The Prince of Pleasure (Notorious 5)

Dare realized he had a momentous decision to make. He couldn't stand by and allow Julienne to be hur

t. And even if he could convince her to elope with him against his grandfather's objections, there was still the problem of her invalid mother. The comptess refused to leave her home, and Julienne would never abandon her mother.

One thing Dare knew for certain. He would end their betrothal before he allowed her to suffer from the old bastard's machinations. Despite his ardent feelings for Julienne-or because of them-he would give her up before allowing her to be hurt.

Now, seven years later, Dare recalled what a bloody fool he had been. His grandfather had been right on that account.

He felt his throat close on the bitter memory. Julienne had agreed to meet him at the cottage that afternoon if she could get away from her shop, but when she didn't come, he rode into Whitstable to find her.

It was then he discovered her betrayal-her lover. Until then, he hadn't believed a word of his grandfather's accusations about her relationship with Ivers.

His chest aching with remembered pain, Dare stared down into his empty brandy snifter. The old man had gotten his way; he'd caused the dissolution of the betrothal. But Dare had left Kent immediately afterward and never again set foot under his grandfather's roof until the marquess was dead and buried.

With a raw, mirthless laugh, Dare threw the crystal snifter at the hearth, watching it shatter in the fire. He hoped the sixth Lord Wolverton was happy in his grave. His bloodline had remained untainted by the jade's French blood, even if he had lost his only grandson in the process.

Dare slept poorly, enduring dreams of being entangled in his grandfather's malevolent spiderweb. The next morning, directly after breakfast, he summoned the marquess's former secretary, Samuel Butner, to the library in the hope of uncovering evidence linking Ivers to Caliban.

"Is it a fair statement," Dare began after a spate of congenial small talk, "that after living in this district for so many years, you are somewhat acquainted with the Earl of Ivers?"

"Yes, my lord," the elderly secretary answered respectfully. "I would say I am acquainted with him as well as most."

"I'm interested in anything you can tell me about Ivers. It seems he has run up a vast number of gaming debts recently, and there are rumors that his loyalties might have been bought by the French." Dare regarded the secretary with a penetrating look. "Perhaps you'll recall the summer I spent here almost seven years ago: Two sailors from Whitstable were hanged as spies for collaborating with French Bonapartists. Could Ivers possibly have been associated with them or anything resembling treason, do you think?"

Butner narrowed his craggy brows. "Lord Ivers was always a rum sort, but to my knowledge, he would not have stooped so low as to consort with the enemy. But… "

"Yes?" Dare prompted.

"He was regularly short of funds, even then. And I am aware that he found a way to line his pockets that summer. Lord Wolverton paid his gaming debts."

"How do you know?"

"Because I wrote out the draft, my lord. It was a vast sum… six thousand pounds. I presume it bailed him out of the River Tick."

"Why would my grandfather be so generous?"

"I'm not certain, my lord. But I believe it had something to do with your… young lady. The one who owned the millinery."

Dare felt his heart rate quicken uneasily. "Go on."

Butner frowned thoughtfully, as if trying to remember. "His lordship summoned Lord Ivers here one afternoon and was closeted with him for the better part of an hour. I always suspected that large payment was for services rendered. That your grandfather employed Lord Ivers for some purpose."

"But you have no idea what that purpose might be?"

The elderly secretary hesitated a moment. "I have my suspicions. If I may speak freely?"

"By all means."

"His lordship was exceedingly pleased that you decided to stay here at Wolverton Hall that summer. I believe he thought he could groom you to assume his place… once you had sown your wild oats, that is."

Dare pressed his mouth together to keep from showing his cynicism. "Instead I proved a grave disappointment to my grandfather," he said evenly. "I was never serious enough for his taste. Never had aspirations of settling down and becoming an apple farmer."

"No, my lord. But it wounded him deeply when you became betrothed to the… French lass. He was a proud man, you know-"

"He was a manipulating old bastard."

"Just so. But he did not wish to see you wed her."

"Because a Frog would taint his impeccable bloodlines," Dare said sardonically.