Society's Most Scandalous Rake. Isabelle Goddard

not, Papa?’ she remarked as they made their way back along the promenade.

      ‘Who?’

      ‘The Duchess of Severn.’

      ‘Finely dressed at least.’

      ‘You don’t sound as though you like her.’

      ‘I don’t know her, Domino, but I do not like the set she moves in. I would prefer you to have as little to do with her as possible.’

      ‘Mr Marchmain seems to know her well,’ she ventured.

      ‘Indeed he does,’ her father said grimly, then abruptly changed the subject.

      She was left to puzzle over just what had vexed him so badly.

       Chapter Two

      Joshua turned abruptly on his heels and headed back towards the Pavilion, his temper frayed. He needed to be alone and Charlotte Severn could easily be left to the escort of Moncaster, whom he had noticed in the distance. He was angry with her for intervening in his conversation with Domino and even more annoyed that she had promised an invitation to one of her celebrated soirées. He didn’t know why, but he wanted to keep Domino to himself, or at the very least not expose her to the intimacies of the Severn household.

      He had no intention of seducing the young girl, that was not his style, but neither did he want her knowing a woman such as Charlotte. That lady might be the wife of one of the premier dukes of the land, but she had the soul of a courtesan. The role suited her well and she should stick to it, he thought, rather than attempting to befriend the young and inexperienced. The Royal Pavilion was a suitable milieu for her. Every kind of dubious pleasure was available there and she had a husband happy to look away while she played. His Grace was content in his declining years to puff off his wife’s beauty and retire to the lure of the gaming table. He was one of the Regent’s most assiduous companions, not least because he was so wealthy that it mattered little to him how much money he lost.

      Charlotte had access to wealth untold—but that was not enough, Joshua reflected wryly. It hardly compensated for a dull and ageing husband. He remembered when he had first seen her two years ago—Wiesbaden, it was, at the town’s most opulent casino, and seated at the hazard table. She had looked across at him, her eyes staring straight into his, their porcelain blue still and expressionless, but nevertheless saying all they needed to say. That very night they had become lovers and from time to time continued to meet. But for long stretches of the year the duchess could not shrug off the duties incumbent on her position and that suited him well. There were always others happy to keep him company and lengthy periods of absence had until recently staved off the inevitable ennui which acquaintance with any woman produced. Or any woman since that first disastrous love affair.

      But things were changing. He didn’t know if it was the sea air stirring his blood and making him restless, but something had altered in him. Charlotte Severn no longer beguiled him and his frustration at being part of the Regent’s sycophantic court was beginning to acquire a sharper edge. And the girl—she had something to do with it, too. It wasn’t just that he wanted to bed her; that was as certain as it was unlikely. It was, he thought, that he had enjoyed their encounters, enjoyed her vitality, her verve, the zest with which she resisted his raillery. He had met her on three occasions and each time behind his gentle mockery he had wanted to explore, to discover more, to begin to know her. Today she had looked enchanting in peaches and cream and yet another rakish bonnet, those dark tragic eyes looking out at him so scornfully from beneath its brim. They could be made to wear another expression, he was sure. If ever he felt mad enough to risk exile again, he would savour the challenge. Charlotte’s companionship had never seemed more irksome; she had stepped between them, muddying the waters, placing her footprint where only his had previously been.

      The duchess was waiting for him in the outer vestibule of the Pavilion. If his temper had improved with the circuitous route he had taken, hers certainly had not. He barely had a foot through the door when she addressed him in a voice crisp with indignation.

      ‘There you are, Mr Marchmain. I had begun to think I had lost you.’

      ‘Why is that, Your Grace?’ He would be as formal as she.

      ‘Not unnaturally, I awaited your escort from the Chapel Royal. But when I turned to call on your services, you had gone.’

      ‘Forgive me. I felt in need of a slightly longer walk and I am aware that it is not a pastime you favour.’

      ‘A walk with you is always a pleasure, Joshua,’ she replied in a more conciliatory tone.

      ‘Then forgive me once more. Had I known, I would certainly have requested your company,’ he lied.

      She fixed him with a cold, enquiring eye. ‘How is it that you know the ambassador’s daughter?’

      ‘I was representing the Regent last night, if you remember,’ he said indifferently. ‘We met at her father’s diplomatic reception.’

      ‘You seem already to be on good terms with her.’

      ‘Why should I not be? I understand the need for England to maintain a good relationship with Spain.’

      ‘Ah, so that’s what it is.’

      Leo Moncaster strode into the Octagon Hall as they talked and viewed the two tense figures with satirical amusement.

      ‘Quite a breeze blowing out there,’ he offered with an assumed bonhomie. ‘That’s the problem with being beside the sea, never without a wind. Still hopefully Prinny will soon get bored with coastal delights and leave for Carlton House within the month.’

      His audience remained resolutely silent and his eyebrows rose enquiringly.

      ‘Have I been guilty of interrupting a private conversation? If so, my profuse apologies.’

      ‘Apologies are unnecessary. Your manners are never anything but perfect, Moncaster,’ Joshua remarked acidly, unable to conceal his dislike. ‘Her Grace and I were just about to part.’ And with that he strode off to his rooms, leaving Leo Moncaster looking quizzically at the duchess.

      ‘I realise I am hardly a favourite of Marchmain’s, but, beyond my unwelcome presence, what ails him?’

      ‘I imagine no more than a tedious sermon and a cold walk from the Chapel Royal.’

      ‘He seemed ruffled—uncharacteristically so.’

      ‘I may have annoyed him,’ the duchess admitted, her voice carefully neutral.

      ‘How so?’

      ‘I invited a young woman who appears to have become his protégée to one of my soirées. That apparently is not something to be done.’

      ‘And why not exactly?’

      ‘Possibly he thinks I may corrupt her innocence,’ Charlotte said with a knowing little smile. ‘Would you be so good, Leo, as to escort me back to Steine House? A trifling distance, I know, but I prefer to have a reliable man by my side.’

      Lord Moncaster offered his arm and they sailed past the waiting footman. He was not to be put off the scent, however, and as they walked through the Pavilion Gardens enquired, ‘And what innocence would that be, if she knows Joshua Marchmain well?’

      ‘Don’t be so crude, Leo. Joshua is a gentleman.’

      ‘You think so? Never trust a man not to sully innocence.’

      ‘I suppose you should know,’ she answered in a bored voice, ‘your reputation precedes you.’

      ‘At least I make no pretence to be other than I am,’ he responded harshly. ‘Marchmain is as much a rake; his pretence is to be something else.’

      ‘Joshua is a man of the world, but he is not a rake. He has discrimination.’

      ‘In seeking you out, dear lady?’

      ‘In seeking out