Debauchery and the Earl, page 1
Debauchery and the Earl
Gentlemen of Pleasure, Book 4
Mary Lancaster
© Copyright 2022 by Mary Lancaster
Text by Mary Lancaster
Cover by Dar Albert
Dragonblade Publishing, Inc. is an imprint of Kathryn Le Veque Novels, Inc.
P.O. Box 23
Moreno Valley, CA 92556
ceo@dragonbladepublishing.com
Produced in the United States of America
First Edition July 2022
Kindle Edition
Reproduction of any kind except where it pertains to short quotes in relation to advertising or promotion is strictly prohibited.
All Rights Reserved.
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
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Additional Dragonblade books by Author Mary Lancaster
Gentlemen of Pleasure
The Devil and the Viscount (Book 1)
Temptation and the Artist (Book 2)
Sin and the Soldier (Book 3)
Debauchery and the Earl (Book 4)
Pleasure Garden Series
Unmasking the Hero (Book 1)
Unmasking Deception (Book 2)
Unmasking Sin (Book 3)
Unmasking the Duke (Book 4)
Unmasking the Thief (Book 5)
Crime & Passion Series
Mysterious Lover (Book 1)
Letters to a Lover (Book 2)
Dangerous Lover (Book 3)
Merry Lover (Novella)
The Husband Dilemma Series
How to Fool a Duke
Season of Scandal Series
Pursued by the Rake
Abandoned to the Prodigal
Married to the Rogue
Unmasked by her Lover
Her Star from the East (Novella)
Imperial Season Series
Vienna Waltz
Vienna Woods
Vienna Dawn
Blackhaven Brides Series
The Wicked Baron
The Wicked Lady
The Wicked Rebel
The Wicked Husband
The Wicked Marquis
The Wicked Governess
The Wicked Spy
The Wicked Gypsy
The Wicked Wife
Wicked Christmas (A Novella)
The Wicked Waif
The Wicked Heir
The Wicked Captain
The Wicked Sister
Unmarriageable Series
The Deserted Heart
The Sinister Heart
The Vulgar Heart
The Broken Heart
The Weary Heart
The Secret Heart
Christmas Heart
The Lyon’s Den Connected World
Fed to the Lyon
De Wolfe Pack: The Series
The Wicked Wolfe
Vienna Wolfe
Also from Mary Lancaster
Madeleine
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Publisher’s Note
Additional Dragonblade books by Author Mary Lancaster
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
About Mary Lancaster
Chapter One
Lord Calton prowled the perimeter of the dance floor. This was no fashionable town hostess’s elegant ballroom, but the shabby, somewhat vulgar splendor of the Maida Gardens pavilion, where a public masked ball was underway. And Calton, dangerously bored, was hunting for anyone or anything to relieve his ennui.
He was not even sure why he had come. It was certainly not in any great hope, more that he could not bear another vapid evening of Town entertainments. Nor his own company. And a surprising number of his friends, both the fastidious and the rakish, seemed to have found a way to happiness that began here.
Calton neither looked for nor expected happiness. All he sought was distraction, and as usual, he was disappointed. The orchestra—surprisingly good—played incessant waltzes. Males and females indulged in the usual mating rituals. Certainly, they were a little less refined here, with a good deal more shrieking and even blatant groping than in Mayfair ballrooms, but the basics appeared to be much the same.
Perhaps he should allow himself to be flattered by the come-hither glances and gestures of several females. But in truth, nothing and no one tempted him into even breaking his stride. He continued to look around him, mask twirling idly around his finger rather than concealing his face, and wished he had simply departed for the continent a few days earlier.
“Perhaps you would care to dance with me?”
Calton withdrew his gaze from the madly flirting couple on the edge of the dance floor to the speaker, who had apparently stepped from behind a pillar to accost him. Surprised at last, he paused. The unconventional—some would say shocking—invitation had been spoken in quiet, not unrefined tones, and the woman herself, though shrouded in a dark green domino and matching mask, looked neither gaudy nor plain. Her hood had fallen back to reveal her hair, a riot of barely tamed auburn curls caught up behind her head and allowed to fall to her nape, apart from one ringlet which tumbled over her left shoulder. Whether by accident or design, the effect was rather fetching.
A weak spark of interest sputtered to life.
Under his assessing gaze, her chin lifted. “Is the question difficult for you, my lord?”
