How To Build The Perfect Rake (2 page)

‘I’m sure we have a great
deal in common. And she is
not
harebrained!’

‘I suppose that’s a yes, then. Well all I
can suggest is that you convince her that rumors about your
pleasant nature are vastly exaggerated.’

‘What do you mean?’ Lucien demanded,
bewildered.

‘I mean, you sap, that you need to convince
the fair Carisse that you are not as wet behind the ears as you
look. That you’re a man of the world,’ she looked at the
incomprehension on her friend’s face and sighed impatiently. ‘That
you, too, are a bit of a rake, you fool! Change your spots, Lucien
St James. I’ll bet you a monkey that she’ll look at you differently
then.’

Lucien thought about what Olympia had said a
great deal over the next twelve hours. It seemed like a mad scheme
– as so many of her schemes did – but it might very well have some
merit. So Carisse Houghton didn’t want a nice fellow. Well, there
was no reason why he had to be a nice fellow, was there? He thought
about Lord Howe and Baron Rotherington, both rakes with dreadful
reputations. They weren’t exactly invited everywhere but they
certainly weren’t ostracized. They were the masters of the cutting
comment, the raised eyebrow, the supercilious quizzing glass. They
knew how to be suggestive without actually saying anything
particularly risqué. Lucien tried to imagine a conversation where
he uttered something similar but he couldn’t think of anything that
was not utterly absurd.

He was still thinking about it the next
morning as he sat over breakfast. He was in residence in the family
town house, which was actually his town house as he had come into
the title eighteen months ago when his father had died, but he
still thought of as belonging to his parents. It was an impressive
house at an impressive address but Lucien had always found its
grand rooms rather daunting. And it was damned hard to get warm in
winter.

Jacobs, the butler opened the door of the
breakfast parlor and eyed him severely. Or possibly not. Like the
house, the old butler was hard to warm up and possessed an air of
haughty superiority Lucien would have given much for.

‘Mr. Featherstone, sir.’

‘Send him in.’

‘Already am in,’ Freddy Featherstone
announced, breezing past Jacobs. ‘Oh good. Breakfast.’

Lucien eyed his friend without much
surprise. ‘That’s because it’s breakfast time. Care for some?’

‘Damned right I do. I’m famished.’ Mr.
Featherstone collected a plate and helped himself liberally from
the sideboard. A footman poured coffee. Freddy was a regular in
Charles Street, his tastes well known. ‘How did it go last night?’
he inquired, taking a seat.

‘How did what go?’

‘Like that, hey?’ Freddy shook his head
sympathetically. ‘I told you, old thing. Shooting high when you aim
for the Houghton. She’s a diamond of the first water.’

‘I know that, thank you very much.’

‘All I’m saying is that you’ve got half the
males in London sniffing around her. Competition is stiff. You
should have come to Marchants. The cards ran deep.’

Lucien raised an eyebrow. ‘And you got
fleeced?’

‘No such thing. I had a lucky run. Walked
away flush, let me tell you.’

Which would be a change, Lucien reflected.
More often than not, Freddy landed on Queer Street. The man was not
a master at cards, no matter what the game. ‘Good for you,’ he
hesitated for a moment, then said, ‘Freddy?’

‘Hmm?’ Mr. Featherstone’s attention was
momentarily distracted by a recalcitrant kidney, which he chased
around his plate.

‘What do you think of rakes?’

‘What do you mean, what do I think of them?
I don’t think of them at all.’ He speared the kidney and popped it
into his mouth.

‘Miss Houghton seems to have a definite
preference for Lord Howe.’

‘Does she now? Silly girl. The man’s a rum
‘un.’

‘Yes, well… Olympia
suggested that if I were to secure Carisse Houghton’s
interest,
I
should become more like a rake.’

‘Olympia said that? She
was funning you. Damn good sort is Miss Grayson. Pretty as a
picture as well.
And
she has dimples.’

‘Never mind Olympia! What do you think of
her suggestion?’

Freddy was silent for a moment,
contemplating the question. ‘So… what? How the devil do you mean,
become more like a rake? You’re only one and twenty, old man. You
haven’t sinned nearly enough to qualify.’

‘I do believe there are young rakes. Look at
Mr. Castle.’

