All Night With A Rogue Page 4

  Maman’s warm, blue eyes sharpened on her youngest daughter. With her forty-sixth birthday approaching, Hester Ivers, Lady Duncombe did not look like a woman who had three daughters ready for the marriage market. Her blond hair, a lovely mix of brown and gold, was tucked into a matronly lace cap. She wore a blue-gray morning dress that seemed to hang from her frame, a sign that she had lost more weight. Panic fluttered in Juliana’s empty stomach at the thought that she and her sisters might lose their mother as well.

  Juliana swallowed the lump of misery thickening in her throat. “No. I was just coming down the stairs when I heard you cry out.” Juliana approached the desk and glanced down at the paper. It was not a bill from a creditor, as she had feared, but rather some personal correspondence. “Are you unwell? Has something happened?”

  Her mother laid her palm on the letter before Juliana could pick it up. “It is nothing,” Lady Duncombe said dismissively, crushing the letter to prove her point.

  Pursing her lips as she stared down at the crumpled ball of paper in her mother’s clenched fist, Juliana could think of several relatives and well-meaning friends who could provoke such a response from the marchioness. As Juliana debated about making a childish grab for the letter, her face must have revealed her intentions.

  With a dramatic sigh of surrender, her mother said, “Did I ever tell you and your sisters that single-mindedness can be deemed unappealing to a potential husband, unless the intent is obedience?”

  Lady Duncombe touched two fingers to her own forehead. “It also gives you the most unattractive lines—”

  Before Juliana could stop herself, she covered the offending lines with her hand. Disgusted that she had fallen for the distracting ruse, her hand came down in a slashing gesture. “Oh, for goodness’ sake, Maman! Tell me the truth. Who sent the letter?”

  Her mother’s shoulders sagged. “He knows.”

  Juliana resisted the urge to stomp her foot down in frustration. “It is early, Maman. Could you be less evasive?”

  “Oliver knows we are currently residing in London.” She opened her hand, glowering at the ruined paper that represented the figurehead of their family. “And he doesn’t approve.”

  Although she was the youngest, Juliana understood her mother better than her elder sisters, Cordelia and Lucilla. Juliana had learned to pay attention to the marchioness’s clever omissions.

  “Oh, Maman.” Juliana joined her mother on the other side of the desk and knelt in front of her. “Look me in the eye, and swear that you did not write Lord Duncombe.”

  “There have been expenses that I had not anticipated.”

  Juliana groaned and pressed her knuckles into her lips. For five years, they had been at the mercy of their cousin’s whims. Like her husband before her, Lady Duncombe had sought her fortune at the card tables. Once a casual player in the elegant card rooms around London, she believed that her skills were akin to her husband’s. While her successes had bought the women certain freedoms, her occasional losses kept them indebted to Lord Duncombe.

  “What was I to do? The bill for the mantua maker alone exceeded my calculations.” Lady Duncombe clasped both of Juliana’s hands and settled them on her lap. “And lately, there have been several evenings when the cards have not favored me. I only asked Oliver for a small loan.”

  Juliana conjured the marquess’s stern visage, his thin lips pressed together in disapproval. She shuddered, banishing his face from her mind. From the moment he had inherited the Duncombe title, the marquess had displayed nothing but contempt for his predecessor’s widow and her daughters.

  “Maman, Lord Duncombe has made it clear on numerous occasions that he considers this branch of the family a nuisance and an inconvenient drain of his time and resources.”

  “Not all, my love. I recall a summer when he was rather taken with you. In fact . . .” She trailed off, then seemed to collect herself and focus on the subject at hand. “Of course, he will do his duty!”

  Juliana closed her eyes, striving for patience. With a shake of her head, she kissed her mother’s hands. “And you promised that we would remain in the country, the last time you asked him to cover your losses.”

  Lady Duncombe smiled, recalling the encounter. “Oliver was rather vexed at me, was he not?”

  Lord Duncombe was a judgmental, sanctimonious prig. “Our impoverished circumstances shame our cousin, Maman. He will view our stay in London as a blatant act of defiance.”

