A Game of Persuasion: Extended Prologue for the Art of Ruining a Rake (The Naughty Girls Book 3) (13 page)

But she couldn’t. This ball was in her honor. She must stay and see it through.

Oh, yes. She could be strong. Her voice didn’t even shake as she asked, “Why did you introduce my brother to that woman?”
 

“What woman?” Roman seemed genuinely puzzled.

“There was a woman at Lady Melbourne’s ball. She had dark hair. She was very beautiful. You introduced Trestin to her, then walked away.”

Roman frowned. “You shouldn’t have seen that.”

She continued to watch him levelly.

A muscle twitched at his jaw as he seemed to decide how much to reveal. Finally, he shrugged, a movement she was coming to think wasn’t as carefree as he wanted her to believe. “The fact of the matter is, your brother and I have unfinished business between us. I was not in a position to refuse his request, even if I didn’t agree.”

“Do you make a habit of dictating with whom he may be friends?” If they weren’t going to flirt, then she would protect her brother. It was the least she could do for Trestin.

Roman’s eyes narrowed. “You and Ashlin have spent far too much time in the country. If I am running hither and yon, drawing in the right sorts of people and frightening off the worst, it is because I see danger. The fact that he continues to court ruin even when I warn him against it is all the proof I need to reassure myself of the correctness of my actions. And you, Miss Lancester, would do very well to give me a wide berth.”

She immediately forgot how to speak.

His chest heaved, his cravat billowing just above eye level. A flush stained his cheeks. He was aroused to passion, though what she’d said to provoke him, she didn’t know.

If only she did understand him! For the barest second, she allowed her gaze to test his. Heat smoldered in his eyes and she gasped, a tiny little hitch that sounded louder than the stomp of the dancers’ feet on the parquet floor.

He looked away first. Visibly, he collected himself and smoothed away all traces of his outburst. “My apologies, Miss Lancester. I want only the best for your family.”

She nodded faintly, still speechless. As he eased his lean form back into the blithe stance of an unconcerned rake, then availed himself of yet another glass of wine, she felt bereft.

It had all happened so fast—there was simply too much to think about. She needed to leave. Without so much as a curtsey, she started for the doors.

He tried to catch her hand again, but she snatched it to her breast. He allowed her to leave without further incident.

In a crowded room like this, he couldn’t chase her, even if he wanted to do so. She walked as calmly as she could, knowing her confusion was on her face, until she reached the retiring room.

Hours later as she tossed and turned in fitful sleep, she heard the crash of glass breaking in the room below. She sat up straight, her heart pounding.
Mother.

No, Mother was gone. Years had passed since Lucy had huddled beneath her blanket with her sister, listening to the terrifying sounds of their mother’s jealous fits.

Someone else had shattered the glass. Yet it took several moments for her grip on the coverlet to ease.

The clip-clop of hooves sounded outside her window. Chiding herself, Lucy tossed back the covers and went to draw the curtain back.

The carriage had been brought out. Misty moonlight shrouded it in shadow. Suddenly, the door opened below her and Trestin stumbled out of the house. He staggered to the carriage and climbed inside.

There was a moment’s delay before the carriage began to roll forward. She watched it rumble down the street until it turned. Though the direction told her nothing, there was only one explanation for his odd departure.

Trestin had an assignation.

Chapter 8

EVEN THOUGH LUCY always imagined Roman in London, whisking young ladies off their feet and breaking promises at every turn, she must have always harbored a secret hope that when he finally knew
her,
he’d realize all those trysts had been nothing but a way to pass the time until she came into her own.

That was clearly a naïve dream.

Lucy pulled her coat tighter and stepped onto the stoop. As silly as she felt for not realizing Roman was already in love with someone else, she was glad to think she had her head about her on some things. The boarding school in Bath was a necessity. Thankfully, her prudence in planning for her future would be her comfort now.
 

She clutched a list of ladies’ names Celeste had provided to her. These women were potential benefactresses for their school. Lucy had the entire afternoon to call on these wealthy matrons, which she intended to do as soon as she prioritized them with Celeste. But this time, when Lucy asked Mr. Diggs to drive her to Celeste’s terraced house, he looked unsure.

Lucy frowned. She didn’t have time to spare if she was to make all of her planned rounds before tonight’s musicale.

“But you’ve driven me there before,” she persisted. “Most days, in fact. Why should today be any different?”

“It’s on account of the lord, you see. I don’t want there to be trouble.” The coachman ran his hand behind his head, looking miserable.

Lucy struggled to understand. “But you haven’t told him my comings and goings, have you? He would have said something to me.” A heap of it.

“No, my lady, and I hope he never asks. It’s more that Lord Trestin wanted to be out last night, and as I know you aren’t keen to have him know about your special outings, I think today isn’t a good day for that particular destination—”

“Oh?” Her brow creased in confusion. Then understanding dawned. “
Ohhh!
You took Trestin there!”

