Once Bitten, Twice Shy (Choc Lit)

by Christina Courtenay

  Once Bitten, Twice Shy

  Christina Courtenay

  Copyright © 2012 Christina Courtenay

  Published 2012 by Choc Lit Limited

  Penrose House, Crawley Drive, Camberley, Surrey GU15 2AB, UK

  www.choclitpublishing.com

  The right of Christina Courtenay to be identified as the Author of this Work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988

  All characters and events in this publication, other than those clearly in the public domain, are fictitious and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publisher or a licence permitting restricted copying. In the UK such licences are issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency, 90 Tottenham Court Road, London, W1P 9HE

  A CIP catalogue record for this book is available

  from the British Library

  ISBN-978-1-78189-043-1

  CHAPTER ONE

  ‘I think it’s time Robert found himself a wife – you must take him to London, Jason.’

  Jason Warwycke, fourth Marquess of Wyckeham, slowly finished his perusal of the Gazette and looked up at his stepmother, Caroline, who was seated at the other end of the polished dining table. It was long enough to seat ten people either side, but right now, Jason would have been happier if it had been twice that length.

  ‘Is that so?’ he replied. Although his tone was even, there was an underlying sarcasm that anyone but Caroline would have noticed, but as always, she was oblivious to anything other than having her way.

  ‘Well, he needs some town bronze, so you may as well kill two birds with one stone, don’t you think? It can’t be good for him to spend all his time in the country.’

  Jason stifled a sigh and put down his paper. It was obvious that there would be no peace in which to read until Caroline had left the room. ‘As far as I am aware, Robert has not expressed any desire either to go to London or to take a wife. He seems perfectly happy to stay where he is.’

  Robert Warwycke was his younger half-brother, the product of his late father Gerald’s second marriage. Their father had been killed in an accident when Robert was only ten, and Jason had naturally become his brother’s guardian. As Gerald had left his wife and younger son in dire straits financially – the estate being entailed to Jason with little provision made for anyone else – the latter had allowed them to continue to live at Wyckeham Hall, which became his main residence as well. Although Gerald had been the kind of man who preferred sporting pursuits to paperwork, Jason knew his father had intended to provide for Robert and Caroline eventually, he just hadn’t got round to it. Gerald had obviously believed he had plenty of time for such boring tasks. It didn’t matter as Jason had every intention of helping his brother. At first, it suited him to have them in his house so he could keep an eye on Robert, and he was pleased with the way his brother had turned out, despite having to fight Caroline every step of the way with regard to education and upbringing.

  At Robert’s coming of age a few months previously, however, Jason had judged it time the young man learned to fend for himself. He’d bought him a small country estate to run, and Robert had thrown himself into this task with enthusiasm. They had hardly seen him since and Jason doubted very much he could be tempted away any time soon.

  ‘Pah! He won’t find a wife in deepest Wiltshire.’ Caroline made it sound like Outer Mongolia and Jason stifled a sardonic smile. She’d been born and bred in that very county herself and it was where Jason’s father had found her.

  ‘He’s very close to Bath, you know. Plenty of society there.’

  She ignored the interruption and continued as if he hadn’t spoken. ‘There are no families of any note in those parts, none at all. No, you must take him to London and soon, before he falls in love with some unsuitable country girl, not fit to be the next Marchioness of Wyckeham.’

  A spurt of anger, so strong it surprised him, shot through Jason at Caroline’s blithe assumption that he himself would never beget any heirs, and that it was a foregone conclusion Robert would be the next marquess. For heaven’s sake, I’m not in my dotage! Jason was only thirty-two. And even though he had declared to all and sundry that he would never wed again, there was no reason why he couldn’t change his mind.

