Janice Preston - Lady Olivia And The Infamous Rake

‘What was Marie up to, with young Beauchamp?’

Clevedon’s eyes gleamed. ‘What do you think? Use your imagination, Alastair, do. I declare, you are growing dull of late.’

‘Yes. But why?’ Watching young Beauchamp had put Hugo in mind of his younger self—a young man on the path to self-destruction. ‘And where did Tadlow disappear to?’

Clevedon sighed. ‘You are like a dog with a bone, Alastair.’ He slipped the necklace into his pocket. ‘Tadlow,’ he said, with exaggerated patience, ‘was keen to avoid being seen by Beauchamp. He’s got some scheme or other planned.’

‘Scheme?’

Clevedon shrugged. ‘Something about revenge on Cheriton—seems he interfered in some plan Tadlow had to wed Bulbridge to Lady Helena Caldicot. Tadlow’s her uncle on her mother’s side.’

Sir Peter Tadlow and Viscount Bulbridge—and Bulbridge’s cousin, Douglas Randall—were recent additions to Hugo’s circle and he could not like any of them. All three were the sort of dissolute fellows that should serve as a stellar warning to unwary young bucks: Look closely, lads, for here lies your future. An unwary young buck such as he had been at the age of seventeen when he had set out to squeeze every last drop of pleasure from life without regard to the consequences.

Dear God. That was nine years ago!

‘Anyway,’ Clevedon continued, ‘Cheriton stuck his nose in, as is his wont, and put a stop to it so they’re out to bleed him through his son. Tadlow reckons Cheriton owes him. And young Beauchamp can look after himself—it’s no different for him than it is for his silly sister. If they come out to play with the adults, they must be prepared.’ He smiled wolfishly. ‘Now, much as I enjoy your oh-so-charming company, Alastair, old man, I think I shall join the others next door. Coming?’

Hugo could stomach no more tonight.

‘No. I’m off to my club. I’ll say goodnight.’

He left the box and plunged into the crowds, sick with disgust as he wondered why the hell he was still hanging around with Clevedon and his ilk, with their louche, care-for-nothing ways. Hugo might have always been wild and reckless, but he would never deliberately ruin an innocent girl for the sake of money and he would never stoop to using a young man to wreak revenge on his father. It was almost as though a veil had lifted from his eyes and he saw for the first time some of their true characters.

He had only attended tonight because it was Clevedon’s birthday, but he’d already decided it was time to stop socialising with this crowd altogether. In the past year or so he had gradually clawed his way out of the swamp of vices that had held him captive for so long, but he was aware it would be all too easy to slide back into the mire. A few too many drinks, and judgement and common sense were pissed down the gutter along with the alcohol.

Anger at the way the two youngsters had been targeted by Tadlow and Clevedon continued to gnaw at Hugo as he strolled through the hordes gathering to enjoy the fireworks display. Of the two, Clevedon was the most dangerous because he was welcomed almost everywhere in the ton and far more readily than Hugo himself was accepted. Parents fawned over him, eager for a title for their daughters and, if his plan to compromise her succeeded, he was the sort of man Cheriton might very well accept as a husband for his daughter.

Even though he told himself he would not put himself out—it was none of his business, after all—still Hugo found himself watching out for a figure in a midnight-blue velvet domino.

She’d said she had no money. Had she found her brother? Or Wolfe? They’d both been well on the way to being foxed anyway, as had Lady Olivia. And guilt mixed in with the disquiet as it continued to spiral through him—guilt over his own part in topping up her glass, time after time. It made no difference to tell himself he wouldn’t have done it if he’d realised who she was...how young she was...how innocent. He still felt responsible.

And it is my doing that she lost so heavily. I provoked her into agreeing those high stakes.

He stopped dead. People jostled around him, loudly complaining, but he ignored them. Then he cursed, fluently, beneath his breath. It went against the grain, but he felt compelled to look. To at least try to make sure she was all right...that she had found her brother. He gazed around. But how on earth could he locate her in this heaving mass of humanity? Where would she go? He bit back another curse as realisation dawned. She would stay near the supper box, in the hope that either her brother or Wolfe would return for her. He turned and shoved his way back through the crowd, until Clevedon’s box was in sight, and... there .

‘Bloody hellfire!’

She was close to the box, but not close enough to be visible to the occupants, and she was surrounded by several young men. One of them had his arm around her shoulders and was trying to pull down her hood, but she was fighting him off—verbally as well as physically, from what Hugo could make out. The lads surrounding Olivia were not gentlemen—probably clerks or some such, out for a good time—which was just as well because by the time Hugo reached them, Olivia’s hood was down, her hair was awry and her face unmasked. Her eyes were huge in her pale face, but they nevertheless fired ice shards at her tormentors as she berated them. As he came within hearing distance, Hugo bit back a grin to hear her spitting a variety of insults.

‘You vile worms! Churls! Scabs! Sodden-witted knaves! Leave me alone, or I’ll kick you so hard you won’t remember your own name for a month!’

The surrounding youths were laughing at her...mocking...and Hugo could see the effort it cost her to hold tears at bay.

He stepped into the fray.

Chapter Three

‘Enough!’ He faced the lad who was taunting Olivia by waving her mask above his head, its ribbons dangling and dancing. He held out one hand. ‘I’ll take that.’

The lad exchanged looks with his friends. ‘And who might you be? The little tart gave it me as a tro— Argh... ’

Hugo’s fingers tightened around the youth’s throat, causing his eyes to bulge.

‘I said... I. Will. Take. That.’

A ragged but muted cheer sounded from some of the onlookers as Hugo continued to hold the youth high, by the neck, allowing just the tips of his toes to scrape the ground. It took no time for the lad to capitulate. He thrust the mask into Hugo’s face. Hugo took it, releasing him, and, as her tormentor slumped to the ground, Hugo faced Olivia. She was shaking, her eyes suspiciously luminous, but she held herself straight, her nose in the air, as she accepted the mask, tied it back in place and pulled her hood over her head.

‘Thank you.’ She began to walk away.

For God’s sake! Where does she think she is going?

With two strides he caught up with her and grabbed her by the arm, spinning her around to face him. She wrenched her arm free.

‘Leave me alone.’

‘How do you mean to get home?’

‘I shall find my brother.’

‘And if you don’t? And if you get accosted again? The next men might not be inclined to leave it at teasing.’

She elevated her nose. Again. Really, she was beyond hoity. He was almost inclined to leave her to it, if she was this stubborn.

Almost.

‘I shall escort you home.’

She was slowly but surely backing away from him. With a growl that originated deep, deep inside him, Hugo followed her and grabbed her arm again.

‘Let go of me.’

Those amazing eyes of hers shot icy slivers at him. What would they look like, fired with passion rather than fury? Would they—? He batted those errant thoughts aside. She was eighteen years old...had only just made her debut in society.