seemed vaguely shocked. “I can’t imagine why.”

  “There’s nothing between you?”

  “I expressed interest once, but she rebuffed it. Lady Amelia is choosy. She came to the marriage mart late, and doesn’t seem to mind if she leaves it late.”

  Interesting.Choosy wasn’t a word he’d have used for the lady, with her flirting smile and swinging hips. “Why did she come late?”

  “How should I know? But she had her first season only after her father married.”

  Maybe because she hadn’t had the money for it before? No, her father was a damned earl, for God’s sake. Kirkwood needed money, yet continued to live at a level far beyond the average American. Lack of money might have nothing to do with Lady Amelia’s late entry into society.

  “Lady Amelia must have changed her mind about you,” he told his cousin. “I watched her put that letter on your pillow myself.”

  Kirkwood shook his head. “Frankly, I’m astonished. According to Miss Linley, the woman has repeatedly said she isn’t certain she even wants to marry.”

  “Miss Linley?”

  “One of Lady Amelia’s former classmates from Mrs. Harris’s very prestigious School for Young Ladies. Privately, we call it Mrs. Harris’s School for Heiresses. Taken together, the families of her students probably own half of England.” He gave a wan smile. “Tonight Mother invited every female who’d ever graduated from there. Most of them accepted.”

  “Don’t they care that you’re after their money?” Lucas asked, incredulous. He would never understand this English marriage barter system. Though Americans had it, too, most considered it undemocratic, which was why the high-class ones tried to disguise it.

  “Some of the ladies care, but they attend anyway to meet other gentlemen. Other ladies are willing to make the bargain. Like Miss Linley, who has a fortune, but craves the position I can offer. Or at least I think she does—she hasn’t answered my letter.” His eyes narrowed. “Could Lady Amelia have been delivering a letter for Miss Linley?”

  “Lady Amelia did claim she was doing it for a friend.”

  “Ah.” He turned for the door. “Perhaps I should take a look—”

  Lucas stopped him. “Not yet. I need you to introduce me officially to Lady Amelia. She agreed to a waltz, and I mean to claim it.”

  “How did you get her to agree to a waltz?”

  “I put the fear of God into her.”

  Kirkwood scowled. “I hope you didn’t draw your dagger on her, too.”

  “Of course not,” Lucas said irritably. “I can handle women like her.”

  “If you say so.” Kirkwood walked to the door. “Come on then, I’ll introduce you. But try not to offend the chit, will you? Her friends are all gossipy as the very devil, and I still have to marry one of them.”

  Setting down his glass, Lucas followed his cousin. “Surely a man of your intelligence and connections can do something else to get money.”

  Kirkwood opened the door. “Not at my rank and not in England. Here, an eldest son has obligations. I have two sisters and a younger brother. If I marry an heiress, they’re taken care of. If I don’t…” He sighed as he ushered Lucas through the door.

  Poor bastard. Though Kirkwood might not mind a wife who was about as useful as a ship’s masthead, Lucas couldn’t imagine using marriage to support his family. If he ever got around to finding a wife,he would be the one putting food on the table, not her.

  Thankfully, the hall was deserted as they headed for the ballroom. “What if you can’t get anything out of Lady Amelia?” his cousin asked.

  “Don’t worry, I will.” How hard could it be to get a frivolous flirt to reveal what he needed to know?

  “Why not ride down to Devon and confront her stepmother?”

  “If Lady Tovey is Dorothy Frier, then the minute some American soldier shows up at her husband’s estate asking to speak to her, she’ll smell a rat. She’s liable to alert Theodore Frier or run off before I can get past her butler. And this time, they’ll make sure I never find them.”

  “Only if she’s really who you think she is. If you’re right about her, then she’s a bigamist, for God’s sake.”

  “Assuming that she and Frier were legally married in the first place. It may have been a common law marriage. Clearly she got tired of being dragged from pillar to post by him, because I lost his trail after they separated in France. And how better to hide from the authorities than to marry a titled lord like Tovey?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “If she’s not who I’m looking for, then why did she have Tovey carry her off to the country the minute your mother started telling her friends about her visiting American cousin? She decided not to take any chances, that’s why. You said that she prefers the country; what else would a woman hiding from the law prefer?”

  “So she sent her stepdaughter to my mother’s ball to be accosted by you?” Kirkwood asked skeptically.

  “Look here,” Lucas said, growing exasperated, “I don’t know how the woman’s mind works. All I know is that Lady Tovey is the only lead I have left. I’m not going to risk alarming her or having her warn Frier until I’m sure I have the right woman.” He glared at Kirkwood. “Why all the questions? Do you have some problem with introducing me to that flighty wench, Lady Amelia?”

