How to Catch a Wicked Viscount Page 7

  Olivia’s brow had also knit into a deep frown. “But, Charlie, don’t you think it’s risky for us to be actively pursuing rakes? I know everyone might think we are immoral hussies, but we’re not really. What if these men expect certain things from us? Things that really will result in our ruin?”

  Charlie shrugged. “While I concede we will need to be careful, I also firmly believe not all rakes are out-and-out scoundrels. According to my aunt Tabitha, rakes sometimes turn into the very best husbands, simply because they’ve become jaded with the endless carousing and general shallowness of their lives. She maintains that when the right woman comes along, some are quite ready to settle down. And some even fall in love. I, for one, will only marry if it’s a true love match.”

  “Something tells me your aunt Tabitha must have wedded a reformed rake,” observed Sophie.

  “Yes. She did. And very happily too. For thirty-five years.”

  Sophie pressed her lips together. “Like Olivia, I’m still not sure, Charlie. It sounds dangerous. We could be playing with fire.”

  Charlie’s mouth lifted into a beguiling smile. “Well, I think it sounds like fun. Besides, what else have we got to lose?”

  “All right,” agreed Sophie. “If we all concede your logic is sound, how are we to go about luring these not-so-wicked rakes into the parson’s mousetrap?”

  “Well, we shall just have to make them fall in love with us,” said Charlie with an enigmatic smile. “I never said it would be easy, but I think it’s worth a try, don’t you?”

  CHAPTER 6

  The husband-hunting Season is well and truly open, but how is a debutante to stand out in today’s crowded marriage mart? Read on to discover essential tidbits of advice that will ensure your Season is a successful one . . .

  The Beau Monde Mirror: The Essential Style and Etiquette Guide

  Well, we shall just have to make them fall in love with us.

  At Charlie’s words, Sophie’s thoughts immediately strayed to Lord Malverne again.

  Nate. Even saying his first name in her head made her heart trip wildly. She barely knew him, but she couldn’t deny the attraction she felt for him. And it wasn’t just his handsome looks that drew her. It was his devil-may-care charm and his heart-stopping smile—a well-practiced smile no doubt, but it was dangerously appealing all the same. And then there was his infectious sense of humor. And his gentlemanly manners, which she knew were probably all for show, but still . . . She shouldn’t really be thinking of trying to win his affection, let alone his love. It would surely be an impossible feat.

  She sighed and stared out of Gunter’s front bow window onto the dull and rainy afternoon and the sodden park. Why would Lord Malverne even be interested in someone like her to begin with? She was but a poor country mouse with limited prospects. A ninnyhammer who blathered and blushed like a silly chit straight out of the schoolroom—which she practically was anyway. If someone like Lady Penelope couldn’t capture Lord Malverne’s attention, what hope did she—shy, bookish, practically impoverished Sophie Brightwell—have? It was a sobering thought indeed.

  “Sophie.” Charlie touched her arm. “You’re woolgathering. Do you agree my idea has some merit?”

  Sophie blinked. “I . . . I suppose so. Only, I’m still not clear on where we will find these not-so-wicked rakes. And how do we make them fall in love with us? I mean, I cannot claim to possess even the most rudimentary flirting skills.” She lowered her voice. “I certainly don’t know how to kiss.”

  Charlie’s smile was wry. “I’m sure they would be happy to teach any one of us how to flirt, at least. It’s in their natures.”

  Arabella’s expression grew thoughtful behind her spectacles. “While I won’t be here to take part, I do believe you should approach husband hunting scientifically if you are set on such a course. Let logic guide you,” she said. Reaching for her satchel, she pulled out a pencil. “Does anyone have something to make notes on?”

  “I do. And I like your suggestion. Very much.” Charlie passed her one of Gunter’s menus. “Here, write on the back of this.”

  “Are you sure?” asked Olivia, her expression doubtful as Arabella turned the piece of parchment over to the blank side.

  Charlie waved a hand. “I’ll just add it to my father’s account if anyone complains, which I doubt they will.”

