Led Astray by a Rake

The Husband Hunters Club Series ~ Book #1

 

CHAPTER ONE

 

Olivia held her hands tightly folded at her waist, refusing to fidget.  She was not a fidgeting sort of girl, but right now she would have loved to straighten her sleeves or pat at her hair or twitch her skirts.  The walk to Castle Lacey, rather than calming her, had only given her more time to worry.

 

What if he rejected her?

 

She'd known Lord Lacey all her life, and had called him a friend for most of those years, albeit a secret friend.  Until three years ago they'd met now and again to chat--a habit that was formed when Olivia's sister died--and he'd seemed to genuinely care about her.  Yes, he'd thought of her as a child, and if he noticed the stars in her eyes when she looked at him, he pretended he didn't.  The very fact of the secrecy--innocent though their meetings were--made their meetings more special, and knowing that her parents would have been horrified if they knew what she was doing gave than an extra deliciously dangerous quality.

 

The Monteiths and the Laceys had lived in the same village for centuries, but that did not make them socially compatible.  The wealthy Monteiths had risen from humble country folk to country gentry, and were keen to rise further.  The Laceys were aristocrats, blue bloods, and aloof, although what they had to be so proud about Olivia had never been able to fathom.  Yes, they did live in a castle, but it was large and drafty and reputably cost them a fortune.  Yes, their name was tangled up with kings and queens and the more important dates in British history, but being mentioned in history books meant they were cunning enough to be on the winning side, not that they were brave or particularly loyal.

 

Setting aside Wicked Nic's reputation, and apart from the social differences, the match would be a good one.  Entirely suitable.  Perfect in fact.  With the Monteith fortune and new blood, and the Lacey lands and old blood, the two families would combine forces.

 

Not, she reminded herself, that the suitability or otherwise of the alliance of their families was what had brought her to Castle Lacey this morning.  Not directly, anyway.  The Laceys would mean nothing to her if it wasn't for the identity of the current heir.  Rake and wastrel, the sort of man respectable mothers warmed their daughters about, and respectable men secretly envied.  The sort of man women sighed over and longed to tame, even knowing they'd more than likely end up brokenhearted.

 

Lord Dominic Lacey was known far and wide as Wicked Nic for good reason.

 

But the respectable Miss Olivia Monteith didn't entirely agree.  Over the years she'd seen a very different Wicked Nic, a man capable of great kindness, a man who would make a good husband, and she was determined to have and hold him, from this day forward, till death did them part.

 

*                                            *                                          *

 

Lord Dominic Lacey dipped his pen into the ink pot and tried to pretend his leg wasn't hurting like the devil.  Usually that grinding ache meant a change in the weather, but outside his windows the sky was a cheerful blue and the birds were singing maniacally.

 

He paused to admire the walled garden, reaching down to try to rub some of the pain away.  The broken bone had never healed properly--he hadn't sought treatment until it was too late, and this had been the result.  He supposed his mother would say he'd had his just deserts for all the chaos he'd caused; a self-inflicted punishment.  He knew that in his heart he believed her to be right.

 

The tap on the door turned his thoughts away from the past he preferred to forget and gratefully he looked up as it opened.  Abbot, his manservant, valet, and--althougth neither of them would admit it or overstep the social boundaries--his friend, stood watching him with keen gray eyes.

 

"My lord.  There is a vistor come to see you."

 

"A visitor?  What sort of visitor?" Nic threw down his pen, the estate books forgotten.

 

"A very attractive young lady visitor," Abbot replied, with a smile that creased the lines about his eyes.

 

Nic was genuinely surprised.  "Surely she's not here alone?  No attractive young lady would dare come visiting me alone.  I might lose control and ravish them."

 

Abbot snorted.

 

"At least that is what they think."

 

"Or hope," Abbot said wryly.  "What will I do with her?  Send her away?"

 

"No, don't do that.  I want to see this brave and attractive young lady.  Show her into the parlour.  Do you think tea . . . ?  Or something stronger?"

 

"Tea, my lord, definitely tea."

 

Nic nodded.  "Tea it is then.  Oh, and Abbot, does this brave and beautiful young lady have a name?"

 

But Abbot, by error or design, had already closed the door.

 

*                                              *                                       *

 

Olivia sat straight-backed on the very edge of the chair.  Her bonnet was set at a jaunty angle, the feather curled just so, and her dark blue dress flattered her, and was perfectly suited to a morning visit.  She felt confident, which was just as well because she needed all the confidence she could muster.  She might appear to be her usual calm self but beneath her serene exterior was a maelstrom of turbulent emotions.

 

The door opened and a gentleman entered.

 

Tall, broad-shouldered, his dark hair a little shaggy, his features saturnine, and his dark eyes deep-set, he was staring back at her boldly, rudely, and when he didn't speak she was obliged to stand up and hold out her gloved hand.

 

"Lord Lacey, how do you do?" she said politely, showing him how it was done.

 

"Good God."  He took her hand in a hard, warm grip.  "It's Miss Monteith."

 

Well, he remembered her.  That was a start.

 

"What can I do to help you, Miss Monteith?"

 

He still held her hand, and as he raked his gaze over every inch of her, not restrained by any idea of impoliteness or impropriety, his eyes were lit by a spark deep within.  Olivia knew this was one of the reasons she liked him so much.  He was so different from everyone else she knew.  Wicked Nic said and did exactly as he liked, and the rest be damned.