Nicole Jordan (11 page)

“Regrettably…yes.” Glancing away, Dare stared out the carriage window to avoid his friend’s scrutiny. “But our betrothal lasted less than a month.”

“I’m surprised I never heard any rumors of it in the scandal sheets. I should have thought the prosect of your marriage would be considered an earthshaking event.”

“We kept it private.” He hadn’t flaunted Julienne as he might have other women. In fact, his desire to protect her was one reason Dare had realized he was serious about her. He hadn’t wanted her reputation to be tarnished by her associating with a man of his rakish notoriety.

How laughable his concern seemed now.

“You must have loved her a great deal to come the point of proposing.”

Oh, yes, Dare thought darkly. He’d been young and in love for the first time in his life, as starry-eyed as any infatuated adolescent. According to the poets, first love was always wild, intense, fervent, but that magical summer with Julienne had blazed like a flame. Each small moment was burned deep into his heart…the pleasure, the torment….

“I believed I loved her at the time,” Dare admitted tersely. “Certainly I would have wed her but for my grandfather’s interference.”
And if I hadn’t found her with her other lover
.

“The ‘old bastard’?”

“Yes.” His mouth curled as he glanced back at Lucian. “You’re aware my father was killed in a duel? Well, Grandfather always feared I would become a wastrel just like my father—follow the same path to destruction. And wedding a ‘scheming Frenchy’ would not only have lead to my ruin, it would have tainted our illustrious line. When the old bastard learned of my betrothal to Miss Laurent, he threatened to disinherit me. And the lady wanted greater wealth than I could give her without the Wolverton fortune.”

Lucian was silent for a moment as he digested that information. “And the experience was enough to make you shun the married state for good.”

“Quite.”

He had escaped countless marriage traps in the years since Julienne. But never again had he allowed any other woman to wield that kind of power over him. And he had always been coolly indifferent to any feelings of devotion he might have aroused in his lovers.

“I’ve noted your partiality for brunettes,” Lucian remarked. “Does Miss Laurent have any bearing on your preference?”

A ripple of shock went through Dare. He had never realized it before, but he did indeed tend to choose women who resembled Julienne.

“A rather astute observation, my friend,” he drawled, hiding his dismay beneath an amused smile.

“I trust you won’t be offended if I make another astute observation, then. I think you might be more than a little prejudiced against Miss Laurent because of your past history with her.”

“I won’t dispute you. But what the devil does it matter?”

“Because your feelings can’t be allowed to interfere with your mission. I want you to recruit her to work for us, Dare.”

He narrowed his eyes in surprise as he returned Lucian’s gaze. “You want Julienne Laurent to spy for the Foreign Office?”

“Why not? She has entrée into the French émigré community and could pass on any information about traitorous activity. And it’s possible she could help you prove whether or not Riddingham is Caliban.”

“I just told you I don’t trust her.”

“And I suggested that your judgment may be clouded. Are you certain you aren’t acting out of revenge for whatever wrongs she may have done you?”

He did indeed want revenge—Dare couldn’t deny it. But he wasn’t willing to acquit Julienne of complicity so easily.

“What if she actually is in league with Riddingham?” he asked. “And even if not, were I to request her help, she could warn him of our suspicions merely to spite me.”

“It would be a risk, yes. But I have complete faith in your legendary charm. You’ll be able to handle her. And with her own charms and skills as an actress, she can doubtless get closer to Riddingham than you will be able to. My advice is to find a way to test her loyalties without compromising your position. Devise a plan to determine if she is trustworthy.”

Dare’s jaw tightened. He would never be certain if Julienne was trustworthy, even when he had her writhing beneath him with both legs wrapped around his waist. Especially not then.

But his friend would not give up. “You need only use your instincts, Dare.”

That was the trouble. He couldn’t trust his instincts, for they had betrayed him once before. He was terrified they would do so again. Lucian was certainly right; his judgment of Julienne was clouded by the past. And his fierce urgency to claim her again only compounded the problem.

