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Another way.
Another man.
None of the young bucks that peopled her débutante’s court would qualify. Unbidden, there came to mind a blurred image of a man she had encountered once—she couldn’t use the word ‘met’ for she’d only seen him from a distance at a crowded rout one of her first nights out in London. But whispers about his presence had made the rounds of the ballroom readily enough and for once no one thought about editing their words in front of débutantes. Indeed, the opposite was nearly true. Mothers apparently felt their pristine daughters needed to know about the dangers this man posed.
He was Paine Ramsden, third son of an earl, known in less charitable circles as a dark rake with a reputation so black he could not be countenanced in polite society. Julia had learned quickly that he attended the rout solely as a favour to his aunt, the Dowager Marchioness of Bridgerton, Lily Branbourne, who insisted he was her favourite nephew, regardless of the public outcry against his morals.
Julia smiled to herself. By repute, Paine Ramsden was an irresponsible charmer who was loose with his affections and his finances. There were other reports, too, circling the ballroom that night—darker rumours that went beyond the usual complaints of womanising and wastrel tendencies—rumours of time abroad in foreign lands as penance for his involvement in a duel over a woman. The rumours didn’t end there. It was quietly reported that since his return he’d been living hedonistically on the shadowy fringes of the demimonde, having bought a tumbledown gambling hell of his own to support himself.
Julia didn’t care two figs for his proclivities. The more debauched he was, the less likely he would be smitten with a case of misplaced honour in the morning. Paine Ramsden it would be. She was sure of her course now. She had only to find him and convince him to ruin her. For the latter, she had her pearl earbobs tucked in a small bag to provide any additional financial inducement he would need to see the deed done. A gambler like him would know where to pawn them. Yes, the latter would be easy. Based on his poor social standing, it would be harder to do the former.
She might not know where he’d be, but she had a good idea of where he wouldn’t be. He wouldn’t be at any of the soirées or musicales scheduled for the evening. He wouldn’t be at any of the fancy gentleman’s clubs or gaming establishments on St James’s. The gossip she’d heard maintained that he took rooms on Jermyn Street. There was little chance he’d be there at the time she planned to seek him out, but that was where she would start. A landlady or a neighbour might know his direction for the evening or be able to guide her to one of his favorite haunts. True, she didn’t know which of the bachelor establishments he lived at, but if she had to go door to door asking landlords, then that’s what she’d do. That time of night, the bachelor tenants would most likely all be out carousing and there would be few home to note her presence.
Julia cast another glance at the clock. Eight hours until dark. Eight hours to convince her aunt and uncle of her acceptance of their decision and that she wanted to stay home that evening to work on her trousseau. No. That sounded too suspicious, given that she despised needlework. Better to go with them and give them the slip at the rout tonight. Lady Moffat’s entertainment was bound to be a crush and her aunt and uncle were not vigilant chaperons once her dance card was full.
It should be easy to clandestinely slip away through a back-garden gate without being missed for some time. Her uncle would be in the card room, oblivious to what was happening in the ballroom, and her aunt would be caught up in conversation with her friends. Her aunt would assume she was with the Farradays, who often acted as her stand-in chaperons at such events.
Determined to follow through with her decisions, Julia gave her attention to the massive oak wardrobe standing in the corner. She strode to it and threw open the door, revealing dozens of gowns made of the finest silks and fabrics. She eyed the gowns with a new cynicism. Her uncle had not spared any expense when it came to outfitting his niece for her Season. The reasons for such extravagance were horribly clear.
Now, for the last decision. Julia tapped a long finger against her chin, considering the array of finery spread before her. What did a girl wear to her ruination?
Chapter Two
‘I never guessed you held aces!’ Gaylord Beaton, the young man seated across the card table from Paine Ramsden, threw down his cards in disgust. ‘You’ve the luck of the devil tonight, Ram.’
The others at the table in the dimly lit gambling hell laughed and threw in their hands. ‘What do you mean “tonight”? Ram has the devil’s luck every night!’ another exclaimed.
‘Have you considered I might have something more than luck?’ Paine Ramsden gathered his winnings with a swift, practised move of his arm.
