Page 20 of When the Viscount Seduces
As proper young ladies, they shouldn’t know about widows or establishments such as the Rogue’s Den. But Gwen had a brother, and she’d overheard her father lecturing Evan about his visits to the brothel that catered to the loftiest men in London Society.
“Does he really go to gaming hells or just the Siren’s Call?”
Brow furrowed, Tamsin hesitated a moment. “Remind me what that is?”
“It’s a gaming hell owned by a woman and run by women. Attractive women. However, it is just a gaming hell. At least, that’s what Evan told me. He likes it a great deal. He says the employees are charming and pleasant to talk to, and the food and drink are excellent.”
“I doubt Isaac has ever been there, at least not to gamble,” Tamsin said. “He hasn’t wagered a day in his life. It sounds like a brilliant business, though.”
“If I remain unwed, I could see myself owning a business like that,” Gwen mused. “Only it would be a library.”
Tamsin giggled. “Of course you would. But you won’t remain unwed—not unless you want to.”
“The offers are not pouring in,” Gwen said wryly. “But with Somerton aiding me, that may change.”
“He’s taking a risk, though, isn’t he?” Tamsin mused. “His interest in you will lead people to conclude he is ready to wed, but in reality, the opposite is true. In my grandmother’s last letter, she made a jest about him wasting another Season since he has no plans to wed.”
“Do you mean he’ll be the recipient of endless attention from young ladies and their mothers looking to secure a husband?” Gwen asked. She was now more grateful to him than ever, for he couldn’t enjoy fending off that level of interest. “I do hope it doesn’t cause him upset. I would hate to do that.”
“He’ll be fine,” Tamsin assured her. “This is going to work splendidly for you. Here’s Miss Gwendolen Price, turning the head of one of the most roguish rakes in London.” She grinned.
Gwen could only hope their plan would work. She talked with Tamsin for some time, during which no gentlemen approached.
Finally, Gwen’s mother told her it was time to take a stroll around the ballroom. Gwen said good evening to Tamsin and Droxford’s aunt and linked arms with her mother.
“How can you not have danced yet?” her mother asked. “I felt certain you’d be asked not long after we arrived.”
“It may be that I don’t receive invitations to dance, Mama. It is not my forte.”
“I am hopeful that I may find a new dancing master yet,” Mama said firmly. “I just received a name this afternoon. We must pray that he will take you on.”
Gwen didn’t see the point. Indeed, she was beginning to wonder why she’d wanted to come to London at all.
What a terribly defeating attitude. If Somerton could work to improve his reading, she could do the same with dancing. How could she encourage him to work hard and keep applying himself if she didn’t do the same? She would redouble her efforts, for she owed it to herself to at least try, even if it seemed hopeless.
“Here comes Lord Somerton,” Gwen’s mother whispered urgently, her arm tightening against Gwen’s before she unlinked herself. “Goodness, but he presents himself well. That cravat is knotted to perfection.”
Somerton strode straight for them, and indeed his intricately tied cravat was most impressive. As was the cut of his midnight-black coat.
“Good evening, ladies,” Somerton said as he bowed gracefully.
If Gwen tried such a maneuver, she’d probably fall over. Mastering the curtsey she’d delivered to the queen a few weeks ago had been extremely difficult. In the end, Mama had instructed her to just not dip as deeply as the other young ladies. Then she’d shared with several people that Gwen had twisted her ankle the day before. It had been a lie, but served to explain Gwen’s deficiencies.
“Good evening, Lord Somerton,” Gwen’s mother began.
“I hoped I might take a promenade with your charming daughter.” He smiled toward Gwen.
Gwen’s mother beamed. “Lovely. Please enjoy yourselves.”
Taking Somerton’s arm, Gwen nodded at her mother. When they were away from her, she murmured, “I really need to tell her you aren’t actually courting me.”
“Is there a problem?” he asked.
“Not really. I don’t think she sees your attention as the prelude to a serious courtship.” She glanced at him. “Because of your reputation. You haven’t indicated you are interested in marriage.” Gwen thought that was a better way of saying,You’re a terrible rogue.
“I see.”
“I do hope this scheme won’t prove difficult for you,” Gwen said. “I fear you may become the focus of a gaggle of young ladies—and their mothers—looking to snag a title.”
