Lady Olivia And The Infamous Rake

‘Because Lady Slough is my stepmama’s aunt—even though she used to disown Stepmama but now she is toadying up to Stepmama for all she is worth—and she really believes Uncle Vernon will marry her spotty daughter. Which he won’t, I can tell you, because Uncle Vernon will never get married, he says.’

Hugo had every sympathy with that point of view.

‘Anyway, I was telling you all about my bet with Alex...so, Uncle Vernon begged me to persuade Aunt Cecily not to sit Lady Slough or Amelia next to him—because she threatened to do exactly that—and I said I would persuade her, but that he would owe me a favour. And he said, Anything. And then, the next day, when I reminded him he tried to wriggle out of it, but Papa was a witness and told Uncle Vernon he should be more careful about making such vague promises. So Vernon had already agreed, but Alex didn’t know...and Dominic is right! I am a horrid, manipulative creature.’

‘Dominic?’ It was the second time she had mentioned this Dominic.

‘Avon.’

‘Of course.’ Dominic, Lord Avon, was Olivia’s eldest brother and heir to the Dukedom. ‘So you don’t get on with Avon?’

She pouted. ‘Well, I do. He is nice enough when he’s not teasing me. But he does take himself and his position as Papa’s heir exceedingly serious. He is opposite to Alex. Poor Alex.’ She slumped back into the corner. ‘I shall never forgive myself if he loses the chance to have Foxbourne because of me.’

‘Why do you care so much?’

She stared. ‘He’s my brother. Of course I care. I love him.’

Envy stirred. Everyone knew the Beauchamps were a close family. What must it be like, to have complete and utter faith and trust in your own father? Hugo had never known such security, even though his mother had tried her best to protect him and Lucas, his older brother, from their violent father. Neither of them had returned to Rothley Hall, the family estate up in Northumberland, after they left university. Lucas had made his home in London and Hugo had spent more time with Lucas than at Oxford, finding his elder brother’s life of excess and debauchery much more exciting than a life of study. They had been wild years—until Lucas had been betrayed by the woman he loved and a man he thought his friend and had left London abruptly, a bitter man. Later, following their father’s death, Lucas had become the Marquis of Rothley and led the life of a joyless recluse.

Since then, Hugo had been on his own, continuing with all those same rakish excesses and vices until this past year or so, when that way of life had begun to pall, almost without him realising it. He had even—God help him—invested some of his recent winnings in government bonds. That was the influence of Sir Horace Todmorden, his new stepfather, whose seemingly unshakeable faith in Hugo was beginning to change him.

‘What are you thinking about? You look...sad.’

The soft query jerked him from his thoughts. ‘Nothing.’ Then, at her crestfallen expression, he gentled his voice. ‘I was thinking about my father and how fortunate you are in yours.’

Her hand covered his. ‘You must miss him dreadfully.’

‘Hardly.’ He huffed a laugh. ‘He was a brute.’

‘Oh.’ Her fine, dark brows drew together as she withdrew her hand. ‘But...you still have other family, do you not?’

‘My mother and my brother, Rothley.’

He’d said enough. She could have no real interest in his family. Once he had delivered her home, their paths were unlikely to cross very often. But their conversation had stirred hope within him, for not only had Mama married Sir Horace last year, but Lucas, too, had now wed. He and Mary, his new wife, and Mary’s two young children, would arrive in London very soon for a prolonged visit. And then...pleasure glowed deep inside at the thought that, maybe, he would finally be part of a close-knit family himself.

He shook all thoughts of his family from his head as the hackney rocked to a halt.

‘We’re here.’ Hugo glanced up at Beauchamp House. Belatedly, he realised he should have instructed the jarvey to stop around the corner. ‘Put that mask back on and pull up your hood.’

Olivia stared at him, an unfathomable expression on her face before, with yet another pout, tying her mask in place. Hugo jumped from the hackney. The front door of the house now stood open, a footman silhouetted within the frame. Hugo waved him away.

