Lured Into Sin By The Wicked Earl (Steamy Historical Regency Romance) Read online

  “Adam, my friend. Have you been here all night?” he asked, glancing around and completely ignoring what Adam had said. “What is that smell?”

  “It’s the smell of defeat,” Adam muttered, sinking back down into his chair. He felt worn thin.

  “I see,” Gerard said, clearly well-rested. Adam put his hand over his eyes. “Let me guess. Another failure?”

  “In a very long string of failures.”

  “You’ll get it,” Gerard assured him. “It will come to you.”

  “I can only hope,”

  “How are things between you and Lady Cecily?” “Have you solved your argument?”

  The evening before, Adam had gotten into a disagreement with Lady Cecily’s father, Lord Sizemore. Apparently, his future father-in-law disagreed with Adam on ladies’ roles in the household. Lady Cecily had agreed with her father. They had all parted on less than amicable terms.

  “I’ve only received a rather angry missive from her father. It seems they are giving me time to think it over and change my mind. The thing is, I don’t see why I should. Why can’t we both have what we want, Gerard?”

  “I’m so sorry.” Gerard frowned in concern. He sat down in one of the chairs, his top hat balanced on his knee.

  “It’s for the best,” Adam assured him. “What we want are two very different things.” He was disappointed, yes. He didn’t love Lady Cecily, but he had presumed that they would come to some sort of mutual affection at some point or another. They had become engaged as soon as her mourning period for his brother had ended.

  Though they were opposites, Adam had thought that Cecily’s love of painting would give her a pursuit of her own. That way, while he was in his laboratory, she could be in her studio. He had proposed to her, believing that they could both be successful in their chosen fields, leaving the balls and such to the rest of the ton. Clearly, he had been mistaken. The idea that, after marriage he would have to eschew his work in the lab in favor of hosting balls and parties was appalling to him.

  “Yes, well, announcing to the ton that you believe that women are equal to men, and intimating that the ladies and gentlemen of the ton are no better than ordinary folk, you’re bound to be labeled as a firebrand,” Gerard pointed out.

  “Was it the terminology that I used, or the idea?” Adam mused.

  “Both,” Gerard replied with a laugh. “They like to believe that they are the natural elite in every way.”

  “Women are not inferior to men. It’s ridiculous to treat them as such. They have been forced into a very small box. We should allow them to explore other options, let them pursue their passions. Society just needs to give them a chance.”

  “Perhaps you’re right.”

  “Of course, I’m right.”

  Gerard laughed at this and then said, “Well, I for one, am glad to hear that you still have fight in you. Can I tempt you out of this room for a trip to my club?”

  Adam looked mournfully at his failed experiment. What he needed was a break to clear his head and to come up with a solution. A drink or two with his friend was in order.

  “Yes, I suppose you can.”

  “I suppose you’ll want to shave first?” Gerard asked.

  Adam rubbed his chin, finding whiskers. He tried, but he could not recall the last time he’d shaved.

  “I’ll be but a moment.”

  * * *

  The lighting at Gerard’s club was dim. There was a fireplace, along with several lit candelabras. It was decorated in dark green, with lush leather seats and mahogany wood furniture. Off in the corner, a man played the piano. There was the low buzz of conversations in the air. Cigar smoke hung in a haze.

  Adam knew that his friend was trying to distract him from his many failings of late. Not only in the lab but the pending dissolution of his engagement as well. He had the hunch that his father had written to Gerard, asking him to check on Adam.

  “When do you plan on paying Lady Cecily a visit?” Gerard asked, gesturing with his full glass of brandy.

  “I don’t have any plans. Although I should do it sooner rather than later.”

  “What’s keeping you?”

  “I thought…well, I was beginning to care for her,” Adam replied. “I was looking forward to marrying her.”

  “But you only respect her,” Gerard pointed out.

  “I suppose you’re right. The engagement was nothing more than a misunderstanding of how we wanted to live our lives.”

  The two friends sat silently sipping their drinks. Adam thought back over the time that he had spent pursuing Lady Cecily. He hadn’t had to try very hard. She had been engaged to his brother, Thomas. After Thomas had passed after a long bout with consumption, both Adam’s parents, as well as Lady Cecily’s had decided that they would be engaged. Adam was angry with himself for going along with it. He wished that he had questioned it all. It was like he was being forced even further into a life and a role that didn’t fit him.

  Gerard’s gaze was on the door. “Don’t look now,” he muttered.

  Adam turned, to find that Mr. Percival Sullyard was walking through the door. Mr. Sullyard was a self-made gentleman. He was Adam’s biggest competitor in the tobacco trade. Adam suspected that Mr. Sullyard had chosen it merely to continue to plague him. Mr. Sullyard had gotten lucky—although he always claimed that he made his own luck.

  “How is he allowed in a gentlemen’s club?” Adam asked.

