The prince of pleasure

Chapter Four

Julienne felt a measure of relief four days later when she was admitted to the salon of Madame Solange Brogard. She had feared she might be the chief topic of conversation at the afternoon gathering of French emigres. All London knew of Lord Wolverton's vow to win her and was watching for further developments with avid interest.

But the excited chatter that filled the elegant room now was punctuated with words like "Chaumont" and "Castlereagh" and predictions that "the Monster will soon fall." Thankfully, world events had overshadowed her own predicament and provided greater fodder for gossip than the scandal Dare seemed set on causing her.

Lord Castlereagh, Britain's foreign secretary, had persuaded her reluctant allies, Russia, Prussia, and Austria, to commit irrevocably to the defeat of Napoleon. After decades of war, Europe finally stood united to crush revolutionary France. The Treaty of Chaumont that had just been signed was a triumph of policy for Castlereagh, but no one was more pleased than the French nobles in exile, many of whom were in this room.

"It is only a matter of weeks now," an elderly chevalier prophesied. "And then we will see our beloved King Louis reclaim his birthright."

Several heads nodded sagely, but another gentleman contradicted him, suggesting that the Corsican's overthrow would take years longer-which began a fierce argument.

Across the crowded salon, Julienne caught the eye of the hostess, Madame Brogard. The Frenchwoman was one of her few London acquaintances whom she knew well enough to call friend, but Solange was closer to her late mother's age than her own.

Adele and Solange had been neighbors in their youth and had escaped the Terror at nearly the same time, but Solange had come to London fortified by the Brogard jewels and had soon established a salon where emigres and bluestockings and poets gathered for clever conversation and exquisite food, both more satisfying to French palates than the stodgy prattle and bland fare most of the English thrived upon. Often the conversation was literary in nature, but today it was all political talk of the war and the new treaty and the chances for Napoleon's defeat.

Julienne accepted a glass of sherry from a footman and slowly moved through the crowd, smiling and conversing and flirting effortlessly. She was expected to be gay and dazzling and witty, even if her spirits had plunged so low they were more suited to a walking corpse.

At least forcing herself into company served to keep her emotional tumult and heartache at bay. She had been a fool to let Dare make love to her again, for it brought back such painful memories of what she had lost. Worse, she had taken no precautions against pregnancy. Seven years ago, she hadn't known how, but she couldn't claim that excuse now. It had been criminal to risk conceiving Dare's child. What a disaster that would be!

Over the past four days, she'd had abundant time to reflect on his motives for pursuing her. She could draw only one conclusion: Dare North hated her and was bent on exacting his pound of flesh.

The knowledge set a hollow pain churning inside her. It wasn't hate that Dare woke in her but hunger. Being with him again had left her shaken with the realization of her own need and stirred to life the fervent yearnings she had thought long-buried.

She had meant merely to defend herself that night, and perhaps give him a taste of his own medicine-to torment him a little as he was set on doing to her. But her plan had gone drastically awry the moment he touched her. Her reserve had melted under the heat of his passion, along with any notions of resisting him.

What an utter fool you are, Julienne swore at herself for the thousandth time. She should have been so much stronger.

Since that evening, she had made certain all their encounters were public. She had to concede, however, that Dare had won the first points in the game he had initiated.

He had appeared at the theater nightly to watch her, and once he'd distracted her so badly that she forgot a crucial line. When Dare called down to her on-stage, prompting her, much to the titillation of the audience and the ire of Edmund Kean, Julienne inwardly gritted her teeth while giving him a deep curtsy to acknowledge the hit. Later, upon taking her bows, she had commended Dare on his thespian talents.

"If you will permit me, my lord," she had suggested sweetly, "I shall arrange an audition for you with the theater manager, Mr. Arnold. No doubt you could enjoy a splendid career treading the boards."

Her offer had made both him and the spectators laugh.

She was forced to maintain the spirit of the game, for the crowds were coming to watch the byplay between them as much as the theatrical drama. But Julienne determinedly avoided any more private meetings with Dare. When she went out, she deliberately surrounded herself with her beaux. The rest of her time she focused on her grueling schedule of work-her nightly performances and rehearsing the lines of the next play.

Still, that left too many hours to think of Dare as she tossed and turned in her solitary bed each night. She couldn't let his planned vengeance go any further. She had spent years trying to mend her shattered heart, and he could so easily break it again.

She was startled out of her dark reverie by her friend's greeting.

"Julienne, mon amie, bonjour," Solange said in her heavy accent. "I am so pleased you have come. I feared you might have too many other matters demanding your time."

