A Scandalous Charade (2 page)

Will snorted. “What’s the point? She never joins any group. She just stands there looking down her nose at everyone.”

But at the moment, she wasn’t looking down her nose at anyone. She was actually smiling at someone who had just entered the ballroom. Both Luke and Will glanced across the sea of people to see who had caught Lady Juliet’s attention. If Haywood had serious competition, it would behoove them to know just who it was.

But when Luke’s eyes landed on Georgina, Lady Teynham, he grinned wolfishly as luck, once again, smiled upon him. This was going to be like a walk in the park. Lady Teynham, a widowed marchioness, was Lady Juliet’s older sister. She also just so happened to be one of his sister Caroline’s dearest friends. But most importantly, Georgie had always had a soft spot in her heart for Luke.

He glanced at Haywood and winked. “Do not approach Lady Juliet. In five minutes, join me as I talk with Lady Teynham. Then we’ll all end up with the Ice Princess together and Lady Teynham will ease the way for us.”

Anxiously, Will looked from Luke to Juliet and back again. With an uncertain nod, he finally agreed. Then after one last look of warning, Luke stepped away from his young friend and toward Lady Teynham. This whole thing would be much easier if Will could just relax and listen to his guidance.

Luke stepped in Georgie’s path, with a rakish bow and an outstretched hand. “Well, if it isn’t the loveliest widow in all of England.”

Georgie smiled radiantly, her blue eyes twinkling. “My dear Lucas, whatever are you doing at Louisa’s ball? I mean, the marriage mart is the last place in the world I’d expect to find you.”

Luke chuckled and placed her hand in the crook of his arm. “Perhaps times change.”

Georgie giggled at that and tapped his chest with her fan. “And perhaps house cats pull Prinny’s carriage. Darling, if you were seriously considering finding yourself a wife, news would be all over Town.”

“I hardly think I’m that noteworthy,” he remarked with a lazy smile.

“On the contrary,” Georgie insisted, “Caroline would be shouting the news from the rafters and scoping out any and all eligible candidates for the position.”

He chuckled at the image she painted in his mind. Georgie knew Caroline well indeed. If he was searching for a wife, his younger sister would make a complete nuisance of herself— of that there was no doubt. “Well, for God’s sakes, Georgie, don’t tell her whatever you do. I can manage without her assistance. But what, may I ask, are you doing at a marriage mart ball? You’re not replacing Teynham?”

Georgie’s marriage had not been a pleasant one and everyone knew it. She’d been married off at the tender age of seventeen to a man that was old enough to be her grandfather and who had the reported temperament of Attila the Hun. Luke would be surprised if she ever replaced the crusty old marquess. Widowhood had saved Georgie from a miserable existence. She wouldn’t give up that status lightly.

They were slowly creeping toward Lady Juliet, and Luke surreptitiously glanced around the room. Where the devil was Haywood? He was supposed to have joined them before they reached the Ice Princess’ side.

“I’m here with my sister, Juliet. You remember her?”

Luke nodded. “Of course.”

Georgie leaned in closely to him and whispered, as if they were conspirators. “Actually, Lucas, I’m hoping someone will strike her interest. Unlike Caroline or myself, Juliet has the luxury of actually picking her own husband.”

This was perfect. He could get Georgie to tell him everything. “Oh? And who is the gentleman that’s caught her attention?”

With an unladylike grimace, Georgie shook her head and sighed. “No one yet. She’s being very obstinate about the entire thing.”

Well, that was good to know. Now he just needed to learn what the Ice Princess was looking for in a husband and then help Will discover those traits in himself. “How so?” he asked casually.

But the time for confidences had abruptly come to an end. The Ice Princess herself had stopped before them and kissed Georgie’s cheek in greeting. “I was starting to worry about you.”

Georgie pulled an unpleasant face and motioned toward the main entranceway, which was adorned in white tulips, where their hostess still stood greeting her guests. “Louisa cornered me and was-” She stopped in mid-sentence, glanced briefly at Luke, and then she cleared her throat. “Jules, you do remember Mr. Beckford don’t you?”