‘What would that be? A fifth ace?’ The table broke into guffaws at Gaylord’s bold jest.
‘Skill,’ Paine replied drily, giving them each a piercing stare before he began to deal. He’d heard the underlying anger in young Beaton’s jest.
This was the second night these bucks had been in to play and the second night they’d lost heavily. In his experience, an angry gambler was a dangerous gambler. He’d have to keep his eye on the young man. He’d hoped Beaton had learned his lesson last night and taken steps to preserve the remainder of his quarterly allowance. But apparently Beaton thought those steps involved trying to win back his losses, a common enough mistake and one Paine had made during his own misguided youth.
The five of them were playing high-stakes Commerce. He was winning thoroughly, having won a hundred pounds from each of the four young bucks at the table. Paine should have been enjoying it. Instead, he was bored. No, he was beyond bored. He had been bored three nights ago. Now, he was apathetic.
Paine discarded one of his three cards and drew the queen of hearts. With the addition of the queen, he held three of a kind. They were all going to lose again. He waited to feel the elation of victory. He felt nothing—not the excitement of winning, not the pleasant blurring of the edges of the world from the cheap brandy in his glass, not the spark of arousal from the sassy promises of the lightskirt who hovered near his shoulder. He was numb.
How had that happened? When had the usual thrills lost their abilities to sate him? There had been a time earlier in his return from abroad when simply being in a seedy place like this, several streets away from the well-lit halls of St James’s, had been thrill enough to send his adrenalin racing at the prospect of needing to draw the knife secreted in his boot. He’d liked the prospect so much, he’d bought this place from the owner, who was looking to retire.
These days, he was the king of the roost. He’d made the seamy gaming hall his private kingdom. Young bloods looking for racy diversions came to try their hand against him at cards. Hardened gamblers appealed to him for loans when their luck was down. The whores offered themselves to him willingly. He had gone looking for the underworld and now it came looking for him.
He hardly left except to make a rare appearance in the ton, as he had done several weeks ago to escort his Aunt Lily to an early Season ball. He genuinely liked his Aunt Lily and her forthright manner. But as for the ton, Paine much preferred life outside high society’s restrictions and expectations. His time in India had taught him that. The fact that he had grown tired of his current arrangement merely indicated he needed to find a new excitement.
Paine set down his cards to a chorus of groans from the table and began unrolling his shirtsleeves.
‘You’re not thinking of leaving before we have a chance to win back our losses?’ one dandy cried in dismay. ‘It is only midnight.’
‘Exactly so—’ Paine replied, breaking off in mid-sentence. He narrowed his gaze and looked into the smoky gloom beyond the table towards the entrance. There was a commotion at the front. ‘Gentleman, if you’ll excuse me, there seems to be a problem that needs my attention.’
Paine strode towards the door, aware for the first time that evening of a prick of anticipation growing within him. This was what he needed, something unknown and unpredictable, to spark his enthusiasm again.
‘John, is there anything wrong?’ Paine asked the doorman.
‘Doorman’ was a polite word for John’s occupation. The hulking man with the crooked nose was charged with the duty of keeping people in who didn’t pay their debts and keeping out those who didn’t belong to the murky depths of the hell. It was a duty he did well. There was seldom an occasion John couldn’t manage. Tonight seemed to be a rare exception. John appeared relieved to see him, although Paine was having difficulty noticing what the trouble might be.
‘It’s this ’ere chit. She’s asking for you.’ John stepped aside, revealing what his girth had hidden from Paine’s approach.
Paine’s breath caught and his member stirred violently. The girl was stunning. One look at her generous invitation of a mouth and his mind was awash with images of bedding her, of stripping her out of the turquoise silk that hugged her curves exquisitely and kissing her until she cried out for all of him. In his veins, his blood began to heat at the prospect. He was alive again.
‘It’s all right, John. I’ll speak with her.’ Paine clapped the big man on the shoulder. Was that relief he saw on the girl’s face? He was certain he didn’t know her. She looked far too fine to be familiar with the places he frequented. And too innocent, he amended. There were no chandeliers or crystal goblets here, but the woman beside him had the carriage and clothing of a woman who was familiar with such trappings.
