Pursued by the Rake
Season of Scandal
Book One
Mary Lancaster
© Copyright 2020 by Mary Lancaster
Text by Mary Lancaster
Cover by Wicked Smart Designs
Dragonblade Publishing, Inc. is an imprint of Kathryn Le Veque Novels, Inc.
P.O. Box 7968
La Verne CA 91750
[email protected]
Produced in the United States of America
First Edition June 2020
Kindle Edition
Reproduction of any kind except where it pertains to short quotes in relation to advertising or promotion is strictly prohibited.
All Rights Reserved.
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
License Notes:
This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook, once purchased, may not be re-sold. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it or borrow it, or it was not purchased for you and given as a gift for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. If this book was purchased on an unauthorized platform, then it is a pirated and/or unauthorized copy and violators will be prosecuted to the full extent of the law. Do not purchase or accept pirated copies. Thank you for respecting the author’s hard work. For subsidiary rights, contact Dragonblade Publishing, Inc.
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Dearest Reader;
Thank you for your support of a small press. At Dragonblade Publishing, we strive to bring you the highest quality Historical Romance from the some of the best authors in the business. Without your support, there is no ‘us’, so we sincerely hope you adore these stories and find some new favorite authors along the way.
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Additional Dragonblade books by Author Mary Lancaster
Season of Scandal Series
Pursued by the Rake
Abandoned to the Prodigal
Married to the Rogue
Unmasked by her Lover
Imperial Season Series
Vienna Waltz
Vienna Woods
Vienna Dawn
Blackhaven Brides Series
The Wicked Baron
The Wicked Lady
The Wicked Rebel
The Wicked Husband
The Wicked Marquis
The Wicked Governess
The Wicked Spy
The Wicked Gypsy
The Wicked Wife
Wicked Christmas (A Novella)
The Wicked Waif
The Wicked Heir
The Wicked Captain
The Wicked Sister
Unmarriageable Series
The Deserted Heart
The Sinister Heart
The Vulgar Heart
The Broken Heart
The Weary Heart
The Secret Heart
The Lyon’s Den Connected World
Fed to the Lyon
Also from Mary Lancaster
Madeleine
Dedication
To Kathryn Le Veque, publisher-extraordinaire,
who generously gave me this idea
and let me run with it.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Publisher’s Note
Additional Dragonblade books by Author Mary Lancaster
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Epilogue
Author’s Note
About Mary Lancaster
Chapter One
The residence of the Princess of Wales blazed with light. Stepping down from the post chaise in Connaught Place, Miss Hazel Curwen winced at the extravagance, for it was only just dusk. She supposed Her Highness was holding a farewell party for all the friends she would leave behind when she sailed for the continent.
Hazel paid the post boy and turned to the front door. Excitement hastened her steps, for she thought the princess would leave London very soon, and Hazel, whose good fortune it was to be on duty as her attendant these next few weeks, was surely destined to go with her.
As she raised her hand to the knocker, the door flew open, and one of the footmen strode out. Hastily, she stepped aside to avoid being knocked over. The man at least retained enough civility to mumble an apology as he dashed by, leaving the door wide open for her. He carried something large under his arm. Perhaps he had been sent to borrow more glasses or crockery for Her Highness’s impromptu party.
As she stepped inside, the footman called back over his shoulder, “Wouldn’t go in there, if I were you, Miss!”
Which was odd, even by the standards of some of the servants the princess employed. Hazel suspected some of them were also spies in the pay of the Prince Regent.
Closing the door behind her, she glanced around for other servants or ladies to tell her what was happening. But although the entrance hall glowed with candlelight, as did the reception rooms, she saw no one to ask. Hastily, she climbed the stairs toward the source of the noise.
Someone in the drawing room was playing the pianoforte—badly—and a tenor voice was raised in song. One of Her Highness’s new favorites, no doubt. A female voice screeched in vulgar laughter, and it struck Hazel uneasily that the party was perhaps a little too boisterous for taste.
Of course, the princess was boisterous by nature, and some of her friends were of questionable character, but she had her own lines of what was pleasing. Hazel suspected some of these guests were crossing it.
She was sure of this as she reached the landing, and several young men spilled out of the drawing room in a burst of laughter. Clearly inebriated, they staggered, holding each other up until Hazel caught their attention.
“Well, well, such beauty late to the party,” one of them slurred, looking her up and down in a manner that was not only rude but offensive.
“Come and join us,” another invited, actually reaching for her. He stumbled when she backed out of reach and laughed.
“If I were you,” the first man said. “I wouldn’t be so choosy.”