Lucian was right on another point, Dare knew. Whatever his feelings for her, he couldn’t let them interfere with his task. Too much was at stake. And if he expected his doubts regarding Julienne to be believed, he would need to show proof of her guilt. More critically, he needed to prove it to himself. One way or another, he needed to
know
.

Whether or not she was a traitor, however, his mind was made up. Had been the second he had laid eyes on her again.

He wanted Julienne back in his bed. And he intended to have her.

Chapter

Six

It was a large party that left London the following Friday. Julienne found herself surprised at the assortment of guests Dare had chosen. There were some two dozen of them, of varying ages and classes.

Of the females, she suspected at least three were demireps, including a noted actress who regularly performed at Covent Garden. But there were also some older ladies in addition to Madame Brogard, one of whom was a dowager countess. Most surprising were the two genteel wedded couples he had invited—to add respectability to the party, Julienne concluded.

As for the gentlemen, they were mostly members of the Quality. Several were high-ranking noblemen who seemed to be close acquaintances of Dare’s—doubtless some of his Hellfire colleagues—while Viscount Riddingham had brought two of his friends. Bringing up the rear of the parade of vehicles were three coaches full of servants.

Julienne had no maid of her own. Normally she shared an arrangement with several other actresses at Drury Lane, dividing the services of a woman who functioned as dresser, seamstress, laundress, and wardrobe mistress. But Solange had offered the use of her own lady’s maid during the house party.

The March day was crisp and clear and quite pleasant. Many of the gentlemen, including Dare, rode beside the carriages for the trip south, but Julienne was very glad not to be forced to endure his company in the intimate confines of a post chaise.

Instead she found herself enjoying the camaraderie of several of the ladies. Amazingly they seemed to accept her with little reservation, perhaps because of Solange’s distinguished reputation. Or perhaps because anyone who was on familiar terms with the scandalous Dare North wouldn’t recoil at knowing a mere actress.

They made the trip in easy stages, stopping frequently to change horses and partake of refreshments, and arrived in the late afternoon.

For the past ten miles, Julienne had admired the picturesque view of the rolling South Downs, but now they turned between iron entrance gates onto a rhododendron-lined drive and drove through an artfully landscaped park.

“C’est magnifique,”
Solange murmured, and Julienne had to agree: across a sweeping expanse of lawns stood a majestic mansion of mellow red brick, gleaming in the sunlight.

Seeing the splendor of Dare’s estate gave her a stark reminder of the vast difference in their stations—a rich nobleman who had inherited his family fortune and a barely respectable actress who’d always had to struggle for her living.

As the passengers disembarked, she was told by one of the ladies that beyond these cultivated grounds lay beautiful gardens. And one of the gentlemen spoke up, remarking on Dare’s superb racing stables.

“Racing stables?” Julienne asked Viscount Riddingham, who had appeared at her side to offer his arm.

“Wolverton breeds and raises racehorses,” he replied rather stiffly.

Dare’s friend Lord Peter Fulbrook added affably, “Not just any racehorses. Dare has some of the best horseflesh in the country.”

“I confess I am eager to inspect his stables,” Riddingham admitted. “Reportedly he has two Derby prospects.”

Julienne smiled. “Is that why you accepted his invitation, my lord? To view his horses? And to think I flattered myself that you wished to be with me.”

The viscount returned a sheepish grin. “But of course, Miss Laurent. The stables were merely an added inducement.”

Julienne caught the narrow glance Dare gave her and was inwardly heartened. Part of her plan was to encourage Lord Riddingham as much as possible this week. If this house party was to be a competition for her favors, then she intended to see that Dare had a satisfactory rival.

She was glad, however, that he didn’t single her out in particular when he turned the guests over to his staff to be settled in their rooms. It was agreed that they would enjoy a short rest before dinner and then meet in the drawing room at eight o’clock.

The interior of the house was just as magnificent as the exterior, Julienne saw as she was led upstairs to an elegant bedchamber. She took the opportunity to admire the splendid gardens below her window before she bathed and changed with the help of Solange’s maid.

By the time she made her way to the drawing room on the lower floor, she was a few minutes late and most of the company had already gathered.

