A Taste of Temptation (2 page)

“Nonsense. Look where my mother ended up with a strong, prosperous man. She spent all her days alone in the quiet countryside while her husband maintained a full social life in London. I’d rather have a country gentleman for a husband who will love me and live with me than an absent titled lord.”

“And perhaps you will have such a country gentleman.

But in the meantime, it will be good for you to spend the Season in London with me and meet gentlemen more fitting to your station in life than Mr. Yost. You might even catch the eye of a viscount or an earl.” It was obvious her aunt wasn’t listening to her. Attracting some peer was the last thing Olivia wanted. Her mother had married the youngest son of an earl but the union hadn’t brought her happiness.

“I’m pleased to have caught the eye of Mr. Yost, Auntie, and you know that.”

“Oh, heaven’s angels, Livy, I’m not asking you to choose a husband in London, but why would you want to settle for a common man in Kent before you at least look over the available gentlemen in London? I’m only asking that you go with me and help me search for Lord Pinkwater’s ghost, and then you can come home and marry Mr.

Yost or whomever may catch your attention—if that is still what your heart desires. I don’t want to go without you, but I will. I must settle this part of my past which has haunted me for years.”

Her aunt was serious. She would go alone.

As a young child, Olivia remembered hearing many stories from her mother about how well-respected her Aunt Agatha was in London and what an exciting life she lived.

Agatha Loudermilk, twice removed cousin to the powerful Duke of Norfolk, had sat at the tables of kings and at the feet of queens, but she’d only given her heart to one man.

The undeserving Lord Pinkwater.

Agatha had left her active life in London to come to the country and take care of her grandniece Olivia after Olivia’s mother died and her father didn’t want the responsibility of seeing that an eight-year-old girl had the proper upbringing.

It was just as well since her father, whom she never really knew, died a year after her mother.

Olivia couldn’t bear the thought that Agatha would return to London and be seen as a batty old woman no longer in her right mind looking for a ghost. She didn’t want that for her aunt. Olivia owed her. Agatha came to her aid when she needed it and now Olivia would help her. She would go to London and protect Agatha’s exceptional reputation.

“Of course, Auntie,” she said with a resigned smile. “I will go with you, but I have one request.” The sparkle returned to her aunt’s eyes instantly. “Anything.”

“Let’s not tell anyone we’re searching for Lord Pinkwater’s ghost. I think it will be best if we keep this between us.”

Agatha patted Olivia’s hand. “I won’t say a word to anyone but you, my dear.”

8

T
he low rumble
of chatter filled the club room at White’s as Andrew Terwillger, the fifth Earl of Dugdale, looked across the table at his two friends. A bottle of the best port money could buy stood in front of them. The first pour was still in their glasses and already Andrew sensed Chandler and John were restless and eager for the evening to be over.

At the far side of the room a warming fire crackled and hissed, taking the chill out of the air. The gentlemen’s club was filled with men Andrew had known for years. Some played billiards in the next room; others participated in heated games of Whist or some other card game, while a few were just drinking, talking, and laughing. Everyone seemed to be having an enjoyable time, except the two at Andrew’s table.

Andrew was trying to figure out why he hardly recognized the men who’d been his best friends for over fifteen years. They hadn’t changed in appearance but were both different in demeanor.

He’d just returned from having been gone almost a year and he was ready to give in to some well-deserved de-bauchery. But his friends couldn’t be less interested in drinking, gambling, or seeking the bed of a shapely young woman.

Andrew asked, “Why do I get the feeling that I’m keeping the two of you from something?”

Chandler Prestwick, the Earl of Dunraven, and John Wickenham-Thickenham-Fines, the Earl of Chatwin, glanced quickly at each other before looking back to Andrew.

“I don’t know,” Chandler said. “It’s not me. How about you, John?”

“Certainly not me,” John answered cautiously and picked up his glass of port and raised it in salute to Andrew. “I have plenty of time. It’s good to have you back in Town.”

