Led Astray by a Rake (The Husband Hunters Club 1)

“Of course I’m right. I always have your best interests at heart. You know that, don’t you, Theodore?”

Theodore rose to his feet, paused at the door and looked back. Alphonse was watching him expectantly. “Thank you, Alphonse.” He said the words his brother was waiting to hear.

“My pleasure, brother. My pleasure.”

Alphonse waited until he heard Theodore’s door close, and then he went to find paper and pen and ink in the desk in the library. When he was at school Alphonse had forged a letter of credit from their father to the bank, and no one had ever found out. The money had got him—and Theodore—through a difficult time. There had been other situations in which he’d helped his brother—the dancer who tried to blackmail Theodore and whom Alphonse had dealt with—rather too enthusiastically, some would say.

He’d always looked after Theodore and he always would.

Alphonse began to compose the notes that would draw their prey into the web.

Originally, he’d planned to send one note only, to Nic Lacey—he’d found Lacey’s handwriting on a polite note of refusal to one of Theodore’s soirees—but as he carefully copied Lacey’s writing, Alphonse decided it would be a good idea to have Olivia there, too. She could witness her lover’s death. That should ensure she never strayed from Theodore again.

Alphonse’s jaw tightened. Theodore was far too much of a gentleman to stand up for himself. He preferred to suffer in silence. W

ell, Alphonse would make certain he didn’t suffer for long. If Theodore wanted a fairy-tale ending with the woman he loved, then he’d have one, and everyone would believe it a horrible accident that Lacey had died. A poacher’s bullet going astray…or even a gamekeeper’s.

Wilson, the Lacey’s gamekeeper, is a most unpleasant fellow, far too zealous for his own good. Alphonse could hear Theodore’s voice in his head from earlier in the day, when Alphonse had expressed the intention of going for a stroll. Don’t go into the woods, brother, whatever you do. He’s just as likely to shoot you and ask questions later.

Theodore heard all the village gossip—people tended to tell him things—they trusted him. But people also tended to take advantage of his kind nature, and Alphonse was there to see that didn’t happen.

“Tomorrow everything will be settled,” he murmured to himself, “Nic Lacey will be dead and his molto caro will fall into Theodore’s arms.”

Chapter 22

Nic swung his leg over the saddle, grimacing at the familiar twinge. The note had come last evening. Meet me in the woods by the pagan stone at two o’clock. I need to talk. Olivia. His future bride was impatient to see him alone, he thought, with a smile. Well, he was not adverse to some sensual gratification. From what he knew about marriage, which was little enough, the bride was usually kept well away from the groom until the actual ceremony. This would heighten his desire nicely, but the fact was he’d tasted her once, and it was becoming difficult to deny himself.

Perhaps Olivia felt the same?

She was a sensual creature. He was looking forward to tutoring her, but the interesting thing was Olivia had things to teach him. It was quite an admission for a rake. Nic might know a great deal about technique, the coolheaded ways of increasing pleasure, but Olivia was warm and passionate, and she was ruled by feelings. He found that fresh and fascinating. The shifting expressions on her face as he touched her, the way she arched beneath him, and her eagerness to share her enjoyment with him.

Nic smiled again as he kicked his horse into a gallop and rode across the park. He and Olivia could spend many long hours in each other’s company and never grow bored. For a man who’d been more or less forced into making this marriage proposal, he was very cheerful, very cheerful indeed.

Olivia made her way through the densely growing trees, feeling the damp chill creeping through her clothing and into her flesh. She’d never liked this part of the Lacey estate. It was said in the village that these woods were the only remnant of an ancient forest, and the stone that stood in the clearing in the center was all that was left from the days of the pagan Britons, before they were swept away to the west by the incoming tides of settlers.

She remembered coming there as a child and being scared silly by the tales she’d been told of ghosts and monsters lurking in the trees, waiting to pounce on her and gobble her up. Well, she told herself, she was grown up now and she knew there was nothing to fear. Besides, Nic would be waiting there for her.

The thought of Nic warmed her, although it didn’t calm her. Her heart began to beat more quickly and her breath to shorten. She’d been longing to see him, but it seemed that since they’d announced their forthcoming wedding there was so much to be done—seeing dressmakers and cloth merchants; arranging for shoes, bonnets, flowers, invitations…The wedding was small and was to be held in the village church, but still the arrangements were endless. As soon as she finished one thing, her mother found her another to do. She was quite certain Mrs. Monteith was doing her best to keep Olivia busy so that she could keep Nic and Olivia apart.

Meet me at the pagan stone in the woods at two o’clock. I need to see you. Lacey.

Well, Olivia told herself, she needed to see Nic, too. She needed the reassurance of his smile and his strong arms. She glanced down at the heavy engagement ring he’d presented her with last week, when he and Lady Lacey had come to dine with the Monteiths. It had been an awkward affair, with Nic’s mother struggling with her disdain for a family she considered so much lower than her own, and Olivia’s mother clearly unconvinced Nic was the right man for her daughter. And then her father had insulted Lady Lacey by asking her how much she paid her estate manager.

Olivia and Nic were the only ones who seemed at all happy, and when he had presented her with the ring, he’d made a pretty little speech about it being a token of his affection. Lady Lacey informed them that the ring had been in the Lacey family for generations and had been worn by every new bride. Then Mrs. Monteith had shuddered and said that emeralds were unlucky. All the same, when Nic slid it onto Olivia’s finger, it fit perfectly, as if it was meant to be worn by her.

Olivia made her way deeper into the woods, ignoring the warning call of a bird far above her and the niggling doubt that if Nic wanted to see her then surely he would pick somewhere more pleasant than this. Unless…had he something so secret to tell her that he dared not take the risk they might be overheard?

No, that was just plain silly. If he wanted to tell her something confidential, he would ask her to visit him and sit her down in his library. No one would overhear them there.

Estelle, who’d accompanied her as far as Mother Eggin’s cottage, told her that she thought a man like Lord Lacey probably had a great many secrets, but it wasn’t likely he’d share any of them with Olivia.

Mother Eggin’s cottage was on the Lacey estate, the old woman having been a servant in the castle at one time, and been granted the right to live there. Mrs. Monteith often visited her with a basket of food or other necessaries, and Olivia had taken over the task today. Of course her real reason was so that she could meet Nic, but Estelle would remain at the cottage and wait for her return. Mother Eggin, who was ninety years old at least, would be no trouble; she habitually slept through the visits of her neighbors.

“Gentlemen don’t think their private matters are anyone’s business but their own,” Estelle had carried on, sounding as if she was quoting Abbot.

“Just be glad he’s marrying you, miss, and forget about the others. You don’t want to be like that Bluebeard’s wife, do you, and discover something awful?”

“I don’t think Nic has any other wives hidden in the cellars,” Olivia had said, smiling.