  Kirkwood arched one eyebrow. “If you’re going to call her a ‘wench,’ I do. She’s not a bloody taproom maid, you know, whom you can bully into—”

  “Fine,” Lucas growled, “I’ll claim my walt
z without an introduction.” He walked away from his cousin.

  “Stop, damn you!” Kirkwood called out irritably behind him. As Lucas halted, he came up alongside him. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t do it, for God’s sake. I just want to be sure you behave like a gentleman. Might you at least attempt to be circumspect and polite?”

  “I’ll be the soul of discretion,” he drawled.

  “Why don’t I find that reassuring?” Kirkwood sighed. “Perhaps luck will shine on us, and you’ll learn what you need to know in one encounter.”

  “I hope so. Because the quicker I finish this, the quicker I go home to Baltimore—far away from all you damned English.”

  Chapter Three

  Dear Cousin,

  Although I hope Newgate isn’t in my future, I would trust no one but you to break me out. Now for a more serious matter: Should I encourage Miss Linley to marry Lord Kirkwood despite his lack of fortune? She needs a husband of intelligence to make up for her lack of it, and I fear that her parents’ choice, Mr. Chambers, would indulge her silliness even more than they do.

  Your always inquisitive relation,

  Charlotte

  Amelia paced the retiring room, her pulse wildly clamoring. Major Winter had given her quite a fright. Goodness! She wanted adventure—not heart failure!

  Not that she cared about adventure if it meant Dolly was in trouble. But was she? Just because the major made a lot of notes about a woman with a similar name didn’t necessarily mean anything. It certainly didn’t mean he knew of Amelia’s connection to a Dorothy Smith.

  She had to find out what he did know, and that meant more encounters with him. Amelia wiped her clammy hands on her skirts. She could do this. She’d handled that disaster in the hall well. Never mind that she’d had to behave like a silly flirt; at least she’d fooled him. Or he wouldn’t have asked for a waltz.

  I’m a soldier, ma’am, not a courtier. I use whatever’s at hand to get what I want. And what I want tonight is a waltz.

  Lord, but the man made blackmail sound enticing.

  But beneath his seductive, slow-as-honey drawl was an iron will. He wasn’t some simpering lordling she could control with a smile here and a sharp word there—he was a seasoned officer of obvious intelligence. How would a true lady adventurer persuade him to divulge his secrets?

  Her flibbertigibbet act might work: men said things to a stupid girl they’d never say to a clever one. But she needed something more to distract him.

  A slew of scandalous fantasies born of reading the harem tales swirled through her head. She frowned. Not that . She wanted adventure, not ruin. Still, he had responded to her flirting. And even a suspicious marine might let something slip when a pretty woman turned his head.

  A little trill of excitement rippled over her, and she squelched it ruthlessly. What was the matter with her? Yes, the man exuded the most intoxicating air of danger, but until she knew if Dolly was in trouble, she dared not let that sway her.

  Heading toward the door of the retiring room, she stopped at the mirror to fluff her curls and pinch her pale cheeks. When Major Winter came for his waltz, she would play the wide-eyed miss to perfection, full of innocent remarks and teasing smiles meant to lull him into revealing everything.

  She sailed out the door in a spirit of bold bravado. Then nearly lost her nerve when she spotted the major himself standing with Lord Kirkwood and her chaperone.

  Her pulse broke into a gallop. Some lady adventurer she was. At this rate, she’d never find out what she needed to know.

  Forget that this concerns Dolly.You’re a spy on a mission. The American has secrets you must uncover for the good of your country.

  Her pulse settled. That was better.

  Their host glanced her way as she neared the group. “Ah, Lady Amelia, we were just asking Mrs. Harris about you. I’d like to introduce my cousin.”

  “Of course.” As the sounds of a quadrille wafted out to her, she forced a smile to her face. The waltz was next. Goodness gracious.

  Lord Kirkwood swiftly performed the introductions. When he mentioned that Amelia’s stepmother was American, she had to suppress a groan, but the major merely smiled in response. Then he asked for the waltz in a perfectly appropriate manner. If she hadn’t known he might be investigating Dolly, she would have been flattered.

  For a moment, she feared that Mrs. Harris, a petite thirtyish woman with incongruously flaming hair, might protest, since the major hadn’t exactly made the best impression. The widow did seem to regard both Lord Kirkwood and Major Winter with some wariness. But thankfully she only said, “Enjoy yourself, my dear,” and flipped open her fan.

  As the major led her into the crowded ballroom, Amelia felt his gaze bore into her. “Is Mrs. Harris your relation?” he asked.