“I’ll drink to that and add it was good news to hear your financial troubles were settled once you learned the problem was that your estate manager was stealing from you,” Chandler added.

Andrew picked up his port and clicked it against his friends’ glasses. “Right. I should have checked up on Willard Hawkins long before I did.”

“All that matters is that you got to the bottom of this mess. Though, too bad he took a shot at you and escaped before you could turn him over to the local magistrate.”

“Yes, the bloody criminal needs to be chained to the walls of Newgate,” John said.

Andrew had made light of the fact that Hawkins had shot at him. He didn’t want his friends to know the bullet had grazed his arm. It hadn’t occurred to Andrew that his estate manger might carry a pistol, so he hadn’t been prepared to be shot at.

“He will be caught soon enough,” Andrew assured them.

“I met with a Runner from Bow Street today. He’s heading to Derbyshire first thing tomorrow to find him. Hawkins has relatives in that area so I’m thinking he’s hiding out somewhere around there.”

“Sounds reasonable,” John agreed.

Chandler laughed suddenly. “In our younger days, we wouldn’t have even thought to ask for help from a Runner, the Thames Police, or anyone else to find the thief.”

“We would have gotten on our best horses and ridden after the bastard ourselves,” John added.

“And we wouldn’t have stopped until we found him,” Andrew said.

“I still have my pearl-handled rapier. That would put a scare in him.”

“I was always better with a pistol. He wouldn’t get past a shot from me.”

“Well, if you both remember I’m pretty good with sword and pistol,” Andrew bragged good-naturedly.

Chandler gave him a friendly punch on one shoulder while John gave him a thump on the other.

They all laughed and tipped their glasses together again before taking another drink. For a moment Andrew felt like his old friends were back at the table with him. They were having a good time, bragging and drinking just like they used to. There was the possibility of an adventure in the air.

The year Andrew had spent at his country estate had been good for him. Instead of spending his nights drinking and gambling and his days sleeping he’d taken the opportunity to study and learn about his lands. He spent time with his tenants, helping them break horses and tend fields during the day and was so exhausted in the evenings he’d had no trouble sleeping. His body was firmer, stronger, and healthier.

His mind was sharper, too.

Doing physical labor was uncommon for anyone of the gentry or the peerage, but Andrew was glad he’d done it.

Being with the farmers and seeing what they produced helped him know that the figures in Willard Hawkins’s books had to be wrong.

“You know, we can still do that,” Andrew said when he put his glass down.

“What?” Chandler asked.

“Go to Derbyshire and find Willard Hawkins ourselves.

I wouldn’t need the Runner if I had the two of you helping me.”

“Are you serious?” John asked, the smile fading from his face.

“Why not? No one rides, hunts, or fights better than we do. As I recall, there was a time when we set our minds to it, we could do anything we wanted. That hasn’t changed, has it?”

Chandler and John glanced at each other again and Andrew felt the excitement that was between them just moments before ebb away.

“No, we haven’t changed, but our lives have,” John said.

“You know we’d love to do it, Andrew, but we have responsibilities now. Best you let the Runner handle it for you this time,” Chandler said.

In that moment Andrew knew what it was that stood between him and his friends.

Their wives.

John and Chandler were no longer carefree bachelors who could take off at a moment’s notice. And Andrew was also getting the feeling they were both quite pleased with their new lives as husbands rather than rogues. The Terrible Threesome, the name they had each worn with honor, was a distant memory to them.

He looked at his friends in a whole new light. They looked happy, and Andrew didn’t understand that. He couldn’t imagine loving one woman enough that he’d rather be with her than out gaming, drinking, and carous-ing with his friends.

Andrew might not like the change in their relationship, but he had to accept it, not that he was going to let them know that.

He leaned back in his chair, lifting the front legs off the floor and chuckling low in his throat. “You’re both unbelievable.”

