A Game of Persuasion: Extended Prologue for the Art of Ruining a Rake (The Naughty Girls Book 3) (4 page)

Miss Gray looked up with wide, sorrowful eyes. After a time, she seemed to set aside her raw emotions for Trestin. She swallowed thickly. “How can I? You wish to seduce my friend. I cannot be a part of that.”

Were
she and Roman still friends? Lucy wanted to ask the question, but surely she’d probed enough. Perhaps Miss Gray did still feel some loyalty for the rogue who’d cost her everything. She seemed a kindhearted sort.

“It is nothing less than he deserves,” Lucy said, reminding Miss Gray of the pain he’d caused her and alluding to the many innocents he’d ruined and abandoned. Certainly, Roman had proven he could extricate himself from a sticky situation. He would escape unscathed from her seduction, as well.

Miss Gray rested a fist against her belly and walked to the window. After a moment, she asked, “What if the other young ladies were just as calculating as you’re being? Perhaps he hasn’t ruined anyone at all. Rumors are often unfounded.”

“I don’t know for sure that he’s deflowered any virgins,” Lucy admitted, though if just one third of the accusations were correct, he was guilty of at least
one
seduction. “But I’m certain he’s raised expectations only to dash them at the last minute. He falls in and out of love like he changes cravats.” She paused. “Roman has a bundle of cravats.”

It was her attempt to lighten the mood, but Miss Gray wasn’t swayed, not yet. She turned back to Lucy. “You’re sure you have no use for your maidenhead? An innocent like you, with a dowry and a brother determined to see you wed?”

And therein lay the problem. The only two people who cared about her maidenhead were her brother and his paramour. In the last few minutes, she’d concluded she was more than willing to trade it for a night in Roman’s arms.

“Trestin loves me, really, he does, but if he knew anything about me he’d help me charter a school instead of pressing me to marry.” Lucy shook her head, then set her shoulders back and looked at the one person who could help her achieve her every desire. “The trouble is, I’m in love with a man who would make a terrible husband, and yet I don’t want to marry anyone else. I
will
have him once, because I cannot bear not to have him at all.” Her voice wavered. “It shall have to be enough for a lifetime.”

Miss Gray’s lower lip trembled, mirroring Lucy’s sense of futility. Was she regretting not seducing Trestin, before he’d learned of her past?

Lucy waited, sensing her victory was close, yet too anxious to hope she would receive the answer she longed to hear.

Finally, Miss Gray shook her head. “I’ll teach you how to draw Roman’s interest if you’ll promise two things,” she said softly, her green gaze shuttering.

Lucy could barely hide her thrill of success. She’d done it! She could scarcely believe Miss Gray was capitulating. “Anything, Miss Gray. Name it and it’s done.”

Miss Gray raised her index finger to count off her stipulations. “You will seduce only Roman.”

Lucy nodded eagerly. That much she could easily promise. “I want no other man in my bed.”
 

Miss Gray smiled wanly. Then she seemed to straighten, as if the thought of her next request buoyed her. She held up a second finger. “Two: You must allow me to be your school’s anonymous benefactress. I want to sponsor ten charity girls each year in addition to shouldering the costs we cannot cover with the paying girls’ tuition.”

Oh! Miss Gray wanted to help with the
school
? After months of failing to gain support from Trestin, this was more than Lucy had ever dreamed—Miss Gray was one of the wealthiest women in London.

When Lucy’s mouth opened to exclaim over the offer, Miss Gray pressed, “I insist.”

“I’D LIKE THE school to be established by the end of the Season,” Lucy said as they entered Miss Gray’s study. “That way, Trestin cannot twist my arm and wrangle another Season out of me.”

“It will require time to go through the details,” Miss Gray cautioned, causing Lucy to bristle behind her. But then, Miss Gray could have no idea that before Lucy had traveled from Devon she’d tucked two leather-bound volumes of carefully thought-out strategies for managing the school into her valise.

Miss Gray went to a wall of shelves crammed with books of all sizes. Lucy scanned the rows and quickly realized there were no sentimental novels or books of poetry here. Even the Classics were missing. Rather, ledgers and maps and travelogues were wedged together, many with silk strips of ribbon marking their pages.

“Have you been to all these places?” Lucy plucked a book of navigational maps from the shelf and let it fall open. An ocean dotted by softly curving islands caught her attention first. “Hmm, I think not, unless you were a pirate at one time.”

“I haven’t seen half the places I’d like, but yes, most of these I’ve collected along the way.” Miss Gray announced her world travels with the indifference of a woman to whom traveling was commonplace, rather than impossible.

Lucy reluctantly closed the map and pushed the book back into its place on the shelf, her gloved fingertips trailing the spine as she slowly turned to look at the small office with new eyes. Miss Gray wasn’t just a woman who understood the pain of unrequited affection. She was fully independent, a consummate businesswoman who had become outrageously wealthy selling a commodity she had cultivated and marketed herself.

Miss Gray pried a volume from between two larger books and took it to her desk. “The last time I counted, I’ve only been to six countries,” she said with a very Continental shrug.

Lucy suddenly felt as though she were in the presence of greatness. “My goodness! And you came to our little town, too. What could possibly have brought you there?”

Miss Gray slid into her chair and opened the map book across her desk. If she was aware of Lucy’s awe, she didn’t show it. “I’d rather not divulge the reason. Rarely do I act without gain in mind and that is all that needs to be said.” She looked hard at Lucy. “You should know what manner of woman you’ve aligned yourself with.”

Lucy couldn’t have been more pleased with Miss Gray’s direct, sensible response. “Someone exactly like myself?”