“If I were you, I would show myself out,” Hazel retorted with contempt. “Before Her Royal Highness witnesses such a display.”
She moved toward the drawing room and halted, for it was clear the princess was not there. She tended to draw all eyes, be the center of all attention. Not only was she absent, but Hazel could recognize no one. Except Lord Barden.
Lord Barden was really the Prince Regent’s man, and Hazel had her own reasons to
dislike him. But his duties included negotiating between the estranged husband and wife, and his efforts had often brought some good to the princess—in minor ways, it was true, but in this present company, he seemed the closest thing to a friend.
Hazel tried quite hard to catch his eye, but he was too deep in conversation to glance toward her. Did she risk going in?
Behind her, a young woman ran screeching from the dining room, straight into the arms of the inebriates. Hazel opened her mouth to save the female from their attentions, but the girl was already giggling and preening.
Dear God.
“Miss Curwen! Hazel!” came a hiss from the next flight of stairs.
Lady Juliet Lilbourne, with whom she had attended the princess before, stood halfway up to the next floor, beckoning to her. Behind Lady Juliet was another woman of the bedchamber, Miss Shelby.
With relief, Hazel hurried toward them, all but running up the staircase. “What on earth is going on?” she asked them. “Where is Her Highness?”
Juliet seized her by the arm and dragged her further up toward the landing where the princess’s private apartments were. By way of answering, she pointed toward the closed doors.
“Can’t she hear the racket down there?” Hazel demanded.
“Presumably, she’s otherwise occupied,” Lady Juliette said dryly. As an engaged lady, she could be assumed to know slightly more than the spinsters about what went on behind the closed door of the princess’s bedchamber.
Hazel followed her and Miss Shelby into the small chamber next to it. This was used as a sitting room by the princess’s ladies. Here, a fourth lady jumped to her feet, looking alarmed.
“Do you know Lady Meg?” Juliet asked hastily.
“We have met in passing,” Hazel said. “Why are so many of us here? Are you about to finish your duty?”
“No, we’ve just arrived in the last hour,” Juliet said. “Unexpected summons. I presumed we had been chosen to accompany her highness abroad.”
“All of us?” Hazel asked in surprise. “That would be excellent! When do we leave?”
“Judging by the party below, I suppose it will be tomorrow,” Miss Shelby murmured.
“Is there no one here to throw them all out?” Hazel asked, setting down her bag and cloak. “I am prepared to try, but the only sober man of authority appears to be Lord Barden, and it is hardly his place to back me.” In fact, it was doubtful if he would.
Miss Shelby sniffed. “I would not be surprised if he had encouraged all this, on behalf of the Prince Regent, just as a last-minute effort to destroy Her Highness’s name—again—before she leaves.”
“Oh, no,” Hazel said, alarmed. “Surely he would not do such a thing? I admit he is somewhat slimy and abominably full of his own importance. But I always found him sympathetic to the princess.”
“Well, he seemed pleased to see us,” Lady Meg volunteered. “So, he must be glad the princess has us here with her.”
“At any rate, I would not go down there without an escort,” Lady Juliet said firmly. Her gaze fixed significantly on the wall adjoining the princess’s apartments. “We think Sir Joseph would be an excellent escort…when he is available.”
Sir Joseph. Hazel’s stomach gave an uncomfortable lurch. It generally did whenever Sir Joseph Sayle’s name was mentioned—no doubt something to do with her instinctive antipathy and the enigmatic smile in his sardonic, mocking eyes.
She had only met the man twice, during her last duty with the princess. The first time, on the day her duty had begun, she had walked into the princess’s private apartments, humming to herself as she set down a batch of letters and gifts that had been delivered that morning. Without warning, the bedchamber door had opened, and a tall, fair, loose-limbed gentleman had sauntered out in his shirt-sleeves, casually fastening his waistcoat buttons. His coat, she became aware as he walked toward it, was hanging over the back of a chair.
He had halted at about the same time as she had stopped humming to stare at him, all her hackles rising. At first, she had been annoyed with herself for not paying attention and allowing this encounter to happen. And then outrage had surged against the unknown man whom she had never seen before. By his dress and manner, he considered himself a gentleman, and yet he had clearly taken advantage of the princess’s loneliness and good nature.
She had glared at him, and a gleam of amusement had drowned the surprise in his rather sleepy eyes. Somehow, everything had felt worse because the man was devastatingly handsome. And not remotely embarrassed. He had merely bowed elaborately, and under Hazel’s disapproving stare, had shrugged himself into his excellently fitting coat and buttoned it with long, deft fingers. Glancing up, he had caught her baleful gaze once more and actually dared to smile. A flashing smile that curved his sinfully sensual lips and made his eyes dance.