“In what way?” Chandler asked, lifting a brow.

“Marriage has made weak-kneed sops out of the both of you.”

John’s dark eyes narrowed and he scowled at Andrew.

“That’s going a bit too far, even for a best friend.”

“Really?” Andrew challenged again, a hint of a smile lurking at the corners of his mouth. “How so? You’re not interested in adventure anymore. Now that I have money in my pockets neither of you are willing to gamble the night away with me. And I think it’s safe to say you’ve both given up your mistresses since marriage.” Chandler answered, “That doesn’t make us sops. We’re both quite happy with our wives. We were actually thinking that maybe you had come back to Town to tell us you were ready to consider making a match.” Andrew laughed again and let the legs of his chair hit the floor with a thud. He was content with his life. He was free of any responsibility and he had no hankering for married life and all the chains it put on a man.

“Not a chance in hell. Look at you two. You’re both squirming like worms in hot ashes. You can’t wait for our conversation to be over so you can go back to your quiet homes with your beautiful wives. No thank you. I’d rather chase the likes of Hawkins.”

“And what do you think is wrong with being happily married?” John asked.

“Boring comes to mind. So tell me what’s right with it?” Andrew asked. He spread his arms wide and looked around the room.

“Are you suggesting we don’t have a good time when we are with our wives?” Chandler said.

“If so, nothing could be further from the truth,” John added.

John and Chandler gave each other that now familiar quick glance. Andrew threw up his hands and said, “I give up. I’m completely uninterested in spending the rest of the night watching you two with these ridiculous happy home expressions you keep giving each other.” Andrew pushed back his chair, ready to rise and seek his pleasure elsewhere.

“Hold up, we’re not leaving yet and neither are you.” Chandler picked up the bottle and added port to all three glasses on the table. “When you fall in love you’ll come around to appreciating the simple pleasures of married life just like we have.”

“God save me from such a dull state. I’d just as soon be in prison.”

“That’s a lie,” John said with a laugh.

“You’re right. Maybe that is going a bit too far.” Andrew grinned. “But I’m glad to know what took the starch out of the two of you. I’m definitely staying away from love and marriage.”

“To do that you will have to stay away from all the young ladies.”

“That’s right. John and I certainly weren’t looking for love.”

“It found us. So, are you ready to swear off all women but your mistress?”

“Hell no. I’ll just have to prove to you both that I can enjoy the young ladies without getting caught by one of them.”

John and Chandler laughed.

“What’s so funny?” Andrew asked, still not knowing if he was ready to forgive his friends for getting married and leaving him to his own devices every evening.

“You, thinking you can run away from love,” John said.

“I managed to outwit fate and not marry when I was down to mere coins in my pockets. I think I can dodge Cu-pid’s arrow for a few more years.” Andrew picked up his glass and saluted them. “So I won’t become a squeeze like you two, victims living under the cat’s paw.”

“You are cock-sure tonight,” John replied, not the least offended by his friend’s accusations.

“I have reason to be. When I left London last year I didn’t know if I would ever have enough money to return.

But I’m back, I have money, my estates are prospering better than ever. In fact, I intend to see about finding an agreeable mistress.”

“With your attitude a mistress is just what you need. A wife would never put up with you.”

Andrew smiled. “Yes, but I need the parties, too, and I’m ready for them to begin. In fact, my Aunt Claude has planned an evening at my house the first week of the Season.”

“A party? You don’t say,” Chandler said.

“Naturally, I want to have a first look at all the young ladies who are making their débuts.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” John told him.

“And I’ll add: May love always be chasing you,” Chandler added with a grin.

“But never catch up to me,” Andrew said.

John and Chandler picked up their glasses and drank to Andrew’s proclamation.

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Two

8

O
livia considered the
receiving line at the Earl of Dugdale’s house ridiculously long. In the two previous nights that she and her aunt had attended parties in London they had not had to queue like this at anyone else’s home.