A Scandalous Charade (5 page)

Adam shrugged. “Dogs make papa sick. He can’t stop sneezing when he’s around them.”

Luke had to fight the urge to smile. That was the best information he’d received all day. Well, that and the fact that Juliet liked orchids. He pointed to the French doors that led to the Staveley gardens. “Return Strangles to the wilds of Staveley’s garden, Adam. Then if you refrain from procuring anymore inappropriate pets and are nice to your sisters for the next month, I’ll get you a dog myself.”

His nephew’s eyes lit up and he grinned widely. “But what about Papa?”

He tousled Adam’s brown hair and winked at him. “Let me worry about your papa. And not a word of our deal to anyone, Adam.”

Adam nodded happily and bolted toward the outside doors, little Strangles’ tail swinging back and forth as he went. Luke smirked to himself. A dog was the perfect thing to drive Staveley stark-raving mad.

He could hardly wait to deliver the little flea-bitten bundle to his nephew. Hopefully the boy could keep up his end of the deal.

~ 3 ~

The Prestwick sitting room was aglow with warm afternoon light. While Georgie sat reading correspondence from her late husband’s family, Edmund and Juliet sat across from each other, finally finishing a very long, drawn-out game of chess. They’d started the game two weeks earlier, and the young duke was just about to lose.

Edmund scrunched up his face and studied the chess board. His last move had been a mistake and she could tell he was processing that at this very moment. “I’ve lost,” he finally admitted with a sound of defeat and toppled his onyx queen over with the flick of his hand.

Georgie looked up briefly from her letter and admonished the boy, “I hope that piece fell over by accident, Edmund. Poor sportsmanship is so ugly.”

Juliet winked at Edmund, and he hung his head as he righted the queen. “Sorry, Georgie. It’s just that it’s so much easier to beat Miss Mitford.”

 “Yes, well—” Georgie began, but was interrupted with a light scratching at the door.

“Enter,” Edmund called so quickly that Juliet was certain he was trying to wriggle out of another one of Georgie’s lectures.

The large, oak door opened and Crawford stepped inside, carrying a silver salver. The old butler immediately met Juliet’s eyes. “You have another visitor, milady.”

She groaned aloud. Wonderful! Who was it now? Lord Hawley? Or Mr. Waring? Or perhaps Lord Brookfield again? Although she was praying it wasn’t the latter, as she had begged the penniless viscount to please leave her in peace yesterday afternoon when he’d called on her for the third time that day. “I assume you’ve led my guest to the pink parlor?”

A devilish twinkle crossed the old butler’s grey eyes as he nodded his head. The pink parlor was a newly refurbished room that was decidedly anti-male. The furniture was all lavish and very dainty, as comfort had not been taken into consideration—or rather discomfort had been Juliet’s prime goal when she had decided to redecorate the parlor. Although, to be perfectly honest, the idea was actually Edmund’s, but Juliet had adopted it as her own. The theory was if unwanted visitors were uncomfortable in their surroundings, they wouldn’t stay as long. Thus far, however, the room had been a complete failure, as one fortune hunter after another had firmly planted themselves upon the uncomfortable settee and seemed determined to stay there as long as it took to get a ‘yes’ from Juliet.

“Who is it this time?” she asked as she crossed the floor to where Crawford stood.

“A new one, milady.”

A new one? Juliet retrieved the calling card from the salver and her heart skipped a beat when she read The Honorable Lucas Beckford on the front of the heavy velum card. She swallowed. “My goodness.”

“Who is it?” Edmund raced to her side.

But Juliet pocketed the card and spun around to face Georgie. “It’s Mr. Beckford.”

“Luke?” Georgie asked in awe, then she smiled widely. “He was asking me quite a bit about you at the Ridgemont’s Ball the other night.”

He was? Then Juliet’s memory began to clear. Of course he’d asked about her. He had been set to help Lord Haywood in his quest.

But Georgie continued, “I am quite fond of the scoundrel, but you really must be careful, Jules. Wait just a moment and I’ll follow you. A chaperone is a necessity in his presence.”

