How To Build The Perfect Rake (18 page)

For the first time since coming up to London
he found himself missing Midford and the simplicity of a country
social occasion. In Warwickshire he had attended assemblies –
usually with Olympia – and they had spent a large part of the night
having an inordinate amount of fun. Would he have fun with Carisse?
Well of course he would… when he got to know her properly. The
thing was, with so many men chasing after her, he didn’t look like
he’d get the opportunity to know her properly.

This is what you want, St James. This is the
girl that you changed your entire persona for. And it has been
going so very well…

So why wasn’t he happier? He saw Olympia
across the room, being escorted onto the floor by the
preposterously foppish figure of Mr. Edward Garnet and felt a scowl
begin to form. Suddenly it seemed obvious to him why he could not
settle. His best friend was being courted by nincompoops and
wastrels and did not seem to realize the danger she was in of
making a grave mistake. All very well for him to say that he would
have nothing more to do with the matter, but he could not simply
set back and see Olympia make a disastrous botch of things.

No, until the matter of her marriage was
settled, Luc knew he had to protect her from herself, even if it
did mean that she was displeased with him.

Stubborn little fool that she was, she did
not truly understand the scoundrels that abounded. But he did. It
was up to Luc to look out for her, even if she refused his help.
It’s what a true friend would do. One way or another, he would save
Olympia from her own folly.

Chapter Eight

Aunt Flora continued to lament the return of
her niece back to the wilds of Warwickshire – as she phrased it –
the next morning, so much so that Olympia escaped the house
directly after breakfast, claiming that she needed to buy a few
items before she returned home.

‘I would like to find several gifts for Mama
and Ellyn,’ she had told her aunt, gathering up her reticule
hastily. ‘I’ll just take Constance for a quick visit to Bond
Street. Can I get you anything?’

‘Do they sell suitable husbands there?’ her
aunt demanded plaintively.

‘They might,’ Olympia replied, dimpling
irrepressibly. ‘I shall ask at Boots.’

Grateful to escape, if only for a few hours,
she decided to walk through the park and extend the journey. There
was really no hurry to return. Jasper was still abed, having gone
out after delivering his sister and aunt home in the early hours.
Lord knows what time he had come back but it was doubtful he would
emerge before lunchtime, which meant she had no-one to deflect dear
Aunt Flora.

‘Are we really going home, miss?’ Constant
asked as they walked through the dappled shade of one of the many
paths. It was blessedly cooler this morning, the heat of the
previous days having subsided overnight.

‘We are. I’ve had enough of town at the
moment,’ she glanced at the girl. ‘Will you be very disappointed to
go back early?’

‘Oh no, miss. I’m as pleased as anything to
be leaving.’

‘That young man at home?’
Olympia hazarded, remembering that Constance had just started
stepping out with one of the stable hands when they had left for
town. Her enquiry was rewarded with a blush, which certainly seemed
to answer that question. She smiled, pleased that
somebody
was happy with
her decision. ‘I might not have a young man to be going back to,
but I shall be awfully glad to be returning as well.’

The knowledge that she was
leaving for Warwickshire on Saturday helped to relieve the
persistent ache that seemed to have circled her heart in the past
few days. Looking back, she realized it had been there even before
she had made her momentous discovery that her feelings for Luc were
far from platonic. She knew that she would miss him. How could she
not? But it was far better to leave than watch his romance with
Carisse unfold. The announcement, the banns and the wretched
wedding itself would be unacceptably painful. She had no idea where
it would take place and nor did she care. Her strategy, the only
one she had been able to settle on, was to ignore the whole thing
and wait for the emotional tenderness to abate. It might take some
time but she was resilient. At least, she hoped she was. At the
moment it felt rather like her world was in upheaval. Discovering
that she was in love with Luc – so absurd yet so
natural
– had utterly
undermined her view of the world.

She would return to Warwickshire unengaged
but her parents would not mind. And perhaps next year her
tumultuous emotions would have subsided and she could treat the
pursuit of a suitable husband with the serious consideration it
deserved. Perhaps.

They were just emerging from inside a
confectionary shop where Olympia had purchased a great many humbugs
and peppermint jacks when they came face to face with Mrs. Houghton
and Carisse. Both ladies paused to acknowledge the meeting.

