Nine Rules to Break When Romancing a Rake (2 page)

London, England
April 1823

The incessant pounding woke him.

He ignored it at first, sleep clouding the source of the irritating noise.

There was a long pause and a thick silence fell over the bedchamber.

Gabriel St. John, Marquess of Ralston, took in the early-morning light washing over the decadently appointed room. For a moment, he remained still, registering the rich hues of the chamber, adorned with silk wall coverings and gilded edges, a garish haven of sensual pleasure.

Reaching for the lush female beside him, a half smile played over his lips as she curved her willing, naked body into his—the combination of the early hour and her heated flesh returning him to the edge of slumber.

He lay still, eyes closed, trailing his fingertips idly across his bedmate’s bare shoulder as one lithe, feminine hand stroked down the rigid planes of his torso, the direction of the caress a dark erotic promise.

Her touch became stronger, firmer, and he rewarded her skill with a low growl of pleasure.

And the pounding began again—loud and constant on the heavy oak door.

“Cease!” Ralston surged from his mistress’s bed, entirely prepared to terrify his intruder into leaving him in peace for the rest of the morning. He had barely pulled on his silk dressing gown before he tore the door open with a wicked curse.

On the threshold stood his twin brother, impeccably dressed and perfectly manicured, as though it were entirely normal to call upon one’s brother, at the home of his mistress, at the crack of dawn. Behind Nicholas St. John stood a sputtering servant, “My lord, I did my best to keep him from—”

An icy look from Ralston stopped the words in the man’s throat. “Leave us.”

Nick watched as the footman scurried away, one brow arched in amusement. “I had forgotten how charming you are in the morning, Gabriel.”

“What in God’s name brings you here at this hour?”

“I went to Ralston House first,” Nick said, “When you weren’t there, this seemed the most likely place to find you.” He let his gaze slide past his twin to land on the woman seated in the center of the enormous bed. With a lazy grin, Nick gave a nod of acknowledgment in the direction of his brother’s mistress. “Nastasia. My apologies for the intrusion.”

The Greek beauty stretched like a cat, sensual and sybaritic, allowing the sheet she held in feigned modesty to slip, revealing one luscious breast. A teasing smile played across her lips as she said, “Lord Nicholas. I assure you, I am not the least bit put out. Perhaps you would like to join us…” She paused suggestively. “For breakfast?”

Nick smiled appreciatively. “A tempting offer.”

Ignoring the interaction, Ralston prodded. “Nick, if you are in such need of female companionship, I am certain we could have found you a destination that did not so summarily disturb my rest.”

Nick leaned against the doorframe, allowing his gaze to linger on Nastasia before returning his attention to Ralston. “Resting, were you, brother?”

Ralston stalked away from the door, toward a basin in the corner of the room, hissing as he splashed bracing water on his face. “You are enjoying yourself, aren’t you?”

“Immensely.”

“You have mere seconds to tell me why you are here, Nick, before I grow weary of having a younger sibling and toss you out.”

“Intriguing that you would select such a relevant turn of phrase,” Nick said casually. “As it happens, your position as eldest sibling is why I am here.”

Ralston lifted his head to meet his brother’s gaze as droplets of water coursed down his face.

“You see, Gabriel, it appears that we have a sister.”

“A half sister.”

Ralston spoke flatly, staring down his solicitor, waiting for the bespectacled man to overcome his nerves and explain the circumstances of this surprise announcement. Ralston had perfected the intimidation tactic in gambling hells across London and expected that it would work quickly to get the little man talking.

He was correct.

“I—that is, my lord—”

Ralston cut him off, stalking across the study to pour himself a drink. “Spit it out, man. I haven’t got all day.”

“Your mother—”

“My mother, if one may use such a word for the unloving creature who bore us, departed England for the Continent more than twenty-five years ago.” He swirled the amber liquid in his glass, affecting a look of boredom, “How are we to believe this girl is our sister and not some charlatan eager to capitalize on our goodwill?”

