Page 11 of To Love a Libertine (Once Wicked 1)

“Your father may have been a bit wild in his youth, but he was nothing like Tavistoke. Tavistoke is a dyed-in-the-wool roué. That man will never be altered.”

“I believe he already has been. Lady Montg—”

“Ah, yes. Lady Montgomery,” scoffed the older woman. “I know all about that one. She barely managed to escape him. Fortunately for her, she realized her mistake in time—though I am not the first to say the circumstances of her marriage to Montgomery remain a complete scandal. The whole affair was stitched up very badly indeed.”

“How can you blame him for her having eloped with another man? He committed no error!”

Catherine drew herself up. “She only did so because Tavistoke’s interest in her was, at best, shallow. He no more loved her than you love him now.”

But Eden knew better. She’d seen the way he’d looked at the woman. Her stepmother would never believe it, of course. A different approach was needed. “I’ve watched him from afar since I was old enough to spy from the gallery,” she admitted, feeling herself blush. “With my eyes I have followed him from the moment I first saw him. He is the one I want. The one I’ve always wanted.”

Her stepmother looked at her in stunned silence. “Why have you said nothing of this until now?”

“Because until now I did not think there was any possibility of attaining my desire,” Eden replied. “You wished me to choose, and I have chosen.” Her stepmother’s face was unreadable. Panic threatened. “His reputation notwithstanding, he certainly meets the other requirements you’ve set forth. He’s handsome, wealthy, and titled. In fact, he possesses those qualities in greater quantity than any of the other gentlemen you’ve named worthy.”

“My God, Eden…”

Desperation spurred her to boldness. “If he does not come up to scratch before the end of the Season, I promise to accept another offer. If I cannot have him, it won’t matter whom I marry.”

Catherine slowly shook her head. “I may not be your mother, Eden, but I have helped raise you these nine years. I genuinely care for you. While it is true I wish you to marry, I also wish you to be happy. That man cannot possibly—”

“That is for me to decide, is it not?” she asked. “He’s not the devil everyone says he is. You will see.” She could tell from the stubborn tilt of her stepmother’s chin it wasn’t enough. Well, if appealing to the heart wasn’t the means to achieving her ends, then the head would have to do. “He’s a marquess. Even if you are willing to deny him the privilege of calling on me and thus risk

subsequent censure from him and his peers, you cannot possibly deny me such an opportunity for advancement. Not when he has shown such promising interest.”

Still not enough, but Eden could see her argument was beginning to hold sway. “He has not called upon an unwed female of good family in almost two years. That he has done so today must be of some significance.”

“You are your father’s daughter and no mistake,” muttered Catherine. “Once he sets his mind on having a thing, nothing will do but that he have it, even if it be to his own detriment.” She bowed her head. “Very well. We will accompany Tavistoke to the Lathams’ party, and I will allow him to call on you. But he will abide by the rules of propriety according to my standards. Marquess or not, should he set so much as a single toe out of line I shall decline to again receive him.”

“I understand, as I am sure he does,” Eden replied, relieved. “Thank you.”

“I’ll accept no gratitude concerning this matter,” grumped Catherine. “I’m no fool, Eden. I’m well aware the forbidden fruit is the greatest of all temptations. It is my hope that in allowing you to see him under my watchful eye, you will see he is a wolf in sheep’s wool before he has an opportunity to break your heart or worse, ruin you.”

Chapter Four

Thursday

Eden fussed over her attire until Elsie, her maid, was all but in tears. She didn’t care. Everything had to be perfect for this most delicate moment. The holy grail of all rakes was within her reach, and she had to ensure he stayed interested.

Not interested—fascinated!

He must fall in love with her completely. It would be a challenge with her stepmother hovering over them like some malevolent butterfly, but she’d manage it. Somehow.

One hurdle down. Several more to go. It was an intimidating task she’d set herself. Tavistoke was so worldly, so cynical. And she was, by comparison, naught but a green girl.

Lady Montgomery did it once. It can be done again. She paused in the act of straightening a bow, one among many marching down the front of her stomacher. The woman had turned Society on its ear as none had in many a long year. But though Lady Montgomery had once captivated him, Eden knew better than to emulate her. She had used Tavistoke and that other man, Lord Fairford, to incite her now-husband to come to scratch. To give the appearance of similar behavior would likely repulse him. No man relished having to deal with rivals, but he, she was sure, would find it especially off-putting.

Besides, there was no other man she’d be willing to actually marry. What she needed was time to learn what Tavistoke really wanted in a wife. Today, she would have that opportunity. She reviewed her list of known facts concerning him.

He was a right hellhound when it came to women, but tended toward the more sophisticated, discreet sort rather than brazen flirts—which must, she supposed, be counted a redeeming quality.

He adored gaming, as did most men, but he wasn’t known to risk excessively large sums as some were apt to do, which meant he was capable of using good sense and understood the concept of consequences. She grimaced. That might or might not work in her favor.

Other bits of information she’d gathered were more trivial in nature, but important to remember. He preferred coffee to tea, was extremely fond of horses, and enjoyed all forms of music but most especially the violin. She’d heard him play the very first time she’d seen him.

When they were twelve, she and Genevieve had spied on a party hosted by her parents. Tavistoke had been a guest, then a celebrated young man who’d been welcome in her house. Even as a brash youth, he’d stood out from the other young men. In answer to a wager made in jest, he had borrowed a violin from one of the musicians.

His playing had been astonishingly beautiful, and she’d never forgotten the look on his face as he’d skillfully plied the bow—enraptured. Only a deeply spiritual person would be so moved by music. From that moment on, despite the fact he was likely to marry well before she would be allowed to take her first sip of champagne, he’d been the bridegroom of her fanciful daydreams.

---