How to Seduce a Scoundrel (20 page)

Hawk shifted on the sofa as his cock stirred. He’d better distract himself. What better way than to tease her? “What are you reading?”

“
Sense and Sensibility
.”

“What is it about?” he asked.

She kept her gaze on the novel. “Women who have very little control over their destinies.”

“Sounds melancholy,” he said.

“The ladies triumph in spite of adversity.”

“Are there any rakes?” he asked, hoping to provoke her.

She kept her gaze on the novel. “As a matter of fact, there is one. Poor Marianne falls for Willoughby’s wiles. He gives her every expectation that he is in love with her, and then he crushes all her hopes.”

“Perhaps he will reform and offer to marry her.” That sort of fairy tale would likely appeal to Julianne.

“No, there is a twist in the plot,” she said.

“How do you know?”

“I’ve read it before. Now be quiet,” she said.

“Why would you read it again? You already know what happens.” Damn, he’d never understand women.

“I adore the story and wish to experience it again. Stop interrupting me.”

He thoroughly enjoyed needling her. “But I have nothing to do.”

“Go home,” she said.

“Not until my aunt returns.”

She made an exasperated sound and sat up. “Obviously, you need something to occupy you.”

As she marched over to the bookcase again, he admired her bottom through the outline of her skirts. Naturally he imagined sliding his hands down to her derriere so he could press her against his swelling erection. Lord, he’d better think of something dull before she noticed. Such as books about ladies triumphing over adversity.

She selected another book and brought it to him. The overwhelming temptation to pull her onto his lap gripped him, but he didn’t dare.

“Read this,” she said in a supercilious tone. “You might learn something about women.”

“
Pride and Prejudice
? Are there are any rakes in this one?”

“Yes. George Wickham is very bad.”

Clearly Julianne had an unhealthy obsession with bad men. “What does Wickham do that is so awful?” he asked.

“Read it and find out,” she said. “And for heaven’s sake, do keep quiet.”

After she returned to the sofa, he opened the novel and read the first page. “The author has a razor-sharp wit.”

“You’re talking again,” she said in an irritated voice.

He continued reading. After a few moments, he glanced over at her. She was thoroughly engrossed in her novel, but of course he couldn’t pass up another opportunity to bedevil her. “Miss Elizabeth Bennett reminds me of you.”

“Thank you. I shall take that as a compliment.”

“This Darcy fellow is a regular prig,” he said.

“He redeems himself in the end.”

“Bingley, on the other hand, is too cheerful and likes everyone on the spot. A man of his age and consequence ought to be more cautious in his opinions.”

“For the last time, be quiet,” she said.

Hawk stretched out his legs and continued reading. His cock settled down enough that he could concentrate on the story. He thought the novel would be more interesting if the narrator focused more on Darcy. There was far too much emphasis on the relationship between the two elder sisters, which he found tedious. But he kept reading, mostly because he wanted to see how the author portrayed the rake. And then he would exasperate Julianne by pretending sympathy for the evil George Wickham.

A few minutes later, the sound of deep, even breathing drew his attention to Julianne. The novel lay open upon her chest. Her sweet face was turned toward him.

The room had grown a bit chilly. He thought she might be cold. After he stood, he managed to get his tight coat off. Then he crossed the room and gently removed the book. She twitched but didn’t awaken. He placed his coat over her, trying not to wake her.

Her eyes opened. She looked dazed. “Hawk?” Her naturally raspy voice sounded a bit hoarse.

“You fell asleep,” he murmured.

“Your coat is warm.”

The clock on the mantel chimed. It was one o’clock in the morning. Where the devil was his aunt?

Julianne sat up and handed him his coat.

He struggled with the tight sleeves.

She stood. “Turn your back and let me help.”

The brush of her fingers as she assisted him made
his skin tingle. When he faced her, she straightened his lapels. Something inside his chest tumbled over.

He’d kissed her. He’d touched her. He’d whispered in her ear. But for reasons he couldn’t understand, her simple gesture felt far more intimate. The sort of thing a wife might do.

He thrust that thought out of his head. “I should stay until my aunt returns.”

Julianne shook her head. “We’re both tired. Go home.”

He escorted her to the landing and watched as she ascended the stairs. Then he hurried downstairs to collect his greatcoat, hat, and gloves.

Fifteen minutes later, he walked inside the set of rooms at the Albany he’d occupied since leaving university many years ago. After his valet helped him undress, Hawk donned a banyan robe, poured himself a brandy, and looked about the spartan bedchamber. No paintings adorned the walls. The shaving stand held the usual accoutrements—brush, bottle of cologne, and razor. An untidy stack of papers and books on his desk showed the only signs that he actually lived here.

It was a refuge, but it wasn’t a home.

Even though his father had died years ago, Hawk had never returned to live at Ashdown House. He managed the business of two estates from a distance, because every inch of the properties reminded him too much of his father’s disappointment in him.

He knew his refusal to return home grieved his mother and angered his sisters. His brothers-in-law thought him a callous beast for abandoning his mother. But if he returned home, his mother and sisters would hound him daily to do his marital duty. He could fob them off easily on his weekly visits simply by escaping.

They had expectations of him. He was the earl, and therefore it was his duty to produce the requisite heir and spare. They didn’t know he never would.

Even his brother Will, the heir presumptive, didn’t know. Hawk had thought of telling his brother, but he wanted Will to remain carefree as long as possible. As years went by, his brother would guess the truth. By then, Will would be older and likely would have married.

Hawk snuffed the candles, shrugged off the banyan, and climbed into bed, staring at the dark canopy. Years ago, he’d hoped time would lessen his remorse, and though his regret was no longer acute, he could never forget. Because he could never right the wrong he’d done, and he would bear the guilt in silence always.

