Wicked (2 page)

When they walked into a society entertainment or a club they turned heads. Handsome as sin, flagrantly sinful, they were the bellwether for profligate vice. Their male peers were wont to grumble at the unfairness with which fate had so liberally bestowed physical advantages on the pair but the ladies were on
l
y selfishly grateful for father and son's splendid beauty and sexual largesse.

Although the Duke of Seth had given up his libertine ways after marriage to a young Scottish lass, his much-loved son, born of a youthful love affair, had succeeded not only to one of his father's numerous titles but to his vacated position as London's leading rake. And like his father before him, Beau St. Jules was more than willing to oblige all the eager ladies who wished to share his bed.

"I don't expect you to forgo a young man's pleasures," the Duke of Seth was judiciously saying, gazing at his eldest child across his cluttered desktop, his tone more resigned than punitive. "Except on these family occasions when your
m
aman wants you home. You'll apologize and not tell her the truth."

"Of course." Beau shifted uncomfortably in his chair. fie knew, despite the moderate tone, that his father's authority was not to be disregarded. "It was an unfortunate oversight."

Sinjin smiled faintly. "If I'd known Miss Gambetta held such allure, I'd have sent Davis to remind you of the time."

"You know Miss Gambetta?"

"I've seen her on the stage"—
S
injin's dark lashes lowered fractionall
y
—"and at Farley's bachelor party last fall."

Beau sat up straighter, his gaze suddenly sharp. "Were you with her?" His father had been very young when Beau had been born and at forty-one was still the object of many a wishful female dream. Beau was well aware of ladies' interest in him.

"Do I detect jealousy?" Sinjin's blue eyes held a hint of amusement. "A word of advice. Go to Naples tomorrow; Miss Gambetta won't pine for you."

"Were
you?" Pointed curiosity colored Beau's tone. Farley's bachelor party had kept the scandal mills grinding for weeks. Rumor had it there were three accommodating females for every man.

"You should know better," his father mildly replied. "I'm unfashionably in love with your mother. But Miss Gambetta does have extraordinary acrobatic skills," Sinjin added with a grin. "I hope you enjoyed yourself."

"Vastly." Beau rested back in his chair, his smile languid.

"In that case, the required abject apology to your mother should be an easy quid pro quo," Sinjin softly said. "Although I suggest you bathe and change first. The scent of Miss Gambetta is pungent; apparently none of your amorous play included a bathtub."

Beau's mouth lifted in a boyish grin. "Not
last
night. There wasn't time."

"I see," the duke blandly said. "I'll tell your mother you'll be down for breakfast.
You
make up a suitable story explaining your absence from your sister's birthday party." Sinjin rose and glanced at the clock, his responsibilities as a disciplinarian thankfully over. "Say an hour?"

"Yes, sir." Beau stood swiftly, grateful the interview was over. "Thank you, sir."

"By the way . . . don't take Miss Gambetta to Italy with you."

"No, sir. I hadn't planned to."

The duke's dark brows arched faintly. "I stand relieved."

"I don't like women on board my yacht for long voyages. One becomes bored."

"I see."

"You can't get away from them out in the middle of the ocean."

"A dilemma to be avoided," the duke urbanely murmured. "Davis has my supplies packed for the villa in Naples," he noted, more pertinent business interests yet to be addressed. "He'll have them transported to Dover tonight. When do you leave?"

"Tomorrow afternoon."

"The Foreign Office found you?"

"Lord Percy came around. They're interested in the foreign ambassadors' instructions at Naples. With the French marching back and forth across Italy, all is in flux at the Sicilian court. I might be able to glean some useful information."

"Don't put yourself in danger. Naples is awash with spies and thugs and mercenaries."

Beau shrugged. "I'm more interested in seeing if our estates have survived French expropriation and all the revolutionary destruction. But if I hear something relevant concerning Napoleon's plans, I'll relay it home. Lord, I
can
smell her," Beau abruptly remarked, lifting the ruffled cuff of his shirtsleeve to his nose. "It's definitely time for a bath."

After his son's departure, Sinjin stood at the window for a moment, gazing out over the sere winter garden sloping down to the Thames. Miss Gambetta had ambitions to catch herself a
n
aristocratic husband like her cousin the new Marquess of Weyhouse. And while the Coltrans might not mind welcoming an actress into their family, he was relieved to find that Beau's extended rendezvous with the young ballerina had nothing to do with love.

******************

Beau's apology and explanation for missing his sister's birthday was graciously accepted by his ma
m
an for she was fully cognizant of the latest gossip concerning her stepson. Albington's valet had discussed the ballet dancers with his sister, who was dresser to Chelsea's mother-in-law, the Dowager Duchess of Seth. And yesterday, over tea, the Dowager Duchess had told Chelsea not only of Miss Ga
m
betta's liaison with Beau but of her hopes for joining the St. Jules family.

While Chelsea's entrance into the family had been unconventional in the extreme, she was under the impression after listening to the details related by he
r
mother-in-law that Miss Gambetta seemed more intent on acquiring Beau's title than his love. A romantic at heart, Chelsea preferred a love match for her stepson.

"We saved you a
big
piece of cake," Nell said to Beau the instant his apology was concluded. "Do you want it now or
after
I show you the pattern books of gowns I want at Madame La Clerque's?"

