Lady Olivia And The Infamous Rake. Janice Preston

Chapter Fifteen

       Chapter Sixteen

       Chapter Seventeen

       Chapter Eighteen

       Chapter Nineteen

       Chapter Twenty

       Chapter Twenty-One

       Chapter Twenty-Two

       Epilogue

       Extract

       About the Publisher

       Chapter One

      ‘Where have you been? Do you know how long we’ve been waiting? We were about to give up.’

      ‘It’s not my fault,’ Lady Olivia Beauchamp retorted to her brother, Alexander. ‘Do you even know how hard it is to sneak out without bumping into a servant? They’re everywhere. And what do you mean...we?’

      ‘Never mind that now.’ Alex grabbed her arm and bundled her unceremoniously towards the waiting hackney. ‘Hurry up. If anyone should catch us, there’ll be hell to pay.’

      Huffing at his cavalier treatment of her, Olivia clambered inside, then stopped short at the sight of a figure already seated within. Alex put his hand between her shoulder blades and shoved. ‘Move. It’s only Nev. He’s come to help me keep you out of trouble.’

      Olivia sprawled inelegantly on the seat opposite Neville Wolfe as her brother leapt in behind her and slammed the door. Immediately, the hackney rocked into motion, causing Olivia, by now half-upright, to tip over once more.

      ‘Alex,’ she wailed.

      Neville’s hand covered his mouth, but he failed to muffle his snort of laughter. Olivia glared across the carriage at him.

      ‘Oh, God,’ Alex muttered, as he reached across and hauled her upright. ‘Tonight is bound to be a disaster.’

      Neville passed a flask to Alex, who drank before handing it back.

      ‘Can I have a drink?’ Olivia asked.

      ‘No, you cannot,’ Alex retorted. ‘That’s all I need...you half-cut!’ He eyed Olivia sternly. ‘Two hours and not a minute longer, d’you hear? We’ve got better things to do tonight than dance attendance on a troublesome chit like you.’

      The carriage passed under one of the new gas street lamps at that moment and Alex’s eyes widened as the light caught the ruby and diamond bracelet on Olivia’s gloved wrist. He reached across and grabbed her hand, holding it up to examine it.

      ‘That’s from Mama’s parure. What the devil are you about? What else have you got on?’

      He yanked down the hood of her cloak, revealing the pair of exquisite eardrops and the matching necklace she wore. The set had been a wedding gift from their father, the Duke of Cheriton, to their late mother. Olivia fingered the necklace—remembering how beautiful Mama had looked, all dressed up and wearing the parure—before battening down the guilt that stirred her conscience. She stuck her nose in the air.

      ‘They belong to me, not Rosalind.’ Rosalind was their new stepmother and Olivia was finding it hard to adjust to calling her Stepmama, although she took care not to call her Rosalind to her face. Or in front of her father. ‘Papa said that Mama would have wanted me to have them.’

      ‘He also said you’re not allowed to wear them. They’re totally unsuitable for a chit in her first Season.’

      ‘Exactly! So when people see a masked lady tonight, wearing such fine jewellery, it will help my disguise. No one will guess I am your younger sister. They will think I am your light o’ love.’

      ‘That’s enough. Where did you hear such language?’

      ‘From you,’ she retorted.

      Really! Alex is such a hypocrite!

      ‘God’s teeth, Olivia, you’d try the patience of a saint. How did you get the jewels, anyway? I thought Father kept them locked up in his safe.’

      ‘He does.’ But she also knew where Papa kept the key.

      ‘What do you imagine he’ll do when he discovers they’re missing, you little idiot? He’ll have the Runners out.’

      ‘Idiot yourself! I’ll have them back long before he returns from Birmingham. He’ll never know.’

      ‘Well, you be sure to keep them covered up at Vauxhall. You’ll be a magnet for every fingersmith and gallows bird there tonight. I must have rocks in my head to ever agree to such a madcap stunt as this.’

      ‘Well, you did not agree. I won our wager fair and square and—as you always tell me, Brother dear—gambling debts are debts of honour, so you had no choice. We had a bet and you lost!’

      Alex muttered something that sounded suspiciously like spoilt brat before lapsing into a sullen silence.

      A minute later, out of the dark, came a mocking, ‘Good evening, Lady Olivia.’

      Olivia—miffed at having been betrayed into such unladylike behaviour in front of Alex’s friend, even though she had known him for years—responded with a hissed, ‘And if you tell a single soul about tonight, Neville Wolfe, your life will not be worth living.’

      * * *

      They crossed the Thames by boat and her first sight of Vauxhall Gardens utterly enchanted Olivia as they entered via the water entrance. Papa was exceedingly unfair to refuse to allow her to come to here—apart from one very fleeting visit, with him and Rosalind—early one evening, before it was even dark enough to fully admire all the lanterns. He had kept her close to his side the entire time and then whisked her and Nell—her very best friend and now her step-aunt because she was Rosalind’s stepsister—home immediately after they had watched the marvel of the mechanical cascade and just as it was beginning to get crowded and the excitement started to build. It was so unfair. Alex and Dominic—their eldest brother, Lord Avon—came here all the time and Olivia knew for a fact that Papa and Rosalind had visited the Gardens again since then, leaving Olivia and Nell to endure yet another insipid evening at Almack’s in the charge of Aunt Cecily—an activity Papa considered more suited to young ladies.

      Not for the first time, Olivia wished she had been born a boy.

       They have all the fun and all the freedom. It’s not fair.

      They climbed the Vauxhall Stairs and entered the Gardens, which were lit by thousands of coloured lanterns, hanging in festoons between the trees. Her squabble with Alex was quickly forgotten, as always, and Olivia linked arms with her brother. With Neville bringing up the rear, she had no qualms about her safety and neither did she worry that she would be recognised. Her midnight-blue velvet domino, with its hood and matching mask—which left only the tip of her nose and her mouth and chin visible—would surely pass the closest scrutiny.

      They strolled the well-lit paths, avoiding the more