LITMIR.BIZ

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against Lord Dunstan. Was it true? she asked herself. Had Lord Dunstan married the woman Sir Charles would have married himself? If this was the case, then surely the lady concerned would not have married Lord Dunstan had she not preferred him to Sir Charles?

      But Sir Charles had revealed that the marriage had gone miserably wrong for Lord Dunstan, and with that she could only conclude—as Timothy had suggested—that it had broken down and his wife had left him for someone else. She tried to envisage what both Lord Dunstan and Sir Charles must have suffered, and yet she had a distinct feeling that Lord Dunstan’s suffering had been the greatest. She did not know enough of what had transpired between them, nor did she know either of them well enough to defend one’s conduct against the other, but having just had an insight into Sir Charles’s character, which seemed to have a tendency to evil, she had no wish to know more.

      His manner, his way of speaking and his countenance she found repugnant in every degree. It had been enough to tell her that he did not possess any of the virtues that constituted a gentleman, and that he had many years of idleness and vice to atone for.

      James moped about the house in a state of deep depression as Louisa began preparing herself for the unpleasant occasion of dining at Dunstan House. She managed to persuade him to put off fetching the deeds to his estate from Surrey and presenting them to Lord Dunstan to pay off his debt until the following week, in order to give her time to retrieve his IOU.

      She reminded herself that if what Timothy had said was true—that Lord Dunstan attracted women like a magnet—then after her sharp rebuff at Mr Brewster’s bookshop, and seeing her with Sir Charles Meredith in St James’s Park, he might be angry and no longer interested in her.

      For her plan to succeed she must make him want her—want her to such an extent that he would be prepared to agree to her terms to possess her. And as the time drew near for her to ready herself for the evening in front of her—perhaps the most important evening of her life—apprehension began to give way to panic.

      She was undecided about which gown to wear, for Timothy had presented her with three to choose from, as well as several items of undergarment, telling her that his sister had been only too delighted to be of help.

      He had told Amelia that Louisa had arrived in London having absent-mindedly left her finest dresses behind in Surrey, and was mortified, on finding herself invited to an important event, to discover she had nothing to wear and unwilling to go to the expense of buying something new. Amelia had been only too happy to loan her some gowns.

      Louisa finally settled for one of deep crimson satin, by far the most alluring of the three. Its vivid colour and low-cut décolletage would be more in keeping with the occasion and the people she would be mixing with than the other two, which were in pastel shades and rather modest in design. She declined the wearing of even the smallest hoop to lift the dress, preferring instead to let the skirt fall softly from the waist.

      At first she had balked at the thought of accepting the clothes, but realising she had no choice, if she wished to succeed with Lord Dunstan, and that she was in no position to turn charity away, she began to dress, feeling as she did so her last remnants of pride melt like the morning mist beneath the sun.

      To add to the part, but without too much artifice, she applied just a little powder to her cheeks and a little salve to her lips, and, with skilful fingers, Alice helped her arrange her newly washed hair in an elaborate creation of glossy waves and curls, with three heavy ringlets dangling at the back, one of them resting on her bare shoulder.

      When she was ready she surveyed her appearance in the full-length mirror and saw her radiance reflected. She barely recognised herself, feeling transformed by the gown’s magnificence, and experiencing a sensuous pleasure in its satin softness. She flushed at her image. The gown, with its elbow-length sleeves, was bold and quite dramatic and extremely daring, its firm-fitting bodice cut low, and the fullness of the skirt emphasising her tiny waist and falling in luxurious shining folds to her slippered feet. She suspected it had not belonged to Timothy’s quiet, sheltered sister at all but to another, more worldly lady of his acquaintance, of whom she would prefer to remain in ignorance. However, she would for ever hold the lady in her debt if she managed to succeed in seducing Lord Dunstan.

      It was certainly not the type of gown she would normally have chosen to wear, she thought, sighing as she turned from the full-length mirror, but if she was to play a harlot she might as well look the part.

      They were to travel to Dunstan House in Timothy’s carriage and on being told by Alice of its arrival she took a deep breath and left her room, her skirts sweeping the stairs as she went down. She saw both her brother and Timothy waiting for her in the hall and was fully aware of the impact her appearance would have on them. With Alice’s help she had been transformed from the pretty little country girl her brother had never troubled to look at into a striking young woman it would be difficult for anyone to keep their eyes off.

      When James and Timothy saw her their eyes opened wide in sheer amazement—Timothy’s with undisguised appraisal and James’s with shocked disapproval. He was unable to believe that the beautiful, sophisticated creature descending the stairs—showing enough of her bosom as to be positively indecent, and smiling only as one of London’s social butterflies knew how to—was his sister.

      “Dear Lord, Louisa!” he objected crossly. “That is hardly a suitable gown for you to wear—and I dare hardly ask where you acquired it.”

      “Then I wouldn’t, if I were you—in fact,” she quipped, throwing Timothy a knowing smile of gratitude from beneath her lowered lashes, “I’m not entirely sure where it came from either, nor do I wish to know. However, if an evening at Dunstan House is to be anything like an evening at Lady Bricknell’s, then I would say it is perfect for the occasion.” She faced Timothy, making him a sweeping curtsy. “What do you think, Timothy? Will I do?”

      Timothy’s brown eyes were twinkling. “You’ll do all right, Louisa. You look ravishing,” he assured her emphatically.

      “Well, if you insist on accompanying Timothy and I,” said James sullenly, “you must be introduced as my sister. I cannot permit you to go on calling yourself Miss Divine. It’s quite ridiculous.”

      Louisa gave him a cross look, in no mood to be bullied tonight of all nights. “Ridiculous or not, that is who I am to be if I am to enter the sort of company you keep. We will look foolish if you suddenly announce me as your sister, when only two nights ago I was someone else. And, anyway, I am not accompanying you by choice, James. I am merely coming along to make quite sure you do not dig us deeper into debt than we are already. If I see you so much as look at a card or dice table, I shall personally intervene and embarrass you to such a degree that you will not dare set foot in polite society ever again. Now, are we ready?” she said, pulling on her long gloves with a brusqueness that brooked no argument. “We don’t want to be late.”

      With a few quiet grumbles James followed Timothy and his sister out to the waiting carriage. Louisa climbed inside, about to embark on a mission as dramatic and fateful as any she had undertaken before or would ever do again.

      Seated across from Louisa, Timothy glanced at her, seeing that she appeared cool and collected and well schooled for what lay ahead of her, but behind her composed mask of elegance he sensed the fissures that lay deep.

      Ever since Louisa had left Lord Dunstan at Mr Brewster’s bookshop, and after seeing him again in St James’s Park, she had tried not to focus her mind on him, but now she was within minutes of facing him once more her panic increased and she could hardly believe what she was about to do. His name spun through her mind with a combination of loathing and dread, and she told herself she would rather sleep with the devil than Lord Dunstan.

      And yet the feelings she had experienced on the three occasions when they had met on her coming to London this time took some understanding; she had felt herself being drawn to him against her will by the compelling magnetism he seemed to radiate, and the memory of his smile and how he had looked at her, how his incredibly blue eyes had hardly left hers for a moment and the intimacy of his lazy gaze, made her tremble and heat course through her body.

      She

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