Read Never Desire a Duke (One Scandalous Season) Online
Authors: Lily Dalton
Never Desire a Duke (One Scandalous Season) (29 page)
She simply had to be home by the time Clarissa and her mother returned from the Heseldons’, else her intricate tangle of not-necessarily-untruths would fall to pieces.
“Pirouette.”
Mr. Bynum’s command jerked Daphne into the present. She mimicked the movements of the young woman on the stage beside her and twirled like a ballerina. More like a
drunken
ballerina. She had been the only one of the four who had declined to imbibe from the fortifying bottle of gin that had been passed from girl to girl in the moments before the curtain was drawn. While spirits would no doubt take the edge off her present humiliation, she believed it best to keep her wits about her. To her good fortune, no one seemed concerned about talent or proper form, only that they prance around under the pretense of being actresses, wearing unseemly costumes for the illicit pleasure of the men salivating at their feet. Coming to a stop, she sashayed to the next corner and took the place of the girl who had just vacated the spot.
According to the foul-mouthed bully of a stage master, Mr. Bynum, who was also the very same sot who had threatened Kate, they would perform the same salacious rotation ten times before taking their leave of the stage. Only then would Kate’s debt be satisfied, at least for the evening. Given a day or two, Daphne was certain she could come up with some other solution for satisfying the remainder.
Mr. Bynum shouted a French command.
“Parader!”
Truly, he displayed the most appalling accent. Daphne executed a different “classical” pose.
He blathered on, this time about Helen and Paris. In that moment, she desperately tried to forget where she was and imagined herself as Helen, the face that had launched a thousand ships. Why, she had always had a flair for the dramatic. She and her sisters had always put on productions for the family, and in secret she had dreamed of a life onstage. In some ways, tonight’s daring venture was exceedingly diverting, and she might actually enjoy herself if not—
If not for the fact that she, Daphne Bevington, the Earl of Wolverton’s granddaughter and quite possibly this season’s declared incomparable, was at this moment standing on a stage in London’s most notorious bawdy house, half-naked and making a naughty spectacle of her jiggly bits for the entertainment of strangers.
Daphne bit down a gasp.
Not all strangers
, for
there
, having just come through the doorway, was Lord Rackmorton, a hopeful suitor who had sent her flowers just yesterday, two dozen perfect white roses. He’d seemed like such a nice gentleman. Obviously, she’d been fooled, and she would rebuff him at the earliest opportunity now that she had seen him here in this palace of iniquity.
She couldn’t shake the feeling of terror that had chilled her blood from the moment she’d stepped through the door of the Blue Swan. What if, even though her face was half-concealed by the mask, Lord Rackmorton saw and recognized her? What if her mother and grandfather learned of her not-very-smart, but well-intended adventure?
Yet in a blink, two women plastered themselves to his lordship’s side and escorted him off, laughing, into the shadows, past
another
gentleman she also recognized, sneaking in the back—
“Pirouette!”
Just then, a big hand smacked her buttocks, latched there, and squeezed.
Daphne squawked and jumped. A glance over her shoulder confirmed her assailant to be the same cretin as before, looking rather pleased at getting such a solid handful of her. Indeed, in the next moment, with the help of a friend’s knee, he hurled himself half on the stage, reaching for her, his tongue hanging out of his mouth like a hound on the street. “Come on, sweet. How about a little ballum-rankum?”
Lunging away, she somehow managed to twirl like a ballerina—
Only to crash into the girl behind her. The room erupted in laughter. In her discomposure, she’d gone the wrong way. The girl shouted a vulgarity a lady ought not to even know and gave Daphne a shove in the opposite direction—
Just in time for her to see the most
attractive
gentleman plant his fist in the face of the man who had affronted her.
Looking up, he glared at her rather ferociously, something that ought to frighten her but instead inspired everything inside her to tingling. Yes, he had to be a gentleman because he looked so very fine with his cravat so perfectly tied and his dark blond hair so neatly cut, somewhere between short and longish, the ideal frame for his broad cheekbones and astonishing gray eyes.
“Thank you,” she shouted, though she knew he couldn’t hear her for the din of the room.
The gleam in his gray eyes intensified. She’d never had anyone look at her like that, so blatantly, without the filter of decorum, as if she was not a girl or even a lady, but a
woman
.
“You’re welcome.” Or at least that’s what his mouth appeared to say. She couldn’t hear him either.
A large crash sounded from the direction of the entrance. A woman screamed. The music trailed off. An enormous man in a black suit and top hat appeared on the threshold. Patrons scrambled away from him, pushing and shoving.