  It was true that his first foray into the married state had been a disaster and he’d sworn not to repeat that mistake, but he thought there may come a time when he felt differently. Caroline was taking too much for granted. He clenched his jaw in determination and came to a swift decision. Now that Robert no longer lived at Wyckeham Hall, there was really no need for Caroline to remain either. As the only woman in the household, he’d given her leave to run things as she saw fit with the help of his housekeeper, never quibbling about any expense, no matter how vast. During the last year, however, he had noted several instances of downright mistreatment of his servants and the time had come for him to put his foot down. She was becoming insufferable and she had to go.

  Making a mental note to speak to his steward about having the Dower House refurbished as quickly as possible so Caroline could be moved there, he turned his thoughts back to her initial demand – that he take Rob to London to find a bride. Although his brother may not be ready for such a big step as yet, perhaps it wasn’t a bad idea to take him to the capital for some town bronze, as she had suggested. As his closest relative and possible future marquess (he emphasised the word ‘possible’ in his thoughts with another unconscious clenching of his jaw), Rob could not be allowed to turn into too much of a country bumpkin, after all.

  ‘Very well, I will take him to London,’ he said after thinking it over for a moment longer. ‘I have to go there on a business matter anyway, but don’t expect any miracles. At that age, he’s bound to fall in love with someone unsuitable no matter where he is, take my word for it.’

  And I should know, he thought to himself. He hadn’t listened to any warnings about his own marriage, had thought himself grown up and in control. He sighed inwardly once more. He would just have to make sure Robert was prevented from making the same mistake, forcibly if necessary.

  That kind of union I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy.

  CHAPTER TWO

  ‘Ianthe, why do you not make yourself useful for a change and fetch us some lemonade instead of propping up that pillar. Upon my word, you look very ill-bred lounging like that.’

  Miss Ianthe Templeton dragged her gaze away from the dance floor and frowned in her mother’s direction, but the latter had already turned away, secure in the knowledge that her daughter would do her bidding. After all, it wasn’t as if she had anything else to do, since no one was asking her to dance. Trying valiantly not to scowl, Ianthe made her way towards the refreshment table set up in a room adjoining the ballroom. She tamped down thoughts of rebellion. It may be a singular honour to have been given vouchers for Almack’s, but she for one would rather have stayed at home with a good book.

  She sighed, collected two glasses of the weak lemonade that tasted of nothing so much as dishwater, and returned to her mother. ‘Here you are, Mama, the patronesses’ idea of refreshment, as you requested.’

  ‘Don’t be impertinent. I’m sure it’s perfectly adequate. You may hold on to Serena’s until she has finished dancing with Lord Somerville.’

  Lady Templeton barely glanced at Ianthe. Her eyes were focused on the dance floor, where Ianthe’s twin sister, a young lady of exceptional beauty, was partnering
the most eligible bachelor in the room, the Earl of Somerville. It was a sight to gladden any fond mama’s heart, but this one in particular, thought Ianthe somewhat uncharitably. She knew Lady Templeton wanted her daughters married into the highest echelons of society, and at present there was no one higher than his lordship available on the marriage mart. The fact that he was also handsome, albeit in a rather flamboyant way, merely added to his charm.

  Ianthe suppressed another sigh. For herself, she would have been happy to receive an offer from any eligible gentleman, so long as he promised to take her away from London and the mindless entertainments offered there. But since no one was even asking her to dance, this didn’t seem a very likely scenario. Early on in the season she had acquired a reputation as a bluestocking, having unwisely mentioned a book on philosophy to a young man whose only interest was in horses and fisticuffs. The gossips picked up on this with glee. Since she and Serena were not identical twins, she didn’t have her sister’s good looks with which to mitigate such a deplorable tendency. From that moment on, her chances of making a good match had shrunk to almost none.

  She wondered for the umpteenth time why her mother had even brought her to Almack’s. The patronesses only included Ianthe in their invitation as an afterthought. It was Serena they really wanted, since she was the current belle of the season.

  The dance came to an end and Serena was escorted back to her mama by the earl.

  ‘I shall procure you some lemonade, Miss Templeton,’ he announced, and Ianthe’s protest was cut short by a quelling look from her mother.