‘Wrong address,’ he called.

The man raised his hand in acknowledgement and retreated into the house, closing the door behind him. Hugo leaned back inside the carriage.

‘How did you intend to get back inside?’

‘Around the back. There’s a window... Alex makes sure it’s unlocked whenever he goes out at night and doesn’t want anyone to know.’

‘And he told his younger sister about it?’

‘No. Nobody ever tells me anything. But I usually find out anyway.’

The hint of pride in her tone made him smile. Again, he thought of her as an odd mixture of naivety and intuition, but that didn’t mean she was up to snuff when dealing with the darker aspects of life...or of society, for that matter. He held out his hand and she took it to climb down to the pavement. Without volition, his fingers closed around hers and he had to force himself to release her.

‘Wait for me,’ he said to the jarvey. ‘I won’t be long.’ Then to Olivia, he said, ‘Come. Show me. But if your father appears, I’m off.’

‘Papa’s away,’ she replied. ‘He and my stepmother left yesterday, with her grandfather. They’re going to Birmingham to collect his belongings, although...’ She frowned. ‘I think they’re meeting Uncle Vernon somewhere first. He wrote to Papa, only Papa would only tell me it was nothing to worry about.’

Yet again, Hugo found himself biting back a smile—this time at her disgruntled tone. She clearly prided herself on knowing everything that was going on within her family. They had reached the corner and turned into a side street. There was a low bark, the click of claws on the pavement, and an enormous dog launched itself at Olivia. Hugo’s heart thundered as he threw his arms around its neck, dragging it away.

‘Hector!’ A tall, slender man, supporting himself on a crutch, lurched towards them.

‘Hector!’ Far from being petrified, Olivia’s squeal was one of delight.

The dog squirmed, its tail waving, as Hugo held it fast.

‘You know this monster?’ he panted.

‘Of course I do. It’s Hector. My stepmother’s dog and...oh! F-F-Freddie.’

The man had reached them and, with a ferocious scowl at Hugo, he reached out and tugged the hood from Olivia’s head.

‘What do you think you are doing?’ He kept his voice low as he scanned the surrounding street. ‘And who the de—who on earth are you?’

Chapter Four (#uc9e1bfdc-1609-5f4d-8f22-c6a750234f7d)

Olivia clutched at the man’s sleeve. ‘Oh, Freddie! Please. You must not tell anyone you have seen me.’

‘Livvy, how can I keep this a secret? I enjoy my work for your father—he trusts me to be honest with him.’ He pushed her behind him and glared at Hugo. ‘I asked who you are, sir. And you can release the dog. He will not run off. Nor attack you—unless I tell him to.’

Hugo released the huge hound. ‘I’m Alastair. And you, sir?’

‘Frederick Allen. The Duke’s secretary.’

‘Allen? You are connected to the new Duchess?’

‘Her brother.’

‘Well, before you imagine the worst, Allen, let me assure you that I am merely escorting Lady Olivia home from Vauxhall Gardens where, unfortunately, she became separated from her brother, who originally took her there.’

‘It’s true, Freddie. Alex disappeared and I had no money to get home and Lord Hugo very gallantly offered to escort me so I would not come to any harm.’

‘No harm? There will be no end of harm if anyone should spot you.’ Freddie glanced around again. ‘We must get off the street.’ He tugged Olivia towards a flight of steps leading down to the basement area, where a door stood ajar casting a patch of light on to the flagstones. Freddie jerked his head, indicating that Hugo should follow.

Once they were hidden from view, he growled, ‘How can you have come to no harm when you’re out at this time of night, unchaperoned, with a strange man? Does Nell know?’

‘No. I did not wish her to be obliged to lie on my behalf, so I did not tell her. But you must not tell Papa, or Rosalind, or...or...anyone. You know Alex will get the blame and then he will lose Foxbourne, and he will be devastated and then he will disappear again like he did before, and no one will know where he’s gone, and—’