He gave her one of his rare smiles and offered his arm, drawing her inside. He felt her gloved hand tense where it lay on the sleeve of his linen shirt as she took in the surroundings and he saw the place through her eyes while they wended through the tables; the smell of stale smoke mingled with alcohol and unwashed sweat; the worn garb of the patrons, the faded upholstered chairs and scarred tables.
Belatedly, he recalled he had left his own jacket at the table and that he wore no extra adornments as was his wont when gambling. No diamond pin twinkled in the folds of a nonexistent cravat, no gems sparkled at the cuffs of his sleeves. By ton standards he was in extreme dishabille, garbed only in a plain white shirt and tan breeches—a far cry from the expected dark evening wear.
Paine turned down a narrow hallway and opened the first door on his left. It was a small room that served as his office of sorts for when he discussed loans or other private issues. He ushered her inside and motioned that she should sit.
‘Can I get you a drink? I have ratafia or sherry.’ She shook her head and Paine shrugged, fixing a brandy to give himself something to do. Once he had his glass, he took his customary place behind the plain wooden desk and studied her, waiting for her to state her business.
Beautiful and nervous, he concluded, although she was hiding it bravely. She didn’t fidget with her pristine white-gloved hands, but held them clasped tightly in her lap. Her posture was rigid. Despite the control she held over the rest of her body, her eyes gave her away completely. Her eyes were bold, challenging orbs of jade. He’d seen the exact shade in the gem markets of Calcutta, transported from the mines of the Kashmir Vale, an exotic green polished to an emerald sheen. She wanted something.
He could not imagine what he had to offer a stranger such as herself. But whatever she thought he had, she wanted it desperately. The challenge in her eyes said as much.
She did not speak and Paine felt obliged to fill the lengthening silence. ‘Since we have not met, let me introduce myself. I am Paine Ramsden. However, you already know that. I feel distinctly at a disadvantage, for I have no idea who you might be.’
‘I am Julia Prentiss. I thank you for agreeing to see me.’ She spoke matter of factly, giving Paine the unlikely impression it might have been daylight outside and this meeting nothing more than a standard interview.
‘This is a rather unusual time of evening for a business appointment. I must admit I am quite curious as to why you’re here.’ Paine leaned back in his chair, steepling his hands and trying to look as if he weren’t fully aroused from the sight of her magnificent figure or the sound of her voice.
He saw the long column of her neck work briefly as she swallowed. For the first time since she’d entered the establishment, he felt her resolve waver. When she did not speak immediately, Paine offered a lifeline. ‘Do you need money?’ Perhaps she had a gambling debt. It was not unusual for women to wager beyond their capabilities at cards at a ball or house party.
She shook her head, causing the aquamarine earbobs to dance lightly. Too late, Paine realized his faulty reasoning. The earbobs alone could have been discreetly pawned to cover a small debt. Good lord, he’d only known her for a handful of minutes and she’d addled his wits. His manhood strained against his trousers. He hoped she’d get to the point soon so he could begin his own manoeuvres.
‘I need you to ruin me.’ The words came out in a rush; a light blush coloured her flawless alabaster cheeks.
‘Ruin?’ Paine quirked an eyebrow. ‘What do you mean by “ruin”? Shall I ruin you at the gaming tables? I can arrange to have you lose any amount of your choosing.’
Her gaze met his evenly in all seriousness, her courage having returned in full force now that she’d begun talking. ‘I don’t wish to lose any money. I wish to lose my virginity. I want you to ruin me in bed.’
His mind warned of danger while his member fairly exploded at the anticipated pleasure being handed to it. Dangerous pleasure—his favourite kind of diversion. ‘I am not opposed to such an arrangement, but I would know more,’ Paine said coolly.
‘I am to marry a man I find completely unsuitable in five days. He will not have me if I’ve been…’ She paused, casting about for a word she could utter. ‘If I’ve been touched by another.’
Paine felt a surge of disappointment. Partnering her in this request had any number of obvious drawbacks, not the least of which was the odds of facing a duel. Danger was one thing, illegal proceedings like duels were another. Still, it needn’t end so drastically. It wasn’t as if he had a reputation to protect and the chit wasn’t looking for him to do the honourable thing afterwards.