"Let Beau eat his breakfast first," her mother suggested.

"You missed out on the bestest ice cream," his youngest sister, Sally, said. "I bet you're sorry." At five, her priorities were decidedly different from her brother's.

"Beau doesn't care about ice cream, Sally. He just cares about horses." Just recently ten, Jack was thoroughly enamored of horses.

Little Sally's bottom lip began to tremble. "He does
too
like ice cream."

"I really wish I had some ice cream right now," Beau kindly said, smiling at his young sister.

"It's all gone," Nell briskly interjected. "Aren't you almost finished? Maman said I can have a purple dress."

Sinjin's startled gaze swiftly met his wife's across the breakfast table.

"She's using the dresses for play, Sinjin. Don't be alarmed."

"I'm not either," Nell protested. "You'll take me out in my gowns from Madame La Clerque's won't you, Beau?"

Beau's glance quickly slid from his father to stepmother, decorum at issue, purple more apt to be worn by courtesans than young misses. "We'll find
someplace
to go," he diplomatically replied.

" Someplace
fashionabl
e
."

"Perhaps the boys at the track will like it," Beau suggested.

"Perfect!" To Nell who was a better jockey than many of the professionals, showing off her new gown to her jockey friends would be perfection.

"Early in the morning," Sinjin murmured, his voice meant for Beau's ears alone.

Beau nodded in acknowledgment. "Would you like to come along to the dressmaker with us, Sally?" he offered.

"Beau!" Nell wailed. "It's
my
birthday present. She'll be fussy and troublesome and into everythin
g
—
o
h, all right," she mumbled, taking notice of her mother's stern expression, "she can come along. But she can't cry."

"I won't cry," Sally brightly avowed, her blond curls bobbing as she waggled her head. "No matter what."

"You can sit on my lap," Beau said, "and we'll both help Nell pick out some dresses."

A decidedly outré pose for London's most disreputable rake, Madame La Clerque decided the following morning when Beau St. Jules lounged on her pink moire settee with his young sister straddling his knees. London's most fashionable modiste had never seen the young Earl of Rochefort in her fitting rooms without a mistress; he was one of her best customers. Normally degage and audacious, exuding an overt sensuality as his mistresses preened before him, he was today a gentle, agreeable brother to his sisters, teasing still but without his normal cheekiness. But whether buying for a sister or lover, he was supremely indulgent.

He purchased a dozen gowns for the young Miss Giselle, never taking issue with her selection of fabrics no matter how inappropriate, never asking the price. And when the small child on his lap became fidgety, he let her unroll a priceless swathe of China silk for her amusement and after belatedly taking note of Madame La Clerque
'
s dismay, casually said, "Send Sally's silk along with the gowns. Perhaps my mother will find some use for it."

Heart-stopping moments aside, when Madame La Clerque thought she might lose a considerable sum to a small child's amusement, it was, all in all, an extremely profitable morning for London's premier dressmaker. And the visit offered her delicious tittle-tattle too. Most of the ladies patronizing her establishment were avidly interested in any on-dits concerning the notorious Beau St. Jules. What did he say? How did he look? Who was he with?
Really,
they would say, wide-eyed when she told them. London's most libertine rogue with his young sisters would be a delicious tidbit.

******************

With his brotherly duties completed, Beau spent a few hours more with his parents discussing the horses he was to bring back from Naples if the animals had survived the French occupation and the royalist battles. The stables at their country villa were a halfway point for bloodstock brought out of Tunis, a resting stage before shipment home to their racing stud in Yorkshire.

"At least you shouldn't have to worry much about the French fleet," his father said.

"What French
f
leet," Beau said with a grin, Nelson's victory at Aboukir last year having decimated the French navy. And what was left of it was timidly commanded by Bruix, now under British blockade at Brest.

"But the privateers are always a danger," his mother reminded him.

"I should be able to outrun them."

"Is Berry sailing the
Siren
?
"
Seated next to his wife on a camelback sofa, Sinjin took Chelsea's hand in his and gently stroked it, understanding her legitimate fears for their son.

Beau nodded.

"Good," his father said, satisfied his son had the best captain in England. "He'll be fine with Berry, darling," he told his wife, then turned back to Beau. "And you're armed?"

"Ten cannons. We added four more last week."

"That sound ominous." Chelsea's brows drew into a mild frown. "How necessary is this trip?"

"You
could
wait," Sinjin interjected. "Naples is still a hotbed of lawlessness. If the horses survived, they can rest indefinitely at Naples."

"Now that Napoleon's slipped through the blockade and is back in France, rumor has it he may invade Italy again. I'd like to get the horses out if possible. Regardless," Beau continued, "I
want
to go. Thing is, I need some excitement."

"Beyond the corps de ballet," Sinjin blandly noted.

"And Miss Gambetta," Chelsea added with a smile.

"Is nothing inviolate from the society matrons?" Beau inquired without hint of offense. "Tell me, Ma
m
an, what is the gossip over tea? You probably know whether Monty will win his suit with the pretty Miss Gambetta. I'm sure he'd like to know."

"My information," Chelsea said, "is that Miss Gambetta is holding out for an earldom."