A Scandalous Charade

A Scandalous Charade

Ava Stone

Copyright © 2011 by Ava Stone

Cover Design by Lily Smith

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form by any electronic or mechanical means—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without written permission.

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

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www.avastoneauthor.com

Dedication

For Brandt, my inspiration for Edmund St. Claire, the nine-year-old Duke of Prestwick.

~ 1 ~

February 1812 - London

This truly is a den of iniquity, Lucas Beckford thought to himself. One sleeping, naked woman was draped across his lower torso, while another slept soundlessly, her head resting on his left shoulder. However, Luke was not sleeping. He was wide awake in the wee hours of the morning, staring at the crushed red velvet walls and what was left of some flickering candles.

Something in his life was most definitely missing. Unfortunately that same thought seemed to creep into his mind at the most inopportune times over the last month or so. Not that he should complain. Many men would love to be in his position—especially the one he found himself in right now. But somewhere along the line, this had become mundane for him. After many years of cheerful sinning in one capacity or another, he’d started to tire of this existence that was his life. Fast-paced hazard tables, fast-paced whores, and a never ending supply of money and whiskey. No, most men wouldn’t complain.

Yet, he wasn’t satisfied. So, there had to be something he was missing. Something…more.

The woman in his arms stirred and he took the opportunity to shift her to a pillow beside him. However, the one draped across his middle didn’t seem likely to move for quite some time, and he hated to wake her. She had been quite accommodating.

“For God’s sakes!” he growled. What in Lucifer’s name was the problem? Luke wrenched the door open, not a stitch on him, and glared at the intruder. His glower lightened a bit when he recognized his young friend William, Lord Haywood, standing in the corridor, a horrified expression plastered on his boyish face. Will knew better than to interrupt a man here. Something truly terrible must have happened.

Will pushed his way into the room and noticed the two girls now scrambling for clothes. He grinned bashfully at the younger of the two. “Oh, Sarah.”

“Lord Haywood.” The girl blushed, which was strange in Luke’s mind, as he didn’t remember ever seeing a whore do so before.

After he pulled his trousers up over his hips and started to button himself in, Luke glanced up and was annoyed that Haywood was still making moon eyes at the girl. “Sweet Lucifer, Will, what are you doing here?”

Will tore his eyes away from Sarah. “You have to help me, Luke. I don’t know what else to do. I’ve tried everything I can think of, but nothing’s worked. And tonight she told me I was a featherbrained dolt whose thoughts wouldn’t fill a thimble.”

At the moment, Luke was inclined to agree with whoever she was. He had a hard time believing that the young baron had tracked him down here in the middle of the night to discuss some female. Certainly this could wait until morning…or afternoon, or whenever Luke chose to finally wake up. “Who are we speaking about, Will?”

Haywood looked exasperated and frowned at him. “The Ice Princess, Luke—Lady Juliet.  That damned haughty chit.”

Luke’s head began to ache. This was hardly the sort of thing a man wanted to think about at—he checked his pocket watch—three-thirty in the morning. Then he pulled on his shirt and waived the girls out of the room.

“Just surprised you know her name, Will.” Calling a whore by her first name was not something Luke had ever done. In fact, he didn’t know any of their first names and planned to keep it that way.

“Oh, well,” Will began as he sank into a high-backed velvet chair, “she’s a real sweetheart. Wants to be an actress.”

Luke couldn’t care less, and his gaze darkened on his friend. “Perhaps instead of chatting up career goals with Madam Palmer’s girls you could be charming Lady Juliet.”

Will snorted and let his head fall into his hands. “I could spend all day trying to charm her and it wouldn’t do a damn bit of good. Honestly, Luke, a more frigid woman doesn’t exist.” Then his head shot upward. “That’s why I need your help.”

Luke didn’t like the sound of that and he shook his head slowly. “If she’s so prickly, Will, then just pick someone else. It’s not as if she’s the only heiress in England.”

“No, she’s just the wealthiest. If I have to sell my soul in marriage, I want to get the most out of it.”

Luke pulled on his Hessians and chuckled. It was no wonder the Ice Princess wasn’t charmed by Haywood. “What a romantic notion,” he remarked sardonically.

“That’s just the problem. I don’t have a clue what to say around her. You’ve got to go with me to the Ridgemont’s tomorrow…er, technically I suppose it’s tonight.”

“No!” Luke barked emphatically. He’d successfully avoided Louisa Ridgemont for the last fortnight and he wasn’t about to go traipsing into the she-devil’s den.

“Please,” Will begged. “You’ve got to watch me interact with her, tell me what I’m doing wrong.”