While he could never change the past, he would do everything in his power to ensure nothing bad ever happened to Julianne.

He wasn’t, nor would he ever be, a constant man. As his father had said, men like him didn’t change. And so he’d relieved the loneliness by taking mistresses. There had been many over the years, but none of his liaisons had lasted long. He’d found pleasure and given it. But as the demands for jewels and gowns inevitably increased, he’d always grown bored. The temporary comfort was an illusion. The women did what he paid them to do, until he tired of them.

He’d never thought he’d miss the lack of a wife. After all, he knew dozens of men who ignored their wives and turned to mistresses. But he’d not thought of the little things. Discussing a book late at night. And the simple, domestic gesture of a woman’s hands tugging on his lapels.

For the first time, his regrets weren’t for the past but for a future he would never know.

Her brief sleep in the drawing room left her restless.

He’d lured her, not with seduction but with his charm. She’d pretended to be annoyed with his teasing while they had read. She’d thought she’d succeeded in showing her disinterest. But then he’d covered her with his coat, the coat that had still held his warmth and his scent. He’d made her believe he cared about her.

She’d been groggy when she’d offered to help him with his coat, but for those few moments, she’d forgotten he didn’t want her.

Her chest ached as the knowledge pierced her heart anew. She could no longer deny that she still held lingering feelings for him. But those feelings confused her. She didn’t know what she wanted anymore, but she knew what she didn’t want. A man who did not love her.

A long-forgotten memory crept into her brain. She couldn’t remember how old she’d been, only that she’d been a little girl and hiding by a tree near the lake. Hawk had found her there, crying over the crumpled picture she’d drawn of her father. She’d tried to give it to her papa, but she’d smelled the brandy on his breath too late. He’d bellowed for a footman to summon the governess.

Hawk had held her in his arms for a while. Then he’d offered to teach her to climb a tree, something Mama had never let her do. She’d felt naughty and happy all at the same time. Hawk had helped her up the tree, and she’d trusted him not to let her fall, even though she’d been a bit afraid. She’d adored him from that moment on.

Now all her feelings for him were mixed up with the
past. Her father’s rejection and now his. Her mother and brother had showered her with love, but somehow it never seemed enough.

The prospect of ever opening her heart to a man again scared her witless. She would never let another man trample her heart. Because she did not want to be like her mother, pining for a man who would hurt her again and again.

But she could not remain dependent on her brother much longer. Tristan had married, and now his wife, Tessa, was the duchess. In a short time, their first child would enter the world. They were starting their own family.

Julianne knew she would feel like an outsider, but that was nothing new. She’d felt it almost from the beginning of their marriage. Of course they had treated her well, but their open affection had embarrassed her. They touched each other often and exchanged longing looks. Mama had said their love was rare.

Part of the reason Julianne had accepted Amy’s invitation to travel last summer was to give Tristan and Tessa privacy after their recent marriage. But then she’d returned home only to learn about the babe.

At first, she’d been excited, but soon she’d grown envious because Mama had clucked over Tessa like a mother hen. All anyone talked about was Tessa’s nausea, how she must eat to keep up her strength, and how she must rest often. Julianne had felt ignored and resented her sister-in-law. And she’d felt guilty, too, because she knew Tessa had lost all her family and had been alone for many years.

But it was Tessa who had convinced her brother and mother to let Julianne participate in the season. Tessa had
helped her pack and said she knew Julianne would be the belle of the ball. And she’d made Julianne promise to write every week.

The memory shamed her. She was fortunate to have a loving family. When her eyes blurred with tears, she swiped them away. Tristan had brought her to London so she could participate in the season. She’d known how reluctant he’d been to leave Tessa. While he never said anything, Julianne knew he worried about Tessa’s health and the impending birth.

Julianne looked deep into her heart and knew her petty jealousy had stemmed from her own fears that Tessa was replacing her in her family’s hearts. Her fears were groundless, but she’d always felt the need for reassurance. Because no matter how much they loved her, she would always feel like the unwanted daughter.

She’d come to London determined to give Hawk her heart, but she’d given it to him years ago. She’d failed to win her father’s love, so she had set out to capture the heart of the man who had rescued her when she was a little girl.

He didn’t even realize he’d hurt her at that ball. As long as she was being completely honest with herself, she might as well admit the truth. She’d done the same thing to those twelve gentlemen who had proposed to her. Over the years, she’d told herself repeatedly that a little flirting never hurt anyone. But even though she’d not set out to wound those men, she’d done it nevertheless.

She’d persuaded herself that Hawk had purposely misled her. In retrospect, she knew she’d made him out to be a heartless cad to protect her bruised heart. He cared about her, but he didn’t love her.

Outside the door, a floorboard creaked, signaling someone was walking along the corridor. The sound of a door closing made Julianne frown. She sat up, found the tinderbox, and lit a candle. When she held the candle closer to the clock, she saw it was four o’clock in the morning. She suspected Hester and Mr. Peckham were lovers at long last.

Julianne blew out the candle and lay back on the bed. Her heart ached for the dream that had sustained her over four long years. Inside, she felt empty and dispirited. All winter, she’d yearned to be in London for the festivities, and now the remaining weeks of the season made her feel bleak.

But she was not without purpose. Her heart beat faster as the pamphlet took on a whole new meaning for her. Up until this moment, she’d thought of it primarily in terms of getting even with reluctant bachelors. Instead, she would now focus on the positive aspects. She would help other ladies by providing the honest advice Hester had given her about men.