How To Build The Perfect Rake (17 page)

‘My dear Miss Grayson.’

A smoky voice, more gravelly than Luc’s but
then, Lord Howe had had many more years to perfect his growl. She
gave an inward sigh, wondering why it was always so difficult to
find five minutes alone in London. ‘Lord Howe. Accosting females in
the darkness? How unexpected.’

He chuckled. ‘Guilty as charged. I admit, I
was hoping to see you tonight. I would ask if you are enjoying
yourself but it seems unlikely if you are out here alone. Society
is clearly not fulfilling its obligation to entertain you.’

‘It is under no obligation, believe me. I am
out here alone because I wished for a moment with my own company,’
she returned pleasantly.

‘Are you asking me to leave you in
peace?’

‘If you would be so kind.’

‘But I particularly came out here to regale
you with how very charming I can be.’

‘Wasted on me, I’m afraid. I am finding
charming to be tiresome at the moment.’

‘How very odd,’ he smiled down at her but
she could not read the expression in his eyes. There was not nearly
enough light. She could imagine, however, that they would be
glinting with mischief. ‘What do you like then? Name it and I shall
do my best to please.’

To be left
alone
, she thought with some exasperation.
She thought she had said as much. But one was never left alone at a
large social occasion. Usually if one was left alone it was
considered a tragedy. ‘You will do perfectly well as you are. I am
afraid the fault lies within me. I could do with an escort back
inside, actually. My aunt will be wondering where I am.’

‘But I have not finished making up to you
yet,’ he protested softly.

‘Yes you have,’ she returned cheerfully,
laying a hand on his arm and moving them purposefully towards the
French doors. ‘It was vastly entertaining but such meetings will
not do me any good. Your reputation is so very bad, Lord Howe. I am
afraid mine could not withstand it.’

‘I am not
that
wicked, I assure
you.’

‘Oh yes. You really are.’

‘What a cruel creature you are, Miss
Grayson,’ he drawled, allowing himself to be led. ‘It makes you all
the more endearing.’

She smiled up at him as they stepped back
into the crowded room. ‘What nonsense. I am not in the least bit
endearing tonight, for all that you might like to tell me
otherwise. In fact, I am quite out of sorts with life. Rest
assured, it is not your fault. I am sure, in more favorably
circumstances, that we might rub along together very well for you
are most entertaining.’

‘And you are very kind,’ he murmured, taking
her hand and bringing it to his lips.

Olympia smiled and nodded, before going off
to find either her aunt or her brother. Somebody who could offer
solace from her own inner turmoil.

Lord Justin Howe watched her go
thoughtfully, a small smile on his lips. That conversation had not
gone at all as he intended. He had hoped to corral the delightful
Miss Grayson and impress upon her what an excellent fellow he was.
There were few young women who were averse to hearing how wondrous
they were and he had anticipated little Olympia Grayson would be
one of them. That she hadn’t been at all in the mood for a
flirtation had been disappointing, of course but the meeting had
been oddly satisfying. More and more he was considering marriage to
the chit to be a welcome opportunity. She was wealthy, she was
pretty and she had considerable spirit that he had enjoyed on his
two – admittedly brief – meetings with her.

Too brief. He was not being given the scope
to impress.

What he really needed was more time to ply
his suit. The problem was that, while he was currently in no danger
from the dunsmen, life was expensive and he knew himself well
enough to acknowledge that he was not one to ever live within his
means. He required a wife and the more he cast around for potential
females to fill the bill, the more his thoughts settled on the fair
Olympia. He had always fancied brunettes and those dark eyes were
really quite lustrous.

The only hitch in his plan was finding the
space to woo her. She had a brother in tow, as well as an aunt who,
for all her air of sleepy disinterest missed very little. He could
engineer a few more meetings perhaps, to impress upon her what a
fine fellow he was although his reputation did him no favors.

But what other course was there?

