Bronwyn Scott - Libertine Lord, Pickpocket Miss

This story was so much fun! I loved working with a setting outside of England. Vienna is a gorgeous city with an intriguing history, just like the heroine, Sophie, and the hero, Julian, so the backdrop really fits their personalities.

I also enjoyed the opportunity to do something with Valerian’s time abroad. He’s the featured hero in my March 2009 release, The Viscount Claims His Bride. His is a homecoming story in which he’s spent the last nine years abroad in Vienna and other Eastern European locales working for the empire. Although he’s a secondary character in Libertine Lord, Pickpocket Miss, it was fun to invent friends and experiences for him. I have great hopes too of doing other shorts in the future that feature Julian and Valerian’s other two friends who appear here.

If you want to learn more about the Viennese Koffehaus , the neighbourhoods of Vienna, or the Viennese Waltz, check out my website. Please drop by and say hi at www.bronwynnscott.com

Bronwyn Scottis a communications instructor in the Puget Sound area of the USA, and is the proud mother of three wonderful children (one boy and two girls). When she’s not teaching or writing, she enjoys playing the piano, travelling—especially to Florence, Italy—and studying history and foreign languages.

Bronwyn Scott

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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For Scott, my agent at Greyhaus, who so politely asked me if I could squeak in just one more writing project this summer, and the people at Mills & Boon® (Joanne et al ) who have graciously included me in this exciting new endeavour. Thanks for thinking of me! I appreciate the honour.

Chapter 1

Vienna, 1823

Julian Burke surveyed the glittering ballroom with a predator’s eye. “Who shall it be tonight?” the Viscount St. Just murmured quietly beside him. The other two gentlemen with him laughed knowingly.

In the months Julian had been in Vienna, the routine of seeking out a lively partner had become a weekly, sometimes nightly ritual. His reputation as a libertine was firmly established and the women didn’t seem to mind. Vienna was a city bursting with energy, drawing people from all over Europe to its ballrooms and palaces. Exciting places drew exciting people. Wallflowers and virtuous debutantes did not populate this crowd with any great regularity.

Julian rather liked these continental women. They were mature. They understood the rules of the game. They accepted the fact that affairs ran their course, and expected nothing more.

Julian’s gaze passed over the ballroom again, lighting on the figure he’d been visually pursuing all evening. Time and again, he’d come back to her; his eyes were drawn to her movements on the dance floor, the saucy tilt of her head and her easy smile. “That one, St. Just.” He nodded in the woman’s direction.

“Ah,” Valerian Inglemoore, Viscount St. Just offered approvingly. “She’s very beautiful, very vivacious it seems. I have noticed her too. She is also younger than your usual sort, Burke.”

The other two gentlemen, Truesdale and Mathison, eyed her appreciatively. “Good choice, Burke,” Truesdale said, lifting his preposterous quizzing glass. “She’s quite lovely. I don’t see how I missed her.”

Mathison elbowed him. “You were too busy looking at the brunette on the other side of the room.”

Julian clapped St. Just on the back. “I am off to conquer the fair maid’s heart. I’d ask you to wish me luck but I won’t need it. I will be on the dance floor with her in ten minutes.”

St. Just raised an eyebrow at his friend’s cocky farewell. “You don’t have a place on her dance card.”

“A minor technicality.” Julian shrugged. “I will give you gentlemen good-night. I doubt I’ll be seeing you again this evening.”

“Be careful, Burke,” St. Just replied as Julian melted into the crowd.

Julian squared his shoulders and began to work his way to the woman’s side. He would be careful tonight. He’d been right when he’d said he wouldn’t need any luck. Tonight was all about acting on the planning he’d done during the last several weeks. St. Just knew, as the others didn’t, that his true purpose in Vienna was to reclaim for England a diamond jewel set currently in the hands of the evening’s host, a French comte. The jewels were upstairs in a safe. But he couldn’t go haring upstairs without making his presence known downstairs first. That’s why he’d picked the lively young woman.

Everyone, except Truesdale obviously, had noticed her. Her smile alone would have drawn people to her. Her entire being radiated a certain magnetic joie de vivre. The fact that she was positively beautiful was simply an added benefit. There was no question in Julian’s mind that this lovely creature broke hearts on a nightly basis wherever she went. Of course, his heart was in no danger. She was welcome to work her wiles if she liked, but in the end, all he wanted from her was one dance, enough to get him noticed so that when and if the hue and cry went up about the missing jewels, people would only remember he’d spent the evening dancing if they connected him to the incident at all.

Julian approached the little group she was with as the orchestra struck up a waltz. “Mademoiselle, I believe this dance is mine.” Up close, her beauty was breathtaking, Julian noted objectively. Her hair, the color of pale gold, and the smooth ivory sheen of her skin gave her the look of a fairy princess straight from a child’s book of tales.

A look of confusion flitted briefly across her heart-shaped face. She scanned her dance card. “I believe you’re mistaken, monsieur. I have elected to sit this one out.” Her tone was gracious, but something in her eyes did not match the politeness of her rejection. Those sharp green eyes were not the eyes of a delicate princess. They were a hoyden’s eyes, and right now they were dancing with mischief, challenging him. He would answer that challenge with one of his own.

“Perhaps you were just waiting for the right partner. Please, the music awaits.” How fortuitous. This dance was empty, the only dance not spoken for, although it struck him as odd that she would sit out the waltz. Julian offered her his arm, reissuing his challenge. This time, she took it.

Julian swung them on the floor, marveling at the way she felt in his arms. His hand fit smoothly at the small of her back and she let him draw her to him as if they weren’t strangers. He liked the Viennese style of waltzing better than the version danced in England. Holding a woman so close, feeling her reactions as they moved from contrachecks to fleckerls, he could tell if she was worth bedding. This one definitely would be, Julian reflected, guiding them through a passing change at high speeds.

She laughed up at him, enjoying the moment. “You dance very well, Julian Burke.”

Ah, so she knew him. “My reputation precedes me. I fear you have me at a grave disadvantage, miss.”

She laughed again; if sunlight had a sound, it would be this. “Of course I have you at a disadvantage. A woman’s reputation should never precede her.”