  “He bought his way in,” Gerard replied. “How else? Speaking of which, you can too.”

  “Not if he’s allowed in,” Adam stated flatly.

  Adam and Mr. Sullyard’s eyes locked immediately. Adam saw the gleam in his eyes. The man was absolutely wretched. He sneered, baring his crooked teeth, as he crossed the room.

  “Lord Malmore,” he said, bowing. “It’s so good to see that you’ve left your laboratory for once.” Mr. Sullyard was a sallow individual who wore a wig, not because it was fashionable but because he was balding. His manner of dress was overly ostentatious; his frock coat was a pale green with gold embroidery on the lapels. Underneath, he wore a flamboyant waistcoat with an intricate golden watch chain.

  “Mr. Sullyard, I can’t claim the same,” Adam replied, taking a sip of his drink to steady himself. He and his rival often got into heated discussions since their Oxford days. They had both been fellows of All Souls College.

  “It’s good to take a break,” Mr. Sullyard said. “I have been hard at work coming up with an invention that will affect all industries at once.”

  “All?” Adam scoffed. “Impossible.” Mr. Sullyard was often all bluster and few results. He was certainly an intelligent individual, but he was not an independent thinker. He lacked the brilliance to come up with something on his own. He stole ideas, like a magpie, weaving them together into something that worked yet was not his own original idea.

  Mr. Sullyard raised an eyebrow. “What about you? Come up with anything new of late? How long has it been since your last patent? Has it truly been years, My Lord?”

  Adam knew that the comment was meant to cut him down. It was successful; it rankled deep inside of him. Adam made sure to keep his composure on the outside. It would not do to let Mr. Sullyard know that his ill-bred comments were working.

  “As a matter-of-fact, I have,” he replied. “It’s far better than anything that I’ve done yet. I’m quite pleased with the initial tests.”

  Mr. Sullyard eyed him doubtfully. He folded his arms over his chest. One of his eyebrows quirked upward.

  “Oh? What is it?” he asked.

  “Why would I tell you, Mr. Sullyard?” Adam looked down his nose at Mr. Sullyard. He mustered every single ounce of aristocratic ennui that his blue blood contained.

  “I think you’re bluffing,” Mr. Sullyard said. “You’ve reached the pinnacle of your scientific achievement. You’ve nothing left. By the way, how is Lady Cecily these days?”

  “I’ve no idea.” Adam gritted his teeth. He hated that Mr. Sullyard kn
ew all of the ton’s gossip.

  “Because you told her that she could have a painting career?” Mr. Sullyard asked. “Laughable. No woman is any good at art. They haven’t the minds for it.” Adam knew that Mr. Sullyard got all of his news from the rather chatty Lady Catsmore.

  “Our goals are merely different,” Adam knew that this was not the time to start arguing with Mr. Sullyard. He was baiting Adam, as he always did. Since this was not Adam’s club, Gerard was eying him. Adam had been kicked out of his own club about four years prior, after a disagreement with another gentleman on the rights of women in society. After the incident he had been labelled a firebrand.

  Mr. Sullyard laughed. “It’s because you’re already married to your laboratory. You can’t have a lady as a mistress.” He paused, studying Adam with a keen eye. “You must really have come up with something truly exciting if you can give up Lady Cecily.”

  “I have,” Adam said hated how well Mr. Sullyard knew him. He wished that he could prove him wrong. Unfortunately, he could not. “It really is exciting.” He continued to glare at Mr. Sullyard, attempting to come up with a stinging riposte. Gerald cleared his throat.

  “We must be off,” Gerard announced. “Come, Lord Malmore. I have some particularly good cigars that you must try out.” Adam nodded, standing up. “Good evening, Mr. Sullyard,” Gerald said curtly.

  “Looking forward to hearing about your new invention,” Mr. Sullyard called after them. They stepped outside of the front doors and into the cool, crisp, late-autumn air.

  “They’re all going to find out that you lied when you have nothing to show,” Gerard muttered as they both waited for the carriage to be brought around.

  “Yes, well, I’ll just have to come up with something, won’t I?”

  “You never give up, do you?” Gerald was grinning at him. They had been friends since they were children. Their families’ estates neighbored each other, and Adam and Gerald were as close as two brothers.

  “I will never give up. I have nothing but my lab.”

  Gerard nodded, though his face was full of concern. “You have your friends and family, too,” he said. “We are concerned about you, you know.”

  Adam smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “You’ve been exchanging letters with my parents, then?” His parents, the Marquess and Marchioness of Wiltshire, even while they were out of town, never failed to know everything that was going on in London.

  Wiltshire was located a half-day’s journey from London. Thus, if they were so inclined, Lord and Lady Wiltshire would be able to surprise their son. Lord Wiltshire was the sort of gentleman who expected his desires to be treated as though they were the word of God. His wife, Lady Wiltshire, was less stern, although she was excellent at redirecting her husband’s ire. She had stood up for Adam many times. Adam’s brother, Tom, had gotten along best with their father. Lord Wiltshire had doted on him.