  “I will admit that I do not understand the gentleman. He is nothing like your father,” Lady Duncombe said crossly. “London is where you girls need to be this season. If one or all of you make solid matches in town, then our unfortunate circumstances will come to an end. We will no longer have to appeal to his generous nature.”

  Generous nature, my foot!

  Lord Duncombe took perverse pleasure in placing his polished boot on Lady Duncombe’s throat and watching her squirm. Juliana despised the odious man for his callous disposition. Nor did she like the hard, calculating look in his eyes when his gaze happened to settle on her.

  “I assume Lord Duncombe rejected your appeal for a temporary loan.” Juliana slowly straightened, allowing the blood to ease back into her cramped legs. She braced herself against the edge of the desk.

  Her mother blinked at her. “What?” She dismissed Juliana’s assumption with a wave of her hand. “Of course. He made his disappointment quite clear in his letter.”

  Indeed. Lord Duncombe was always precise and articulate when expressing his disappointments in the Ivers family.

  “He has ordered us to return to the country,” Juliana’s mother said offhandedly. She did not seem upset by the command.

  “Should I order the servants to start packing?” Juliana asked, masking the relief she felt that for once her mother’s plans for her daughters had been hindered before they could come to fruition.

  Although Juliana loathed confessing the words aloud, she privately feared Lord Duncombe. He would not forgive her mother’s defiance, and the unknown consequences were likely to affect them all.

  “Why? My plans for you girls are coming along nicely. Cordelia and Lucilla already have gentlemen leaving their cards.” Lady Duncombe’s eyes narrowed on Juliana as if she were a puzzle her mother had yet to solve. “Perhaps we should lower the bodice of all your dresses?”

  Not without a fight.

  “Maman, my dresses are fine,” Juliana said, crossing her arms. “What about Lord Duncombe?”

  Her mother shrugged her shoulders daintily. “We will address the matter when he joins us in London.”

  Chapter Four

  “YOUR NOTE SPOKE of a favor.”

  “Ah, Alexius, you try my patience,” Belinda Snow, Countess of Gredell, said crisply, her light brown eyes flashing in vexation. “Six hours have elapsed since the messenger delivered my note to your residence.”

  Alexius dutifully brushed his lips against his older sister’s subtly rouged cheek. “I was not at home when your imperial summons arrived, Belle. I came as soon as I was aware that you required my services.”

  Adorned in a claret and ivory evening dress, his sister reclined against the chaise longue as if she were a queen. With her long black hair swept high and bound with slender serpentine ropes of gold chain and pearls, Belinda definitely had the airs of one.

  She tilted her chin just high enough to look down her nose at him. It was quite a feat, since he was standing over her. “Where were you?”

  Alexius stiffened at her accusatory tone. He was not accustomed to explaining himself to anyone. If she had been his mistress, rather than his older sister, he would have walked out the door and out of her life. With a careless grace, he removed his frock coat.

  “Many years have passed since I was accountable to you, little mother,” he said lightly; the hint of affection in his inflection took the sting out of his words. Alexius draped the coat over the nearest chair. His relationship with his half sister was complicated, one he never discusse
d with others, including his closest friends. However, he understood where his loyalties lay.

  As a peace offering, he picked up the silver bowl containing a lopsided pyramid of plump sugared grapes from the table and extended the bowl to her. “May I offer you something to chew on besides my tough hide, love?”

  Belinda plucked a grape from the bowl. Her light brown eyes narrowed, conveying her disappointment. “You were fondling with one of your whores, I wager.”

  Alexius grinned at her outrageous remark. He leaned forward and returned the silver bowl to the table. Belinda sounded jealous. However, her possessiveness was not of a carnal nature. His sister simply disliked him putting his needs above hers.

  “Just one?” he teased, sliding down to the floor until his back reclined against the cushion of the chaise longue. “Belle, truly, you cut me to the quick.”

  “Fine. Mock my words, my pain,” Belinda said heatedly as she sat up, burying the right side of his body with a prodigious amount of silk and petticoat. “In many ways, you remind me of our father.”

  For spiteful remarks, this one hit the target.