Lord Howe pursed his lips and considered the
matter of how a man was supposed to secure a lady’s attention when
he was considered not quite the thing. It was a conundrum all
right. One that he had better solve before the Season ended and his
debts began to mount up, going from a hummock to a mountain in more
time that he could say French brandy.

For there was no denying that excess was
Howe’s downfall. It wasn’t just a bottle of French brandy, but a
case. Not one fine lawn shirt but five. Not just a guinea wagered
but fifty. A man had a certain reputation to live up to but
unfortunately that reputation did not allow for a limited income.
He needed a source of funds.

Luckily for him, he fancied he’d found it in
the delightfully refreshing Miss Grayson.

All he needed was to win her heart and from
there, her hand…

Luc had observed Miss Grayson’s return to
the ballroom on the arm of Lord Howe with considerable anger,
noting with disbelief the way she smiled up at him before taking
her leave. They had appeared to be on the best of terms and he
smoldered with exasperated fury.

What the devil did the girl think she was
about, encouraging that wastrel when she knew Luc’s feelings on the
subject! The problem with Olympia was that she couldn’t be told. If
she thought that for a moment that he was preaching to her, she
would do the exact opposite. At least, she would if it were Luc who
was telling her.

‘Well I’m damned if I get her out of any
silly scrape she falls into,’ he muttered, thoroughly cross. ‘That
girl needs to be taught a lesson!’

Although not, perhaps, at the hands of Lord
Howe. There were some lessons that a girl could not recover from
and Luc suspected that Howe was one of them. If she disgraced
herself with him then Society would not forgive readily. Unless she
meant to marry the man. But of course she meant nothing of the
kind. Why Ollie herself had laughed at the very idea and her
parents and brothers, tolerant as they were, would never allow
it.

Which brought him back to her very odd
behavior that morning. He had left Martin Street in a high dudgeon,
thoroughly exasperated by Olympia’s casual dismissal of his
concern. Naturally he wanted to leave her marital choices up to her
– and her family, of course. But the thing was, Olympia seemed to
attract more than her fair share of scoundrels. It was only to be
expected as she had a decent dowry but he knew Olympia. She could
not be relied on to show good sense when considering her choice of
husband and her family were too indulgent to properly vet all those
who came into her orbit.

Although they’d certainly have a thing or
two to say about Howe. Flora Richmond would see to that. Just the
same, while there was no danger of her marrying the man there was
no guarantee that her reputation would not be tarnished (what had
she been doing with him out on that terrace, for God’s sake?) and a
sullied reputation was a difficult thing to recover from.

If only the wretched girl would listen!

He had had an oddly depressing day and put
it down to his unsatisfactory interview with Olympia. It had
colored all that had happened afterwards although really, his
morning call on Carisse Houghton had been an unqualified success.
Mrs. Houghton had even arranged it that they had the appearance of
solitude, for she had taken her embroidery down to the far end of
the room ‘the better to see my stitches’, which had been jolly
thoughtful of the woman.

More or less alone with his beloved, he had
set out to strike a delicate balance between roguish and
inquisitive, a singularly challenging endeavor. But it was
necessary. While it was an undoubted delight to stare at a face as
lovely as Carisse’s, he wished to get to know the girl herself. He
was convinced that a face so fair must also have an appealing mind
and could hardly wait to discover it.

Unfortunately, it had proved more difficult
than he had imagined. Teasing information out of Miss Houghton was
akin to pulling teeth. He asked the obvious things; her taste in
music (she was fond of a display on the pianoforte if it did not go
for too long – she did not like a vocal accompaniment as girls who
sang did rather warble on forever), her taste in art
(non-existent), her taste in literature (she only read magazines
but she did rather like Mr. Falstaff’s odes – specifically the ones
directed to her beauty) and travel (cities full of foreigners? And
the food! Dear me no…).