‘This is a rather rash course of action, one that is irrevocable, Julia.’
He spoke her name, liking the sound of it and the familiarity it implied. He rose and came around to the front of the desk, determined to teach her a lesson about the nature of men. He half-sat, half-stood at the corner, his arms crossed, his lower body exposed so that there was no mistaking his maleness or his arousal, which pressed unmistakably full and hard against the fall of his breeches. Let her see what such a request involved. He would give her one chance to back out.
‘Have you thought this through? Is there no chance of resigning yourself to the marriage? Perhaps you will come to rub along quite well with your betrothed in a year or two. Many women find once they marry, have a home and a family to look after, that all else settles itself with time.’ Good lord, he sounded like a finishing-school marm.
Fire lit her eyes and she replied, ‘I am not a silly chit rebelling against her parents’ choice for a husband because I fancy myself infatuated with another. I assure you, I have no desire to “rub along well” with this man. Mortimer Oswalt is a lecher of the worst sort and I refuse to be reduced to nothing more than his legal brood mare! Even if it means I shall not stand a chance of ever marrying.’
Paine felt his heated blood chill at the name. Mortimer Oswalt was well known to him. There was old animosity between them and a vengeance to be repaid over a woman. It would be fitting to ruin the man’s betrothed. He was no longer a stripling. This time, Mortimer Oswalt would not be able to manipulate him so easily. This time, an innocent would escape Oswalt’s clutches.
He studied the girl before him. Bedding her would be no act of charity. She was a divine beauty and his body clearly wanted her. She was more than beautiful, though. He wasn’t so fickle as to be aroused by appearance alone. Julia Prentiss had spirit and courage. Not every girl in England had the power to rebel against a chosen match and to take action on her own. Such passion boded well for what they could share in the bedroom. First, he would ascertain with actions the willingness she professed with her words.
‘Stand up, Julia, so that I may see what I am getting myself into.’ He held her eyes, noting that her gaze did not flinch from his scrutiny.
She rose, her skirts brushing his legs. The lemon scent of her soap filled his nostrils, conjuring up images of sunlit days in faraway places where trees grew exotic-scented fruits. Paine let his eyes roam the length of her, stopping to rest intently on her firm breasts shown to advantage beneath the aquamarine bodice. He stared long enough to know her cheeks were heating.
Paine stood up from his lounging position against the desk and closed the half-step gap between them. He fitted his hands at her slender waist appreciably. Still, she did not move. He ran a hand up her ribs to cup the underside of a full breast. ‘Very nice, very firm. I like that,’ he said huskily.
Without warning, a hand slapped him hard across the face. He took a step back, releasing his grip on her. ‘What the hell was that for?’ He massaged the stung cheek.
‘For trying to scare me off. I see your game and I won’t scare.’ The coldness of her words matched the coldness Paine saw in her eyes. He’d expected her to be stunned by his vulgar assessment.
Julia delivered a scathing set-down. ‘You can’t do anything more humiliating to me than what awaits me with Oswalt. At least when I am done here, I’ll have my freedom. However, I would still ask that you not treat me like prized cattle.’
Paine gave a sardonic laugh. ‘Who’s treating whom like prized cattle? You are the one who has marched in here and demanded I play the stud.’ He was gratified when she coloured a bit at that.
‘Enough. Will you do it?’
She was magnificent in her scolding, her colour rising, her eyes starting to thaw with her temper. He liked that better. He had no use for ice maidens. A wicked grin lit his face. He advanced again, his stung cheek forgotten. There was one final test. ‘Darling, have you heard the bedtime story about the princess and the pea?’ He whispered, catching her chin between his forefinger and thumb so that her lovely face was turned up to meet his.
‘Wh-what does that have to do with anything?’ she asked, startled, her eyes widening.
For an answer, Paine bent his head to capture her luscious mouth with his. He coaxed her mouth open with a light pressure from his lips, letting his tongue probe her mouth, running across the smooth surfaces of her teeth, tasting the fruity sweetness of evening champagne, feeling her compliance.