  “I am merely their eyes and ears here in town, Adam,” Gerard said, “and only when it pertains to you.” The carriage pulled up in front of them and they both climbed in.

  “My father’s reach is long indeed,” he mused.

  Adam settled back onto the seat leaning his head back against the plush light-blue velvet. He closed his eyes listening as Gerard ordered his coachman to take them to Wrentbour House.

  Adam had everything to lose. Lady Cecily and their engagement was merely the tip of the iceberg. If he continued to remain strapped for workable ideas, then he would have nothing. After all, a title and money meant nothing to him. He was an inventor, first and foremost. And if he had nothing to show for all the work that he did, for all that he had sacrificed…then what was he, besides a failure?

  Chapter 3

  Susannah kept walking. She was tired and frightened. She didn’t see anyone to ask, no constables, no one who looked friendly. A man leered at her as he passed her, looking her up and down, his eyes raking over her in a lascivious manner. She looked away from him picking up her pace. She was resolved to look like she belonged there.

  But the sun was about to begin lowering behind the buildings. Her throat tightened and she felt like she was about to cry. She gritted her teeth.

  I need to do something. Anything. No one is coming to save me.

  Back in Lidcote, she had never needed directions. She had always known where she was going, and how to get there. Her mind swam. She hadn’t foreseen this.

  She tried to calm herself, reminding herself why she was doing this. In her mind’s eye she saw her father’s angry face, a shocking shade of puce, telling her that she would marry Mr. Brandon.

  I will not have a daughter of mine, lounging about, he had said.

  I never lounge about, she had replied. I’m always helping Mother with the cooking and the cleaning.

  You are to marry Mr. Brandon, and that’s final, he had ordered. When he returns next week, then you will give him your answer.

  She had fled the house, feeling as though the walls were closing in on her. She had run for their neighbor’s house. The elderly widow next door allowed Susannah to receive letters at her address. That was how she had continued to correspond with her best friend, Lucy, after her father had forbidden it after he had caught Lucy helping Susannah to get to an assembly ball when they were both sixteen.

  It was that very day that she had received the good news from Lucy, about the job. She hadn’t hesitated once. She had sent word back to Lucy immediately. And now she was there, in London.

  Thinking back to the austerity of her father’s house and how she and her mother had always lived in fear of his temper, Susannah straightened her shoulders then paused to think.

  She was approaching a pub. She had never been inside of one before. Her father would have locked her in her room for a month if he’d ever suspected her presence in the small one in town.

  It’s up to me. If I don’t turn things around, then I’ll be wandering the streets after dark and that’s going to be much worse.

  She entered the pub and went up to the bar. This, too, was new to her. She had never before entered the village pub. As the daughter of the vicar she was never to be seen inside. Alcohol was forbidden in her father’s household.

  “What can I get you, Miss?” the man asked.

  “I’m trying to get to the Earl of Malmore’s home,” she explained. “I’m his new house maid. I’ve gotten all of the way to London, but…I can’t seem to find the right road.”

  “Don’t know who he is, unfortunately,” he replied, to her disappointment. “I don’t know any of the ton.”

  “It’s on Harrington Court Road,” she replied.

  “Ah. You’ll want to take a hansom cab. It’s a long way.”

  “A what?” she asked, completely unfamiliar with the term.

  “You’re not from London, eh?” he asked, studying her.

  “No,” she admitted, her face going red with shame.

  “A little country mouse in the big city,” he laughed. “Be careful, lass. You don’t want to get all swallowed up.”

  “Thank you?” Her heart suddenly knocked against her sternum.

  How do I know that I can trust him?

  The realization put her on edge.

  “You remind me of my little sister,” he said, his expression softening. “I’ll help you hail a cab. That Earl should have sent someone to meet you.”

  She nodded. “Thank you.”

  “Of course,” he replied, wiping his hands on a rag. He turned to the room, all of whom were watching.

  “Oy! You lot behave yourselves!” he yelled.

  “Didn’t know that you were a knight in shining armor, Harry,” one of the pub’s patrons called out. There was a smattering of laughter. Susannah felt her cheeks warm.

  “Not every knight needs to be a lord,” the man shot back.

  They went out and onto the street where he raised his hand, catching the eye of a man driving a carriage by. Almost as if by magic, the coachman pulled the cab to a stop.

&n
bsp; “Now,” he said as he opened the door for her. “It’s not safe to trust just anyone in the city. If you get lost, a pretty young girl like you could end up in a lot of trouble.”

  “Thank you,” she said, gratefully. Relief settled into the pit of her stomach. It might be a big city, but luck was on her side that day.

  He smiled and nodded. “What’s the address?”

  “Seventeen Harrington Cross.”

  “You hear that?” Harry asked the coachman.