Bracing his legs wide, he bellowed, “Under his majesty’s authority, this bawdy house is hereby closed for the crimes of lewdness and common nuisance.” Lifting both hands high, he displayed what appeared to be a constable’s blazon and piece of paper that could only be a warrant. “You are all under arrest.”
A swarm of men rushed in behind him, wielding batons.
Daphne stood paralyzed for a long moment. She? Daphne Bevington, under arrest?
Like everyone else, she dashed for the door.
Where Authors Give You the Inside Scoop
Dear Reader,
One reason I love writing historical fiction is that I find fascinating facts during my research that I can use to add spice to my novels.
For Tom Poole’s story in A LADY MOST LOVELY, I was particularly inspired by an intriguing tidbit I found while researching shipwrecks off the southern coast of Australia. In describing the wreck of a steamer called
Champion
in the 1850s, the article included this one line: “A racehorse aboard
Champion
broke loose, swam seven miles to the shore, and raced again in the Western District.” Isn’t that amazing!? Not only that the horse could make it to land, but that it remained healthy enough to continue racing.
Although I was unable to find out any more details about the racehorse, as a writer this little piece of information was really all I needed. I knew it would be a wonderful way to introduce the animal that would come to mean so much to Tom Poole. Tom and the stallion are the only survivors of a terrible shipwreck that left them washed up on the coast near Melbourne, Australia, in early 1851. Tom was aboard that ship in the first place because he was chasing after the man who had murdered his best friend. By the time he meets Margaret Vaughn
in A LADY MOST LOVELY, Tom has been involved in two other real-life events as well: a massive wildfire near Melbourne, and the gold rush that would ultimately make him a wealthy man.
As you may have guessed by now, Tom Poole is a man of action. This aspect of his nature certainly leads him into some interesting adventures! However, when he arrives in London and meets the beguiling but elusive Miss Margaret Vaughn, he’s going to discover that affairs of the heart require an entirely different set of skills, but no less determination.
Dear Reader,
There are two things in this world that I love almost as much as dark chocolate. One of them is a striking pair of blue eyes framed by thick black lashes, with equally dark hair just long enough for a woman’s fingers to run through… Excuse me for a moment while I compose myself.
And the other is fried pie.
Okay, I just threw that last part in as an FYI. But what I’m really doing is tucking that useless tidbit away for a
future project. That’s just how my weird mind works, folks.
But in all seriousness, while I really do love a blueeyed man, even more than that I love a wounded soul. Because I love to fix things. In my books. In real life I kind of suck at it.
Way back when I first started writing the Trouble series, as was kicked off with
Looking for Trouble
, I had an atypical wounded soul already forming in the cavernous recesses of my mind. I just needed to find a home for her.
Yes, I’m talking about a wounded heroine. I know that sounds kind of strange. Most romance readers love a scarred hero who gets his butt kicked into shape by some head-strong Miss Fix-It. Not that I don’t love that also. But I also knew
Looking for Trouble
wasn’t the place for her.
Lacy Taylor needed her own story with her own hero. And not only her own hero, but one with an extra tough brand of love that could break through her well-built defense mechanisms.
But make no mistake. Lacy Taylor isn’t as much of a tough cookie as she’d like everyone to think. Oh, no. She has a much softer side that only Chase McDermott could bring to the surface. Of course, she tries to keep Chase at arm’s length like everyone else in her life. But he’s too good for her defenses. Too good-looking. Too loosehipped. Too quick with his melt-your-bones smile. Not to mention his blue eyes. Gotta have those baby blues.
But Chase underestimates Lacy’s power. And I’m not talking about her tough-girl attitude. Never in Chase’s years as an adult would he have expected Lacy Taylor to get under his skin so quickly. Not only that, but nothing could have prepared him for his reaction to it.
Or to her.
You see, Chase and Lacy have known each other for a long time. And that’s another one of my weaknesses—childhood crushes turned steamy love stories. And Chase and Lacy can cook up steam faster than a drop of water on hot pavement. But it wasn’t always like that for these two. You see, Lacy blew out of Trouble years earlier, and after that Chase hardly gave the tough blonde a second thought.
But then she comes back. Now
that’s
when things get interesting.
Mostly because Lacy had to all but beg Chase for a job, which, in Lacy’s opinion, was almost as painful as a bikini wax. So then they’re working together. Seeing each other often. Subtle brushes here and there… you get the picture.
It gets hot.
Real
hot.
But the most fun part is seeing how these two wear each other down. Lacy thinks she’s so tough, and Chase thinks he can charm the habit off a nun. Well, actually he probably could.
Needless to say, heads butt, tempers flare, and the clothes, they go a-flying.
But which of these comes first? It’s all in HERE COMES TROUBLE. Because every woman needs some Trouble in her life.
Especially the blue-eyed kind.
Steamy readin’,