‘Didn’t he have to leave the country because
he shot a fellow in a duel?’

‘Yes, but he is only three and twenty. That
is my point.’

‘He was born bad. Got sent down from Oxford
for stealing. Caused quite a dust up. There was a rumor that he got
a serving maid in the family way when he was sixteen and numerous
girls followed on. I don’t believe you’ve done any of those things,
have you?’

‘You know damn well I have not. That’s not
the point. I was thinking of taking lessons.’

‘In…?’

‘Becoming a rake.’

Freddie paused, fork half raised to his
mouth. ‘Do you mean… pay somebody to teach you the tricks of the
trade, so to speak? You can do that?’

‘I don’t see why not. If people want to
learn to play an instrument they get lessons, don’t they? Or… or
paint a picture? Why shouldn’t I get lessons in being a rake?’

For a moment the fork, along with the
kidney, remained poised in the air as Mr. Featherstone considered
this. Then he stuck it in his mouth and shook his head. ‘Sounds
like a hum to me. Not necessary. Just apply to the parents. You’re
rolling so they’ll like as not snap you up.’

‘The Duke of Branson is
sniffing after her. He has money
and
a whopping great title. Can’t
compete with that.’

‘He’s forty if he’s a day. With a lisp. She
won’t want to marry a man who spits when he gets excited. No sane
female would.’

She might not want
Branson
, thought Lucien,
but
she’s keen on a man
like Lord Howe who was all of three and thirty
himself
. Age, he sensed, didn’t actually
come into it. It was more something to do with how a fellow
presented himself. And he presented himself like a green fool who
tended to stutter in the presence of his love’s divine
beauty.

‘I’m going to do it,’ he decided. ‘I’m going
to learn to become a rake.’

‘’
You’re a fool,’ Freddie
shrugged, ‘but it’s your money. Who are you going to get to teach
you?’

‘Lord Howe. I know for a fact that he is in
dun territory. He could do with some ready in those pockets of
his.’

‘Yes, but would he teach you? Rather too
keen on himself, if you ask me. Will probably look down that thin
snout of his and tell you to go to the devil.’

‘Perhaps.’ But Lucien didn’t think so. Howe
was in dire straights and Luc had the means of making the worst of
the man’s problems go away.

‘I actually came here to ask you something,’
Mr. Featherstone observed, collecting another serve of kippers.

‘So it wasn’t just to eat my food,
then?’

‘Just an added blessing, old fellow,’ Freddy
said with a grin. ‘No, I came to ask what you think about me paying
my address to Miss Grayson.’

‘To Olympia?’ Lucien said, astonished.
‘Whatever for?’

‘Why do you think? She’s a jolly good sort.
Not puffed up or conceited, can jape around with a fellow, pretty
as a picture. Let me tell you, there’s a great deal to like. Do you
think I stand a chance?’

‘No,’ Lucien said with complete certainty,
‘not a chance in hell.’

‘Why not?’ Freddy demanded. ‘What’s wrong
with me?’

Luc opened his mouth to tell his friend
exactly what was wrong with him but truthfully, apart from
possessing a wealth of curling coppery hair – which was not
actually an impediment to marriage – there was no reason why Freddy
shouldn’t chase after Olympia. It was just that it seemed so
absurd. ‘You’re not her type,’ he said finally.

Freddy lifted an eyebrow. ‘What is her type,
then?’

Once again, Luc was stumped. ‘Oh I don’t
know. Somebody who will make her mind how she behaves. She’s a
dreadful hoyden, you know. Always saying whatever is on her
mind.’

‘That’s one of the things I like about
her.’

‘Exactly. You wouldn’t be a stabilizing
influence.’

‘Perhaps she doesn’t want a stabilizing
influence.’

‘It doesn’t matter what she wants,’ Luc said
with a certain amount of exasperation, ‘it’s what Olympia needs.
One would have thought that with four brothers she might have had
more guidance but she seems to have all of them wrapped around her
little finger.’

‘Brothers,’ Mr. Featherstone mused, ‘cannot
be depended on for much of anything. Is it a close family?’

‘Oh, quite. Jasper and Thaddeus are twins
and closest to Ollie in age. Excellent fellows, even if they do
have a very frivolous outlook on life. They rather egg Olympia on,
I’m afraid. Bennett is already leg shackled, of course and Leander
is engaged. Nice people, the Graysons,’ he added thoughtfully.
‘Kind-hearted.’