At her entrance, Dare felt his pulse leap. Julienne wore an apricot silk gown of stunning elegance, and the low-cut bodice caressed her figure as lovingly as he longed to do.

He muttered a silent oath, deploring not only his body’s reaction but the unbidden eagerness that filled his chest.

All the gentlemen who were seated came quickly to their feet in appreciation of her dazzling beauty. When she apologized for her tardiness, Riddingham answered for them all. “No apologies necessary, Miss Laurent. You are worth waiting for. You make a most fetching sight.”

She looked far better than simply fetching, devil take her, Dare thought. Despite his every intention, his gaze fastened hungrily on her. That dress was worse than being naked. Julienne looked utterly female, lush and fragile at the same time.

Her dark hair was piled high on her head with a casual artistry that made him yearn to destroy it. He clenched his jaw as he had an unbidden vision of her glorious hair spilled in splendid disarray across silken pillows. He wanted nothing more than to strip her naked, exposing her entire body to his gaze…to his hands and mouth. The mere thought of having her bare breasts in his hands, then sucking them till she moaned, made him instantly hard.

But first he would have to chase away the damned wolves surrounding her. Riddingham led the pack, Dare saw with disapproval. The bloody cur was eyeing her chest, pausing brazenly on the soft, swelling fullness of her bosom.

Just then Julienne laughed at something the viscount said, and Dare felt himself tense with jealousy.

A moment later, though, she turned and caught his own gaze. When she met his deliberate stare, his brow lifted mockingly. Yet he wasn’t able to discompose her. Instead the look Julienne returned was cool, self-possessed, and full of challenge.

They were the eyes of a woman who knew her power, Dare realized.

A stab of desire shot through him so raw, so hot that all he could do was wait for the savage ache to ease.

Turning away then, Julienne gave him the elegant line of her back. Her obvious dismissal filled him with frustration. They were playing at seduction, but he was no longer confident of winning the game at which he was so expert. He’d spent countless sleepless nights since having her, lying in bed alone, aching for her. Nor was his body all that ached. The painful tightness in his chest was the throbbing of an old reopened wound.

Dare ground his teeth together. For nearly seven years he had ruthlessly sealed away the part of him that Julienne had left savagely lacerated and bleeding. He would do so again if it took his last ounce of strength.

Julienne had difficulty enjoying the next few hours, even though she wasn’t required to endure Dare’s close proximity. He accompanied the ranking female guest—the dowager countess—in to dinner and sat at the head of the table, while Julienne was seated much farther down.

The repast was sumptuous, with five courses and dozens of removes, and even the highly discriminating Solange praised the fare. Reportedly Dare had sent his London chef ahead days earlier to prepare for his guests’ arrival. But Julienne was too conscious of the awkwardness of her position here at his home to do justice to the feast. Everyone present, she knew, had heard of the wager. And whether or not she was to provide the entertainment for the week, her relationship with Dare was sure to be the focus of all eyes.

She did her best, however, to give her attention to her dinner partners. The one on her right was one of Riddingham’s friends, a soft-spoken gentleman named Martin Perrine. His pleasant, self-deprecating manner contrasted sharply with that of Riddingham’s other friend, Sir Stephen Ormsby.

When the talk turned to horse racing, Julienne politely asked Mr. Perrine if he was involved in the Turf.

Sir Stephen laughed and answered for him. “Martin is a younger son with no prospects to speak of. He can scarcely afford the cost of a hired hack, much less a string of racehorses.”

Mr. Perrine’s pained expression was one of acute embarrassment, and Julienne hastened to reply. “I understand that only the wealthiest nabobs can afford the expense of racing. To my mind, it seems a shocking waste. I suppose that is why it is called the sport of kings.”

Perrine’s forced smile held a hint of gratitude, and Julienne soon changed the subject. Yet she couldn’t help glancing at the nobleman at the head of the table. Dare could easily have been mistaken for royalty with his aristocratic countenance. That high brow and classic bone structure belonged to the prince in a fairy tale. And he was reputed to be one of the wealthiest men in the kingdom. He could well afford a lengthy battle between them, bribing her associates and purchasing her time for outrageous sums.