How To Build The Perfect Rake (3 page)

She went over her conversation with Luc the
night before and grimaced. He really did seem stuck on the
Houghton. She wondered if it was a passing fancy, a kind of
infatuation for Luc had never undergone his first schoolboy crush.
At least, he had never mentioned anything to her on the subject and
she couldn’t imagine him keeping something so momentous to himself.
Perhaps Carisse Houghton was nothing more than a momentary lapse of
reason.

Or perhaps he has gone and tumbled head over
heels in love…

Olympia hoped that was not
the case but the Lucien St James she knew was a constant kind of
fellow, not inclined to run off on ridiculous flights of fancy. She
sighed, wriggling around in the bed. The way she saw it, she had
two choices. She could help Luc win the fair Carisse’s hand,
thereby securing him his heart’s desire. She wasn’t exactly
friends
with Carisse
because Carisse was not the kind of girl who particularly
had
friends. But that
didn’t mean Olympia could not try and insinuate herself in the
girl’s inner circle the better to sing Luc’s praises. After all, he
wasn’t completely out of the running. He had too much money for a
female in want of a rich husband to turn up her nose at
him.

Or she could do her utmost to direct him
elsewhere. The Season was bursting with delightful girls who might
not be as beautiful as the Houghton but more than made up for it in
intelligence and goodness of nature. Luc deserved somebody who
would make him happy and, in the long run, she simply could not
believe Carisse would do that. When one got past the beauty what
was left?

Olympia sighed as her maid came in with her
morning chocolate, pushing herself up in bed. She didn’t want Luc
to marry the Houghton but he would probably go after her anyway
which meant that she would have to decide on a direction. Help Luc
to marry a girl who must ultimately make him unhappy? Or try and do
her best to distract him with other offerings?

One way or another, she knew she needed to
come up with a plan because Luc himself really didn’t have a
clue.

Chapter Two

If Lord Julian Howe was surprised to receive
a call from Lucien St James, he hid it well, receiving his guest
with no more than a small lift of an eyebrow. Luc had found him
sitting over what had to be a very late breakfast for it was just
on two o’clock when he called around to the man’s George Street
rooms. Howe did not have a town house but, like many single
gentlemen, kept a small establishment that was serviced by no more
than a valet. Or so Luc assumed, handing his hat and coat to the
tall, thin individual who opened the door.

He was shown through to the modest dining
room where his host was idly contemplating a dish of eggs. He
looked Luc over without any particular interest. ‘Ah. St James.
Coffee?’

‘Good afternoon, Lord Howe. If you please,
coffee would be most welcome.’

‘Take a seat. Anton, a cup for Mr. St
James.’

Luc sat and eyed his host with interest. He
was not yet entirely dressed for the day, wearing only a lawn shirt
with his breeches and boots. Clearly the man was no early riser.
‘I’m glad I caught you at home, sir.’

‘Who the devil goes about at this ungodly
time of day?’

‘It is two o’clock.’

‘Precisely.’ Howe gave a small shudder.

He was, Luc reflected, complete to a shade
even if he was still preparing for the day ahead. Howe had style,
the kind of seedy good looks that many females seemed to fancy and
an air of languid disinterest about him that was sure to garner the
exact opposite reaction. Luc tried to evaluate him with an
impartial eye, laying aside his prejudices and sizing the man up
for a tutor and had to allow that his lordship was really an
excellent rake. A small quiver of jealousy made itself known within
but he quashed it resolutely. Undoubtedly his lordship had worked
hard to establish such a dreadful reputation whereas Luc had not
done a days labor in pursuit of it. Not yet, anyway. He sincerely
hoped that could be amended.

‘I suppose you think it a little odd that I
should turn up this afternoon.’

Howe looked faintly surprised. ‘Not at all.
Why should I?’

‘Well, we’re not particularly friends. Come
to that, we’re not particularly acquaintances, either.’

‘Oh well,’ his lordship waved a long white
hand vaguely, ‘I am sure you have an excellent reason.’

‘I do.’ Luc took a deep breath. ‘I want to
hire you.’