***

Juliet swallowed. Hard. She could never forget Mr. Beckford, and it had taken some amount of courage to approach her sister in his presence.  After all, the last time she’d seen him, she’d made a complete ninny out of herself, though she’d only been ten years old at the time. But she could still remember the mortification she felt when he’d overheard her gushing to Georgie about how ‘beautiful’ he was. He’d chuckled and patted her head in a very patronizing manner, crushing her little heart in the process.

From time to time, Juliet had thought about him over the years, but their paths had never crossed again. Though they both lived in London, they traveled in vastly different circles. Occasionally, she would hear about one of his wicked exploits and wonder what had happened to the beautiful young man he’d been.

What she saw was that he’d grown into an exceedingly striking man. Honestly, no man had the right to be that devilishly handsome. He was slightly taller than she remembered and his golden-blond hair fell rakishly across his brow. But it was his eyes that she found most captivating—just looking into them she felt lost, vulnerable, and fluttery in places she’d sooner die than speak of.

And now he was looking at her, focusing those heart-stopping, green eyes on her. Just like when she was ten, Juliet’s mouth went dry in his presence and she didn’t think she could speak. But Georgie was staring at her with wide eyes, and she felt certain she was making a cake of herself. So, she stiffly nodded her head and managed to choke out, “Of course.”

Luke Beckford took her gloved fingers in his hand and brought them to his lips. Shivers raced down Juliet’s spine, and her heart pounded so hard she couldn’t think straight or clearly hear what was going on about her. Truly, it was difficult to function as normal when a Greek God was paying her his complete attention.

But the magic between them came to an abrupt end, when without any warning at all, Lord Haywood joined their group, and grinned at her like the idiot he was. She’d been trying to shake his interest for the better part of the last month. “What a surprise to see you, Lady Juliet. And might I say you’re simply stunning this evening?”

He was such a toady! A surprise? He’d kept his eyes glued to her ever since she’d entered the room. Did the dolt think she was too featherbrained to have noticed?

After favoring the young baron with a cool expression, Juliet looked back at Mr. Beckford and caught a speaking glance that was obviously meant for Haywood.

Drat!

Realization hit her hard. The two of them were friends. She should have known better.

Lucas Beckford was not the sort to pay her any attention. She wasn’t a member of the demimonde, or someone else’s wife, or some beautiful widow. However, the reprobate probably would assist his friend Haywood in his untenable quest for her hand. How silly she’d been to think that the handsome devil could possibly find something of interest in her for himself. She felt like that awkward ten-year-old girl all over again.

Juliet found herself frowning at her own foolishness and silently swore not to fall victim to her sensibilities in the future, at least not where he was concerned.

It suddenly became much easier to look at the handsome scoundrel. And since he’d decided to interfere in her life, there were a few things she’d like to say to him. To that end, she turned an icy glare on the penniless, toad-eating baron. “Lord Haywood, would you please fetch me a glass of ratafia?”

“I’d be delighted,” Haywood squeaked. Then he scooted off toward the refreshment table, beaming with pride. The fool.

Juliet then focused her attention on her sister. She would have to get rid of Georgie too. As much as her sister loved her, she just didn’t understand the situation Juliet was in. Georgie was an incurable optimist and didn’t clearly see the dangers that surrounded wealthy heiresses. Georgie honestly believed that all of Juliet’s suitors were besotted with her, but Juliet knew better. Her suitors were besotted all right, but with her fortune not her dull, mud-colored eyes.

With a sweet smile, Juliet gestured back to the main entranceway with a delicate flick of her wrist. “Georgie, Lady Ridgemont was just trying to signal you from across the room.”

Georgie glanced across the sea of people until she spotted her old friend—who was indeed looking their direction—and rolled her eyes heavenward. “I just finished speaking with her. I can’t imagine what Louisa could possibly want now.” Then with a sigh of resignation, Georgie made her way through the crowd toward Lady Ridgemont.

When her sister was safely out of earshot, Juliet braved a glance at the striking devil at her side, only to find his green eyes dancing with merriment.

“And just what do you wish to speak with me about, Lady Juliet?”

He knew? Blast him! Her face warmed and she stiffened her back in response as she met his amused gaze. “Take a turn about the room with me, will you, Mr. Beckford?”

He stared deeply into her eyes, and Juliet felt as if he was trying to see straight into her soul. “Wouldn’t you prefer to dance?” he asked smoothly.