Juliet snorted. As if Luke Beckford had designs on her. He’d probably come to discuss Lord Haywood, and she’d rather do that without Georgie witnessing the event. “Don’t be silly. I’ll send him on his way and be back in a trice. Finish your letters.”

“But, Juliet,” Georgie started.

However, Juliet silenced her sister with the wave of her hand. “I can handle Mr. Beckford.”

As she left the room, she heard Edmund ask Georgie just who Mr. Beckford was and why she’d called him a scoundrel. And while Juliet would have loved to hear her very proper sister try to explain about the handsome rake, she figured she’d better hurry while Georgie was distracted.

Her heart was racing as she opened the door to the parlor, and when her eyes landed on Luke, she stifled a smile. He looked positively ridiculous and out of place. His large frame was scrunched up to sit on the tiny pink and gold brocade settee, with his knees nearly hitting his chin. His arms were folded across his broad chest. When he saw her he stood at once, nearly knocking over a delicate, intricately-carved table in the process.

Juliet covered her mouth with her hand to keep from laughing. She’d never envisioned the charismatic Lucas Beckford sitting in her pink parlor, looking like an overgrown schoolboy. “Mr. Beckford, what a surprise.”

He stood tall above her now, and Juliet had to tilt her head back to see that his roguish grin was firmly back in place. She warily offered the scoundrel her hand, which he took at once and brought to his lips. “You are radiant, Lady Juliet.”

She arched one brow at him and managed to retrieve her hand from his grasp. Radiant was not a word that anyone used to describe her, not unless they wanted something from her—which meant he was, indeed, here to press Haywood’s case. Juliet gestured for Luke to have a seat and she slid into a dainty chintz chair across from the settee. “Mr. Beckford, I thought I’d made myself perfectly clear the other night. Please don’t waste your time on Lord Haywood’s behalf. I will not change my mind.”

“I’m not here to talk about Will. I wanted to see you.” His green eyes twinkled mischievously and the corners of his handsome mouth upturned into a seductive smile. He looked every inch the wickedly fabled seducer he was rumored to be.  

As his gaze raked her up and down, Juliet suddenly wished she’d worn something other than her simple sage muslin day dress. How unfortunately drab. “I don’t have time for games, sir. So, cut bait. What are you after?”

He studied her for a moment before boldly answering, “I’m determined to have you, princess.”

The smoldering look in his green eyes should have terrified her, but she ignored it—certainly he was up to something else. “I’m terribly sorry, Mr. Beckford,” she began with a frown, “I was unaware that you’d lost all your funds, however—”

He chuckled, and Juliet wondered if the settee would falter as it shook it beneath his muscular frame. “I’m not after your fortune. Is it so hard to believe that I might want to spend time with you simply because I enjoy your company?”

Yes, as a matter of fact, it was. For as long as she could remember, men were interested only in her inheritance. And now this Greek God, with enchanting eyes and more charm than all other men of her acquaintance combined, wanted her to believe that he enjoyed her company? A foolish girl might fall for such a thing. But Juliet was no fool—at least not most of the time. “I don’t believe that for a moment.”

“No?” Surprise flashed in his eyes. “Then I’ll just have to convince you,” he drawled. With a crooked grin, Luke rose from the uncomfortable settee and offered Juliet his hand.

Though she had no idea what he had planned and was certain it was the exact wrong thing to do, Juliet tentatively took his hand, all the while staring into the devilish green depths of his eyes. Before she knew what had happened, he’d pulled her against the wall of his chest and encircled her waist with his hands. Juliet’s heart was pounding so hard, she was certain he could hear it. No one had ever done such a thing to her! “Mr. Beck—”

“Shh,” he whispered across her lips, just before he covered them with his own.

It was a soft kiss, pleasant and not demanding. His warm lips roamed over hers as his sinful fingers traced lazy circles across her back. Juliet felt giddy, almost drunk, as her body begged to melt against his glorious frame.

She felt spectacular, beautiful, desirable…then reality began to slowly creep its way back into her mind. Men didn’t see her that way. They never had. She managed to pull herself out of his grasp and step away. “What are you doing?”

Luke closed the small gap between them and tugged on one of her loose curls. “If you have to ask, princess, I must be out of practice.”

