Dare to be Scandalous: League of Unweddable Gentlemen, Book 3 Read online

  Pride filled her, and Willow smiled. "I couldn't agree more. My staff have outdone themselves. I will be sure to congratulate them with a glass of champagne. They will enjoy that I should think."

  "I think they would very much," Molly said, joining her. "I cannot wait for the ball. I've never been to a masquerade before."

  "Neither have I," put in Evie, her eyes bright with excitement. "With Ava and Hallie with us, it'll be like old times."

  "Except they'll have their husbands with them," Molly said, a little put out by that fact. "But then you never know what friends they will bring. Perhaps by the end of the Season we'll all have husbands."

  Evie beamed at the idea. Willow smiled. After losing her parents so young in her life, she wanted nothing more than to have a family of her own. Her aunt had been her last blood relative, and now that she was gone, there was no one. A husband would be a suitable travel companion, assist her in seeing Paris or Rome. Give her what she truly longed for—a child.

  Willow, Evie, and Molly were the youngest of their friend set, and at seven and twenty, their time to find husbands was fast running out. The ton would have firmly placed them on the shelf and marked them as little or no consequence.

  "I've ordered baths for you later today, and I've assigned you each a lady’s maid to help you dress and have your hair styled. I hope you do not mind."

  Evie gasped, clutching her arm so hard Willow thought it might stop the blood from flowing to her hand. "You've saved us both from another dreary year in the countryside with our families. As much as we love them, nothing ever happens in Oxfordshire or Hertfordshire."

  Evie nodded. "The most exciting thing to occur in our village is church on Sunday. My brother has already laid bets at the local tavern on how long it will take for the vicar's new wife to fall asleep during her husband's sermon. His first wife, God rest her soul, was within seven to nine minutes, but this new one doesn't seem to have any stamina. We're guessing under five will be her limit."

  Willow chuckled. "Come, I've had tea and sandwiches brought into the drawing room downstairs for lunch. I thought something a little informal would be nice. It has been so long since we've seen each other. At least a year."

  "For me, yes," Evie said. "I had not seen you since Ava's Season-opening ball last year."

  "Longer for me." Molly twined her arm with Willow's as they walked to the staircase to head up to the drawing room upstairs. "I've not been to town for a good two years at least. As you know, my parents are not in favor of London and so like to keep us hidden away in the country. Did you know that Mama tried to push me toward a local farmer as a potential husband? Under normal circumstances, I would gladly marry a farmer should I be in love with him, but he was my father's age. I could not countenance it. When I received your letter, dear Willow, I could not come soon enough."

  "We're going to have so much fun," Willow interjected. "The chaperone I hired, Miss Sinclair, is, well, let me just say, a little flippant and inclined to forget her duties, so there will be plenty of opportunities to explore every part of this city, and the entertainments it has on offer."

  "Like the gambling den, Hell's Gate," Evie supplied, a mischievous twinkle in her gaze. "Everyone is talking of it."

  "Exactly like Hell's Gate," Molly said, smirking.

  Willow frowned, having never heard of the club. "What is Hell's Gate? It sounds less than respectable."

  "That's because it is," Evie said.

  They came to the drawing room and entering the large, well-lit space, Willow couldn't help but be proud of her home. The windows that ran floor to ceiling lit the room with natural light, giving it a warm and homely feel. Willow closed the door. A tea service sat on a small table beside the settee. Her butler waited at its side.

  "I'll serve the tea. That will be all, thank you, Thomas," Willow said, not asking what else her friends knew of this club until they were alone. Once the door closed, Willow set about pouring them all tea and handing each of them a sugar cookie.

  "Now, tell me more of the club and, more importantly, how you know of it."

  Evie waved Molly's curiosity aside. "Well, I'm surprised you do not. Remember when Hallie had all that trouble with Mr. Stewart? Well, he was caught at the Hell's Gate. The Bow Street runner found him there after the owner alerted the investigator that Mr. Stewart was a regular customer."

