Seduce Me Please (2 page)

Turning around insouciantly, he stared into the angry face of George Carlyle, the Marquis of Staverton, who as coincidence would have it, happened to also be Roberta Carlyle’s father.

Scratch that—her livid father.

The marquis’ face was becoming a very unflattering shade of purple with each second that passed. “I demand satisfaction!” he roared, waiving a piece of paper agitatedly in front of Graydon’s face. “I’m going to kill you for stealing my daughter’s innocence!”

“
I have no need to debauch an innocent,” Graydon said with a hard glint in his eyes. He lived his life according to a certain code of conduct which did not include seducing virgins.

Staverton rushed forward grabbing Graydon’s lapels angrily. “I knew you were a profligate rake, but I understood you drew the line at innocent young ladies.” His concern mimicked the beliefs Graydon had thought only moments before.

Graydon’s voice ground out with a deep rumble; his steely tone carrying out into the hall. “I suggest you remove your hands from my person, Staverton.” Slowly stepping out of his reach; the hard glint in his eyes would be plenty of a warning for most men, but evidently not for an extremely irate father. “And choose your words more carefully when you next speak to me.”

With outrage glinting in his eyes, Staverton turned towards his daughter and groaned; taking in the flimsiest chemise he had ever laid eyes on.

Roberta’s eyes sparkled defiantly, and a brittle laugh escaped her lightly painted lips. “French silk, Papa.” Her false bravado visible when her cheeks went a subtle shade of pink, her chin lifted in one final act of rebelliousness.

Glancing back and forth between his daughter and Graydon, the marquis’ eyes widened when it finally registered that his daughter was the only one not fully clothed. He scrubbed a frustrated hand across his face. “For God’s sake, Roberta, put your damn clothes back on,” he hissed, his shoulders slumping in defeat.

Roberta made an impatient sound, stomping her foot petulantly. She shifted strategically to allow the soft glow from the firelight to display her figure advantageously through the thin silk.

Graydon’s brows drew together in disbelief. The glow from the firelight revealed even more than her nakedness, it also revealed the slight swell of her belly as she moved about the room.

Quirking his brow sardonically, he turned back to the marquis. The tension in the air palpable. Deciding it was well past time to end this tiresome game, his voice was as cold and flat as his eyes. “By the looks of your daughter, Staverton, she hasn’t been an innocent young miss for quite some time,” his drawl caustic as he raked a disgusted look down her partially clothed body.

She stomped her foot in outrage. “He has ruined me Papa!” she screeched. “Are you going to just stand there and let him talk of me in this way?”

Graydon’s dark gaze returned her panicky look with a thunderous glare. The look of pure repugnance caused an ugly sneer to mar his customarily handsome veneer
. “Next time, darling, I would suggest a more thorough investigation before you choose someone to cuckold.” His words came out in a snarl. “Surely you didn’t believe that your
feminine wiles
would be sufficient to capture
me
?”

Staverton cast a startled glance at his daughter, his arms thrown out dramatically. “Roberta?” he questioned desperately.

“
Papa!” Roberta cried. “He did this to me!” She pointed her shaking finger in Rockwell’s direction. “He did this to me!”

“
Hold your tongue, Roberta!” Staverton returned immediately. His jaw clenched and unclenched in agitation. “I thought you had learned to curb that dreadful temper of yours?”

A scarlet flush spread unattractively from Roberta’s collarbone to her burning cheeks. “‘Tis not fair! He must marry me now!”

Staverton made a silencing gesture. “I-said-hold-your-tongue,” he ground out, enunciating each syllable clearly. His voice shaking with barely controlled anger.

“‘
Tis a trick, all of it, to make me look like a fool!” Roberta wailed, taken aback.

Graydon gave a light, scornful laugh, and his eyes held a distinct menace. “If I have anything to do with it, you will regret this day for the rest of your life.”

“
I’m not finished yet, Lord Rockwell, don’t think I am,” Roberta stammered. “I will not allow you to embarrass me in this way. We’ll see who has the last laugh, my lord!”

