Twilight with the Infamous Earl

by Alexandra Hawkins

  “I believe her older sister was betrothed to Leventhorpe,” Saint said.

  The Lords of Vice had turned into a bunch of gossips. “And you know this, how?” Frost asked, not caring one way or the other about the unknown chit.

  “Balls. A wealth of information can be gleaned if one has the patience,” Sin admitted.

  Frost smiled. “I don’t.”

  Raising his hands in surrender, Sin shook his head. “The increased crime around King Street has not gone unnoticed by the ton. There has been growing concern about the violence, and many blame the local taverns, brothels, and gambling hells.”

  “This Cavell woman has been suggesting to all who will listen to her rants that certain establishments are encouraging the criminals. Nox has been mentioned several times.” Saint paused, allowing the news to sink in. “Unfortunately, people are beginning to listen to her.”

  “Cavell.” Frost tasted the word on his tongue. Where had he heard that name—wait—no, it could not be! “You do not mean Miss Emily Cavell?”

  “Do you know that sharp-tongued redhead?” Sin asked in disbelief.

  Frost clapped his hands together and laughed until his ribs ached. His friends looked on, their expressions revealing that they collectively thought he had lost his mind. Miss Emily Cavell. So the lady had picked up her sword and was seeking another battle. How splendid! The Fates certainly had a sense of humor to bring that particular female back into his life. Now that a child’s life was not at risk, he intended to enjoy himself.

  “Leave Miss Cavell to me, gents,” Frost said, ignoring several snorts of disbelief. “As you all know, I have a weakness for redheads.”

  * * *

  Emily held her breath as she climbed the staircase of the family’s town house. So far, she had managed to enter the house unnoticed, and if her luck held she would have time to change her dress before her mother sent someone to her bedchamber.

  She was halfway down the passageway before she was stopped by her mother’s voice drifting from the drawing room.

  “Emily? Is that you, dear?”

  Emily froze, silently debating whether she should answer. Her mother might dismiss her as one of the servants if she remained quiet. She stared at the green oilcloth beneath her feet, the distinct scent of varnish overpowering the large bouquet of flowers that had been placed on the table at the top of the stairs.

  “If this is a game, Emily, I have no time for such nonsense,” her mother said, sounding mildly annoyed. “Come join us in the drawing room.”

  On a wordless sigh, Emily reversed her steps and crossed the threshold into the drawing room.

  “Good afternoon, Mother,” Emily said cheerfully, bestowing a kiss on the cheek her mother offered. “I was not aware we had a visitor.”

  “I do not consider Leventhorpe a visitor. As far as I am concerned, he is family and will always be treated as such.”

  “Madam, you honor me,” he said warmly. His gaze shifted to Emily. “Miss Cavell. How is it that you grow even lovelier with each passing year?”

  Emily acknowledged his flattery with a smile, and instantly forgave him for his tiny falsehood. As her mother had often told her, she was not the great beauty her sister had been. She had passable looks, though she doubted the earl would have noticed her if not for her connection to his beloved Lucy. She curtsied. “Lord Leventhorpe, it is good to see you again. It is a pity you have been unable to visit Riddlesden.”

  Riddlesden was the small country house her father had purchased from a desperate marquess the year before he had proposed to her mother. It was the only home she had known. She had spent her tender years there, chasing after her older sister, Lucy, and looking after her younger siblings.

  The earl bowed. “I was just offering my apologies to your mother,” he said, looking properly contrite. “I confess duty has kept me from visiting your family.”

  “It is difficult to remain vexed when you are standing before us hearty and hale.” She gestured for the gentleman to sit. “Dare I hope you will be remaining in London for a few months?” her mother asked, while beckoning with her hand for Emily to sit beside her.

  It was useless to argue, so she sat down on the sofa. Lord Leventhorpe chose one of the chairs. Emily could almost hear the wheels and cogs turning in her mother’s head. One thing was certain: The woman was up to something. After Lucy’s death, her mother had avoided everything and everyone who had reminded her of her eldest daughter—including the earl. He was living proof of all her mother had lost.