"You know I try never to miss your Tuesday salons," Julienne returned as they pressed cheeks.

Solange held her away, appraising her with a keen eye. "You look ravishing as always."

She didn't protest the lie, but returned the compliment. Madame Brogard was not considered a great beauty; her allure owed more to artifice and the skilled application of cosmetics. But with her tall, elegant figure and silvery blond hair, she possessed undeniable charisma that would always catch the eye.

"I daresay I am not the only one who will be pleased to see you," Solange added lightly. She glanced toward a far corner where a tall, fair-haired nobleman stood conversing with several ladies. "Lord Wolverton has been asking for you."

Julienne's smile froze on her lips. Good God, Dare.

She felt her heartbeat suddenly race in panic, even before his eyes connected with hers.

He sketched her a brief bow in acknowledgement. Then his gaze made a slow, intimate sweep of her body, traveling the length of her bronze silk gown and up again to linger on her breasts.

Flustered by his brazen scrutiny, Julienne cast him a quelling look. His lazy smile leapt back across the room.

Vexed, she turned a cool shoulder to him, but it was far more difficult to dismiss Dare from her awareness, or to deny the effect his unexpected presence had on her. Why did she have this sudden feeling that her life had begun again?

"What the devil is he doing here?" she demanded of her hostess before she considered the wisdom of curbing her tongue.

"He persuaded me to invite him. He had been told that you often attended my functions and wished for a chance to speak to you alone. He claims that you have been avoiding him, mon amie."

Julienne pressed her lips together without responding.

"I heard of the wager he made to win you. Are you not flattered?"

"Hardly. I find it distasteful to be made the public target of his lust and the object of his amusement. Lord Wolverton is the consummate pleasure seeker, a bored nobleman in search of diversion. He deliberately created a sensation with his antics in the theater the other evening for his own sport."

"Pooh, that was nothing. His pranks are legend, vraiment. Did you know that he once got Lord Lambton abysmally cup shot and stole his clothes, then had him transported to Hyde Park during the night, bed and all? Lambton caught a chill walking home with only a bedsheet to cover himself."

"No, I hadn't heard that on-dit," Julienne said dryly.

"And I have it on good authority that he abducted his good friend's chere amie to coerce Baron Sinclair into declaring his love. Lord Sin happily wed his lady afterward, but not before he called Wolverton out for the insult."

She couldn't deny that Dare would stoop to nearly any maneuver to get his own way. Seven years ago he had bought her entire shop's stock of hats simply so she would have the time to accompany him on a carriage ride and allow him to command her complete attention, she remembered. But she didn't intend to tell Solange of her past history with Dare.

Few people knew of their former betrothal, or even of their affair. During his courtship, Dare had respected her desire to keep their relationship as private as possible and had gone to great lengths to shield her from gossip. And his grandfather hadn't wanted to advertise Dare's intentions to wed a foreign shopkeeper who was so far beneath him.

Fortunately, her friend was too busy singing Dare's praises to ask any probing questions. "I find him delightful and audaciously charming, even if he is an anglais and thoroughly wicked," the Frenchwoman confessed.

"Oh, yes, he is universally adored," Julienne remarked sardonically. "But I'm certain he practices to perfection that devastating charm. And his exploits are too shocking for my tastes, even if they seem to be met with approval by the rest of society."

"Not approval, precisely, but a rich marquess is permitted to do shocking things other mortals cannot. A man such as Wolverton is considered above scandal and will be forgiven nearly any sin. It is the way of the world, n'est-cepas?"

Julienne nodded in agreement, but not without a trace of bitterness. If one was impoverished and untitled and a woman, she bore the brunt of society's scorn. A wealthy nobleman, on the other hand, could get away with anything short of murder-and even murder at times was not always condemned, if it came in the form of a duel. Dare had the reputation of being a law unto himself, but only the highest sticklers would censure him for it.

"He is still a conniving rogue," Julienne muttered.

"Tiens, but one who makes feminine hearts beat faster. Come, admit it. You cannot possibly overlook a man like him. And you cannot underestimate the irresistible lure of a rake."

No indeed, Julienne reflected with reluctance. What woman could resist Dare's tantalizing smile, the boldness of his glance, his blatant sexual magnetism? He was striking and dangerously exciting, even more so now than when she had first known him. "He cannot be overlooked, certainly," she conceded.

"And I have heard he has other talents to recommend him in addition to his wealth and looks, such as exceptional skill and endurance in bed."