‘Miss Grayson,’ Mrs. Houghton greeted her
warmly, ‘how very nice. Did you enjoy the ball last night?’

Olympia hadn’t, not really, too out of sorts
after witnessing Luc’s generous application of masculine charm
towards all things female. But the truth never sufficed in Polite
Society. ‘It was a very pleasant evening.’

‘Wasn’t it? My Carisse was quite exhausted
this morning.’

Carisse was looking beyond Olympia, peering
into the dimness of the shop. ‘Is your brother here?’

Olympia felt a surge of annoyance. Honestly,
the girl was supposed to be keen on marrying Luc. Why was she
looking for Jasper? ‘He’s still in bed, I wouldn’t wonder. He had
rather a late night.’

‘Oh.’ The Beauty looked disappointed and
once again, Olympia wondered if she should not set her brother onto
seriously throwing Luc’s plans awry. But it really wouldn’t be
fair. Jasper had not intention of offering any girl marriage in the
foreseeable future and Luc had his heart set on this lovely ninny.
‘Is he going to be at the Massington’s rout tonight?’

‘Perhaps. Although we are returning to
Warwickshire on Saturday so I cannot say what his plans might be.
He might wish to see some of his friends.’

‘Your going back to Warwickshire?’ Mrs.
Houghton said, surprised.

‘Indeed.’

‘Before the Season is done?’

‘I am, yes. I rather miss home.’

Mrs. Houghton hesitated on the brink of
saying something but her daughter was not nearly as discreet. ‘But
you haven’t secured an offer yet.’

‘No,’ Olympia agreed cheerfully, ‘but I
daresay there is always next year.’

‘But my dear,’ Mrs.
Houghton’s voice dropped and she moved a little closer, ‘I know for
a fact that there are at least
three
men who are interested in
making an offer.’ Her voice dipped a little lower. ‘Truly, do not
despair at making a suitable match of it. Just give the gentlemen
time to come up to speed. They do so dislike being rushed into
things.’

Olympia blinked and tried to think of
something suitable to say. But it was really too absurd! Mrs.
Houghton thought she was returning home in a snit because nobody
was interested in her. It didn’t seem to cross her mind that
Olympia might not care about finding a husband. While she was
searching for something diplomatic to say, Carisse chimed in.

‘Even
my
suitors are a little slow. I
expect that Mr. St James will say something in the next few days
and of course the duke is going to ask for my hand. And then,
there
is
Endie…’

‘Endie?’ Olympia repeated blankly.

‘Endymion Falstaff,’ Mrs. Houghton said,
rather repressively. ‘He is very smitten with Carisse.’

‘He is. He utterly dotes
on me. It’s awfully sweet.
He
would marry me in an instant.’ She gave her
mother a sideways glance.

‘
We do not want an offer
from Mr. Falstaff,’ Mrs. Houghton said patiently. ‘There are far
more suitable matches to be had.’

‘But it is nearly July and I have yet to
receive an offer from any of them.’ This was said in a tone of such
artless wonder that, if the circumstances had been different, might
have brought a smile to Olympia’s lips.

As it was, she looked at the girl for a long
moment before asking the question she had no right to ask. It was
ridiculous and entirely inappropriate but it was well nigh
irresistible. ‘And who do you think you will choose, Miss Houghton?
The duke or Mr. St James? Or,’ she added rather wryly, ‘Mr.
Falstaff?’

‘Not
Mr. Falstaff,’ Once again, that rather forbidding note in
Mama Houghton’s voice. ‘We have discussed this.’

Carisse made a face. ‘Mama does not like
Endie. But he is awfully sweet.’

‘We are not interested in sweet, my
dear.’

It seemed to Olympia that the pair on them
thought a great deal of sweet in the usual course of events. And
nice. And anything else that was meaningless and trite. ‘So who do
you think you will settle on?’ she asked again, pursuing the matter
despite herself.

The world around her seemed to grow quiet in
anticipation. A small frown creased the Beauty’s brow as she
considered this, head tilted a little to one side, finger to her
rosy red lips. ‘I am still not sure. Of course Mr. St James has so
much money and he has become rather fascinating. But it would be
awfully nice to be a duchess.’