“On the contrary, I am tongue-tied by a different question—why on earth would you want to dance with me?”
“Perhaps I find you handsome.”
The words were bold, yet spoken, surely, with a trace of self-consciousness. Testing a barely formed theory, he stepped closer to her. Her breath caught, and her body twitched as though she would step back. She didn’t, though, which began to intrigue him. She had rather beautiful, dark eyes, strangely brilliant now that he had moved and the light from the nearest wall sconce shone upon her.
“Perhaps you recognize me,” he countered.
“Are you so famous?”
“No, but you my lorded me without a second thought.”
“Flattery.”
“Like the compliment of handsome?”
“I only said perhaps.”
Calton’s lips twitched. “A singular approach, but oddly irresistible. I can barely wait for the seduction part. By all means, let us dance.”
*
The Earl of Calton’s arm snaked around Josephine’s waist and swept her onto the dance floor before she was ready. Every instinct shrieked to pull away from him, to run. She knew him to be a dangerous seducer—he had even used the word seduction in a conversation that had lasted only seconds! And yet this was what she had come for. She would ruin everything if she ran screaming from him now. If she could not relax her stiff body and plaster a smile on her face. She had found him, asked him to dance, and he had accepted, so everything was going to plan.
She tried to force the tension from her body, but it was not easy. He was overwhelmingly large and his arm at her waist was like steel. He swung her almost playfully around to face him, and she felt the shock of his hard body against her. She jerked back to a more decorous distance and to her relief, he allowed it, merely took her hand and began to dance.
He was a good dancer, graceful, light on his large feet, and easy to follow. Perhaps the dance would be easy to get through, after all, and then she could invite him into the gardens for a walk…
“So, what can I do for you, madam?” he asked, more amused curiosity than seduction in his voice.
“You are already dancing with me,” she pointed out, “which is exactly what I asked of you.”
His eyes were oddly entrancing, a deep, distinctive blue in the candlelight and very steady. What with those eyes and his shock of dark blond hair, carelessly long for fashion, his attraction was obvious. She could see how her sister had fallen so easily under his spell. Josephine, however, was made of sterner stuff. And was well-warned against him.
“I have been here in the pavilion almost half an hour,” he reflected, “and I did not notice you popping out from pillars to invite other men to dance.”
It had taken her twenty minutes after spotting him just to work up the courage. “I did not wish to dance with other men,” she said with perfect honesty.
“I am in danger of being overwhelmed by such compliments,” he remarked, sounding anything but. “And yet something tells me you don’t even like me very much.”
“How could I?” she retorted. “I don’t know you.”
“But you want to, having merely glimpsed me from behind your pillar?”
“Something like that.”
“Where are your friends, little bird?” he asked softly.
“Perhaps I came alone. As you did.”
“You should not, you know. Maida Gardens is not safe for young ladies like you.”
“Because of gentlemen like you?” she challenged.
A sudden smile blazed in his eyes and curved his lips, then vanished before she could even blink in its glory. “Partly. Though there are also the thieves and pickpockets and men even less scrupulous than I.”
“Surely not,” she marveled and won another of those flashing smiles, though this time only in his eyes.
“I am not a pigeon for plucking, you know.” He spoke casually, but she heard the warning, nonetheless.
“You are timid?” she asked provokingly.
“Terribly.”
“Then I wonder at your dancing with a strange woman who has the temerity to ask you.”
“Curiosity was ever my besetting sin, and besides, if you saw her through my eyes, you would not wonder at all.”
“Ah. Reciprocated flattery.”
“Have we met before, madam?”
“Why should you imagine such an unlikely premise?”
“Because you keep avoiding the question,” he said wryly. His hand crept up her back from her waist, making her shiver with a sudden surge of increased awareness.
I am not in his power, she told herself for the second time since accosting him. He is in mine. It did not feel like that as his fingers moved in her hair. Suddenly realizing he was untying her mask, she whisked her own hand up to his and caught it.
“What is the matter, sir?” she managed, coolly, and just a little huskily. “Don’t you like a mystery?”
A subtle darkening of his eyes told her he was not immune either to her new tone or her words. His sensual lips curved. His hand, when she released it, slipped caressingly back down over nape and back, but at least left her mask in place.
His voice caressed, too. “Some mysteries—or their solutions—I find most…satisfying.”