  ‘How very kind. I’m sure Serena must be exceedingly thirsty after all that dancing.’ Ianthe turned away in order to hide her moue of distaste at her mother’s simpering. She knew she ought not to criticise her parent, but honestly, she was so transparent. If it wasn’t for the fact that Serena was so lovely, no doubt the earl would have fled long before now. After all, who would want to be saddled with someone like Lady Templeton for a mother-in-law?

  To pass the time, Ianthe took a sip of the lemonade that was now hers and almost spat it out again. Not only did it taste awful, but it was lukewarm into the bargain. Surreptitiously, she placed the glass on the floor behind a large pot plant and returned to lean on the pillar once more.

  Serena had now been joined by two of her best friends. The trio were awaiting Lord Somerville’s return with much giggling and fluttering of fans, when suddenly a collective gasp went through the crowded room and a momentary hush fell. All eyes turned to the door, where two latecomers had only just made it through the hallowed portals before the cut-off time of eleven o’clock. No one, not even the Prince Regent himself, would have been allowed in after that time. The doors swung shut behind them and the older of the two men stopped to survey the crowd with a sardonic lift of one eyebrow. Fierce whispering broke out on all sides, but he ignored it and bowed to the patroness on duty that evening, Lady Sally Jersey, obviously introducing the younger man to her.

  ‘Who is that, Mama?’ Serena whispered, uttering the question that had been hovering on Ianthe’s tongue. ‘He looks … dangerous.’

  Lady Templeton gave a little shudder. ‘Indeed and so he should. It is none other than the Marquess of Wyckeham. “Lord Wicked” they call him, because he murdered his wife. I am surprised he dares to show his face here.’

  Serena gasped, but one of her companions was made of sterner stuff. ‘Surely it was never proven, Lady Templeton, and he wasn’t charged with anything. Didn’t she fall down the stairs? An unfortunate accident, I was told.’

  ‘Pushed, more likely,’ her ladyship sniffed. ‘It was a well-known fact they didn’t get along and when she couldn’t produce the requisite heir …’ She left the sentence hanging, waiting for her young audience to draw their own conclusion.

  ‘Really, Mama, you shouldn’t repeat such gossip. Someone might hear you and accuse you of slander,’ Ianthe protested, but she found herself intrigued nonetheless.

  Staring at the marquess from across the room, she could well understand why people might think him capable of murder. With his sharp features and dressed all in black, apart from a snowy cravat tied in an intricate pattern, he did indeed look formidable. His clothes merely served to accentuate the excellent physique and hidden strength that so obviously lay underneath. The man exuded a latent power, like a big cat waiting to pounce. But as his gaze swept the room and briefly connected with hers, Ianthe glimpsed fierce intelligence and lazy amusement, rather than any menace. Her mother had to be wrong.

  ‘I’ll thank you to keep your advice to yourself, young lady,’ Lady Templeton grumbled. ‘I know what I know, and you’ll not convince me otherwise. And stop lounging, for heaven’s sake! It’s no wonder no one’s dancing with you. You look like nothing so much as a hay sack.’

  Ianthe gritted her teeth and turned away to hide her anger. If only she could escape, but there were still six weeks of the season to go and her mother and sister were determined to remain until the very end.

  ‘Shh, Mama, they’re coming this way,’ Serena hissed, and composed her features, fixing a small smile on her face to show off the dimples either side of her mouth. ‘And since a marquess is higher than an earl, who cares what he’s done.’

  Ianthe disapproved strongly of such a calculated way of looking at a man. To overlook his peccadilloes simply because of rank seemed to her the outside of enough.

  But who am I to judge? She would never get the chance to choose between a marquess and an earl, so it didn’t matter one jot to her. Still, she couldn’t suppress an urge to look at the man again. He fascinated her. Perhaps he was a conjurer instead of a murderer? She stifled a gurgle of laughter at her own silliness. Really, she must stop reading Gothic tales, they were putting strange thoughts into her head.

