Free Seduced by a Scoundrel by Barbara Dawson Smith Page A

a welter of emotions he didn’t care to examine. For one prolonged moment, he had fiercely yearned to be a part of that family. He had hurled himself at Hailstock’s well-shod feet, blubbered out his naïve hopes. And the marquess had coldly denied him. When Drake had showed him the stickpin, Hailstock’s face had turned ugly. He’d called for his servants to haul the scruffy urchin off to the magistrate for thievery.…
    Gazing again at that haughty face, Drake now focused on the anger that had long ruled his life. “Deny me all you like,” he said. “The fact remains that after seeing her perform in Edinburgh, you took a fancy to my mother and seduced her.”
    “Is that what she told you?” Hailstock let out a contemptuous laugh. “I never even met the bitch.”
    Consumed by a burst of rage, Drake only just stopped himself from balling his fingers into fists. It would serve no purpose to strike the marquess. There was a better way to rub his noble nose in the dirt.
    Drake stalked around the desk and yanked open a drawer. Reaching inside, he pulled out the diamond stickpin in the design of a stylized H. “You gave this to her to buy her silence.”
    Hailstock grimaced. “That only proves her a thief.”
    “Or you a liar.” Drake tossed the stickpin back into the drawer, where it clattered into a corner. “Life hasn’t turned out quite as you planned, has it? Your bastard son is a rich man now. And your legitimate heir is a cripple—because of you.”
    Hailstock turned pale. His hand gripped the back of a chair, and his gold signet glinted in the candlelight. “Riffraff! Should you dare to involve James in our quarrel, by God, I’ll ruin you.”
    Drake couldn’t begrudge Hailstock’s doting protection of the bedridden twenty-two-year-old. Hailstock had purchased a racehorse for James on his eighteenth birthday, and on that same afternoon, the reckless youth had taken his fateful tumble.
    Casually sitting on the edge of the desk, Drake regarded his father. “Luckily for you, my lord, James doesn’t concern me in the slightest. I’m far more interested in Lady Alicia Pemberton.”
    “You aren’t worthy of her,” Hailstock said. “Your marriage will be a travesty.”
    “Ah, but she’ll be my stepping-stone into society. Henceforth, your by-blow will be invited to the same parties as you.”
    Those aristocratic nostrils flared. “So that is your plan,” Hailstock said scathingly. “Give it up. If you claim a relation to me, no one will accept your word over mine.”
    “I have no intention of revealing the truth of my parentage … yet.” First, he would enjoy watching his father squirm.
    “The Pembertons aren’t even accepted anymore. Lady Brockway is a lunatic, a pariah. She belongs in Bedlam Hospital.”
    “Are you afraid of one little madwoman?” Privately, Drake admitted he’d enjoyed meeting the dowager. She had a certain elfin sparkle in her eyes that made him wonder if Alicia had possessed such charm before duty and debts had weighed upon her.
    Hailstock gave a huff of disdain. “Any association with Lady Brockway will make you even more of a laughingstock.”
    “That remains to be seen.”
    Fury glittered in the marquess’s eyes, along with something else. Something dark and desperate. His fists clenched, he took another step toward Drake. “For pity’s sake, man, choose another wife. A mature widow who won’t be hurt by your intrigues. Don’t destroy an innocent girl just to indulge this petty delusion of yours.”
    Was Hailstock truly concerned for Alicia’s welfare? Could he, in his twisted way, value her for more than her lofty ancestry? Could he actually love her? As swiftly as the questions struck, Drake saw the advantage in them.
    If Hailstock adored her, so much the better.

Chapter Six
    “M’lady!” Mrs. Molesworth yodeled up the attic stairs. “Yoo-hoo, m’lady, you’ve visitors!”
    Alicia frowned, her arms full of a billowing blue gown that smelled musty