“Her father is a Venetian merchant with plenty of money, all of which he left to her.” The solicitor paused, adjusting his spectacles, warily eyeing Ralston. “My lord, he had no reason to lie about her birth. Indeed, by all accounts, it appears that he would prefer not to have alerted you to her existence.”

“Then why do so?”

“She has no other family to speak of although I am told that friends were willing to take her in. According to the documents that were sent to my offices, however, this is your mother’s doing. She requested that her”—he paused, uncertain—“husband…send your…sister…here in the event of his death. Your mother felt certain that you would…” He cleared his throat. “Do right by your family.”

Ralston’s smile held no humor. “Ironic, is it not, that our mother has called upon our sense of familial obligation?”

The solicitor did not pretend to misunderstand the comment. “Indeed, my lord. But, if I may, the girl is here and very sweet. I’m not certain what to do with her.” He spoke no more, but his meaning was understood. I’m not certain I should leave her in your hands.

“Of course, she must stay here,” Nick finally spoke, drawing the grateful attention of the solicitor and an irritated look from his brother. “We shall take her in. She must be rather in shock, I’d imagine.”

“Indeed, my lord.” The solicitor readily agreed, latching onto the kindness in Nick’s eyes.

“I had not realized that you were able to make such decisions in this house, brother,” Ralston drawled, his gaze not wavering from the solicitor.

“I’m simply shortening Wingate’s agony,” Nick replied, with a nod to the lawyer. “You won’t turn away blood.”

Nick was, of course, correct. Gabriel St. John, seventh Marquess of Ralston would not deny his sister, regardless of his deep-seated desire to do so. Raking a hand through his black hair, Ralston wondered at the anger that still flared at the thought of his mother, whom he hadn’t seen in decades.

She had been married at a young age—barely sixteen—and had borne twin sons within a year. She was gone a decade later, escaped to the Continent, leaving her sons and their father in despair. For any other woman, Gabriel would have felt sympathy, would have understood her fear and forgiven her desertion. But he had witnessed his father’s sorrow, felt the pain that the loss of a mother had caused. And he had replaced sadness with anger. It had been years before he was able to speak of her without a knot of fury rising in his throat.

And now, to discover that she had destroyed another family, the wound was refreshed. That she would bear another child—a girl no less—and leave her to a life without a mother infuriated him. Of course, his mother had been correct; he would do right by his family. He would do what he could to atone for her sins. And perhaps that was the most maddening part of this whole situation—that his mother still understood him. That they might still be connected.

He set his glass down, resuming his place behind the wide mahogany desk. “Where is the girl, Wingate?”

“I believe she’s been placed in the green room, my lord.”

“Well, we might as well fetch her.” Nick moved to the door, opening it and sending an unseen servant to retrieve the girl.

In the ensuing, pregnant silence, Wingate stood, smoothing down his waistcoat nervously. “Indeed. If I may, sir?”

Gabriel fixed him with an irritated look.

“She is a good girl. Very sweet.”

“Yes. You’ve mentioned as much. Contrary to your clear opinion of me, Wingate, I am not an ogre with a taste for young girls.” He paused, one side of his mouth kicking up. “At least not young girls to whom I am related.”

The arrival of their sister prevented Gabriel from taking pleasure in the solicitor’s disapproval. Instead, he stood as the door opened, his eyes narrowing as he met the eerily familiar blue gaze leveled at him from across the room.

“Good Lord.” Nick’s words mirrored Gabriel’s thoughts.

There was no question that the girl was their sister. Aside from her eyes, the same rich blue as her brothers’, she shared the twins’ strong jaw and dark, curling hair. She was the image of their mother—tall and lithe and lovely, with an undeniable fire in her gaze. Gabriel cursed beneath his breath.

Nick regained his composure first, bowing deeply, “Enchantée, Miss Juliana. I am your brother Nicholas St. John. And this”—he gestured to Ralston—“is our brother Gabriel, Marquess of Ralston.”