Luke was bone tired and he shook his head at his pitiful friend. “Not even to save your pathetic life, Haywood. Do you know how long it took me to end things with Louisa?”

Haywood actually blanched. “Oh, sorry. I hadn’t thought about that. The thing is, Luke, Lady Juliet’s unpredictable, and avoids functions for the most part. But I know she’ll be at the Ridgemont ball, and I desperately need your sage advice.”

Luke cursed under his breath. If it had been anyone else that was asking this of him, he’d have told them to go jump in the Thames…But he felt responsible for Haywood. He always had. “I ought to be checked into Bedlam for agreeing to this, and you’ll owe me for the rest of your life.”

Will’s solemn face broke into a wide grin. “You’re the best.”

“Yes, yes.” Luke frowned, opened the door of the small bedroom, and stepped into the corridor—directly into the path of Alexander Everett, the Duke of Kelfield.

An amused grin tugged at the corners of the wicked duke’s mouth. “Very interesting. I had no idea,” he smirked as he glanced inside the empty bedroom, then back at Luke and Will.

Luke scowled at Kelfield, as he pushed past him. “Bugger off.” Then as an afterthought he added, “Your Grace.”

***

“Dear God, she’s here.” Will gulped nervously, his boyish face drawn up tight. He quickly downed the remainder of the wine in his goblet.

They’d been waiting for nearly an hour at the Ridgemont’s and Luke had been certain the Ice Princess wouldn’t show up. She’d leave him to flounder in Louisa’s ballroom, paying a penance he had no desire to pay. But, apparently, he’d been wrong.

Will raked his free hand through his dark hair, as if the process would help him think of the right thing to say this time. Luke had never seen the lad so anxious. This was serious indeed.

“Courage, Will,” he drawled next to his anguished friend. Then Luke lazily pushed himself away from the large, white pillar he’d spent the last half hour leaning against, to focus his attention on the Ridgemonts’ newest arrival.

The reason he was here.

Lady Juliet St. Claire.

The last time he’d laid eyes on her had to be ten years ago, at a wedding or something. She must have been nine or ten at the time, a bony girl with knobby knees and big brown eyes.

She had changed.

She was lovely.

Lady Juliet was adorned in an expensive, yet tasteful silk rose gown that shimmered like diamonds as she glided across the floor. Her chestnut colored hair was piled high on her head, and dainty tendrils framed her heart-shaped face. Her brown eyes were still big, though apparently deceiving, as he’d heard tales of her ability to instantly chill a man to his bones with just her gaze.

So this was the chit Haywood had decided on. God have mercy on his soul.

Luke watched Lady Juliet with methodical eyes. She was instantly swooped down upon by a fortune-hunting viscount, who was quickly followed by other suitors, all light in the pockets, each of them. Without a doubt Will had competition for the heiress’ hand…er…make that fortune. “Do you see how they’ve swarmed around her? You definitely do not want to be part of that pack.”

Will frowned and focused his attention on the lady. “But if I’m not near her you can’t tell me what I’m doing wrong, and I won’t have a chance at catching her.”

With a beleaguered sigh, Luke turned to his protégé. “You won’t have a chance if you join their ranks. Trust me, Will, ladies like Juliet St. Claire are accustomed to gentlemen showering them with attention. Up ‘til now you’ve been chasing her so hard that she takes your affection for granted. But if you suddenly turn your attentions elsewhere… Well, that she’ll notice. She won’t want to lose one of her many accessories, and she’ll scramble to get you back.”

Will didn’t look convinced, and Luke grinned to himself. Haywood was still such a green lad, though over all a pretty good fellow. It wasn’t his fault he’d inherited his father’s massive debts along with his title.  The young baron was simply trying to put his estates to rights, and he was in over his head.

A few years back Luke had taken pity on Will—fresh from the country with not an ounce of Town polish. The boy had been a complete innocent. Since that time, Luke had tutored Haywood in many things: gambling, whoring, drinking. But helping him with the unenviable task of snaring a wealthy bride wasn’t something he was anxious to do. The very idea sent chills down Luke’s spine, but he had seen the baron’s accounts himself. Marriage seemed the best way to keep the Haywood estates afloat.

Across the room, Lady Juliet dismissed her entourage, one at a time. Two of her penniless suitors fought to retrieve the Ice Princess some refreshment. And it appeared that she dismissed the rest with a flick of her wrist and a cool scowl.

Now she was all alone, and Luke studied her delicate frame. If one had to marry an heiress, they’d be hard pressed to find a more attractive one.

Haywood started to move toward the icy heiress, but Luke halted him with a hand on his arm. “She’ll just turn you away, Will. Don’t be rash. Don’t act without thinking. Just watch her. Study her.”