Absurdly, Julienne felt a pang of jealousy. Everyone knew of Dare's celebrated sexual experience. He'd slept with nearly every highborn woman in London, no doubt. And every woman he'd ever slept with probably fell in love with him. Dalliance for him was more than habitual; it was a compulsion.

"I confess," Solange added wistfully, "I should be very glad to be in your slippers, mon amie. If I were ten years younger, I would set my cap at him myself."

"You may have him with my blessing, Solange."

Her friend gave her a curious glance. "What, you do not mean to accept his protection? What would be so wrong with that? An attachment based purely on sensual pleasure… And the financial advantages would be enormous. Wolverton is said to be excessively generous with his mistresses."

Julienne was unsurprised by Solange's practical outlook. The French took a much more liberal view of lovemaking and carnal arrangements than the English did. But she didn't share her friend's sentiments.

"I don't intend to allow him to win our wager by becoming another of his sexual conquests."

Solange shrugged, affecting the common Gallic gesture. "Then I wish you bon chance. You will have your task cut out for you, I don't doubt."

At her change in tone, Julienne glanced over her shoulder to see Dare moving her way. She felt her heart leap. "Promise you will not leave me alone with him," she said quickly.

Her friend frowned. "If you seriously mean that, then naturellement, I will not abandon you, but Wolverton is nothing if not persistent. Perhaps you should hear what he has to say and get it over with."

After a moment, Julienne let out her breath in a sigh. "I suppose you are right." She didn't want Dare to think she was cowering from him, or that their passionate encounter four nights ago had affected her in any but the most superficial way.

Squaring her shoulders, she slipped into her role of popular actress and swept across the room to meet him.

An expectant buzz suddenly flowed around the room when she reached Dare. Julienne knew they were the object of all eyes, so she refrained from snatching her hand away when he bent to kiss it.

His tongue flickered over her fingertips, so fleetingly she might have imagined it-except that awareness flashed in those wicked green eyes, reminding her of the last time he had kissed her fingers.

She quivered at the memory. She could still feel the heavy pressure of his loins against her own, still feel his deep penetration-

Exorcising the provocative image, Julienne shook herself. Dare was deliberately trying to unsettle her composure, as usual.

Withdrawing her hand, she managed an effusive greeting for the benefit of their audience. "Ah, Lord Wolverton… the brightest new talent of Drury Lane. I did not expect to see you here. I was certain you would be practicing your lines for our next encounter."

Dare's eyes sparked with amusement. "I wished to speak with you, Miss Laurent. I have been unable to get close to you with the impenetrable throng of swains around you."

"As it happens, I have been desirous of speaking to you myself." She smiled brightly. "I know much of London waits with bated breath each night to discover what new farce you will enact, but perhaps you might contain your exhibitions until after the scheduled performance. Edmund Kean is rather vexed with you for upstaging him, I fear."

"If it will please you, Miss Laurent, I shall certainly attempt to do better."

"It would please me very much indeed."

He placed a hand over his heart and offered her another gallant bow. "I live to make you happy."

With a glance at her nearly empty wineglass, Dare asked if she would like more sherry. When she nodded distractedly, he steered her toward the refreshment table and then to one side of the crowded room so they could have a measure of privacy.

"At last," Dare murmured.

"Why are you here, my lord?" Julienne asked without ceremony, although she lowered her voice to avoid being overheard by the nearest bystanders and preserved a pleasant expression on her face in keeping with their declared rivalry.

"As I said, I wished to speak to you. I was told I might find you holding court here, and I thought it would be easier to separate you from your gallants."

"Well, you have found me, but I would appreciate it if in future, you would refrain from undressing me with your eyes in public."

A slow grin spread across his lips. "But admiring you is a favorite pastime of mine, ma belle. And you must give me some credit. I've been totally discreet. I haven't told a soul that a few nights ago you were crying with passion in my arms."

Julienne nearly choked on her sherry. Cursing herself as she tried to regain her breath, she sent him an accusing frown. She was forever being caught off guard by his audacious remarks.

He raised an eyebrow. "Are you all right, my love?"

"I would be far better if Solange never had admitted you."

"I noticed her glancing at me. Can I flatter myself that you were discussing me?"

"I don't know that you could call it flattery. She was telling me of some of your more outrageous pranks."

"And warning you to beware the dangers of the infamous scoundrel, Dare North?"

"Actually, no. Solange counts herself among the ranks of your admirers." Julienne gave him a thoughtful look. "Perhaps you might consider her as a candidate in your search for a mistress. She is available at the moment."

"I want no other mistress than you, love."

"I am not your love. You already have more than enough of those."

"Jealous?" he drawled with a genial smile.