‘They sound just my cup of tea. A family
that doesn’t take itself too seriously. I’m going to try my hand
anyway,’ Mr. Featherstone said. ‘for it is a well known fact that
if a fellow does not try, then he cannot succeed.’

‘I’ve already told you, you’re not her
type.’

‘Yes, but you seem very hazy about what her
type is.’

‘Not you,’ Luc muttered.
‘But go ahead. It’s not up to
me
who Olympia chooses.’

He didn’t really like the idea of Freddy
making sheep’s eyes at Ollie. Truthfully, while the whole world
knew what the London Season was about – they didn’t call it a
marriage mart for nothing – he hadn’t actually thought about
Olympia getting hitched at all and only hoped that she’d find
somebody decent. Somebody who would be kind, yet firm. Freddy was
right; Olympia was a good sort and she deserved a good man who
would make her happy. Not that there was any hurry. She had plenty
of time to select somebody suitable, after all. There was no need
for her to rush into anything.

Unlike him. If he did not do something about
Carisse Houghton then he would lose his opportunity. Already males
were circling around her like wolves circling a lamb, looking for
her favor. It was no good him just joining in. He wanted to stand
out from the crowd.

No doubt about it, he needed to act
quickly.

He needed to see Lord Howe that very
morning.

Olympia was staying with
her aunt, Mrs. Richmond who had a very comfortable house in Martin
Street. Her mother
would
have come up to town and seen to her coming out,
and indeed, she had been there for her presentation at court, but
she did not find London at all agreeable and when her sister
Florence had offered to take Olympia about Eleanor Grayson had
asked if her daughter would mind. Olympia hadn’t minded in the
least, knowing full well that Mama would be far more comfortable at
home. Aunt Flora, a social butterfly, was more than willing. She
was a plump, lazy creature but she had a remarkably good nature, as
long as nobody disturbed her with unpleasantness and there was
nothing she liked more than to parade around a pretty girl during
her first season. As she had been blessed with two other daughters
– who had been off her hands for some time now – she was delighted
to fling herself back into the fray with a wealth of experience to
offer her niece.

It had all worked out very well for
everybody and Olympia was more or less enjoying her first Season –
with reservations – even if she did think some things were
remarkably foolish.

Carisse Houghton was one of those
things.

Miss Grayson woke the
morning after the party and considered the previous night. The
dance had been quite agreeable, she supposed although she wished
that Luc would stop pining over the Season’s insipid leading light.
He was a lot of fun when he wasn’t being all starry eyed and
pathetic and she had been looking forward to his arrival in London.
He, at least, would be somebody she could laugh with freely, who
would not be offended if she spoke her mind or expressed a
sentimental desire to return to Warwickshire, for she went through
periods of being quite homesick despite her busy social life. But
his much-anticipated arrival had been marred by
another
arrival, which had occurred
the moment he set eyes on Carisse. The arrival of First Love. She
couldn’t remember him ever mooning about like this at any of the
assemblies or social occasions back home. But then, London was
different.

Everything was different, really.

Most of the time, Olympia went about the
Season perfectly well and had a good time, for there was no denying
it was fun to dress up and go out to one thing after another.
Picnics in the park, punting up the river, any number of dances and
of course Almacks, which she had been to no less than three times.
And truthfully, while the Houghton had the crème of the crop of the
young men, she herself had a respectable following. How much of
that was to do with the fact that she came with a very decent dowry
was anyone’s guess. Quite a lot, Olympia suspected for she was not
in the least bit vain and new that a great many gentlemen in need
of a wife often were equally in need of a sizable amount of money
to go with it. Combining the two was a happy turn of events.

Olympia didn’t mind that aspect in the least
for neither of her parents would make her marry a man she did not
care for. She had been blessed with a tolerant, loving family who
put her happiness above society’s expectations. This might not even
be her first Season, although it was such a frantic endeavor that
she was inclined to think she would not want to subject herself to
another one. So practically speaking, she supposed she would have
to find somebody suitable in the next few weeks, or settle for a
local man. And she knew all the local males, so well that it was
hard to think of any of them in a matrimonial light.