After three quarters of an
hour, an unusually extended stay for a young gentleman, Luc had
risen to take his leave, none the wiser about his beloved. He was
inclined to think she was funning him about certain things – such
as literature, for who did not read? – but as Carisse had no
discernable sense of humor this seemed increasingly unlikely. All
in all, he had found his morning call to be oddly unsettling
although he could not say why. So the girl was not interested in
the same things as he was. Did it matter? Such things could be
remedied after marriage when two people grew closer together. He
could share his love of literature and Carisse could teach him…
well, she could teach him all the things
she
was interested in. He had
probably not asked the questions necessary to elicit the
information he was after.

He had met Freddy in the street outside
White’s after his visit and the two had strolled in together for a
bite to eat. Luc had confessed his whereabouts for the past hour
and Freddy had slapped him on the back encouragingly.

‘Excellent! Three quarters of an hour, you
say? My dear boy, it’s time to pop the question.’

‘Yes, but… well, I’ve
hardly spent any time with Miss Houghton. I mean, she
doesn’t
know
me.’

‘Clearly she knows enough. Why do you want
to spend time with her? Plenty of opportunity for that when the two
of you are tied together.’

‘I thought it might be a good idea if we
both got to know each a little.’

Freddy had stared at him blankly. ‘Why the
devil do you want to do that?’

‘Ah… I’m supposed to be marrying her? We
will be spending the rest of our lives together.’

‘Exactly. How long do you want? You’ve got
years of fun ahead.’

Of course it was ridiculous to talk to
Freddy about anything serious. He simply wasn’t a serious person.
‘I suppose you’re still pursuing Olympia?’ he’d demanded, rather
pettishly.

‘I am, though it’s deuced hard work. Who
would have thought wooing took so much planning? I have to discover
where she is likely to be, find her, try and snare some time with
her,’ Freddy had shaken his coppery curls ruefully. ‘It’s a wonder
anybody get’s married at all.’

‘Does she seem to be encouraging your suit?’
Luc had enquired, knowing full well that Olympia might, just to
spite him.

Freddy had shrugged dejectedly. ‘Haven’t a
clue. Females are as much as a mystery to me as that faradiddle
Stephenson spouts about his wretched steam engines.’

‘Have you been sticking your nose in down at
The Royal Society again?’

Freddy grinned. ‘Last night, actually. These
intellectual types do love a game of cards.’

‘You were gambling?’

Freddy snorted. ‘Well, just a friendly go
round. Much as you might not think it, I do do other things, you
know. I went in to take a look at Hershel’s new lens. Do you know,
he has discovered hundreds of new star systems?’

Luc had stared at his friend, taken aback.
He had forgotten about Freddy’s interest in astronomy. It was
comments like that that made Frederick Featherstone such a curious
fellow. He could spend all night happily immersed in a game of
cards or equally happily immersed in peering up at the heavens and
a quiver of unease had run through Luc. Olympia would find that
kind of thing most fascinating. She was always captivated by the
peculiar, the unusual or the downright out of the ordinary.

‘Have you mentioned to Olympia that you’re
interested in astronomy?’

‘No. Didn’t think of it. Do you think she’d
be interested?’

Luc had thought she would be, very much so
but he had merely shrugged. ‘Who can say with a girl?’

His behavior with Freddy, almost as much as
his interview with Miss Houghton, had left him feeling troubled.
Did he really have Olympia’s best interests at heart, warning her
off men like Freddy Featherstone? His friend wasn’t a bad fellow.
He was certainly a far better prospect than the likes of Howe,
being good humored, easy going and with the kind of quirky
personality that Olympia might appreciate in a husband. Was Luc
doing them both a disservice by being so disapproving? He did think
that Olympia needed a steadier fellow than Freddy but perhaps he
had it wrong…

So it was that he had gone to the Colchester
ball in a rather odd frame of mind. He knew he should have been
overjoyed that his campaign for Miss Houghton’s hand was going so
well. Indeed, the entire Season had become a great deal more
satisfactory for suddenly he was being feted as ‘interesting’, with
girls falling over themselves to dance with him. Even their mamas
were giving him warm smiles of approval, something he found very
strange for surely, when he had been the staid and stable Lucien St
James they would have been far more encouraging? Apparently it
didn’t work that way.