  Arabella nodded. “Very well.” She tapped the end of the pencil against the small space between her front teeth before adding, “I think you should break your plan into steps. Things you can actually do that might aid you in your quest.”

  Charlie’s brown eyes shone with enthusiasm. “I like it. A battle plan of sorts. And I don’t know about you, but I think we should order tea to fortify ourselves for the task. Something hot and bracing like souchong.”

  After Charlie had placed the order, Sophie ventured, “It might be useful to make a list of the rakes we should think about targeting.”

  “Yes, that should be our first step,” agreed Arabella as she jotted down, Step One: Rakes of Interest. She looked up at Charlie. “I’m sure you would have some gentlemen in mind considering your brother’s circle of friends and acquaintances, even if he isn’t willing to make any suggestions.”

  Charlie nodded. “Yes . . . I’m thinking we need to consider rakes who not only make our hearts flutter because of their dashing good looks, but who have other notable qualities such as loyalty, courage, honor, intelligence, and most importantly, who are capable of caring and showing respect toward women. And men who show compassion and kindness to others.”

  Sophie’s eyebrows shot up. “Heavens, a loyal rake who cares about and respects women and shows kindness to others. That sort of man sounds rarer than a unicorn.”

  Charlie laughed. “Not really. I can think of quite a few rakish gentlemen who certainly care about their mothers and sisters. Or are involved in notable philanthropic endeavors. And many rakes that I know of have served in the military at one time or another, so they would clearly be capable of demonstrating loyalty and acting with honor. Men we don’t want on our list would be bounders who have a reputation for being mean and selfish. Men who’ve been deliberately callous or cruel. Men who cannot keep their promises. Men who drink and gamble to excess. Men on the brink of financial ruin who are on the hunt for an heiress.” She gestured at Olivia before lowering her voice to a whisper and adding, “Men with the pox.”

  Arabella nodded sagely. “The pox is particularly nasty. A disease to be avoided at all costs.”

  Olivia blushed. “Goodness me. However would one know if a man is so afflicted?”

  Charlie laughed. “There are rumors and Nate is sure to know; he’d tell me in no uncertain terms if a creature like that began to court any one of us. And Aunt Tabitha is a veritable fount of knowledge. I can always seek her opinion on our list of candidates if we think we need it.”

  The tea service arrived, and once they were all armed with steaming cups of fragrant souchong, Arabella picked up her pencil again. “Very well then,” she said, pencil poised. “Whom do you suggest I add to the list, Charlie?”

  “My first thoughts go to my brother’s friends,” she said. “They might be a bit wild, but I do know that Nate couldn’t abide anyone who was a true blackguard.”

  “How do you think your brother will react to the fact that we are targeting his friends?” asked Sophie with a worried frown. “I can’t imagine he’ll be pleased.”

  “We shan’t tell him,” said Charlie simply. “What he doesn’t know can’t hurt him.” She sipped her hot tea gingerly, then said to Arabella, “All right. The first candidate who springs to mind is Maximilian Devereux, the Duke of Exmoor.”

  Sophie’s eyebrows shot up. “A duke? You cannot seriously think a duke would consider someone like me.”

  “Or me,” added Arabella after she’d dutifully recorded his name at the top of the list.


  “Fiddlesticks,” declared Charlie. “Any of the men I suggest would be fortunate indeed to have women like you as wives. And as for the Duke of Exmoor, I believe he’d make any one of us a wonderful husband. He’s as rich as Solomon, as handsome as an Adonis, and he served under Wellington, alongside Nate.”

  “Who else then?” Sophie wasn’t able to hide the note of skepticism in her voice. A duke would never be interested in marrying a nobody like herself. He might consider Olivia; she was an heiress after all. And Arabella’s family was quite well-connected within the ranks of the lower gentry and wasn’t without means. Charlie, on the other hand, was the daughter of an earl, so she would definitely fit the bill of prospective duchess.

  Charlie took another sip of her tea, then added, “Hamish MacQueen, the Marquess of Sleat.”

  Olivia sucked in a small, startled breath as Arabella added his name.

  “You know him?” asked Sophie.