"You know, my lord, you suffer from a vastly inflated belief in your own fascination. Have you nothing better to do than bedevil me?"

"To be truthful, I would far rather make love to you. Shall I whisk you away from here? We have yet to find a real bed."

His eyes danced with laughter, and Julienne found herself torn between unwilling amusement and the urge to box his ears.

"Do you never think of anything but carnal gratification?" she asked in exasperation.

"Occasionally. On Wednesday mornings, during my regular fencing match at Angelo's Salle. Sex can prove a grievous distraction then."

She rolled her eyes. "One would think your lust had never been satisfied."

"Only when I was with you," he replied, his tone abruptly turning serious.

She felt a distinct shock at his admission.

"You managed to do what no other woman has ever done before, Jewel," he said as she stared at him.

"And what is that?"

"Bring me to the point of obsession. Despite my every instinct for self-preservation, I cannot stop wanting you."

Julienne arched an eyebrow and took another sip of sherry, managing an attitude of cool disdain.

To her relief, Dare's tone lightened. "Do you know, love, you play the role of ice maiden well, but it has the opposite effect of the one you intend. Your coolness makes a man burn for you all the more. Dares him to try melting you."

When she merely pressed her lips together, refusing to respond, he glanced around the crowded salon. "I confess surprise to find you among this den of Royalists. Most of the emigres here are eager to see Louis XVIII on the throne. Do you share their political leanings?"

That particular question she didn't mind answering. She had neither the time nor the inclination to be drawn into the intrigues and rivalries of the French exiles. "I try to avoid politics as much as possible. I come here primarily for the literary discussions."

His glance returned to her, holding both doubt and amusement. "I never would have taken you for a bluestocking."

Julienne's gaze narrowed in real annoyance at the hint of mockery in his tone. "What is wrong with being a bluestocking? If a woman has a brain in her head, if she is well-read or interested in the world, she deserves to be scorned? A female can only be lauded if she is idle, beautiful, and feather-headed?"

"Not at all. I have immense respect for intelligent females. I consider them one of life's greatest pleasures. Why do you think I am so keen on gaining your companionship?"

He was trying to provoke her, of course, but still it stung to be jeered at for her interests. "You always did consider your intellect superior to anyone else's."

"No," he said emphatically. "Never to yours. Your scintillating wit was one of the qualities I most admired about you. I took as much pleasure in your brain as your beauty."

Discomfited again by the turn of conversation, Julienne stared down at her wineglass, but Dare apparently wasn't finished.

"I have numerous faults, cherie, but you may absolve me of judging a woman solely for her appearance. If I mistakenly gave you the impression that I'm averse to bluestockings, it is merely because they are usually trying to convert me to more serious pursuits. Forgive me?"

Julienne hesitated, knowing she had overreacted. In all fairness, she couldn't deny that Dare had always admired intelligence and wit in any of his acquaintances- women included-despite his complete irreverence for anything studious or sacred.

"Very well, I will absolve you of that fault, among your many. It is just that you are so proficient at provoking me, I constantly feel compelled to defend myself. You are continually thinking of new and clever ways to get under my skin." She raised her glass in salute. "I suppose I should commend you on your inventiveness."

"I think you just paid me a compliment."

"I will endeavor not to let it happen again," Julienne said dryly.

His grin flashed with charming brilliance, and she had to catch her breath at the beauty of it.

"To be truthful," she said swiftly, trying to change the subject, "I am not considered a bluestocking in this crowd. Rather I am something of a traitor."

She caught his start of surprise and wondered at it. "A traitor?" Dare repeated slowly.

"I am disdained because I am in trade. Most of these good aristos would rather starve than work for a living." She forced a smile. "I am only allowed into their hallowed presence because of Solange. She championed me because of her childhood friendship with my mother, but I am merely clinging to the pretense of genteel respectability."

She paused, eyeing Dare with all seriousness. "Your pursuit of me will only make their acceptance more difficult, do you realize?"

"Do you care so much for their acceptance?"

Julienne shrugged. "London can be lonely."

His gaze lingered upon her face, examining her intently. "Even with all your courtiers vying for your favors?"

Her smile this time was even more fleeting. "How would you like to be considered nothing more than a trophy, desired only for your body?"

"You want an honest answer?"

Surprised that she did, she nodded.

"I might consider it a step up from being desired only for my wealth and title."

At his suddenly grim tone, Julienne winced, remembering that Dare counted her among the ranks of greedy, title-hungry fortune hunters. She could well understand his anger at her, since she'd led him to believe she was no better than the countless other schemers who had pursued him.