  Emily had assumed Lord Leventhorpe had similar feelings about her family. His infrequent visits had waned with the passing years. No one blamed him. The poor man had been devoted to Lucy. He had been inconsolable when news of her death had reached him.

  Grief no longer darkened his spirits. With a critical eye, Emily could see why her sister was so taken with him. The forty-year-old looked as fit as any gentleman in his twenties. The ladies of the ton were probably quite taken with his quiet demeanor, the distinguishing touch of silver at his temples, and his good looks.

  Their gazes met, and he grinned at her affectionately. He would have been her brother-in-law, and she supposed he still viewed her with a brotherly fondness.

  “Yes,” he replied, straightening his posture as if his physique truly shouldered the weight of his news. “As a matter of fact, I will be established in town for several months. And you?”

  Her mother fluttered and preened when his gaze returned to her. “How fortuitous! We have decided to extend our stay as well. Mr. Cavell and I have high hopes for our Emily.”

  “Me?” she squeaked, flustered to be the center of attention. This was her sister’s realm, not hers.

  Understanding lit the earl’s gaze. “Ah, you hope to introduce our Emily to polite society.” He gave Emily a sympathetic glance. “It is expected. How old are you? Nineteen?”

  “Twenty, my lord,” Emily replied, feeling the heat of a blush on her cheeks. She was not quite a spinster, but most ladies her age had already enjoyed several jaunts to London. If a lady possessed beauty and wealth, her future was often secured during her first season.

  Emily was too sensible to believe that she would be as fortunate as her sister had been during her first stay in London when she fell in love with Lord Leventhorpe. Lucy had a romantic, enthusiastic spirit that engaged everyone around her. Emily was a pale shadow in comparison, but she accepted these differences without acrimony.

  However, it served her purposes to allow her mother and the earl to believe she was willing to put herself up on the auction block like a horse at Tattersall’s. Neither one would approve if they learned the truth.

  Lord Leventhorpe opened his arms, the gesture encompassing both women. “Our little Emily is hunting for a husband. Consider me a willing participant. While I have no doubt you have respectable contacts in town, permit me the courtesy of opening a few doors. Never fear, we will secure a respectable husband for her.”

  Her mother’s gaze glistened with joyous tears. “Leventhorpe, your generosity overwhelms me.”

  Emily was feeling overwhelmed, too.

  “If Lucy and I had married, she would have insisted that we look after our Emily” was his quiet admission. “This is the least I can do to honor her memory.”

  Emily blinked rapidly, her throat tightening as she swallowed. How had she not noticed? Even though five years had passed since her Lucy’s death, the earl was still in love with her sister. She could not fathom a man loving her with that kind of devotion.

  “Do you think it would be rude of me to compile a list of prospective suitors?” her mother asked, rising from the sofa to ring for the butler.

  The question ripped Emily away from her melancholy thoughts. “Uh, Mother…” She tried to gain the older woman’s attention. “I do not believe a list of suitors is necessary.”

  “I disagree,” Lord Leventhorpe replied. “There are certain gentlemen who are able to claim good breeding, title, and wealth, but they
are absolute bounders. Such men are entirely inappropriate for you, my dear.”

  Accepting that it was an argument that she could not win, Emily nodded and tried not to sulk as the earl and her mother debated about the names that should be added to her mother’s list.

  Chapter Six

  Frost rarely pursued a lady.

  First, it took too much effort; more to the point, most were not worthy of the chase. Second, most ladies were willing quarry. His handsome face and title had opened the doors of countless bedchambers—something he had often had taken for granted. However, he had been willing to make an exception for Miss Cavell. Although it galled him to admit it, the lady mildly intrigued him. Her acrimony toward Nox gave him the excuse he needed to seek her out.

  In the end, she came to him.

  Well, not precisely to him. He and the lady just happened to be attending the same ball this evening. Fate had placed them on the same course, and he was willing to see for himself if the daring Emily was worth all the fuss.