  "Who is the owner?" Willow asked. She remembered the situation well with their dear friend Hallie, but she had not heard how it all went about that the would-be murderer Mr. Stewart was caught.

  "That's the delicious part," Evie interjected. "It's Marquess Ryley. He owns the club, has done so for years. I heard Ava talking to Whitstone about it all, that's how I know. The Marquess is by all account quite wild, but a friend of Whitstone and Duncannon's, ever since Eton from what I understand."

  How very interesting. Willow poured her tea, seating herself across from her friends. "And Mr. Stewart was caught at this club. I remember the night all of that occurred. I was with Ava and Hallie at Ava's London townhouse." Vaguely Willow remembered seeing the men return that night, two familiar, one who was not. The one she'd not known had been dark as night, his hair ebony and disheveled as if he'd been woken from slumber. She remembered her breath had caught at the sight of him. Never had she seen anyone who looked as wicked as he did. As for his reaction to her, there was very little. His glance had slid over her as if she were not even there. Most disappointing. "What is it that happens at this club?" Willow queried.

  "Well, as to that," Molly said, "anything that you want. Or at least, whatever a man wants. Gambling, dining, dancing, and of course, the fairer sex can ply their trade if you know what I mean…"

  Willow raised her brow. "And a marquess runs such an establishment?"

  "Oh yes, he's known in London as the Spanish Scoundrel. I'm surprised you've never seen him."

  "Actually, I believe I may have, but I wasn't aware of his reputation or who he was. We were not introduced."

  "Maybe not so surprising, he's a little wild. I would think Duncannon and Whitstone would try and keep their wives’ friends at a safe distance from the gentleman. He's as wicked as they come, and cares little to the fact."

  Even more interesting. Willow could do with a little excitement in her life, and perhaps Lord Ryley would be a diversion to kick off her first London Season as an independent heiress. "I've invited Whitstone and Duncannon to the ball this evening. I wonder if they will extend the invitation to their friend. What a coup my masquerade will be if Lord Ryley makes an appearance."

  "He's very handsome. I'm sure if he deigns to wear a mask or not, you will recognize him immediately. Few would not," Evie put in, picking up another sugar cookie and taking a healthy bite.

  Molly nodded. "Oh, I'm so excited about this evening. We cannot thank you enough, Willow, for giving us this opportunity to be here in London with you. We shall treasure our time in town with you forever."

  "You're more than willing to stay for as long as you like. I'm not going anywhere, and if my newfound circumstances enable you to make grand matches yourself, then I will be well pleased. As for myself, I'm open to a little flirtation and courting if a gentleman so chooses." Willow smiled at her friends as more ideas for their life floated into her mind. "And if we become bored with London, or a husband is not forthcoming, next year we can always travel abroad, to Paris, Madrid or Rome. We can do whatever we like."

  Evie slumped back into her chair, sighing. "That sounds wonderful. You're too good to us, Willow. We will never be able to repay you your kindness."

  "You do not need to repay me anything. Had my aunt not bestowed on me her fortune, I should be at this very moment seeking employment as a companion. If with this new life that's been bestowed on me, I can make the lives of my friends easier, then I shall. This house is too big for me to be rattling around in alone in any case. Too many years it's been empty, without balls and parties, laughter and fun. I want us to bring all of that back and enjoy ourselve
s as much as we can."

  "That sounds like a most perfect plan," Molly said, her gaze wistful. "And it all starts tonight with the masquerade. What fun we shall have. I can hardly wait."

  "Ava and Hallie said they would arrive earlier than their husbands, to ensure everything was in place. We shall all have such a wonderful time, and be all back together again." The clock on the mantle struck the second hour, reminding Willow of how late the afternoon was getting and the time required to prepare for a masquerade ball. "We should be going upstairs soon. We have so much to do yet before this evening. If you wanted to rest before our early dinner, that might be wise. I believe the ball may go all night."

  Evie rose from her chair. "You're right, we best not dawdle. Come on, ladies, let's be off. We have a mask to attend."