  Shoving her skirts aside, Alexius grabbed his sister by the wrist. “That was beneath you.” His grip became punishing when she attempted to pull away. “Especially since you desire a favor from me.”

  Belinda’s expression became instantly contrite. “Forgive me.”

  On a muttered oath, Alexius released her. He climbed onto his feet and crossed the room to the narrow cart that displayed several wines and his favorite brandy. “This favor. What do you require from me?” He sent her a sharp glance while he poured brandy into a glass.

  Fumbling for a handkerchief, Belinda sniffed delicately and blotted the tender flesh beneath her eyes. With a quiet sincerity, Belinda said, “I want you to seduce Lady Juliana Ivers.”

  Alexius tried not to choke on the mouthful of brandy he had just swallowed. He gritted his teeth as the liquor burned a path down to his gut. “Christ! You little hypocrite. Just moments earlier, you were chastising me for dallying with my whores. Now you are ordering me into a lady’s bed?”

  “This is entirely different,” Belinda countered defensively.

  Unconvinced, he cocked his left brow. “Indeed? How so?”

  She gave him an exasperated look. “You bed any pretty wench who catches your eye. Why on earth are you balking about a silly virgin?”

  Alexius took a healthy swallow of his brandy and shut his eyes so he did not have to see the silent plea in Belinda’s gaze. “Lady Juliana is a virgin,” he said, not trusting his hearing. What his sister desired brought him uncomfortably close to the past.

  Some of his distaste must have been evident on his face. Or maybe Belinda understood him better than anyone else in the world. She rose up from the chaise longue and tentatively approached him. “Do not give me a look, Alexius. Considering the lady’s daring with certain gentlemen of the ton, Lady Juliana’s innocence is debatable, if nonexistent. Trust me; this horrible creature is nothing like your dearly departed mother. I was wrong before when I said that you reminded me of our father. You are nothing like him,” she said fiercely, cupping the underside of his jaw.

  It was a lie, but Alexius understood why his sister preferred to shy away from the truth. In many ways, he was his father’s son, and there was little about his sire that was commendable, except for the fact that the elder Sinclair was dead.

  Alexius leaned against her palm, noting the apology in her liquid brown eyes before he pulled away. He also saw her determination. A sense of foreboding washed over him. A determined Belle was a dangerous Belle. He was not blind to his sister’s faults. If he refused to help her, his sister would find another gentleman to assist her. There was no telling what price another man might demand of Belinda, or how far she was willing to go to exact her revenge for a real or imaginary slight.

  Alexius clasped her shoulders and stared intently into her eyes. “I am unfamiliar with Lady Juliana. Who is she? What has she done?”

  Belinda’s mouth moved wordlessly before she hoarsely uttered, “She stole from me the affections of the man I hope to marry!”

  As if the confession sapped the last of her strength, his sister collapsed against him in a noisy fit of hysteria.

  Although Alexius had thought himself rather jaded to a lady’s tears, he was not unmoved by his sister’s misery. He dipped low and picked her up into his arms. With her trembling form pressed tightly to his chest, he returned to the chaise longue and lowered them both onto the soft cushions.

  “Tell me about Lady Juliana,” he murmured softly against Belinda’s ear.

  At first, Belinda made little sense to him. She cried and spoke in disjointed sentences, punctuating her words by pounding her fist against his chest. From her tearful explanation, Alexius pieced together the cunning and spiteful nature of Lady Juliana Ivers.

  The vain chit viewed herself as Belinda’s equal in beauty and position in the ton. His sister explained that she had initially tried to guide the young lady, but jealousy and resentment had soured their budding friendship. According to his sister, Lady Juliana had already turned this season into an unpleasant and ruthless competition. Any gentleman who displayed the slightest interest in Alexius’s sister was lured away by the blond siren’s machinations.

  Alexius and his friends had played similar mischievous games with the ladies of the ton. So had his sister. Though in her current mood, she was likely to deny it. He did not begrudge Lady Juliana her games. Nevertheless, the lady had gravely miscalculated her influence within the ton when she had selected Belinda as her rival. The unknown chit had earned his ire for hurting his sister, and there were few who would openly court his wrath.