He opened his mouth wider and pulled back his tongue to offer her an opportunity to reciprocate. She did, tentatively letting her tongue explore him. Paine groaned as her teeth nipped at his bottom lip and she giggled at his response. Paine moved his hands to her waist and pulled her against him, letting her feel his hard member, letting her feel the power she had to summon such a response.
Paine grabbed her hand and held it between them, against the straining length of him. ‘Do you feel what you do to me?’ he murmured, tearing himself away from the kiss. This was meant to be his test. When had he lost control?
Instead of being embarrassed by the intimate nature of her touch, Julia looked exultant, her face flushed with more victory than apprehension. If she looked this beautiful now, Paine could hardly imagine how glorious it would be to see her after a thorough bedding and know he was the one responsible for such a satisfied glow. There were countless positions and tricks he could show a willing participant.
‘Does this mean you will do it?’ she pressed, breaking into his thoughts before they could start to vividly itemise the lessons he wanted to give her.
Paine gave her one last assessing glance, not wanting to appear too easily conquered for pride’s sake. Whatever rumour might say about him, whatever rumour might have led her here under the premise he was not discerning about his bed partners, Paine knew otherwise. He considered his bedmates carefully and with utmost discretion.
‘Yes. Yes, I will do it.’
Paine visibly saw the breath she’d been holding go out of her, so great was her relief. Looking past him, her eyes evaluated the room. He followed her gaze to where it rested on the narrow cot with its drab blanket shoved against the wall. She pursed her lips into a resolute line and nodded towards the bed with dogged determination. ‘Then we’d best get on with it.’
Paine thought he heard a note of sadness in her voice, perhaps regret, and he moved to eradicate it. She might be forced to surrender her virginity, but it didn’t have to be a degrading experience. His own considerable pride as a lover bristled at the notion. No woman should ever leave his bed feeling demeaned by the experience of his lovemaking. He made a quick decision.
‘I think you’ll find my rooms better suited for our needs.’ He nodded towards the cot. ‘I’ve spent enough nights on that to know it is not even passably comfortable for one, let alone two people engaged in intimacy.’
She blushed and Paine was struck afresh by her innocence. For all her forthright behaviour, she was young and pretty and apparently alone. The last resonated with him strongly. He knew what it was like to be alone and he felt a kinship with her that he had not felt for another person in ages. Something that slept deep within him was waking up.
‘My carriage is in the back. We should leave before someone comes poking around,’ Paine suggested, moving the interaction forwards. Now that the deal had been struck, Julia had fallen silent, her gaze pointedly fixed on her gloved hands.
He held out his hand. ‘It’s time to go unless you are rethinking your choices. Once you leave here, there’s no turning back.’ He gave a small chuckle meant to reassure her. ‘I am sure it has come to your attention that I want you.’
Her head shot up at the comment, her eyes blazing with fire. ‘First of all, how could you want me? You know nothing about me beyond my name and even that could be a fabrication on my part. Secondly, I haven’t had any choices to “rethink” since eleven o’clock this morning, when my uncle sealed my fate with his greed. Thirdly, there’s been no turning back since the moment I left the Moffat rout tonight. I don’t need your pity. I know exactly what I am doing, but I don’t have to like it.’
Paine tossed back his head and laughed, partly out of relief that his vixen had returned and partly at the pert speech. ‘You’re right. You don’t have to like it, but if your performance a few minutes ago is any indication, I bet you will.’ He would make sure of it.
Chapter Three
The carriage ride was accomplished in silence. On her side of the carriage Julia seethed inwardly over letting Ramsden goad her. Like it, indeed! She might be an innocent, but she was not utterly naïve. She knew quite well ‘it’ referred to the sex act. Paine Ramsden was as handsome as purported with his midnight hair and riveting blue eyes and twice as conceited if he thought she’d find pleasure in what she was about to do. In his male arrogance, he’d quickly forgotten she’d been forced to these measures.
She hadn’t picked him for his skill. She had picked him for his willingness and she’d been right. He had acquiesced with very little persuasion. She had been prepared to beg, even pay for his services.