Graydon’s eyes mocked her. “I fear, my dear, that your life is doomed to overwhelming disappointment.” He swept an elegant bow, as she stared at him in dismay.

Disregarding Staverton, who was gaping at him in shock, Graydon turned slowly and walked out of the library sweeping past the mass of gaping guests and tittering servants without a backward glance.

CHAPTER ONE

The fuss of London calls once again. Dress fittings, shopping, teas, breakfasts, balls and musicales…but my mind is still preoccupied with one particular topic. I am dreading hearing the news of his marriage. Such a silly infatuation! Ridiculous! I am supposed to be the one who thinks before they act. Obviously that is not so. I must have addled my brain somehow? Why does my heart ache for someone that I have yet to officially meet? The most peculiar thing about this situation is all the wagging tongues have been quiet. Three weeks into the season and I have yet to hear even a whisper. How is that possible?

Piper’s journal

24 May

COMFORTABLY ENSCONCED in the elegantly furnished blue salon of Ashford House, situated fashionably in Grosvenor Square, the four ladies settled down for what they considered a well-deserved tea.

Piper took a healthy sip and grimaced. With a heavy sigh she plunked her tea cup on the table before picking up the delicate silver tongs and reaching greedily for a large chunk of sugar to add to her tea. “I don’t know how you can drink such a bitter brew.” She glanced at Miss Harris.

Miss Harris shuddered as she watched Piper stir in the additional sugar until it dissolved. “Well, I am at a loss as to how you can drink your tea prepared that way.” She visibly shuddered at the idea of the overly sweetened drink.

Piper’s eyes twinkled. “It’s positively divine.”

“
It’s perfectly obvious she must need the additional fortification to proceed with the remainder of the season. I’m already exhausted and the season has hardly begun.” Agnes sighed, taking a fortifying sip of her own tea. “I believe I have need to replace the soles on my favorite dancing slippers already,” said Piper’s dearest friend. She was truly lovely in a quiet sort of way. Everyone compared Agnes Aldebourne to
a little gray mouse, or at least that is what Poppy, Piper’s twin always said. Her face consisted of a little pointy nose and chin. She was thin and pale which was emphasized by the copious amounts of plain gray cloth that seemed to cover her from head to toe. Her saving grace was the lovely disposition she possessed. But Piper was at a loss; her dearest friend had potential to be such a beautiful creature. But no matter the poking and prodding, Agnes didn’t feel it necessary to put any additional effort into her outward appearance. It was tragic.

“
Many would construe the need to replenish their wardrobe so early in the season as a good omen, Agnes,” Piper said with a playful look in her eye. “Especially since one is in town for the sole purpose of securing a husband and the multitude of gentlemen you’ve partnered in direct correlation with the amount of marriage proposals you’ve secured.”

“
Pshaw!” Agnes chuckled. “I have no urgent need of a husband and especially no need of one that deems it necessary to drown me in flowery prose comparing my attire to the ashen soot from a fire pit.”

Piper’s laughter erupted with a bark. “You must admit, that his poem was quite clever. Who else but Douglas Clayton could deliver such an impassioned speech without so much as a hint of humor? I truly believe he was sincere, Agnes.”

“
You are such a lovely woman, Agnes,” Miss Harris exclaimed. “I cannot comprehend why you find it so difficult to believe that a man would seek you out for marriage.”

Adele Peregrine turned from penning her many letters at the escritoire set for her own particular use near one of the opened windows. “Tsk, tsk,” she clucked. “Young ladies today have such sparing energies. Why I remember when I enjoyed my seasons dancing all night without a single complaint.” The plume of her quill waved gaily with each gesture of her graceful hands. “And remember girls, we wore a stones worth of powdered wigs atop our heads but we were still able to dance the night away as if we were floating on clouds in our satin slippered feet.” Sighing with nostalgia, her lace cap settled attractively over her dark hair sprinkled liberally with silver, fluttering as she slanted a playful glance towards Agnes.

