A Warriner To Seduce Her. Virginia Heath

tell them another pack of lies which he doubted they truly believed.

      He let his eyes wander around the stuffy study which served as the King’s Elite secret headquarters until they fixed on the dancing flames in the fireplace and listened with less than half an ear.

      Or at least he thought he did.

      ‘Warriner!’ His head snapped around to see Lord Fennimore’s bushy grey eyebrows drawn together in a scowl. ‘Have you listened to a damn word I just said?’

      ‘Er...of course, sir...well, actually...no. Not really. My eyes glazed over somewhere between one thousand barrels in Sussex and Rowley’s resistance to mud. Forgive me. I’m tired and as I’m about to go on leave I didn’t think it mattered.’

      ‘Your leave has been cancelled. I have a job for you.’

      ‘But, sir...’

      ‘No buts, Warriner. Only you can do this one. It’s a seduction job, so right up your street.’

      Leatham and Flint were grinning at him smugly, no doubt having sold his sorry carcass up the river to avoid spending hours, weeks and months charming information out of yet another empty-headed smuggler’s mistress. ‘Now hold on a minute sir, I’m due leave. Urgently due leave. You patted me on the back only last week and said so yourself. I’ve made plans.’

      ‘Plans change. You can have your leave as soon as you’ve exhausted this new lead.’ There was no point arguing further. Fennimore never budged when his mind was made up. Never. ‘Given the lady’s age and experience, I dare say you’ll have done the deed in less than a fortnight and you can head north to rusticate then.’

      Two weeks wasn’t so bad, even if it did mean letting his family down again. Something he had done all too often in the last few years, to such an extent he could already picture his eldest brother Jack’s irritated shake of the head and hear, crystal-clear, the blistering lecture he would receive as a result.

       When are you going to do something with your life? Being a rake is not a career.

      Jake was so caught up in the imaginary conversation with his responsible elder sibling it took a few moments for his superior’s words to sink in.

      ‘What do you mean age?’

      ‘You really weren’t listening, were you?’ Lord Fennimore huffed and began to snatch up his papers, signalling the meeting was over. ‘Crispin Rowley has a niece. His deceased, much elder half-sister’s child. The girl has been hidden away in a convent since she was orphaned, hence we haven’t bothered with her before. However, her neglectful uncle has now decided he’s going to give the chit a Season. My sources tell me he is doing so with the express intention of marrying her off by the end of it and to someone of stature. She’s recently moved into his house in Mayfair. Her name is Miss Blunt.’

      ‘She’s fresh from the schoolroom?’

      ‘One assumes.’

      ‘What does that make her? Seventeen? Eighteen?’ Please God, not sixteen.

      ‘I suppose.’

      ‘You want me to seduce a child!’

      ‘Eighteen is not a child and you only need to actually seduce her if other methods of persuasion prove fruitless.’

      ‘Why can’t Flint seduce her?’

      ‘I need Flint to keep chipping away on the other side. He’s making headway into the bounder’s inner circle and all that would be put in jeopardy if Rowley disapproves of him courting his niece. Your reputation makes you the perfect choice. Besides, I can hardly send Leatham.’ All eyes instinctively travelled to the jagged and impressive scar down Seb Leatham’s right cheek. Even without the scar, his friend resembled a bare-knuckle fighter and was painfully monosyllabic around the opposite sex. Jake was nicely trapped and Lord Fennimore knew it.

      ‘The girl has spent most of her life with nuns, Warriner, isolated from the manipulative machinations of the world. In the full glow of your legendary charm, she’ll probably confide all her secrets with a few flowery words. A simple brush of the cheek will likely render her a melted puddle at your feet. It won’t take long to pry a list of her uncle’s associates from her or his day-to-day schedule. Perhaps you can even convince the chit to steal away a few stray letters and such for a couple of hours so we can analyse them. I’m sure you’ll work out how to get her to do your bidding without having to bed her. But if it comes to it, then I’ll expect you to do your duty for King and country. You’ve never complained about that before.’

      ‘That’s because I’ve never been sent after a child before!’

      ‘I dare say she’s not a child. The young ladies mature so much faster than the young bucks and it’s not unheard of for them to marry at seventeen or eighteen.’

      ‘But you’re not asking that I marry her, you’re asking that I ruin her!’

      ‘You’re a resourceful fellow, I’m sure you can find a way to get what you need from Miss Blunt without having to lift her skirts. But the point is moot regardless. This is the first time we’ve had the chance of getting close to someone who lives inside Rowley’s house. The fact she is also as green as grass and ripe for the picking makes it all the sweeter. It’s a chance too good to miss.’

      Incensed, Jake merely shook his head. ‘And how, exactly, am I supposed to seduce this child? I hardly have the sort of reputation which allows me to frequent the type of sedate and proper soirées the fresh crop of debutantes do and, even if I do, the girl is bound to have a handler. A chaperon with a sharp eye for the wrong sort of suitor. Which I am. They won’t let me within ten feet of her.’

      Everyone including the bean-counter grinned, which didn’t bode well. ‘If you had been listening rather than wool-gathering, then you would know Lord Rowley has engaged the services of his great-aunts to act as chaperons.’

      ‘The Sawyer sisters?’ Two spinsters in their sixties, both highly connected but with a penchant for hard spirits and reputations as characters. Hardly the sort of women who would be up for the task. ‘The slurring Sawyer sisters?’

      ‘The very same.’ Lord Fennimore looked rightly pleased with himself at Jake’s obvious disbelief. ‘I know. I can’t quite believe our luck either, but with no wife or other suitable female relatives, Rowley could hardly use his mistresses to launch the girl and my sources tell me he is determined to have her married by spring. He’s probably already got the groom in mind, hence the sudden haste to launch the girl. It makes a strange sort of sense to align the girl to the slurring sisters. Cressida and Daphne Sawyer are invited to everything.’

      ‘Because they are guaranteed to make spectacles of themselves and the ton likes a laugh. I can’t think of two worse chaperons for a girl as green as grass.’

      Fennimore shrugged. ‘Perhaps that’s deliberate, too. If Rowley has set his sights on a particular future nephew-in-law, if all else fails his lackadaisical choice of chaperons might aid the process when the girl is inevitably compromised. I wouldn’t put it past a slippery and conniving snake like Rowley to have factored that into his equations. Being with the Sawyers will certainly get the girl noticed and that’s usually half the battle on the marriage mart. It also aids us. I doubt you’ll find it overly difficult to make a move on the chit. Even more fortuitous, the timing is perfect. The chit is being presented tomorrow. At Almack’s.’

      ‘I’m banned from Almack’s.’ Something which had happened quite early in his career and of which Jake was inordinately proud. Only the worst sort of scoundrel was denied admission to Almack’s and the ban had done wonders for his bad reputation.

      ‘Not any more, you’re not. The patronesses have had a sudden change of heart. Here are your vouchers.’ He slid them across the table. ‘To be on the safe side I got you a month’s worth.’

      * * *

      The sea of people at Almack’s swirled by in a pastel haze,