Lady Olivia and the Infamous Rake Read online

  “He’s completely unsuitable...

  he’s a rake.”

  Part of The Beauchamp Heirs: after being plucked from peril by resolute bachelor Lord Hugo Alastair, Lady Olivia Beauchamp is secretly outraged that he doesn’t even try to steal a kiss! He’s a notorious rake among the ton, and as a result, utterly forbidden to an innocent debutante like her. But their attraction is magnetic. Will she risk her reputation for a passionate encounter?

  The Beauchamp Heirs

  Book 1—Lady Olivia and the Infamous Rake

  Look out for the next book, coming soon!

  “A captivating, sweet tale of heartbreak and hope.”

  —RT Book Reviews on “Awakening His Sleeping Beauty” in Regency Christmas Wishes

  “The second of the Beauchamp Betrothals is a warm and lively romance...it truly is an enjoyable read.”

  —RT Book Reviews on Scandal and Miss Markham

  “What is it you want from me?” The words burst from him.

  He swung around and braced his hands on the balustrade, leaning his weight on it as his chest heaved with each tortured breath. He turned to face her. “Should I take you to my bed? Is that what you want? Because that is where we are heading if you do not stop this.”

  His fury subsided as he took in her stricken expression...the pale hand that rose to splay across her chest...the movement of her slender throat as she visibly swallowed. He steeled himself against the longing to haul her close—to hold her and soothe away her pain—as he glared down into her silver-gray eyes.

  “You must stop this for both our sakes.” She visibly flinched at his harsh words. “The only future acceptable for a lady of your breeding is marriage, and I am not the marrying kind.” He could resist touching her no longer and reached for her hands as he gentled his voice. “If you continue to contrive such clandestine meetings it can only be a matter of time before we are caught. You will bring shame on your family and ruin upon yourself, and all for nothing. You know your father would never, ever countenance a match between us, and I know you would accept nothing less than marriage, despite appearances to the contrary.”

  She bent her head at that, staring down at their joined hands. Then a single teardrop splashed on his skin. “But I cannot help myself,” she whispered.

  Author Note

  The Beauchamp family saga continues with Olivia’s tale—the first in The Beauchamp Heirs trilogy. I’m delighted that readers have taken my stories about the family to their hearts. Please note, however, that Lady Olivia and the Infamous Rake is a stand-alone story, and it’s not necessary to have read any of my previous books.

  This book reintroduces some old friends from my earlier books, and it presented me with a dilemma. Hugo (the infamous rake of the title) is the brother of Lucas, Marquis of Rothley (hero of Mary and the Marquis), and Olivia is the sister of Dominic, Marquess of Avon, who has already appeared in several books.

  So—should I keep the different forms of the title for this story, or should I change one of them to avoid confusion? Both marquess and marquis are correct, as you will see from the following excerpt from Titles and Forms of Address by Adam and Charles Black (with grateful thanks to Louise Allen for sending me the excerpt):

  “This title is rendered in two ways, marquess or marquis. The former is the older and purely British. Peers of this rank use which form they prefer, and their choice should be ascertained and observed in addressing them.”

  So I had my answer! Lucas and Dominic had already made their choice, and who am I to go against their individual preferences?

  JANICE PRESTON

  Lady Olivia and

  the Infamous Rake

  Janice Preston grew up in Wembley, North London, with a love of reading, writing stories and animals. In the past she has worked as a farmer, a police-call handler and a university administrator. She now lives in the West Midlands with her husband and two cats and has a part-time job with a weight-management counselor—vainly trying to control her own weight despite her love of chocolate!

  Books by Janice Preston

  Harlequin Historical

  Mary and the Marquis

  From Wallflower to Countess

  Regency Christmas Wishes

  “Awakening His Sleeping Beauty”

  The Beauchamp Heirs

  Lady Olivia and the Infamous Rake

  The Beauchamp Betrothals

  Cinderella and the Duke

  Scandal and Miss Markham

  Lady Cecily and the Mysterious Mr. Gray

  The Governess Tales

  The Governess’s Secret Baby

  Men About Town

  Return of Scandal’s Son

  Saved by Scandal’s Heir

  Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com.

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  To Ian. Thank you for understanding when I disappear into my own little world.

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Epilogue

  Excerpt from The Mysterious Lord Millcroft by Virginia Heath

  Chapter One

  ‘Where have you been? Do you know how long we’ve been waiting? We were about to give up.’

  ‘It’s not my fault,’ Lady Olivia Beauchamp retorted to her brother, Alexander. ‘Do you even know how hard it is to sneak out without bumping into a servant? They’re everywhere. And what do you mean...we?’

  ‘Never mind that now.’ Alex grabbed her arm and bundled her unceremoniously towards the waiting hackney. ‘Hurry up. If anyone should catch us, there’ll be hell to pay.’

  Huffing at his cavalier treatment of her, Olivia clambered inside, then stopped short at the sight of a figure already seated within. Alex put his hand between her shoulder blades and shoved. ‘Move. It’s only Nev. He’s come to help me keep you out of trouble.’