Adele, Piper’s paternal aunt, their father’s only sister had lived with them for as long as Piper could remember. After the sudden death of her betrothed during her first season, she swore she could never contemplate marriage to another and she never did.

“
I can find no immediate reason for us to visit the shops today,” Piper’s companion of many years, Miss Harris interjected hopefully, looking up from her tambour with a smile playing at her lips. “We could all just nap the afternoon away,” she said to no one in particular before bending back over her embroidery. Miss Aurora Harris originally employed as the twin’s governess now remained on as Piper and her Auntie Adele’s companion. Piper generally found her agreeable in all things, but obviously not in this instance.

Agnes appeared as delighted with that comment as Miss Harris sounded which added to Piper’s ire.

After stirring milk and sugar in her tea, Piper took a hearty sip before sitting back with an exhalation of pure contentment. “But I had my heart set on acquiring a new book today.”

“
You have a stack of unread books balanced precariously on your nightstand at this very moment, my dear,” Miss Harris stated plainly. “There is no urgency to add to your tumbling heap today.”

“
Pooh!” Piper’s eyes twinkled impishly behind the silver spectacles framing her bright blue eyes. “One can never have too many books,” Piper quipped with an arched brow. She popped a piece of cake in her mouth and after swallowing the delicious pastry, continued. “My books are stacked neatly beside my bed, not a jumbled mess, so if that is what has convinced you of your conclusion, I must vigorously disagree with your postulation.” Piper picked up her teacup again, if only to hide her grin.

Auntie Adele turned once again from her letter writing and smiled. “Very well stated, my dear.”

“
Lord Portland, my lady,” their butler announced from the salon doorway.”

“
Thank you, Bertie.” Piper’s eyes sparkled as she sprang from the settee and grabbed the hands of their newly arrived guest. “Chester! We are so glad to see you. We are all absolutely bored to tears.”
Chester Wakefield, Viscount Portland, grandson to the Duke of Gosford, was Piper’s first cousin on her mother’s side, one of her best friends since childhood, and just one more man that she had tightly wound around her little finger.

“
We or you?” He smiled indulgently at his cousin. His left brow lifted as he glanced comically at the other ladies in the room, who for all appearance sake, looked perfectly content to sit and sip tea. “Of course, I can feel the boredom in the air. Forgive me for doubting your word, dear cousin. It is quite clear to me how one could confuse the serene atmosphere in this room for boredom. Complete and absolute boredom.”

Miss Harris never raised her head, but he could see the tolerant smile that curved her lips at his witticism.

After squeezing his arm affectionately, Piper pulled him further into the room. Sitting, she waited as Chester sprawled inelegantly next to her on the powder blue settee. His grin never waning. “What a greeting, I should come here more often. You ladies have a knack at making a man feel of great import. It could become quite addictive.”

“
Miss Harris was advising that I have an overabundance of books and have no need to visit Hatchard’s today to add to my precarious pile.” Piper wasted no time mentioning, her blue eyes alive with humor. “Would you care for tea?”

“
Yes, please.” He reached for a small cake. “Honestly Piper, you’re going to go blind if you continue to read,” Chester intoned blithely between chews, spoiling the effect with the grin that kept spreading across his face. “No wonder you have need of spectacles and two pair at that. You should get out more often.” He guffawed. “Why have you need of more books anyway?”

Piper prepared Chester’s cup of tea just the way he liked, extra sweet. After handing him his cup she responded to his question. “Because, dear cousin. I have read every book in our library at least once and some possibly even twice; even the boring ones. It is imperative that I am adequately prepared for my literary club.” She gestured exasperatedly toward him. “I have decided that is how I will occupy my mind this season.”

“
Well, if you’ve read every book in your library you should be more than adequately prepared for a literary club gathering.” He snorted. “I vow you have over a thousand boring, dusty tomes in that oversized dungeon, you call a library.”