How to Seduce a Scoundrel (21 page)

A Lady’s Secrets of Seduction: Guard your heart from charmers.

T
his is monstrous,” Hester declared the next day after luncheon. “He cannot deny you the pleasures of the season simply because you returned late to the box. I will not allow him to run roughshod over you.”

Julianne sighed. “He means to take me home if I do not cooperate. I believe him to be serious.”

“We shall see about that,” Hester said, bristling. “I plan to tell him in no uncertain terms that I am in charge of you. He can go hang.”

“Actually, I think there is a benefit to staying home. If I receive visitors today and attend entertainments, I shall have no time to write. This week at home will allow me to complete the pamphlet. We still need to see about publication, and if I dally, it will all be for naught. As you said,
I must see it circulated early in the season if the plan is to work.”

“Well, I agree, but I still feel he has gone too far,” Hester said.

“
You
should still attend entertainments,” Julianne said. “There is no reason for you to stay behind when I will be spending all of my time writing.”

“Provided my hardheaded nephew doesn’t command all of your time when he calls,” she said.

“I imagine he will be only too happy to spend his time at his club.” Of course, she didn’t add her suspicion that he would likely seek a mistress, but Hester had no illusions about men in general or her nephew specifically.

A maid appeared at the door with two more posies, making a total of five bouquets. The butler, Henderson, followed. “As you instructed, I turned away the gentlemen callers, my lady.”

“Who called?” Hester asked.

“The five young men who typically visit. They sent the posies.” He cleared his throat. “I have also brought the mail.”

With a sinking feeling, Julianne watched the maid set the flowers in vases. Oh, dear, what if the five cubs, as Hawk called them, had developed a
tendre
for her? Shame burned through her as she recalled the way she’d flirted and danced with them—all in an effort to show the ton she no longer cared for Hawk.

Hawk had been right. She had mistreated them. Never again, she swore. The next time she saw them, she must make it clear that she only wanted friendship.

Hester sifted through the mail. “Ah, here are two letters for you, Julianne.”

She tore open the first one from her mother and
winced. Mama had received correspondence from Lady Durmont, who had described Julianne’s waltz with Hawk in vivid detail.

Julianne gritted her teeth. Lady Durmont was the worst gossip in the ton. She delighted in ripping others to shreds. With a huff, Julianne continued reading. She could almost hear her mother’s terse voice. The waltz was unseemly enough, it seemed, but drawing a crowd was a severe faux pas. However, her mother had received a letter from Lady Boswood that had given her some peace of mind. Mama was relieved to learn Hawk had publicly proclaimed that Julianne was his ward.

Drat it all. Had every dragon in the ton written to her mother? But guilt flooded her chest immediately. She had done far worse than waltz since coming to London. She’d risked her reputation the night she’d drunk all that wine. As Amy had said, they were very lucky to have escaped worse consequences. But that was nothing compared to the way she’d let Hawk touch and kiss her. Thank God no one had caught them.

She turned the page. Alarm gripped her upon learning Tessa had developed irregular tightening sensations in her belly. Mama said these were caused by false labor and were common. The physician had stated that provided the sensations stopped when Tessa walked, they did not signal the onset of labor.

Julianne’s shoulders slumped with relief for Tessa. She quickly sent up a prayer for her sister-in-law’s health and continued reading.

How could she have been so thoughtless? Poor Tristan was probably beside himself with worry about Tessa, and she’d come perilously close to bringing scandal upon herself and her family. She resolved to be more mindful of the proprieties and turned the page.

There is another matter that came as a surprise to me, of which I have pondered over at some length. Lady Boswood informed me that her son has developed a
tendre
for you. While the age difference is somewhat of a concern, I would not be averse to the match. As the son of a marquess, Ramsey is most eligible, and his family is one of the most preeminent in the kingdom. Of course, you would have to endure Lady Boswood’s vanity, but I would not discourage you if you truly loved him.

“Dear God, I must write to my mother immediately,” Julianne said.

Hester looked up from her letter. “Whatever is the matter, dear?”

“A disaster.” She told Hester about Lady Boswood’s letter. “I cannot believe the woman’s audacity. And to think Mama believes Ramsey is a suitable match for me. I must inform her that Ramsey is a notorious rake and that I have no tender feelings for him.”

“Calm yourself,” Hester said. “You have another letter. Read it first, as it may contain important news you should address in your letter.”

As Julianne broke the seal, she told Hester about Tessa’s false labor pains.

“I am glad to hear it is nothing serious,” Hester said.

After unfolding the paper, Julianne read her brother’s short letter.

Julianne snorted. If only her brother knew his friend had proven to be far stricter than either he or Mama had ever been.

Her throat clogged. She missed her brother, mother, and Tessa as well. “Hester, please excuse me. I must write to my family.”

“Yes, of course, dear.” Hester patted her hand. “Do not let vexation overcome you. Lady Boswood cannot force the match, and I distinctly recall your brother saying your family is in no rush to see you wed. In that respect, you are far luckier than most young ladies.”

Julianne exhaled. “You are right, as always. I will write to my family, and then I will apply myself to the pamphlet.”