After a moment, however, his dark expression faded and he shook his head. "I didn't come here to fight with you, Jewel. Instead I came to issue you an invitation. I am arranging a house party at my country house near Brighton, and I would like you to be my honored guest."

"You cannot be serious?"

"Utterly."

"And here I was just remarking on your cleverness." Julienne smiled. "You must be particularly dull-witted, my lord, if you think I will agree to be your willing victim at one of your infamous orgies."

He shook his head. "It won't be an orgy, I assure you. Don't refuse before you consider the advantages. I should imagine you would enjoy the respite. And the climate is definitely warmer than London's. Come now, I am only asking for a week of your time, ten days at the most. I thought we could depart at the end of next week. It will give you time to prepare-"

"This is one of your tricks, Dare, isn't it?"

"Not at all."

"Then why would you devise a house party?"

"Because I can think of no better way to ensure I spend any significant amount time in your company. Frankly, I don't relish chasing after you, begging for the crumbs of your attention."

"But you mean to try to win our wager."

"Of course," Dare said blandly. "But it will provide you an equal opportunity to do the same. It could put you well on your way to winning. And to show what a good sport I am, I've already invited Riddingham, and I'm prepared to include any other swains you choose. Madame Brogard, as well, if you will feel more comfortable. She can serve as your protection. We can make up several carriages for the journey south next week."

"It would comfort me greatly to have Solange there, but that is beside the point. I couldn't possibly attend. My performance schedule at the theater will prevent me from being free except for a day or two-"

"I've spoken to Arnold, and he is willing to give you the time off. For a significant remuneration, of course."

"You mean to tell me that you bribed him?"

"I merely offered to reimburse him for your services. He didn't want to lose the income that your absence would entail. More important, he's eager to placate his leading man. You were right about Kean being piqued by my upstaging him. Arnold is willing to let you go for a time if it means being rid of me.

"Come now, love, if it makes you feel better, you can consider it strictly a business proposition. You are an actress whom I will hire for a private performance. You can't object to earning the fee I'm willing to pay."

"How much?" Julienne asked curiously.

"How does a thousand pounds strike you?"

She couldn't stifle a gasp. That sum was more than twice the salary she would command for the entire theater season, and that was after Arnold had renegotiated her contract to reflect her higher demand.

"I don't intend to take no for an answer," Dare assured her as she deliberated. "I will simply beleaguer you until you agree to come."

She didn't doubt his statement in the least, or his determination. If he continued to infuriate Edmund Kean, Dare could destroy the career she had worked so hard to build. Arnold would fire her long before he risked losing one of the most gifted actors England had ever known.

A sudden wave of bitterness swept Julienne at her powerlessness, and she had to strive to keep her voice from trembling. "You certainly have the resources to play God with my life, Lord Wolverton, but I have worked for years for the opportunity to perform at Drury Lane. If you ruin this for me, I swear I will make you regret it."

He dipped his head slightly at her warning, but his gaze remained cool. "Then I have your agreement?"

"It seems you leave me no choice."

He bowed in polite acknowledgement of her capitulation. "Then I will leave you to your literary discussions. I suspect I've caused you enough gossip for one afternoon."

As she watched him stride away, Julienne fought the ache of tears. She was immensely glad Dare had left, yet she still had to deal with the turmoil he roused in her each time they met.

How could she possibly spend an entire week with him, even surrounded by numerous other houseguests? She felt suffocated by the prospect. To be with Dare was like sailing in the midst a storm, being plunged in and out of a sea of emotions. It was already a violent ride, and the waters would only grow more treacherous.

She knew very well what he intended. A dangerous game of temptation and conquest. He planned to seduce her and abandon her-after he had broken her pride.

Her gaze blurred. What would be left of her, she wondered, when he was done?

Suddenly realizing how morbid her thoughts had become, Julienne steeled her shoulders. She would not surrender so easily. No, devil take him! Instead she would try to beat him at his own game. If Dare insisted on forcing her hand, she would prove herself equal to his challenge.

He had admitted to having an obsession for her. Well, she would do her utmost to increase that obsession. She would make him totally besotted with her, would make him look the fool when she publicly spurned him.

She would not allow his revenge to succeed. The past seven years had toughened her, had hardened the shell around her heart. She had only to keep that shell intact against Dare-

"Is everything all right, mon amie?" Solange asked, appearing at her side. "Are you well?"

Julienne set her teeth and fixed a smile on her lips. "Quite well. Tell me, Solange, how would you enjoy a house party at a country estate of the audaciously charming Lord Wolverton?"