That was the most ridiculous thing she’d ever heard, as if this sensuous man who was rumored to have slept with half the married women in London could possibly be out of practice. Juliet couldn’t help but laugh, which apparently Luke hadn’t anticipated, because he instantly released his hold on her.

“Women don’t usually laugh when I kiss them,” he muttered with a frown.

At that Juliet laughed even harder and fell back into her seat, holding her side—which was most unladylike, but she just couldn’t help it. And when his handsome features drew up in an unpleasant scowl, she tried to bring her levity back under control. “Please, sit, Mr. Beckford.”

“I think I’d prefer to stand,” he coolly responded.

After a long, staggering sigh, Juliet rose from her seat too, but she still kept a good distance and the back of her seat between them. “What was your nefarious scheme, sir? Did you plan to compromise me, so that Lord Haywood could rush to my rescue? I assure you, it won’t work. I don’t need a hero to save me.”

“Women don’t ask to be rescued from me either,” he growled back. “And I already told you this has nothing to do with Haywood.”

Juliet was completely sober now and she furrowed her brow as she stared at him. He looked a bit deflated, as if she’d wounded him. “What does this have to do with, then?” she asked quietly.

His green eyes soften just a bit, though his scowl remained in place. “I’ve already told you, princess. I enjoyed your company the other night and I wanted to further our acquaintance.”

Was he serious? If even half the rumors about him were true, she was not the sort of woman whose company he usually enjoyed. And yet, the kiss they’d shared still warmed her belly. Perhaps she was just too jaded for her own good. “To what end, Mr. Beckford?”

She knew deep down that friends was a euphemism, but she wouldn’t acknowledge it even to herself. The idea of being friends with Luke Beckford was a dangerous one indeed. Proper, unmarried ladies didn’t associate with rakes such as him, not unless they wanted to be ruined—which Juliet most certainly did not. Yet, the proposition was thrilling and adventurous…and surprisingly quite tempting. She braved a glance into his heart-stopping emerald eyes and swallowed. “And Lord Haywood?”

“Will not hound you any longer.”

“Oh?” she asked innocently. “And which lucky heiress has he turned his attention to then?”

Luke paused with pursed lips, and Juliet narrowed her eyes on him. Clearly, the scoundrel had not been successful in focusing Lord Haywood’s attention on anyone else. And yet he’d almost guaranteed that the baron wouldn’t plague her any longer.

“I haven’t yet spoken to Haywood, but you won’t need to worry about him,” he finally answered.

“Really?” she questioned him with a raised brow. “You seem quite certain for a man who has yet to have a conversation with his lordship.”

Luke sighed. Loudly. “The fact remains, princess, that Haywood does need to marry well. Since you’re not agreeable, which of your previous suggestions do you think would make the best match for him?”

Juliet was taken aback. When she’d originally listed candidates for the position, she hadn’t expected to be taken seriously. But she could tell, or at least thought she could tell, that Luke seemed sincere. “Very well. Tell me about your friend. I have my own opinion, of course—”

“That he’s a gambling, rakish ne’er-do-well who lacks charm?” Luke interrupted with a roguish grin.

She almost smiled in return. Almost. It just wouldn’t do to let this—this man—know how he affected her. “I’m interested in your take on Lord Haywood, assuming it is different from mine. He must have some interests.”

She tried not to blush at his candor, and found it hard to meet his eyes. “I see. Well, then…” She ran over the candidates in her mind as her hand toyed with one of the green satin ties on her dress. Who would be the best match for William Haywood? “I believe he might suit Susan Clarke.”

Luke gestured for her to continue.

“I told you her father is anxious for her to marry a title, and though with the fortune he’s amassed he could do much better than a mere baron for his daughter, Mr. Clarke is most interested in her happiness. A novel idea in these enlightened times.”

“And you think she would suit Will?”

“Obviously she would suit Haywood,” Juliet answered tartly. “She’s an heiress. But if he can make her happy, then he would suit Miss Clarke and her father. She is quite fond of the theatre, if I’m not mistaken. It may not be much, but it is something. Best to have common interests, if nothing else.”