Hester toyed with her quizzing glass. “If you have concerns about the pamphlet, say the word. You are under no obligation to finish it, though I truly believe it is impossible for anyone to trace your identity as the author.”

“I’ve gotten this far,” Julianne said. “If I can help even one lady find the man of her dreams, then I will consider my work a success.” But of course she hoped to help far more than that.

Hawk did not arrive at his aunt’s house until early evening. He’d spent a particularly grueling day in parliament and had dealt with problems concerning repairs to the estate in Derbyshire. With regret, he’d turned down a friend’s suggestion to dine at the club, because he’d sworn to check on Julianne.

When he entered the drawing room, he found his aunt dressed in evening attire. “You are planning to go out?”

Hester regarded him through her quizzing glass. “I am not under house arrest.”

“Where is Julianne?”

“Upstairs. I suppose you intend to command her to make an appearance in the drawing room,” Hester said, swinging the quizzing glass on its ribbon.

He folded his arms over his chest. “I wish to speak to her.”

Hester rang the bell. When a footman arrived, she sent him to bring Julianne to the drawing room.

Hawk strolled over to the sideboard and poured himself a brandy. “Where are the dogs?”

“In the kitchen,” Hester said coldly.

His aunt meant to paint him as a villain. When his empty stomach rumbled, Hester let out a disgusted sigh.

“Julianne intended to dine alone in her bedchamber tonight,” Hester said. “But since you’re here and obviously hungry, I’ll have two trays brought to the drawing room.”

“Thank you. May I inquire about your plans for the evening?”

“Mr. Peckham is escorting me to the Hartford’s dinner party,” she said. “He should arrive shortly.”

Hawk sipped his brandy. “You are spending a great deal of time with Peckham.”

“Do you dare to question my friendships?”

“It was an idle observation,” he said. “Frankly, I thought you would remain at home to keep Julianne company.”

“You are the one who imposed the punishment upon her. I disapprove of your harsh measures, but you are her appointed guardian. Therefore, you are the one who should attend her each evening. I have no intention of rearranging my plans because of your asinine strictures.”

His aunt had never been one to mince words, but he had no intention of defending his decision. He’d done what he had to do, and that was the end of it.

Julianne padded into the drawing room, curtsied, and sat on the sofa across from Hester. Hawk joined her there. “How have you occupied yourself today?”

“Writing letters to my family and friends,” she said, her tone dull.

He glanced at her drawn face. “You look exhausted.”

“A little rest will see me well,” she said.

“I hope you’re satisfied, Marc,” Hester said. “You’ve managed to cause her undo vexation by forcing her to be a prisoner in
my
home.”

Julianne sighed but said nothing.

Hawk frowned. Where was the spirited woman who matched him word for word? She seemed to have changed overnight.

Mr. Peckham arrived. Before leaving, Hester informed Julianne that she’d ordered a tray to be brought up for her and Hawk.

“You need not stay,” Julianne told Hawk. “I’m sure you would prefer to dine at your club.”

“I’ll stay.”

His aunt took Peckham’s arm. “Julianne, promise me you will get extra rest tonight.”

“I intend to retire early,” she said.

After everyone else departed, Julianne reached for her neck.

“What is the matter?” he asked.

“I sat at the desk too long, I suppose.”

“Why?”

She shrugged and winced. “I am woefully behind in my correspondences.”

“Turn your back to me.”

She frowned. “Why?”

“Let me massage the tight muscles.”

“That is unnecessary,” she mumbled.

“You’re in pain. Let me help,” he said.

When she turned her back, he instructed her to lower her head. He used his thumbs to knead her neck. “Tell me if I press too hard.”

At first she remained tense, but gradually he could feel
her relaxing. He massaged her shoulders, and a funny little feminine sound, almost a purr, escaped her.

“Feel better?” he murmured.

“Yes,” she said. “Actually marvelous.”

“You mustn’t push yourself to the point of exhaustion. There’s no call for it.”

“That feels wonderful,” she said.

He worked the muscles of her back, realizing she wore short stays. Having undressed countless women, he knew this meant there was no busk.
One less hindrance,
the devil inside him whispered.

The tiny hooks on the back of her gown tempted him. He imagined releasing them and sliding the garment, along with the straps of her stays and chemise, down her arms. Then he would draw her against him, pull down the soft stays, and cup her breasts. Slow heat settled in his groin as he pictured her nipples tightening. He would draw her onto his lap and suckle her until she arched up to him, her hands tangling in his hair. Then he would draw up her gown and undergarments, exposing the dark curls. Then at long last he would explore the damp folds of her sex. He knew how to caress a woman until she shattered.

The erotic images in his head aroused him. He ought to be horsewhipped for even imagining touching her. But no matter how wrong it was, he knew he would continue to fantasize a dozen or more ways to make her writhe, to make her wet, to make her beg him to come inside her.

He forced the erotic images out of his head. “Better?” he murmured near her ear.

“Yes.”

When he released her, she sat back. He hoped she wouldn’t notice the bulge in his tight trousers.

“Thank you,” she said.

The languid expression in her eyes made her look like a woman in the afterglow of lovemaking. He recalled her responsiveness when he’d kissed her and felt certain she would shed her inhibitions in bed. Provided the man had the expertise to arouse her slowly.