Howe paused and looked at Luc. Apparently
this was unusual enough to capture his curiosity. ‘I beg your
pardon?’

‘I want to hire you.’

‘Hire… me? As in…’ his
lordship paused, considering this but there really was only one way
that he could take such an utterance ‘as in,
rent
me?’

‘Exactly right. And I would like to secure
your services as quickly as possible.’

Lord Howe stared at Luc for some moments,
before pouring himself another cup of coffee. Anton had vanished,
which Luc considered fortuitous. This was not a conversation he was
keen to have bandied about the place. ‘Hire me for what,
exactly?’

‘I want you to teach me how to become a
rake.’ Despite the fact that he had been practicing those very
words for an hour or so, it still sounded absurd. Still, he had to
get it out some time and there was no point beating about the bush.
Time was of the essence.

‘You want me to teach you to become a rake,’
Howe murmured, voice musing. He had, Luc decided, rather the look
of the satyr about him with his long, heavily lidded dark eyes and
swarthy skin. He had black hair as well, meticulously groomed but
it did put one in mind of those Flemish painters who liked to paint
such creatures that Luc had seen when he had done the Grand Tour.
Howe even had slightly pointy ears.

‘I will pay you, of course.’

‘Will you now.’ The dark eyes rested on him
thoughtfully. ‘And what makes you think I would undertake anything
so very… tedious?’

Luc had been anticipating a battle. The
likes of Howe would not simply agree to such a venture, not without
some persuasion. ‘Well,’ he had already decided that bluntness was
the only option, ‘you need money and I’m prepared to pay you
handsomely for your assistance.’

Those impenetrable eyes narrowed a little.
It was the only indication that Luc had said something
objectionable. ‘My dear fellow,’ he said softly, ‘I think you have
made a mistake.’

Luc eyed him dubiously and took a mouthful
of coffee. ‘I am not trying to offend you. I am merely asking for
your help. I need to… impress a lady but she finds me too unworldly
to be of interest. I need somebody to show me how to appear less
-’

‘Of an insensitive clodhopper?’

Luc flushed. ‘If you like.’

‘And why did you come to me?’

‘The thing is,’ Luc began
slowly, knowing that he might be in danger of ruffling his
lordship’s feathers again, ‘you
are
a rake. A very good one, I must say. I was hoping
you might see your way clear to helping me out.’

There was a long silence and then Howe
smiled, a cynical twist of the lips. ‘Nicely done, boy. You’ve
neatly avoided mentioning that you’ve heard I’m by way of being
rolled-up. I appreciate your delicacy.’

‘I had heard that, actually.’

‘It’s quite true. How much are you prepared
to offer me to make my more immediate problems go away?’

‘How bad are your immediate problems?’

‘I am holed up here
waiting until dark to slip out the back door, thus eluding my
creditors. What do
you
think?’

Luc winced. ‘You
are
in deep!’

‘Under the hatches. I would need five
hundred pounds just to start to breath easy again,’ this was said
almost challengingly, Howe’s gaze unwavering as he considered his
guest. ‘And another five to even begin to look half way
decent.’

One thousand pounds. It was a hell of a lot
of money but then, Luc hadn’t thought that securing the man’s
services would come cheap. He had the ready, of course. Not one to
overspend by nature, he had a great deal of money to draw on. As
Ollie like to say, he was rolling in green. Which, he reflected
wryly, was just as well.

‘That is a great deal of money, my
lord.’

‘Isn’t it? In my more sober moments I
reflect upon exactly how much money it is. Still, if one spends
one’s life outrunning the constable then it’s hardly surprising. I
prefer style over substance any day.’

‘A thousand pounds,’ Luc said thoughtfully,
‘are you holding these chits yourself or is it in the hands of your
man of business?’

Howe gave a low chuckle. ‘My dear boy, I am
my man of business! What sane steward would administer to me?’

‘It makes it easier. Why don’t you gather
together your debts together and I will deal with them.’

‘Will you now.’ There was another pause. Luc
sensed that his lordship was struggling with necessity over the
desire to tell him to hoist his backside out the door but
desperation could be an unpleasant companion and Luc thought he was
getting a good whiff of it from the man on the other side of the
table. ‘Very well,’ Howe said finally, ‘I accept. How long do we
have for this little venture?’