  As he watched her from the upper landing, she was blithely unaware of his presence. She was speaking cordially with their hostess, Lady Fiddick, and her niece. Miss Cavell stood out from the trio, looking quite fetching this evening. The fashions this spring tended to favor brighter colors, most of which would have been disastrous for a redhead. Of course, this would not have prevented an ambitious miss who insisted on wearing the latest styles and colors. Unlike her two companions who were draped in scarlet and geranium, Miss Cavell seemed almost subdued in her periwinkle dress. Instead, the observer’s eye was drawn to her dark red hair. Her maid had curled the lady’s long locks into curls of medium thickness and pinned them into an artful arrangement. Several white roses had been added, and the overall effect made his fingers itch to discover all the hairpins concealed in her thick tresses.

  “I recognize that look,” a familiar masculine voice drawled behind him. “Only a woman can generate such predatory hunger in a man’s gaze.”

  Frost did not glance at his uninvited companion. “Lord Ravens. I did not realize you strayed from your personal house of iniquity to dally with the civilized.”

  The earl’s amusement covered him like the comforting warmth of a blanket. He had known the man for years. Before Saint’s marriage, he and Frost had been frequent guests at Lord Ravens’s intimate gatherings of debauchery. Once, the Lords of Vice had even considered inviting the earl to join them. However, not all of his friends appreciated Ravens’s unusual appetites, and the subject had been dropped.

  Even so, Frost doubted the gentleman would have joined them. He enjoyed being lord and master of his world.

  Frost shifted his gaze to Lord Ravens. His mild annoyance faded at the sight of his friend. With hair as dark as his own, the gray-eyed earl looked the same. The twenty-seven-year-old was unmarried and most likely would remain in that state unless he discovered a very understanding wife.

  “What brings you here?”

  “I could ask the same of you, my friend. After all, you are one of my favorite guests, and yet you have deprived me and my friends of your company.”

  “My apologies,” Frost said sincerely. “My appetites led me elsewhere, and I was content. No offense was intended.”

  “I am relieved. I value your friendship, and thought Sinclair and your other friends might have persuaded you to abandon our friendship since my gatherings are not for the unenlightened.”

  Frost heartily agreed. “Then you do not know me as well as you believed. No one, not even my good friends, tells me whom I may spend my evenings with, or where.”

  Lord Ravens smiled. “Excellent. Then I pray you will return to us soon?”

  “How can I refuse such a warm invitation? Especially since I envy the contents of your wine cellar.”

  The earl coughed into his hand. “And nothing else tempts you?”

  Frost laughed. “Oh, there is no doubt that you provide many temptations, gent. It is one of the reasons why some people dislike you.”

  “Dislike?” He raised his brows as he considered the word. “Several of your friends despise me. Vanewright, in particular, always looks as if he’d like to plant his fist in my jaw.”

  Vane had not been in the best of moods the last time Saint had dragged their friend to Ravens’s town house. It had happened so long ago, it was not worth explaining. Instead, he teased, “You sound surprised. I thought most gents wish to murder you.”

  Ravens chuckled. “True. Many secretly fear I will steal their wives away from them.”

  “And would you?”

  The earl shrugged. “Is it my fault that I am irresistible to most females?”

  Frost clapped a companionable hand on Lord Ravens’s shoulder. “And that is why you and I get along so well. We are afflicted with the same problem when it comes to women.”

  “It is only a problem if you are the man with the unfaithful wife.” Ravens casually nodded toward the chattering females below. “And which lady has caught your eye this evening? Or is it all three?”

  The question was not meant to unsettle Frost. Lord Ravens was wholly indiscriminate when it came to women or men. Married, virgins, old, and young, he welcomed them all into his bed.

  “Why? Do you wish to join me?”

  Over the years, there had been evenings when drink, boredom, and lust had turned into a potent combination, and he had indulged in the mindless orgies Ravens had hosted. Frost had rejoiced in the abandonment, but it did not take long for it to pall as well. It was one of the reasons why he had not visited the gentleman’s residence in two months.

  “Are you willing to share?”