She curtsied gracefully, rising and indicating herself with a delicate hand, “I am Juliana Fiori. I confess, I was not expecting—” She paused, searching for the word, “I gemelli. My apologies. I do not know the word in English.”

Nick smiled. “Twins. No, I imagine that our mother did not expect i gemelli either.”

The dimple in Juliana’s cheek was a perfect match for Nick’s. “As you say. It is quite striking.”

“Well.” Wingate cleared his throat, drawing the attention of the rest, “I shall take my leave, then, if my lords have no further need of me.” The little man looked from Nick to Ralston, eager to be set free.

“You are free to go, Wingate,” Ralston said, his tone icy. “Indeed, I look forward to it.”

The lawyer exited, bowing quickly, as if afraid that he might never escape if he tarried too long. Once he had left the room, Nick consoled Juliana, “Don’t let yourself be fooled by Gabriel. He’s not as wicked as he seems. Some days, he simply likes to play the lord of the manor.”

“I believe that I am the lord of the manor, Nicholas,” Ralston pointed out dryly.

Nick winked at their sister. “Four minutes older, and he cannot help but hold it over me.”

Juliana offered Nick a small smile before turning her clear blue gaze on her eldest brother, “My lord, I should like to leave.”

Gabriel nodded. “Understandably. I will have your things brought to one of the chambers above stairs. You must be weary from your travels.”

“No. You do not understand. I would like to leave England. To return to Venice.” When neither Gabriel nor Nick spoke, she continued, her hands moving in time with her words, her accent thickening as emotion crept into her speech. “I assure you, I cannot comprehend why my father insisted I come here. I have friends at home who would happily welcome me—”

Gabriel cut her off, firmly. “You will stay here.”

“Mi scusi, my lord. I would prefer not to.”

“I’m afraid you do not have a choice.”

“You cannot keep me here. I do not belong here. Not with you…not in…England.” She spat the word as though it were foul-tasting.

“You forget that you are half-English, Juliana,” Nick said, amused.

“Never! I am Italian!” Her blue eyes flashed.

“And your personality shows it, kitten,” Gabriel drawled. “But you are the very portrait of our mother.”

Juliana looked to the walls. “Portraits? Of our mother? Where?”

Nick chuckled, charmed by her misunderstanding. “No. You will not find pictures of her here. Gabriel was saying that you look like our mother. Exactly like her, actually.”

Juliana slashed one hand through the air. “Never say such a thing to me again. Our mother was a—” She stopped herself, the silence in the room heavy with the unspoken epithet.

Ralston’s lips twisted in a wry smile. “I see we have found something upon which we can agree.”

“You cannot force me to stay.”

“I am afraid I can. I’ve already signed the papers. You are under my protection until you marry.”

Her eyes widened. “That is impossible. My father would never have required such a thing. He knew I have no intention of marrying.”

“Whyever not?” Nick asked.

Juliana spun on him, “I should think you would understand better than most. I will not repeat my mother’s sins.”

Gabriel’s eyes narrowed. “There is absolutely no reason that you would be anything like—”

“You will forgive me if I am not willing to take such a chance, my lord. Surely we can reach an accord?”

In that moment, Gabriel’s decision was made.

“You did not know our mother?”

Juliana held herself perfectly straight and proud, meeting Ralston’s gaze without flinching. “She left us nearly ten years ago. I believe it was the same for you?”

Ralston nodded. “We were not even ten.”

“Then I imagine neither of us has much love lost for her.”

“Indeed.”

They stood like that for a long moment, each testing the truth of the other’s words. Gabriel spoke first. “I will offer you a bargain.” Juliana shook her head in an instant denial before Ralston lifted one hand and halted her words. “This is not a negotiation. You will stay for two months. If, after that time, you decide that you would prefer to return to Italy, I will arrange it.”