  “Of him . . .” A deep blush had washed over Olivia’s cheeks. “He . . . he resides next door to us in Grosvenor Square. He’s certainly a man with a good deal of . . . presence. Not that I’ve seen him all that much. He keeps to himself.”

  “Oh, I didn’t know he was your neighbor,” remarked Charlie. “I know he looks quite formidable with his eye patch, like a cross between a wicked pirate and a wounded Highland warrior of old. And even though he often wears a scowl and sounds gruff when he speaks, don’t let that put you off.”

  “So he’s another of your brother’s friends?” asked Sophie before she took a sip of her tea.

  “Yes. He was injured horribly during the Battle of Waterloo, hence the eye patch. But from what I’ve heard, that hasn’t diminished his appeal with the ladies of the ton.”

  “Well then, who else would you suggest?” asked Sophie. It seemed shy Olivia might already harbor a tendre for the piratical Scottish lord, so she’d best not look in that direction.

  “Gabriel Holmes-Fitzgerald, the Earl of Langdale,” said Charlie with a decided nod. “He’s probably the most notorious of all Nate’s friends. He’s . . .” Charlie paused as though she was trying to choose her next words carefully. “He is the sort of man who exudes a certain type of potent charm. When he enters a room, he draws the eye of almost every woman. It’s not just because he’s handsome. He’s . . . magnetic. I can’t think of another way to describe him.”

  “Goodness, he sounds quite delicious, Charlie. Even to me,” said Arabella as she wrote down his name. When she looked up to find everyone was smiling at her, a rosy blush colored her cheeks. “What?” she demanded stiffly. “Just because I’m a bluestocking and I don’t plan on looking for a husband in London’s ballrooms this Season, it doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate attractive men.”

  Sophie smiled over the rim of her teacup. “I think he sounds quite delicious too. They all do.”

  “Now”—Charlie replenished her tea from the silver teapot—“the only other candidates that spring to mind for the moment are Matthew Ellis, Viscount Claremont, and Timothy Beaumont, Baron Edgerton. They aren’t as close to Nate as the other gentlemen I mentioned, but they have solid reputations.”

  “Despite the fact that they’re considered rakes,” said Sophie with a wry smile.

  “Yes, indeed. I’ve even heard Lord Claremont is actively looking for a wife this Season. Nate was laughing about the fact that bets were being taken at White’s on the date he would announce his betrothal. I believe his father is pressuring him to find a suitable match.”

  “Hmmm. He might have someone in his sights already then,” observed Olivia.

  “Perhaps. Perhaps not. I wouldn’t discount Lord Claremont just yet,” said Charlie.

  Sophie blew out a sigh. “All right then. We have five potential eligible men we can pursue with relative safety. What is the next step in our plan? I for one, have no idea how to capture anyone’s eye, let alone a rakehell’s.”

  “Nor me,” remarked Arabella with a despondent sigh. “Much to my family’s annoyance, there are some days I’m not even sure I want to marry anymore. Not unless I can find a gentleman willing to put up with my singular ways.” She tucked an unruly blond curl behind her ear. “Or someone whose vision is as impaired as mine.”

  “What nonsense, you two. You are both underestimating your charms,” said Charlie with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Aside from the fact that all of you are sweet and kind, unswervingly loyal and intelligent, you’re all pictures of loveliness. There are at least half a dozen gentlemen in Gunter’s who have been sending interested looks our way the entire time we’ve been here. And I truly believe getting their attention is half the battle.”

  Sophie snorted. “I’m sure it’s you, Arabella, and Olivia they are stealing glances at.” If they’re looking at me, it’s only because my skirts are see-through.

  And then she recalled the intimate way Lord Malverne had wiped the ink from her cheek. The smoldering look in his dark gaze. He might think her pretty, clever, and even a little desirable, but that clearly wasn’t enough to capture the heart of Lord Malverne.

  “Oh, pish. You two both need to give yourselves more credit,” admonished Charlie with a mock frown. “Now, weren’t we up to formulating ‘Step Two’ of our plan? Does anyone have any suggestions?”