‘How long do you think it will take?’

His lordship eyed Luc then waved a hand.
‘Stand up.’

He rose obediently.

‘Turn around.’

Luc turned.

There was a sigh. ‘If we work hard at it I
can possibly make something out of you in two or three weeks.’ He
looked at his new protégé for a moment, then shook his head with
some decision. ‘No, three weeks, minimum.’

‘You can teach me how to be a rake in three
weeks?’

‘No. I can teach you
to
pretend
to be
a rake in three weeks. The genuine article takes years of vice
that, frankly, I doubt you possess the necessary outlook to make
inroads on such a course. You have a glow of healthy goodness about
you boy. It will take a great deal of effort on my part to dim it
down.’

‘Yes, but you think it can be done?’ Luc
demanded hopefully.

‘Of course it can be done,’ Howe shook his
head, ‘but I must say, this is the most ridiculous venture I’ve
ever attempted!’

Luc found Olympia in
Kensington Park, engaged in a rather languorous picnic on the
grass. It was all quite elaborate, of course, with chairs set about
and rugs and cushions. This Season rustic pleasures were
fashionable but those pleasures generally incorporated servants to
serve food from the laden tables that had been set up and a great
deal of padding between the
ton’s
rumps and Mother Earth. There was only so much
rustic one could tolerate.

Spotting his friend idly chatting with
several other young misses, he edged close and wiggled his fingers
in her direction, trying to gain her attention. He shouldn’t be
talking to her by herself, of course as this wasn’t the country but
all the world knew they were childhood friends and a certain amount
of leniency was given the relationship.

Olympia spotted him and raised an eyebrow,
rising to her feet. She was looking fresh as a daisy in the damp
afternoon heat in a dress of pale lemon cambric. It suited her dark
brown hair and pale skin to perfection, as did the stylish straw
hat that she wore.

‘What are you lurking about here for?’ she
said, coming up to him, ‘I told you that the Houghton wasn’t coming
along today.’

‘I’m not here because of Carisse,’ he said,
annoyed at both her assumption that he was mooning about after Miss
Houghton and that she sounded peevish. He wasn’t used to Ollie
being peevish. ‘Whatever is the matter with you?’

She sighed and tucked a hand into the crook
of his arm. They began walking slowly across the grass. ‘I’m bored.
I wish I hadn’t come. The girls I am sitting with are forever
prattling on about potential beaus, the gentlemen who are paying
court to me are dull and I have a headache.’ She gave him a quick
grin, pansy-brown eyes suddenly mischievous. ‘It is a litany of
misery. We could always run off and find a tree to climb. That
would be so much more interesting and cheer me up no end.’

‘Oh it would be
very
interesting to have
Miss Grayson climbing trees in the middle of Kensington Park,’ he
agreed, but he was smiling because really, Ollie could be utterly
absurd.

‘You fusty old thing. You just don’t want me
to beat you again. Last time we climbed a tree I got much higher
than you. And don’t pretend that it was years ago,’ she added, when
he opened his mouth to protest, ‘when you know perfectly well it
was only last April!’

‘You were still in the schoolroom then.’

‘You
weren’t.’

‘Yes, well… you bring out the worst in
me.’

‘More like the best. What are you doing
here, anyway? I thought you and Mr. Featherstone were going to the
races?’

‘Cancelled it. I’ve come up with the most
marvelous plan.’

Olympia arched an eyebrow. ‘Sounds
intriguing. Are you going to kidnap Miss Houghton and whisk her
away to Gretna?’

Luc was shocked. ‘Of course not!’

‘Pity. She looks as if she could do with
some excitement in her life.’

‘Olympia, you are really quite dreadful to
that poor girl. As if I would cause her a moments pain!’

He heard another sigh, then. ‘Very well.
Tell me what this marvelous plan is.’

‘Well you made me think of it actually. Last
night, at the dance.’

Olympia widened her eyes a little. ‘I did?
Well it must be good, then.’