  Willow followed her friends from the room, taking one last look in on the ballroom before heading upstairs. It was simply stunning and would be a night she was sure would be talked about for weeks to come. A perfect way to start the Season and to tell the world that Miss Willow Perry is no longer the meek, biddable niece of Viscountess Vance, but an heiress and a woman who's ready to live and enjoy all that life throws her way.

  Chapter 3

  As society started to make their way into Willow’s magic- and mayhem-themed ballroom later that evening, she was delighted to hear the gasps and exclamations as to its beautiful decoration. Her staff was to be commended, and she would ensure they had their glass of champagne, just as she promised them.

  Willow stood between her friend, the Duchess of Whitstone and Countess Duncannon. Evie and Molly were already out dancing with two gentlemen who wore masks to cover their features. Willow had thought it would be easier to guess who some of the guests were, but it was proving more difficult than she’d first thought. Not that it mattered, only those who had produced their invitation were allowed entrance. Those who danced and enjoyed the festivities were an acquaintance of hers in some way or another. They were among friends.

  “I must tell you, Willow before my maddening husband arrives, and you see for yourself,” Hallie said, glancing at her. Hallie wore a golden mask, her dark hair perched high on her head in a motif of curls, an elegant gold chain running throughout the design. She had come as Athena, the goddess of wisdom and war. With her spear and shield, she looked as formidable as the goddess Willow imagined.

  “Good gracious, whatever has Duncannon done now?” Willow asked, teasing her friend. It was very odd that his lordship would do anything against his wife, but something told Willow he might have this evening.

  “Besides the fact he was determined to come tonight dressed as a servant to please his goddess, he is also bringing a friend that I’ve only ever met just once. And while I’m sure his lordship will be on best behavior, he is a little bit scandalous from all accounts.”

  Was she talking of Lord Ryley? The Spanish Scoundrel? Excitement thrummed in her veins that it could be so. “Who is to attend?” she asked.

  “Abraham Blackwood, Lord Ryley. He’s a marquess, and from all accounts, his name of scoundrel suits him well.”

  Better and better. “Evie and Molly told me a little of him this afternoon. He seems quite the gentleman,” she teased. “Has he arrived? I would like to meet this Lord Ryley.” To see for herself if all the fuss over this one man was worth it. Certainly, having a scandalous lord at her mask would create a little stir.

  “They should not be long,” Hallie said, glancing toward the ballroom doors. “Arthur was going directly to pick up Whitstone. Lord Ryley was already at our home when I left, so I should imagine they will all arrive very shortly.” At the sound of tittering, an excited whisper went through the throng of guests. “Ah, they’ve arrived,” Hallie said, a small smile playing about her lips as she glanced in the direction of her husband.

  Willow’s heart skipped a beat as she took in the sight of Marquess Ryley. Well, her friends were undoubtedly not lying or embellishing the gentleman’s charms. He had many—too many—possibilities of wickedness to count on two hands.

  He was all darkness, his hair as black as the domino that he wore. His skin was sun-kissed, his eyes intelligent and assessing as he took in the room. People looked at the three powerful lords who had arrived, some giving them a wide berth as they passed them by.

  Out the corner of her eye, she saw Ava wave to her husband, the duke, who spying her, turned to the other two gentlemen before they started in their direction. Everything within Willow stilled as those obsidian eyes settled on her, running over her face before dipping to her bodice. Heat prickled under her gown, and Willow had the urge to go outside to cool off a little.

  The gentlemen joined them, and the duke made the introductions. Willow dipped into a curtsy and stood back as the duke and viscount asked their wives for a waltz. Willow watched as her friends, with their grand loves, moved out onto the ballroom floor, making a concerted effort to keep from looking at the marquess beside her. All six foot something of looming muscle that he was.

  “I must offer you my condolences on the passing of your aunt, Miss Perry.”

  His voice was made for sin, or at least it pulled forth all the ideas of debauchery and everything one could do with a person such as the marquess. Deep and husky and like nothing she’d ever heard before. Willow glanced at him, her stomach fluttering as if a million butterflies were in there. He was watching her, and she sucked in a calming breath.