  “I still think you should continue to use a methodical, scientific approach,” observed Arabella. She tapped the pencil against her teeth again, then added, “Perhaps you need to find out more about these gentlemen. Do some more research into their backgrounds, discover their likes and dislikes, their interests. The sorts of females they may have been attracted to in the past. Their natural habitats.”

  “Yes, I think finding out a little more about their past histories is a very good idea,” remarked Charlie. “And in doing so, we might also discover their weaknesses. The chinks in their armor. Rakes are notorious for guarding their hearts, so it would be useful to know how to break down their defenses.”

  “Goodness gracious, I don’t wish to be a naysayer, but that sounds like an almost impossible feat,” murmured Sophie.

  Charlie shrugged. “I can try to gather some more information from Nate and Aunt Tabitha. And then we can always study the newspapers for the latest rumors. Discover something about any females who have caught their attention of late. For instance, do they prefer blond women? Do they like women with a penchant for the arts, or the sciences?” She nodded at Arabella. “Or do they prefer women who enjoy more active pursuits such as riding and archery, like me? There’s sure to be some tidbits of information floating about that might prove useful. One never knows.”

  “I rather suspect they like women who enjoy amorous pursuits,” remarked Sophie.

  “Very true. Which reminds me, I must share a particular set of illicit memoirs with you so you have an idea of the sorts of amorous activities that exist in the world.” Charlie lowered her voice. “All the things we are not supposed to know about before we get married, even though we really should.”

  Sophie guessed that Charlie was alluding to The Memoirs of a Woman of Pleasure. “Mrs. Rathbone didn’t confiscate them?”

  Charlie’s eyes danced with mischief. “She tried to. Just like she tried to purloin the port and brandy. But my father demanded them back, claiming the items were all his. He really can be rather sweet, although Nate will tell you otherwise.”

  Sophie was certain there must be more behind such a statement, but it wasn’t her place to pry. Instead she said, “I’m not sure what else we can add to our list of steps other than trying to think of how we might make the acquaintance of any or all of these candidates. As you said, Charlie, many in the ton may not be willing to welcome us into their drawing rooms, dining rooms, or ballrooms. Meeting some of them could prove difficult.”

  “True. But rakes often avoid the more respectable marriage mart venues such as Almack’s like the plague. So that’s where research into their
‘natural habitats,’ as Arabella put it, will be so important. For instance, do they frequent public places like the theater, Hyde Park, and Vauxhall on a regular basis? Or perhaps even a place like the Foundling Hospital if they or someone close to them has a philanthropic bent. It would be easy enough to arrange excursions to any of these. And at a pinch, my father or Aunt Tabitha could always host an event or two. A soiree or, at the very least, a dinner.” Charlie cast Olivia a sly smile as she added, “And then, of course, our lucky Miss de Vere lives right next door to the mysterious Scottish marquess. It’s a pity you don’t have a dog or a cat prone to wandering into other people’s gardens, Olivia.”

  Olivia’s forehead plunged into an uncharacteristic scowl. “My aunt and uncle will not let me own a canary or even a goldfish. They can be such p-prigs sometimes. I cannot w-w-w-wait—” She broke off, her mouth twisting with emotion before she blew out a measured sigh. “I . . . I cannot wait until I have my independence.”

  “If you need me to, I shall buy a puppy and you can let it loose in Lord Sleat’s garden,” declared Charlie fiercely. The Valkyrie was back, and a bright spark of vengeance lit her eyes. “And then I shall take it into your aunt’s and uncle’s private chambers and let it chew up their shoes and lift its leg on their chairs, and generally let it do whatever else puppies are prone to do, in the middle of their sitting room rug.”

  Olivia let out an unladylike snort of laughter before clapping a hand over her mouth. “Oh, Charlie,” she said eventually when the wave of mirth subsided. “I would love that.”

  Sophie sat back in her chair and sipped the last of her tea. “We seem to have the beginnings of a sound plan,” she remarked when she put down her empty cup. “If your brother, father, and Aunt Tabitha can help us in our quest, I would be most grateful.” For the sake of her sisters, Alice and Jane, she really hoped she could improve their family’s social standing. And with any luck, perhaps she would find happiness for herself.