  Olivia sprawled inelegantly on the seat opposite Neville Wolfe as her brother leapt in behind her and slammed the door. Immediately, the hackney rocked into motion, causing Olivia, by now half-upright, to tip over once more.

  ‘Alex,’ she wailed.

  Neville’s hand covered his mouth, but he failed to muffle his snort of laughter. Olivia glared across the carriage at him.

  ‘Oh, God,’ Alex muttered, as he reached across and hauled her upright. ‘Tonight is bound to be a disaster.’

  Neville passed a flask to Alex, who drank before handing it back.

  ‘Can I have a drink?’ Olivia asked.

  ‘No, you cannot,’ Alex retorted. ‘That’s all I need...you half-cut!’ He eyed Olivia sternly. ‘Two hours and not a minute longer, d’you hear? We’ve got better things to do tonight than dance attendance on a troublesome
chit like you.’

  The carriage passed under one of the new gas street lamps at that moment and Alex’s eyes widened as the light caught the ruby and diamond bracelet on Olivia’s gloved wrist. He reached across and grabbed her hand, holding it up to examine it.

  ‘That’s from Mama’s parure. What the devil are you about? What else have you got on?’

  He yanked down the hood of her cloak, revealing the pair of exquisite eardrops and the matching necklace she wore. The set had been a wedding gift from their father, the Duke of Cheriton, to their late mother. Olivia fingered the necklace—remembering how beautiful Mama had looked, all dressed up and wearing the parure—before battening down the guilt that stirred her conscience. She stuck her nose in the air.

  ‘They belong to me, not Rosalind.’ Rosalind was their new stepmother and Olivia was finding it hard to adjust to calling her Stepmama, although she took care not to call her Rosalind to her face. Or in front of her father. ‘Papa said that Mama would have wanted me to have them.’

  ‘He also said you’re not allowed to wear them. They’re totally unsuitable for a chit in her first Season.’

  ‘Exactly! So when people see a masked lady tonight, wearing such fine jewellery, it will help my disguise. No one will guess I am your younger sister. They will think I am your light o’ love.’

  ‘That’s enough. Where did you hear such language?’

  ‘From you,’ she retorted.

  Really! Alex is such a hypocrite!

  ‘God’s teeth, Olivia, you’d try the patience of a saint. How did you get the jewels, anyway? I thought Father kept them locked up in his safe.’

  ‘He does.’ But she also knew where Papa kept the key.

  ‘What do you imagine he’ll do when he discovers they’re missing, you little idiot? He’ll have the Runners out.’

  ‘Idiot yourself! I’ll have them back long before he returns from Birmingham. He’ll never know.’

  ‘Well, you be sure to keep them covered up at Vauxhall. You’ll be a magnet for every fingersmith and gallows bird there tonight. I must have rocks in my head to ever agree to such a madcap stunt as this.’

  ‘Well, you did not agree. I won our wager fair and square and—as you always tell me, Brother dear—gambling debts are debts of honour, so you had no choice. We had a bet and you lost!’

  Alex muttered something that sounded suspiciously like spoilt brat before lapsing into a sullen silence.

  A minute later, out of the dark, came a mocking, ‘Good evening, Lady Olivia.’

  Olivia—miffed at having been betrayed into such unladylike behaviour in front of Alex’s friend, even though she had known him for years—responded with a hissed, ‘And if you tell a single soul about tonight, Neville Wolfe, your life will not be worth living.’

  * * *

  They crossed the Thames by boat and her first sight of Vauxhall Gardens utterly enchanted Olivia as they entered via the water entrance. Papa was exceedingly unfair to refuse to allow her to come to here—apart from one very fleeting visit, with him and Rosalind—early one evening, before it was even dark enough to fully admire all the lanterns. He had kept her close to his side the entire time and then whisked her and Nell—her very best friend and now her step-aunt because she was Rosalind’s stepsister—home immediately after they had watched the marvel of the mechanical cascade and just as it was beginning to get crowded and the excitement started to build. It was so unfair. Alex and Dominic—their eldest brother, Lord Avon—came here all the time and Olivia knew for a fact that Papa and Rosalind had visited the Gardens again since then, leaving Olivia and Nell to endure yet another insipid evening at Almack’s in the charge of Aunt Cecily—an activity Papa considered more suited to young ladies.

  Not for the first time, Olivia wished she had been born a boy.

  They have all the fun and all the freedom. It’s not fair.

  They climbed the Vauxhall Stairs and entered the Gardens, which were lit by thousands of coloured lanterns, hanging in festoons between the trees. Her squabble with Alex was quickly forgotten, as always, and Olivia linked arms with her brother. With Neville bringing up the rear, she had no qualms about her safety and neither did she worry that she would be recognised. Her midnight-blue velvet domino, with its hood and matching mask—which left only the tip of her nose and her mouth and chin visible—would surely pass the closest scrutiny.

  They strolled the well-lit paths, avoiding the more secluded walks—walks that rejoiced in names like the Dark Walk and Lovers’ Walk. Olivia peered down these dark and mysterious ways, catching glimpses of couples standing close together in the shadows and groups of young bucks—noisy in their cups—patrolling the walks. Alex had warned her she was on no account to enter any of these walks, hinting at dire consequences if she did not obey him.