  Frost glanced at Emily Cavell. Share her? He did not like that idea at all. Once he was finished with her, perhaps. For now, he was feeling a little selfish. He wanted to take his time in discovering the lady’s secrets, and he was in no mood to turn this into a competition with Ravens. “The decision isn’t mine to make. Besides, I’ve promised Lady Fiddick that I would behave myself. Club business has brought me here.”

  “Ah, I see. A shame, really,” Ravens said, clearly disappointed. “The redhead might prove challenging. Can’t see much from our perch, but I’m more interested in what she has hidden underneath her skirt. What do you think? Should I join her downstairs and introduce myself?”

  “Why bother?” Frost said, feigning disinterest. “All that pale ivory flesh will bruise too easily, and she likely comes with a disgruntled mother who will sever your cock from your balls if you manage to get it out of your trousers.”

  Ravens gave him a sharp assessing look, but Frost kept his face carefully blank. His companion must have been satisfied with what he saw, because he slowly nodded in agreement. “Too right. Delicate playthings hold little amusement for me. My preferences lean toward the exotic.”

  “Naturally,” Frost said drily.

  “Then I will leave you to your business,” Lord Ravens said, bowing formally. “If I encounter some agreeable companions in the ballroom, should I seek you out before I take my leave? We could take them home and fuck them until they no longer can tell which one of us is pounding into them.”

  Frost shook his head with regret. “Why share the spoils when you can keep them all for yourself?”

  “You’re a selfish bastard, Frost. It’s one of the reasons why I like you.” Ravens cast a parting glance at Miss Cavell. “Good hunting.”

  Am I so obvious?

  He was not hunting the lady. Not in the manner the earl was implying anyway. Aye, he had every intention of introducing himself to her. He would charm and tease the lady until she lowered her defenses, and then he would find out why she had focused her ire on Nox. The club had nothing to do with young Katie’s plight, so she should have no quarrel with the gambling hell. And if he could not soften her opinion on Nox, then he would think of something else. He could offer her a friendly warning that his club was off limits to her crusade.

  Or he could seduce her.

  Kissing Miss Emily Cavell would b
e more entertaining than issuing threats. More satisfying, too. He was confident in his skills as a lover. Even an innocent like her would find pleasure in his arms.

  Frost grinned at the notion of bedding the lady. He had already made the decision to end his affair with Maryann, and there was no reason why Emily could not take her place in his bed. He could spend the next few months teaching her how to please—

  “Fresh hell,” he muttered as his gaze narrowed on the four young gentlemen who had surrounded Miss Cavell. There was no doubt in his mind, the seventeen-year-olds were up to mischief and had handpicked their next quarry. Where was Lady Fiddick? She was supposed to be looking after her guest.

  I saw her first, gents. She’s mine!

  The sound of tinkling glass momentarily distracted him, as he noted that a footman carrying a tray of sparkling wine had stepped onto the landing and was heading in his direction.

  “May I offer you a glass of wine, milord?” the servant politely inquired.

  Frost pressed his lips together as he considered his next move. “I’ll take two.”

  * * *

  Downstairs, Emily had gained the sudden attentions of four young gentlemen: Lord Macestone, Lord Wilderspin, Lord Ashenhurst, and his twin brother, Lord Boone. They had rattled off their names so quickly, she was not positive if the cheerful blond gentleman standing in front of her was Ashenhurst or Macestone, but at the very least she knew he was the one with a brother.

  Emily was usually not so scatterbrained. She had been distracted when they had approached her. Lady Fiddick was expecting her to join her in the ballroom for another round of introductions, but she had begged a moment of privacy. Her plan had been to find refuge in one of the smaller parlors upstairs, but her admirers had cut off her escape.

  “How long will you be in London?” one of the brothers asked. She could not tell them apart. They were identical in every aspect, even their waistcoats. Perhaps it was a private game between them to keep everyone guessing which one was which.

  “At least a month,” she replied, unwilling to give them too many details about herself or her family. These gentlemen were dreadfully sweet, but she deduced that she was older by two or three years.