  Jason waited patiently while Lady Jersey interrogated his half-brother as to his prospects, intentions, and general likes and dislikes. Robert was a kind young man and replied as best he could, but when he shot his brother a glance that was a distinct plea for help, Jason deemed it time to intervene.

  ‘Sally, my dear, do stop chattering and perform your duty by introducing Robert to some suitable dancing partners. Do you see anyone you fancy the look of in particular, Rob?’ he asked.

  Robert scanned the crowd, as did Jason, and by coincidence their eyes alighted on the same group of women, seated in the centre of the one wall. ‘That dark beauty over there, is she spoken for?’

  Lady Jersey craned her neck to see where he was looking. ‘Well, as good as, but you never know your luck. That’s the Templeton chit, or chits I should say. There’s two of them, but only one worth having. Not a penny to her name, but a diamond of the first water. She’s got the Earl of Somerville eating out of her hand.’

  ‘You said there were two?’ Jason prompted, his gaze on quite a different lady. One who did not appear to be enjoying the evening’s entertainment at all, which was unusual for someone so young.

  ‘What? Oh, yes, she has a twin sister. Not identical in any respect, a bluestocking by all accounts. Equally poor, so no point courting her either unless you like bookish females, which you didn’t last I heard.’ Lady Jersey chuckled to herself and Jason swallowed a sharp retort. She must be referring to his last mistress, who had been incredibly beautiful but as dim as they came. Jason doubted if Alice even knew how to read. Perhaps that was part of the reason why he’d lost interest in her so quickly and had finished with her some months past.

  ‘Will you introduce us to the Templetons, please?’ he asked curtly.

  ‘By all means. Follow me.’

  Lady Jersey set off through the throng, which parted like the Red Sea had done for Moses. Jason hid a smile at this sight, marvelling at the power of Almack’s patronesses. No one wished to antagonise them in any way, lest they were barred from attending.

  The crowd had no such scruples when it came to himself, he noticed. Jason watched with secret amusement as several people glared at him and whispered to their friends,
as if they resented the presence amongst them of a man reputed to be a murderer. Others stared openly, obviously trying to decide whether he might be guilty or not. He barely glanced at them. Let them believe I murdered Elizabeth if they like. He didn’t give a fig what others thought. These people can go to the devil for all I care.

  The clusters of people shifted and he espied again the young lady who had caught his eye earlier. She was still leaning against a pillar, her arms crossed under her bosom, which was shapely enough, but not quite as ample as that of the dark beauty seated next to her. As he continued to walk towards them, he glanced at the so called ‘diamond of the first water’ for a moment in order to compare the two further. They both had dark hair, so black it was almost blue, but whereas the beauty had had hers fashioned into an intricate coiffure, the girl by the pillar wore a simple top knot which seemed to be coming undone since there were wisps of hair falling down either side of her face.

  Both had large blue eyes fringed by long sooty lashes, but there the similarities ended. The prettier one had a tiny retroussé nose and a rosebud mouth framed by dimples. The other girl’s nose was long and aquiline, her mouth more generous with only a hint of a dimple on one side. As Jason registered the smile fixed on the beauty’s rosy lips, however, he realised how utterly false it was. With an imperceptible shake of his head he returned his gaze to his original quarry, the girl by the pillar.

  Lady Jersey stopped in front of the party. ‘Ladies, may I introduce Lord Wyckeham and his brother, Lord Robert Warwycke. Gentlemen, this is Lady Templeton, Miss Serena Templeton, her sister Miss Ianthe, and Miss Gardiner and her sister Miss Anne.’

  Everyone bowed or curtseyed as required, and Lady Jersey engaged Lady Templeton in a brief conversation while Robert bowed over Miss Templeton’s hand and asked for a dance. She glanced at Jason, as if hoping to entice him on to the floor with her first, but when he pretended not to notice and remained silent, she replied, ‘Well, I do believe my card is full, sir, but perhaps I could ask one of my partners to allow you to cut in.’ With an imperious finger, she beckoned some hapless youth who had been hovering nearby, waiting for his dance.