  She huffed quietly to herself. He should know she had more sense than that and as for her father’s tendency for overprotectiveness...well! It was totally uncalled-for, as far as Olivia was concerned. She was more than capable of looking after herself. She brushed aside the whisper of conscience that reminded her why Papa was so protective. She did not want to remember what had happened to Mama. Not tonight. She was determined to enjoy this evening, not dwell on past pain.

  Papa is so old-fashioned. As if anything could happen to me in among all these people.

  They stopped to admire the picturesque caves, grottos and waterfalls, Olivia staring in wonder at the sights, then continued until they reached the central square, where jugglers and tightrope walkers entertained the crowds and an orchestra played, the music struggling to be heard above the chatter and laughter of the crowds dancing, strolling and finishing their supper in the many supper boxes.

  As they continued to stroll, arm in arm—Neville still ambling along in their wake—a female voice called Alex’s name. They turned as one and Olivia sensed her brother’s sudden tension. She had no difficulty in recognising the lady who had hailed him—Lady Shelton, the beautiful widow of Baron Shelton of Rutland. She indicated a supper box—in which several ladies and gentlemen were already seated—and beckoned Alex with a smile of enticement that set Olivia’s teeth on edge. She’d never been introduced to Lady Shelton nor, she realised as she scanned the occupants of that box, to any of the others, apart from Lords Clevedon and Sudbury. They were of an older set than the young gentleman and ladies she normally socialised with. A shiver chased down her spine. She chose to interpret it as a shiver of excitement rather than apprehension. At last she would experience a little of real life...the life outside the confined world of debutantes and chaperons and balls and Almack’s.

  ‘You don’t mind if we join them, do you, Livvy?’ Alex said, his eyes glued to Lady Shelton.

  ‘Beatrice! I’m Beatrice, remember?’

  ‘What? Oh, yes, of course. But you don’t mind, do you?’

  Neville stepped forward and cleared his throat. ‘Alex. Have you forgotten what you said?’

  ‘What?’ Alex tore his gaze from the buxom blonde and stared at Neville.

  Neville’s jaw firmed. ‘It’s no good givin’ me the evil eye. You said on no account was I to be tempted to join up with any of our pals while your sister is under our protection. We was to walk around a while, have a bite of supper if it’s not too late—’

  ‘Well, it is too late, ’cause she kept us waiting for ever.’

  ‘And then take her straight home.’ Neville spoke over Alex’s grumble. ‘That’s what you said. And they—’ he indicated the occupants of the box with a flick of his head ‘—ain’t even our pals. And they ain’t fitting company for your sister, neither.’

  ‘Oh, never mind that now,’ said Alex. ‘We shan’t stay above five minutes—ten, at the most. Do try not to be so faint-hearted. You’ll be all right, won’t you, Liv—Beatrice? We’ll both be with you. There’s no need to be afraid.’

  ‘Afraid? Why should
I be afraid? Don’t be so stuffy, Neville. Really, you are as bad as Papa, fussing over every little thing. How can there be any risk? They’ll never recognise me.’

  They approached Lady Shelton.

  ‘Lord Alexander, Mr Wolfe,’ she purred. ‘How lovely to see you both. I hoped I might persuade you to join our little party tonight?’ She indicated the box behind her and the neighbouring box. ‘Just a few select friends gathered here to celebrate Lord Clevedon’s birthday.’ Her gaze skimmed Olivia, who detected curiosity, but also a touch of scorn, in her ladyship’s blue eyes. ‘Will you introduce your companion?’ She leaned closer and her strong perfume wafted up Olivia’s nose, making it twitch. She held her breath, desperate not to sneeze. Lady Shelton fingered the edge of the hood covering Olivia’s head. ‘There really is no need to be bashful with us, my dear,’ she added, with an amused smile. ‘You will be among friends. We do not judge.’

  ‘Oh, this is Beatrice...er...well, just Beatrice,’ Alex said, dismissively, as he handed her into the less crowded of the two supper boxes. ‘She’s...er...well, she’s here incognito as a wager. Yes, that’s it. A wager.’

  Olivia sat down, fuming. Really, Alex couldn’t dissemble convincingly if he tried. No one, listening to him, would believe she was his lady-love now. And that might cause them to wonder who else she might be. She might be willing to rebel now and then, and to take a few risks, but she had no wish for her behaviour to become common knowledge. She knew very well what was expected of her and, in public, she was every inch the perfectly behaved young aristocratic lady. She inched along the bench and smiled invitingly at Neville as she patted the space next to hers. He would do as a decoy. He eyed her warily and then, with a shrug, he sat next to her while Alex squeezed in next to Lady Shelton with a triumphant grin.

  ‘You gentlemen will already be acquainted with my companions,’ Lady Shelton said, ‘but, for Beatrice’s sake, allow me to introduce Lady Sale, Lords Clevedon and Sudbury, Lord Hugo Alastair, Mr and Mrs Bartlett and Mr Douglas Randall.’