The Prince of Pleasure (Notorious 5)

"No, I am fine," she lied, telling herself she had only imagined him. Ivers was nothing but a remnant of a particularly unpleasant nightmare.

She hadn't seen him for seven years and had hoped never to see him again. Anthony Gale, the Earl of Ivers, had been a neighbor of Dare's grandfather-a wild young buck who'd developed a not-so-friendly rivalry with Dare over the course of that infamous summer.

They were both considered rakes and both stunningly handsome, but Ivers's coloring was as dark as Dare's was fair, while his suave charm had always seemed too calculating for Julienne's taste. Even she, however, hadn't realized just how despicable a cad Ivers was- to her everlasting regret.

With a shudder, she fixed a smile on her lips and greeted Solange's latest dance partner. But she was glad when the assembly ended and they drove back to the Harriford Arms in the quiet of Dare's luxuriously appointed coach.

He escorted them inside the inn, reminded Julienne that he would collect her at ten in the morning for her tour of the local stud farms, and then left them with a bow.

She had started to follow Solange up the stairs when the innkeeper spied her from the taproom and hurried to catch up to her. It puzzled her when he handed her a note.

"Go ahead, Solange," Julienne told the Frenchwoman absently as she tried to peruse the writing in the dim light. "I will meet you for breakfast in the morning."

Unable to make out the message, though, she mounted the stairs after a moment and moved down the corridor toward a wall sconce. It was quieter here away from the noise of the crowded taproom, so quiet she could hear the thudding of her heart as she began to read.

My dear Miss Laurent,

I believe we have much to discuss. Meet me at dawn tomorrow behind the inn.

It was signed with a bold scrawl: Ivers.

Prickles crawled along her spine at the same moment she heard the stealthy fall of footsteps behind her.

Whirling, she stared, her heart in her throat as the Earl of Ivers came sauntering toward her.

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He stopped barely a few feet from her. He seemed to have changed little in the past seven years, Julienne thought. Except there were more lines of dissipation etching his noble features, and his eyes were a trifle bloodshot.

"Mademoiselle Laurent."

His knowing smile chilled her. She couldn't breathe, couldn't speak. Help was only a shout away, but she was too shocked to move.

"How fortuitous that I find you alone. I thought I would have to wait till the morrow."

"What…?" The word came out a croak. Swallowing, Julienne tried again. "What are you doing here?"

"Why, I wish to speak to you."

Knotting her fists, she struggled for a semblance of composure. If he smelled her fear, he would only be more dangerous. "I am listening."

"I believe you can help me. I find myself in rather straitened circumstances at the moment. Debts of honor, you see. The Turf has proved my weakness, alas. I may have to flee the country if I cannot raise the necessary funds."

"What could that possibly have to do with me?"

"I was in London recently, and yours was the name on everyone's lips. You've become renowned as an actress. And you have several rich patrons at your beck and call… including Wolverton, I understand. It seems you've come full circle if he is your lover again. It shouldn't be difficult for you to wrest some of his wealth from him."

"You must be mad," Julienne said through gritted teeth, "if you think I would give you so much as a shilling for any reason."

"Not mad. Merely desperate." His eyelids drooped in speculation. "The Jewel of London… How long would your fame last if your past nefarious activities were made public? If it was revealed that you committed treason?"

"You know very well those accusations were false!"

"But you should have no doubt that I can unearth any amount of evidence against you if I choose."

Julienne felt her stomach knot. Ivers could doubtless fabricate more lies, but she wouldn't bow to his threats this time. "I have no intention of succumbing to your blackmail again."

"It would be foolish to ignore my request."