  “The others . . . Oh, I cared little for their departure,” Belinda said, pausing to indelicately blow her nose. She waved the handkerchief dismissively. “But Lord Kyd! He has been a devoted and ardent companion for three seasons. I have sensed for some time that he has been working up the courage to offer for my hand—”

  Belinda pressed the sodden handkerchief to her mouth and hiccupped. “Yesterday, he had sent a note with his regrets that he would not be able to join me in my theater box that evening. I had decided to attend the theater without him.” She shivered as the horror of the evening assailed her. “Who did I espy in Lady Juliana’s rented box but my beloved Lord Kyd!”

  “Kyd is an arse.”

  Alexius had been unaware that his sister had been contemplating marriage again. That bounder of a husband, Gredell, had been moldering in his grave for five years. Belinda had seemed content with her lord’s absence as long as she had access to his purse.

  “You leave Lord Kyd alone! He’s my beloved arse, and I will not surrender him to the wiles of Lady Juliana,” Belinda said, her bout of melancholy waning with the rise of her anger.

  Alexius rubbed his sister’s back as he mentally pondered his choices. “I could approach Lady Juliana. A simple warning might suffice.”

  Belinda dismissed the suggestion with a vigorous shake of her head. “I, however, will not be satisfied with a simple warning, Alexius. Lady Juliana Ivers has mocked and humiliated me in front of the ton. I want—” She suddenly went silent.

  “What do you want, Belle?” he coaxed, already knowing her reply.

  “I want to teach the arrogant chit a lesson.” His sister stared lovingly at him while her hand tenderly cupped his cheek. “You are so beautiful, Alexius. I want Lady Juliana to be seduced and cast aside by the one man I know she cannot have.”

  A slight dimple formed in his right cheek as Alexius grinned at his sister. “Such faith, Belle. What makes you think I will be impervious to Lady Juliana’s infamous charms?”

  Belinda leaned closer, kissing him lightly on the lips. “Because you, my handsome brother,” she said, her brown eyes shimmering with confidence, “belong wholly to me.”

  Chapter Five

  “I FEEL RIDICULOUS.”

  Cordelia’s nose crinkled charmingly as she
gave Juliana’s bonnet and dress a critical glance. At the age of four and twenty, Cordelia had had the pleasure of the social whirl of a season in London six years earlier, before their father’s death had forced the family to remain in the country. Although the season had not ended with a marriage offer, Juliana and Lucilla viewed their elder sister as an expert in matters of etiquette and fashion.

  “Is it the bonnet? I will admit the brim on the bonnet is larger than our older ones.”

  Lucilla touched the wide brim of her own leghorn bonnet. “I rather like it,” she said, fondling the tangled cascade of yellow and green ribbons pinned to the crown. Their new bonnets and dresses with matching parasols all seemed like an adventure to her.

  Juliana fingered the fanciful mix of greenery, flowers, and fat bows adorning her crown and brim in stoic silence. She had already complained to her mother that the fresh flowers were likely to attract bees, but she had merely brushed aside her daughter’s complaints.

  “The bonnet is not as annoying as this carriage ride through the park,” Juliana grumbled. “I would have preferred walking with Maman and Mrs. Maddock.”

  Unless Juliana turned her head, the oversized brim limited her view so that she could only view the carriages that passed them from the opposite direction. The scrutiny from the gentlemen and ladies was unsettling, as if she and her sisters were something to analyze, ridicule, and dismiss.

  Lucilla smiled coyly at two gentlemen on horseback who tipped their hats at the trio as they rode past the women. She might have thought twice about the flirtation if she had put on her spectacles.

  “Well, I think all of this is rather grand!”

  “You think everything is grand,” Juliana shot back. “You certainly have been annoyingly cheerful ever since you learned that Mr. Stepkins had followed you to London like a heartsick puppy.”

  “Mr. Stepkins has nothing to do with my high spirits,” Lucilla said with a haughty toss of her chin. “I cannot help if the gentleman favors my company above all others.”