And then, with supreme mockery, he had raised his hand and blown her an insolent kiss before sauntering out of the room.
That would have been bad enough, but when she had eventually gone into the princess, Her Highness had looked like the cat who got the cream.
Several days later, she had seen him again, among other guests in the drawing room, where there had been music and dancing. The princess had been at her most lively, constantly demanding his attention with cries of “Joe!”
If he had noticed Hazel, or even remembered her, he had given no sign until by some inattention on her part, she had almost walked into him as he’d been strolling across the room. She would have moved on with a murmured apology, but she had made the mistake of glancing up—and up, for he was very tall—and those hooded, mocking eyes had transfixed her.
“Why, my angry little handmaiden,” he had drawled, which had so outraged her that she had brushed past him without a word. He must have left shortly afterward, for she hadn’t seen him again that evening. Or any other before she had finished her spell of duty and returned to her grandmother.
“Is he here much?” she asked bluntly.
The other ladies shrugged.
“I only heard he was here now,” Lady Juliet admitted. “None of us have seen either him or the princess.”
Hazel blinked. “Then we don’t even know if Her Highness is in her chamber?”
Juliet met her gaze. “Do you want to go in and find out?”
Hazel shuddered. It wasn’t even so much the princess’s anger as much as the prospect of encountering Sir Joseph at an even more intimate moment that appalled her.
“Exactly,” Juliet said ruefully. “This is really not a position for young, unmarried ladies.”
“And yet, here we all are,” Lady Meg observed, “not only prepared but desperate to go abroad with her.”
“I would like her to be happy,” Hazel confessed. “Her life here is intolerable. And who would not wish to travel and see the world? We have been trapped on our own island for so long!”
The others nodded enthusiastically, as glad as everyone else at the ending of the long war with France.
“Sir Joseph hasn’t been trapped,” Lady Meg said vaguely. “He has been with various embassies to Russia, the Ottoman Empire, and China, and trailed across war-torn Europe dodging French armies.”
Hazel’s lip curled. “Did he tell you that?”
Lady Meg frowned. “No, I think it was my brother-in-law. But the question is, what do we do now?”
Hazel frowned and walked across to the bell pull. “Where on earth are the servants? They must eject our revelers, for Her Highness would not countenance the behavior downstairs.”
“I think they’re hiding, too,” Miss Shelby volunteered. “Apart from Harold, the footman who let me in, I haven’t seen any of them.”
Hazel pulled the bell vigorously. But the figure of the footman bolting out of the door with a large box under his arm began to feel a little more sinister. “Wouldn’t go in there if I were you, Miss!”
After ten minutes and several more rings, it was clear no one was going to come.
“I think they�
�ve all gone,” Hazel said flatly.
“And left Her Highness?” Lady Juliet gasped.
“Well, her maids are probably hiding downstairs and afraid to answer us.”
“Maybe we should leave, too, through the kitchens,” Lady Meg suggested. “We could use the servants’ stairs.”
“We can’t leave the princess alone with these drunken buffoons all over the house,” Hazel objected.
“At least she has Sir Joseph. Maybe.”
They looked at each other.
“Maybe we should just wait until they come out,” Miss Shelby said reluctantly. “Surely the racket will reach them eventually.”
However, none of them were very good at doing nothing, so eventually, leaving Lady Juliet and Miss Shelby to guard the princess, Hazel and Lady Meg crept along the landing to the servants’ stairs.
But even here, the revelry was loud. Not only that, on the dark landing below, some distasteful feminine giggling was accompanied by throaty male groans. As one, Hazel and Meg retreated.
The main staircase was already full of men and daringly dressed women, standing or sitting. Wine was flowing and spilling.
“Even if we could get past them,” Meg murmured, “they’re getting closer and closer to the princess’s chambers.”
They returned to the sitting room to report to the others.
“I think we’re trapped until they all leave or the princess emerges,” Hazel observed.
“As I see it, we have two alternatives,” Lady Juliet said. “We could flee this floor and try to sleep in the ladies’ chamber upstairs. Or we could creep into Her Highness’s apartments and guard her in the outer room.”
“I don’t like either of these options,” Hazel said. “One is too far away from Her Highness, and the other is too close!”
Lady Juliet giggled, then straightened her face. “Well observed. Then I suppose we must simply wait here unless they swarm onto his landing, in which case, we flee to the princess’s rooms and to the devil with our modesty and Her Highness’s privacy.”
Hazel nodded reluctantly.
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