The coachman grimaced. “But it don’t seem like a thing he’d want you to know, and you don’t want him to know, and seeing as he hasn’t yet returned…”

Lucy couldn’t clamp her hand over her mouth quickly enough to contain her chortle of delight. Thank Olympus he’d gone to
Celeste
and not to that brown-haired woman!

Feeling euphoric, Lucy quickly gave Mr. Diggs the next direction on her list. Once she was alone in the carriage, she was free to grin widely. If she couldn’t seduce Roman into one night’s tryst—a fool’s errand if she ever heard one—at least Trestin and Celeste might reconcile.

Lucy smoothed the edges of her list as she rode to her first destination. Lady Baxter was the type to leap at the chance to sit on the board of directors, or so Celeste had told her. As soon as the carriage drew up to the impressive Mayfair house, Lucy seized her reticule, descended from the carriage and went to the front door.

Her hand shook as she lifted the knocker. If Lady Baxter rejected her proposal, it didn’t make Lucy’s idea a bad one. She must remember hers was a lofty goal; not everyone would understand it.

Lucy was shown to a rose-papered sitting room. The urge to fidget as she awaited Lady Baxter soon won out, and she reached for a freshly printed copy of
The Ladies Companion
lying on the table.

Flipping to the Society pages almost caused her to drop the magazine as if it were hot. The very first sentence of the gossip section read:

Our darling Lord M—, it is reported, has been observed in the company of a New Innocent.

Lucy’s heart leapt into her throat. Zeus! That was her!

This pretty fascination has taken the
ton
by storm, much to our surprise. For in spite of her limited dowry, despite her seasoned age, notwithstanding her average appearance, this New Arrival has captured the attention of several Sought After Gentlemen. Perhaps we are bored of the same lot of debutantes we are subjected to each spring. It certainly appears Lord M— is ready for a new challenge.

Lucy thrust aside the rag as Lady Baxter entered the room. It wouldn’t do for the woman to think Lucy was embroiled in a scandalous
on dit
.

“So inconsiderate of me to keep you waiting, child,” Lady Baxter said, running her hands over her coiffure and smoothing the wisps of gray against her ears. “There was a situation with my cook—has Thomas brought you refreshment? No? Thomas! Thomas, the tray. At once.” She approached Lucy without waiting for the servant to appear. “Now, what brings you here?”

Lucy smiled as best she could manage when her heart beat like a hummingbird’s. The notion that Roman was already half-enamored of her—at least enough to capture the notice of the gossip columnist—buoyed her considerably. There
had
been all the confounding utterances he’d made when she’d riled him to passion, just before she’d left on account of her spinning head. Perhaps she had a chance to win his heart, after all.

“My lady,” Lucy said, reaching into her reticule as she forced herself to think of her future, rather than her fancies. “I’ve come to you with a very exclusive proposal…”

Chapter 9

LUCY MADE THREE stops by the end of the day. All three of the potential patronesses had agreed to donate money to her school. Two of them, including Lady Baxter, had agreed to sit on the board. Lucy was feeling pleased with herself as she dressed for the evening ahead. A good day’s venture always left her satisfied.

She had just arrived at the musicale with her sister and Trestin in tow when Roman stepped from behind a marble column and caught her hand, frightening her half to death. “Dear family! I’d hoped you’d be present. I would hate to spend the entirety of the evening with only my rambling thoughts for company.”

Trestin’s face broke into a smile. “Funny, I know precisely how you feel.”

Roman glanced twice at his friend, as if he couldn’t believe Trestin’s long-lost grin had returned. “I think I’ve just been offended. Lucy-love, did your brother just imply that I’m a natterbox?”

Lucy gave him a wry look. After an entire afternoon spent pondering the likelihood of winning his affection from the woman about whom he’d spoken so worshipfully, Lucy was quite inspired to play the flirt again, if only to see how he’d respond.

In this case, he’d held her hand long enough; time to leave him wanting more. She withdrew her hand from his. “A sentiment shared by all of your friends, my lord?”

Delilah laughed gaily, perhaps as happy as Lucy and Roman to see Trestin’s grin again. “There is nothing wrong with enjoying the sound of one’s own voice, so long as others are willing to listen, my lord.”

Trestin rolled his eyes. “Don’t encourage him.”

Roman tossed his head back, shaking out his guinea ringlets so that they cascaded like a handful of coins. “A pretty girl is always allowed to agree with me. And you
are
looking lovely tonight, Miss Delilah. How goes the husband-hunting? I’ve introduced at least a dozen men to Miss Lancester and she’s turned them down to a one. I should have thrown them your way, instead.”

Delilah’s brown eyes danced. “Another waste of your time, I’m afraid. I prefer a country sort to these silly Corinthians.”

Roman slapped his hand across his chest in playful affront. “Insulted again! I shan’t recover this time. What fault could you possibly find with men who enjoy shopping and conversation?”

“It’s not
you
she’s offending.” Trestin glanced at her with exasperation, though his lips twitched with humor. “It’s me. I’m the misguided brother who insists on a sophisticated husband for his sister. But they are not all milksops,” he said to Delilah. “There must be at least one suitable prospect who can provide you a more comfortable living than an penurious farmer.”