  “No. My schoolmistress.”

  “I thought young ladies were generally chaperoned by family.”

  Did he mean anything by that? She couldn’t tell. “Yes, but my parents aren’t in town right now.” She watched for his reaction.

  He showed no sign of concern or surprise, just polite curiosity. “Oh?”

  “Papa and Dolly left for the country today—”

  “Dolly? The American stepmother Kirkwood mentioned?”

  Drat it, if he hadn’t known before of her connection to someone named Dorothy, he did now. What should she say? He could easily find out the truth, and if he caught her lying about something that simple, it might rouse his suspicions. “Yes.”

  “I reckon Dolly’s short for Dorothy.” He led her to the floor.

  She faced him with a bright smile. “We’ve always called her Dolly. I believe that’s actually her Christian name. In England plenty of women are named Dolly, you know, and it isn’t short for Dorothy at all. Why, only last week—”

  The waltz began, cutting off her babbling. Thank goodness. At this rate, he’d guess what she was about long before she learned anything from him.

  As he took her hand and laid his other on her waist, she forced herself to relax. Spies acted their roles with unruffled efficiency. They didn’t babble.

  Then he swept her into the waltz, and she focused on the dancing instead of her nervousness. But that only made it worse. Because now she was aware of him as more than just an investigator. Unlike the other men she’d met, he attracted her. His shoulder flexed beneath her fingers, his hand rode her waist intimately, and he smelled of brandy and steel, if that were possible.

  The critics were right—the waltz was too intimate, especially here beneath the romantic glow of argand lamps, with Lady Kirkwood’s roses scenting the air and the tiny orchestra filling the room with the most exquisitely sensual—

  “Why did your family go to the country without you?”

  Thankfully, the question jerked her out of her silly, girlish thoughts. Then she realized that while his question was perfectly understandable, his tone was almost too casual.

  She made her own tone match his. “They didn’t want to ruin my fun by forcing me to leave town in the middle of the season. But Papa felt it best that Dolly spend her confinement at our estate.”

  He looked surprised. “Confinement?”

  “Do Americans not practice such a thing?” she said with a look of wide-eyed innocence. “In England, when a lady is enceinte —”

  “I know what confinement is.” He took several deep breaths as if trying to calm himself. “I just didn’t realize that you English retire to the country for it.”

  “Dolly’s in fragile health.”

  “I see,” He sounded skeptical. “Is it their first child?”

  “Yes.” Fearing any other truths he might elicit, she changed the subject. “You dance well, Major Winter.” Actually, he danced like a soldier, masterfully taking control of every step. No one would ever have trouble following his lead.

  “You sound surprised,” he said. “Did you think Americans don’t dance?”

  Remember, be a silly flirt. “Of course not. But I am surprised a big, strong
soldier like you ever bothered to spend time waltzing.” She ran her hand over his powerful shoulder provocatively, then leaned close enough in the turn to give him a glimpse of her bosom. Men always seemed to like that.

  His gaze dipped unerringly to her chest and stuck there. “I’ve navigated a few ballrooms in my day,” he drawled.

  His bold gaze thrilled her. Her skin tingled beneath her gown, as if she’d exposed far more than the swells of her breasts, and she could scarcely keep her breathing steady, not to mention her steps.

  She dearly wished he’d stop looking at her as if she were naked. Aside from the annoying furor it roused in her blood, it made it awfully hard for her to concentrate on the task at hand.

  Only after he brought his gaze back up to lock with hers was she able to think what to say. She flashed him a smile. “I heard you were more interested in pistols than in promenades.”

  He eyed her closely. “Upstairs, you acted as if you didn’t know who I was.”

  Drat it, she’d slipped up again. “I hadn’t connected you with the man everyone’s been gossiping about. Not until you introduced yourself.”

  “Ah.” His wary expression didn’t abate. His eyes searched her face from beneath incredibly long, sooty lashes. “What other gossip did you hear about me?”

  “Not much. No one seems to know anything.” She cast him a coy glance. “Speculation has run high. Everyone wonders why a man who so clearly dislikes the English would be in England visiting his cousin.”

  He scowled. “What makes you think I dislike the English?”

  “Come now, Major Winter, you’re less than cordial to the gentlemen, and you haven’t danced with any of the ladies—”

  “Because I had nothing to blackmail them with. Not because they’re English.” The smile he flashed her would have sent her pulse into a tizzy…if his eyes hadn’t remained as wintry as his name.

  “So your stay in England is just a social visit.” Just to provoke him, she added, “And you wore your dress uniform to a ball bristling with English officers because you thought it would help you make friends?”