The first strings of a waltz began, and, fool that she was, Juliet would have preferred to dance with him. But that was not an option so she shook her head. “I never dance, sir.” Then she waived her hand airily toward her bevy of suitors and furrowed her brow. “Those dogs would hound me until I danced with every single one of them, and I have no intention of indulging even one of them in that regard.”

To her delight, the dashing scoundrel threw back his head and laughed. Then he offered her his arm with a roguish grin. “A turn about the room it is then, my lady.”

She slipped her hand into the crook of his arm, and her fingertips tingled from just this simple contact with him. When he smiled down at her, Juliet thought she might faint, which was completely unacceptable—especially for her. So she took a deep breath, steadied her shoulders, and blurted out, “You are tutoring Lord Haywood in how to court me.”

The rogue nearly stumbled, but to his credit, he quickly righted himself and glanced down at her in surprise. “That obvious, is it?”

Juliet frowned her answer. She had suspected it, knew it in her mind, but hearing it confirmed was still disheartening. The tiny bit of her that hoped he’d had some interest in her died. “I want you to end it. In fact, I’d like you to convince him to find some other heiress to hound altogether.” She began to tick off the names with her fingers. “There’s Marian Hampton or Alice Kelston. Oh, Susan Clarke—her father is anxious for her to marry into a title and he’s quite plump in the pockets.”

One dark golden eyebrow shot up mockingly. “Well, you’re certainly mercenary, aren’t you?”

Juliet let go a beleaguered sigh as they passed couples who were dancing the waltz nearby. “Better one of them than me. Besides, Mr. Beckford, I’ll never marry. So your friend is simply wasting his time—Time that could be spent in courting Lucy Turnbridge perhaps?” she asked hopefully.

Luke grimaced and shook his head. “Isn’t she the one with a mustache?”

True, poor Lucy wasn’t the prettiest of girls, but physical attributes didn’t appear to matter at all to the group of fortune hunting scavengers that were preying on London’s wealthy females. “Yes, and isn’t Haywood the one with debts to pay?” she asked tartly. “Miss Turnbridge’s father has made a fortune in shipping. I’m sure your friend’s estates could be set to rights in no time.”

Her handsome companion looked skeptical. Juliet had to catch her breath when he towed her a bit closer to him and whispered, “Come now, Haywood’s a good fellow. He—”

“Is a gambling, rakish ne’er-do-well—just like you. Only he lacks your easy charm.”

He laughed again and he squeezed her fingers with his free hand. “You have a saucy tongue, Lady Juliet.”

She shrugged in response. “I can afford it. Do you have any idea how much I’m worth?” Juliet figured that, as Haywood’s confidant, Luke would have a fairly accurate guess as to her value. But would he admit to such a thing?

“Hardly an appropriate topic of conversation,” he replied with a feigned reproach.

This time Juliet laughed. “Considering your usual conversations are reputed to be highly inappropriate, Mr. Beckford, I’m certain we’re in acceptable territory. But I’ll save you the trouble of actually answering my question, as we both know that I’m one of the wealthiest women in all of England. The only St. Claire to have more than two farthings to rub together.”

There was no point in denying the truth, and thankfully he didn’t. Everyone else knew it anyway—the St. Claire coffers were completely empty, except for when Juliet replenished them. She was the only one who had any money to speak of, as her fortune had come from her mother’s family.

The history of the St. Claires was a fairly unpleasant one. Much in the same way Henry VIII wanted a son, Juliet’s father, the late Duke of Prestwick, had been obsessed with having an heir of his own. And though the duke only had four wives as compared to the six of King Henry, the unfortunate Duchesses of Prestwick hadn’t fared any better. Though none of them were beheaded, not one of them had lived past childbirth. The duke had three daughters from three different wives before he finally had the male heir he sought.

Juliet had witnessed two of these unhappy unions, and had no intention of going down that path herself. “I’ve seen many marriages, Mr. Beckford, from my father’s numerous wives, to Georgie’s unhappy turn as Marchioness of Teynham. I’m determined never follow in their footsteps. And, thankfully, I don’t have a need to. The fortune my grandfather left me will allow me to maintain my independence throughout my life and still repair the Prestwick estates for my brother. My freedom is too important to ever risk falling prey to the parson’s noose.”