Suspecting there was rather more to his words than she understood, she eyed him with a mixture of doubt and hauteur that brought back the quick, dazzling smile that caught at the breath of the unwary.
“That look, however,” he said softly, “I find most intriguing of all. Did you really come here alone?”
“I did.”
“Why?”
He almost sounded concerned, which she did not believe for a moment. So, she smiled. “To dance with you, of course.”
“Then we do know each other?”
She considered. “It would be more accurate to say I know of you. I have no idea what if anything you know of me.”
“Then where have we met?”
“Why does it matter? Do people not come here to forget their everyday lives and be someone else for a night?”
That seemed to be a lucky hit. Certainly, she had the feeling he accepted it, for he said no more on the subject, but waltzed in silence for a little. On the other hand, without his arm seeming to tighten, she found herself held closer to him, the heat of his body radiating into hers in a way that was oddly exciting. She even felt the shocking brush of his hip as they turned, and knew with sudden, blinding clarity that she was out of her depth.
I am not in his power. He is in mine….
What imbecile would believe that?
I do and it’s true. It will be true.
“I think that one-second pause in the music was the break between dances,” he murmured. “May I have the pleasure of another? Or have you had enough of my noble and perhaps handsome company?”
She licked her suddenly dry lips. “It is so very warm in here. Perhaps you would be good enough to escort me into the fresh air?”
His face was unreadable, but he did not appear to dislike the idea. He merely offered his arm as though he were indeed the perfect gentleman he was supposed to be. He guided her through the milling throngs on the dance floor and the boisterous group of people lining the way to the nearest door. Her heart beat so loudly, she thought he must hear it.
Although he did not appear to be nervous, he was watchful as they walked into the cool, fresh, autumn evening. Unfortunately, since the weather was so mild, there were too many other people around the gardens, dancing, laughing, flirting, and playing questionable hiding games. She had imagined it would be easy to be alone with him here, and it clearly was not. Nor could she do what she had to with an audience.
She stole a glance at him as they strolled along the path, and her stomach gave a funny little dive. Nerves, no doubt. Curiously, the sensation was not unpleasant. Nor was he remotely unpleasant to look at. In fact, she understood exactly why Helena had fallen for him.
He was undeniably handsome, and there was a wicked mischief in his smile, an intriguing contrast to the knowing, jaded weariness behind his eyes. The latter should not have been remotely attractive, and yet it was. Perhaps it inspired impossible hope in gullible females that she would be the one, the lasting happiness of his life to banish all others. Even though it was clear to the meanest intelligence that the only happiness he sought was very, very temporary.
The throngs began to thin as they walked farther away from the pavilion. His arm moved and slipped around her waist, and she allowed it because it gave her the excuse to be alone with him.
“Look at me,” he murmured, his fingers beginning to caress her waist.
Unwarily, she cast him another upward glance, and his lips swooped down, planting a quick kiss on hers. Immediately, all words, all plans flew out of her mind. She could only stare up at him dumbly.
He came to a halt, turning her to face him. “Is this what you want? To be alone with me?”
“Yes,” she managed, since that at least was honest. But his arm brought her to rest against his body, all hardness and muscle, and heat surged through her veins. Now. Do it now!
She glanced up and down the path. A couple walked ahead of them. Two more laughed and chattered behind them.
“It doesn’t matter,” he said, low. “You are masked, and no one knows you.” His lips smiled as they drew nearer to hers again. “Not even I.”
In panic, she dodged backward, whisking herself out of his arms with what she hoped was a coquette’s laughter. “You are forward, sir.” She hurried on up the path, where no one was now visible ahead, and with trembling fingers, began to open her reticule.
“I can be,” he allowed, falling into step beside her and matching his step to hers. “So can you, between bouts of missishness. But something tells me you are not yet ready to play the game.”
“Game?” she repeated. God knew this was no game to her.
“If you wish to speak to me on some matter I am too stupid to comprehend, we are private enough here. But on the whole, I believe I should return you to the ballroom or take you to the hackney stand.”
Dear God, did he expect her to believe in his chivalry? Why would he even try? Except as another means to get around her.
“No,” she said firmly, her fingers scrabbling desperately inside her reticule. How could something so large be so wretchedly elusive? “Perhaps there is—” She broke off, her fingers closing at last around the article she sought. But a furtive glance ahead showed her no privacy any longer, but a large building with a liveried doorman outside it and several coachmen or grooms approaching them.