‘So… it could go either way?’ Olympia asked,
aware of the painful lump that rested in her chest, possibly in the
region of her heart.

‘We will, of course, have to consider it,’
Mrs. Houghton said thoughtfully. ‘But I tend to favor Mr. St James
suit.’

Did she now! And what
about her empty headed daughter? Would she be guided by her mother?
It seemed likely that she would. Clearly, Luc had made inroads on
both ladies. If he had not exactly swept them off their feet it was
because his major competition was a duke and a duke
was
a duke, after all.
But how ridiculous! The Duke of Branson was one and forty, could
not pronounce the letter S without showering his audience with
spittle and thought that wearing a lampshade on ones head in a game
of charades was the height of hilarity. Luc was one and twenty,
singularly personable and extremely intelligent, his current taste
in females aside. How could there be any comparison? The more
Olympia thought of it, the crosser she became. She did not
want
Luc to marry
Carisse for a myriad of reasons but the fact that the girl might
not consider him quite up to scratch was infuriating. Lucien St
James was by far the most interesting man in London!

‘Well if it is too hard to chose between the
two you could always accept Falstaff,’ she said, with something of
a snap. ‘Pots of money and he writes poems to your beauty. What
more could a woman ask for.’

‘I know. Endie completely
worships at my feet and would do anything I say,’ Carisse agreed,
‘Why, he said he would
die
if I do not accept him -’

‘He will do no such thing. He is not so
foolish. I like Mr. Falstaff well enough, but his parents are a
little odd,’ Mrs. Houghton said briskly. ‘His mother participates
in religious dance.’

‘Endie doesn’t.’

‘It seems more than enough that his mother
does.’

‘It would be rather
tiresome,’ Carisse sighed. ‘I have only seen her do it once but she
seems to wear some kind of peculiar robe. In bare feet while
trailing
rose
petals.’

Olympia had a fleeting regret that she had
not been treated to such a sight for it must have been
extraordinary. How Carisse could not find it amusing was
incomprehensible but both mother and daughter Houghton were rather
a dull pair. She fixed a smile on her face and prepared to retreat.
‘I’m afraid I have to be getting back. I have… humbugs for my
aunt.’

‘Humbugs?’ Mrs. Houghton repeated
blankly.

‘Humbugs,’ Olympia agreed waving the calico
bag filled with sweets.

‘Do come to the Massington rout,’ Carisse
urged, ‘and be sure to tell Mr. Grayson. He is such a wonderful
dancer.’

‘Oh I will,’ Olympia assured her. ‘I am sure
he will be delighted.’

But when she returned to Martin Street and
found Jasper sitting over a rather late breakfast he seemed
anything but delighted by the prospect of another social outing. ‘I
am excessively fond of you, dearest sister, but if I have to make
nice at one more wretched dance I stand in danger of death by
ennui.’

‘But I thought you liked to flirt with all
the lovely debutantes.’

‘I do, of course,’ he agreed, pouring
himself a cup of coffee. ‘But I’ve heard that there is an
interesting card game to be had tonight and I thought I might try
my luck.’

‘More like clear the pot,’ his sister
observed, sitting opposite. She leaned forward to steal a piece of
bacon off his plate and took a bite. Jasper had the most
astonishing luck at cards. Nobody but Thaddeus ever managed to beat
him. ‘Well it suits me well enough. I wasn’t in the mood to go
anyway.’

Jasper studied her face as he lounged in his
chair. ‘What’s the matter?’

‘Nothing. Why should anything be the
matter?’

‘Don’t gammon me. You forget who you’re
talking to.’

She looked at him for a long moment, then
sighed. ‘Nothing is going as I thought it would Jas. It’s nobody’s
fault. It’s just…’ she hesitated, trying to work out what she could
tell him. It wasn’t that he would not understand. She was fortunate
in that her siblings were sensible enough not to judge too quickly.
But the reason behind her unhappiness… it would certainly come as a
surprise. All of the Grayson’s had been used to seeing Luc about
the place for truly, he wandered into Pennimore Hall almost as
frequently as she wandered into Midlands House. They rather tended
to regard him as an extension of their family.