  “Thank you, my lord. My aunt is greatly missed.”

  “Hmm,” he said, and nothing else.

  Willow narrowed her eyes at the noncommittal hmm and fought to come up with something else to say. The man was too overbearing, made her nervous, and yet she could not understand why. They shared mutual friends, he was a gentleman, even if he did not venture out into society all that much. The realization struck her as odd.

  “I did not think you enjoyed such events, my lord. My understanding is that you very rarely enter society nowadays.”

  A muscle worked in his jaw, and her attention fixated on it. He had a lovely jaw, cutting and with the smallest shadow of stubble. Although she could not see all his features due to his mask, she could just make out high cheekbones, and his nose was perfect too, even if those eyes were as hard to read as a book with no words.

  “I do not, but I have very persuasive friends as you well know.” That was undoubtedly true. Willow knew that as well as anyone. Her friends had demanded they stay nearby during this ball to ensure her security. Now that she was an heiress, it made her more susceptible to men of little morals and even lesser fortunes.

  Willow shook her head at the absurdness of it all. As if overnight, she had lost the ability to see suitors for who they were. If they were not interested in her before she gained her fortune, they should not bother with her now. She would marry for love and nothing less. With her newfound freedom, she could take the time to find a gentleman who loved her, shared similar pursuits, and wanted a family as she did.

  “I understand well, but whatever would we do without them?” she said, making light of his words.

  “Hmm,” he said again, and she wondered if he had any other vocabulary when answering her. They stood there for several minutes, neither speaking and with each moment that passed, Willow looked to see if any alternate friends were about that she could talk to. The marquess may like solitude and be a man of few words, but Willow was not.

  “I understand you own a gentleman’s club, my lord, and that you spend most of your time there. I hear it’s very popular with the gentlemen of your set.”

  His all-too-penetrating gaze landed on her. Willow looked up at him, oddly wanting to know more about him and what he did. She’d never met a man who owned such a business, and her time in society this year was to explore and learn, to see and do more things while searching for a husband.

  “Pray tell me, Miss Perry, how do you know about my business?”

  “Hmm, well,” she said, using his elusive response that was really no response at all,
“It’s our mutual friends again, I’m afraid. They told me, as well as a few other snippets of information.”

  He raised his brow, his lips twitching. Had she amused him? A little light of hope bloomed inside her that she had. He was so very severe, dangerous looking. It would not hurt him to smile. Willow could imagine how very sexy a slow-forming smile would be on his lips. What it would feel like to be the recipient of such a gesture. To have those lips on hers. A shiver stole down her spine, and she pushed the thought aside, wondering where it came from.

  “So you know what society calls me, or at least calls me when they’re not standing in front of me.”

  She nodded. “I do, although I must admit to wanting to know how you came about such a name. Are you a scoundrel?”

  He did chuckle then, a low and gravelly sound that made the hairs on the back of her neck rise. “I can be when it suits. Have you always been so inquisitive?”

  Willow laughed, covering her mouth with one gloved hand when those about them noticed their conversation. “Yes, I suppose. I’ve always been active in my friend’s lives, and I like to learn new things. I do not know much about you, but you’re an interesting character that I’d like to know more about.”

  He shook his head, staring at her. “You don’t want to know about me, Miss Perry. You’ll only be disappointed if you do.”

  “I’ll be the judge of that.” Willow adjusted her mask, watching the couples on the dancefloor. “Thank you for coming to my masquerade. I’m sure your presence will make my ball the talk of the town for a few days, at least.”

  “And you wished to be the talk about town? There are other ways to do that, without the expense of a ball.”

  Willow supposed that was true enough, but a ball was always preferable to nothing at all. “Yes, I suppose, but where is the fun in that, my lord?”

  He threw her a wicked grin, and Willow had the impression he was talking about something else entirely than what she was speaking of. She thought over their conversation and couldn’t see anything untoward or leading by it—strange man.