Miss Gray’s lips quirked, but to Lucy’s approval, she quickly recovered and righted the map spread open before her so that it lay crisp and straight. “Very well then, Miss Lancester—”

“Please, call me Lucy.” At Miss Gray’s sharp look, she hastened to add, “We are partners now, you and I.”

Miss Gray frowned. Lucy held herself still, refusing to betray her uncertainty. Perhaps she’d pushed too far. They had been acquaintances in Devon, two fiercely independent women who chafed at her brother’s stern sense of propriety. But Lucy couldn’t pretend they’d known each other well.

Finally, Miss Gray nodded. “Lucy, then.”

Miss Gray turned the page mechanically, as if not really seeing it. Not inviting Lucy to do the same and call her Celeste.

Lucy tried not to feel discouraged. In time, surely Miss Gray would realize she did not have the same prejudices as her brother.

Miss Gray set the book aside. “I have one more condition. I will handle the financial part of this arrangement, and you must have a care with your reputation. Your character is the critical element of this scheme and it is on tenterhooks as it is, given the scandal in your parents’ past. Without students we have no income.”

Lucy hadn’t expected that. Again, her estimation of Miss Gray rose. Mayhap Miss Gray did pine for Trestin, but she clearly wasn’t the sort to let her emotions distract her from business.

Fortunately, Lucy had no intention of making her seduction of Roman public. Especially if it would jeopardize her school, which, certainly, such a scandal would. She waved away Miss Gray’s concern. “Fair enough.”

Seemingly mollified, Miss Gray pulled the map book back to the center of the table. “Now, did you have a location in mind for the school?”

For the next hour they debated the merits of Bath over Brighton. Lucy regretted not coming armed with her notes, for Miss Gray was shrewd and asked questions Lucy had already carefully researched, but to which she couldn’t recall the answers. She didn’t like feeling disadvantaged, especially when she believed she was right.

When Miss Gray’s lumbering manservant, Mr. Gordo, summoned them to tea, Miss Gray pointed out the time. “Won’t Trestin be looking for you?”

“Not until it’s time to go calling.” Lucy was too busy trying to remember her notes from memory to worry about Trestin. She leaned over the list of expenses they needed to consider before approaching other investors. “Besides, he’s at Jackson’s now. He won’t notice my absence for another few hours.”

But he would notice, eventually. Which meant she did need to set aside the school for now, if she was to learn how to intrigue Roman before dinner.

The only subject she liked to meditate on more than her school was the marquis.

An hour later, after certain key decisions had been made, Lucy was eager to address the real reason she’d come. “Do you think we’ve done enough honest work for the day? I’d like to begin my introduction to the ways of the demimonde, if you please.”

Miss Gray blinked. “You needn’t be a courtesan to seduce Roman.” Her tone said she hadn’t agreed to that at all.

Well, perhaps that hadn’t been the initial plan, true enough. But now that Lucy had seen Miss Gray’s immense success for herself, she fancied knowing how Miss Gray had accomplished it. It seemed logical that poise, confidence and independence of thought would serve Lucy well as headmistress. Not to mention, she had nary a chance of succeeding with Roman if he didn’t see her as a desirable woman, rather than a child.

“Everyone knows he prefers the company of Cyprians.” Lucy set her quill down. “It’s where he goes after the proper balls have concluded.”

Miss Gray visibly hesitated. Lucy wished she hadn’t pressed. Miss Gray
couldn’t
renege. There was no one else who could possibly instruct her—certainly, no one else who would do so discreetly.

“I want to know everything!” Lucy burst out, unable to rein in her impatience.

A wry smile touched Miss Gray’s lips. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

Lucy sat up straighter, bolstered. “Perhaps if we had wine…” Wine always seemed to loosen her tongue. It might do the same for Miss Gray.

Miss Gray glanced again at the clock. “At one o’clock?”

“Surely it can only help?”
 

Flashing Lucy an exasperated look, Miss Gray rose and went to the bellpull. Carefully, Lucy kept her feeling of victory to herself.

Miss Gray rang, then beckoned Lucy. Obediently, she stood and followed her teacher from the small office to a large, airy room at the front of the house.

A
shocking
room.

Floor-to-ceiling red satin covered three of the four walls. Afternoon sunlight caused it to shine, but at night the fabric would catch velvety shadows. The atrium ceiling soared above a second-floor gallery with a wrought iron railing. Chairs were pulled up to the balustrade, a bowl of opera glasses placed on a table, as if inviting onlookers.

“Oh, my,” Lucy said, twirling to take in the entire display. On the far wall, an explicit mural depicted a well-attended saturnalia. “Oh, my, oh, my. This is…” Feeling for a nearby chair with one hand, she sat. “Oh, my.”

Pillows were strewn about the carpets on the floor. Aside from the chair she occupied, there were just a few scattered seats, including a brown fainting couch Lucy could all too easily imagine had been put to carnal use.

It must have been Miss Gray’s intent to scandalize her with the implications of this room.

It had worked.

But she wouldn’t allow herself to be persuaded into thinking she’d fallen in over her head. Especially not when she was intrigued, just as much as her maidenly sensibilities were offended.

A marble statue caught her attention. “She’s beautiful,” Lucy breathed, rising to see the proud woman up close. Even without clothing, the lady’s power was evident. It was there in the brazen, inviting look she cast over her shoulder.

A silent, shadowy movement caused Lucy to turn just as Mr. Gordo set a silver tray on one of the mattress-like cushions covering the floor.

When they were alone again, Miss Gray curled a finger at Lucy. “Come.” The courtesan dropped onto the mattress. A pale hand slid over the fabric of her dress, outlining the shape of her knee as it glided toward her calf. The gown was made of cotton, not silk, yet Miss Gray’s caress made it seem otherwise.