Page 1 of The Villain’s Vixen (Wanton Wastrels)

CHAPTER 1

O ctober 15, 1825

London, England

“Keep your distance from that one.”

Lady Alexandra Givenwald turned to see her aunt nodding toward a new arrival who had just entered the ballroom. As she glanced in the direction her companion had indicated, her focus instantly fixated on the tall dark-haired gentleman in question as she murmured, “Whyever not?”

Her aunt huffed. “Because he is the worst bounder in London! A true scoundrel if there ever was one. He’s a consummate rake who has no conscious thought of others. He’s ruined more than one lady’s reputation, but it doesn’t even seem to faze him. I speculate he has no number of morals left to speak of to have such a crass demeanor. I cannot believe that Lady Westcott would dare to invite him to her autumn ball, except that he is a duke and cousin to King George IV, which, I suppose, gives him a proper entrée in that regard.”

Lexie couldn’t help rolling her eyes. She loved her Aunt Bonnie dearly, but sometimes, she could be rather dramatic and particularly severe against those regarding whom she contrived a strong opinion. “Are you sure your sources aren’t based on ton gossip? You know as well as I do that London likes to stir the pot for their own amusements.”

Her aunt glared at her, the blue eyes so similar to Lexie’s widening with rebuke. “Don’t be vulgar! And no, I am not exaggerating. Trust me when I warn you to give that man a wide berth. And if he approaches you, no one would think ill of you should you give him the cut direct.” With that, she patted her gray hair and found her attention caught by something beyond Lexie’s shoulder. “Ah. Margaret is here. Find something to amuse you while I take a moment to converse with my dear friend.”

Lexie wanted to snort as her aunt moved away. Converse might as well be code for gossip, because Lady Margaret Limewood was one of the worst in London. Lexie firmly believed that is where her aunt regained most of her “valid” information, which was likely fabricated highly, of course.

Since Lexie had been in London, she had to admit some of her anticipation for the little season this autumn was starting to wane. She had expected dashing gentlemen and women who were of a similar bent. Instead, she had discovered vapid debutantes with little to recommend them in the way of conversation and titled men who were not the handsome rogues she had anticipated.

All but one.

Her gaze was drawn once more through the crowd to where the mysterious, dreadful duke was conversing with another gentleman. She did not readily recall his name, but she remembered upon introduction that he was married. If the duke was such a rake as her aunt claimed, then why should he waste his time speaking to someone who could no longer openly carouse?

The duke was also the only choice, thus far, who intrigued her. She would be lying if his reputation didn’t strike some interest as well, but for someone who had lived her entire life in the sheltered countryside, she was eager to engage in some flirtation and a bit of revelry. Her aunt would be shocked to learn her heart was so wild, but Lexie had always been a free spirit. She had not come to London with the sole purpose of securing a husband, no matter if that was what she had claimed. She wanted to experience life.

Her eyes remained focused on the duke, and she realized that this was the man who could teach her everything she wanted to know. Unfortunately, the one spark of entertainment had been forbidden, so she was forced to search for other means of distraction.

And yet…

A quadrille was currently taking place, and since she had been left to her own devices, her aunt couldn’t stop her from finding a way to gain an introduction to the duke. However, she had to be a bit covert about how she might gain his attention. It had to seem an accident so that she couldn’t be held directly responsible should her aunt witness them conversing.

She pondered her options for a moment and decided that the best thing was to offer the pretense of moving toward the refreshment table, which just happened to be right beyond where the duke was standing. If she casually meandered about the edge of the room, she could easily become “jarred” by someone and fall right into his arms.

Her lips twitched on a smile. It was a perfect plan.

Seeing success in her vision, Lexie headed forward. She kept her attention on the duke, but a bit more covertly. She didn’t want to be obvious in her attentions because if word returned to the duke, any chance she might have to gain his notice would be spoiled. She had grown up trying to gain her father’s regard for years and only when she despaired of ever doing so had he finally started to engage in conversation a bit more. So while her experience with men was limited to the Marquess of Singleton and the handful of male servants he had employed, she decided it was enough for a “chance” encounter.

She smoothed her skirts, grateful that she’d chosen a mint ensemble this evening. While she despised pastels, at least she felt that green complimented her light hair. And the emeralds brought out the sparkle in her blue eyes, perhaps slightly disguising their true color by their reflection.

Moving easily through the throng of guests, she was grateful that she wasn’t so petite in stature that she couldn’t keep an eye on her quarry in his black and white formal attire. She was finding it increasingly difficult to turn her gaze away as she drew nearer to him because it was obvious he was quite tall, and those broad shoulders had no need of padding. Her heart thrilled at the prospect of securing such a handsome man, regardless if Bonnie thought he was a poor choice. He was infinitely preferable to the rest of the men present, and for the first time since her arrival in London a week ago, her spirits had finally lifted. But it wasn’t hope that was rushing through her veins. It was excitement, the idea that she might actually trap the prowling panther before he had a chance to realize he was being targeted.

Her lips curved upward in another smile as she drew closer. She would have to quickly avert her eyes should he spy her approach, but thus far, he seemed to be engaged in a highly in-depth conversation. She would certainly have to ensure she bumped him lightly if he didn’t sense that someone was watching him. But surely, he wouldn’t be so oblivious? She should hate to act like a fumbling ninny when she had always been confident of herself. Thankfully, she had outgrown the insecurities that had plagued her as a child. She did not want to feel that way ever again, as if she was not merely ignored, but seen and quickly passed over.

Each step had her breath becoming shallower. She was nearly abreast of her target now. She could hardly wait for the moment he turned his dark head and set his eyes upon her. Would they flash with approval? She would certainly be devastated if it were the opposite. But she supposed if this man roamed London there could be more with whom she hadn’t yet gained an introduction.

The music was starting to draw to a close and she knew she had to hurry if she didn’t want to be inundated with people returning to the sidelines to find their next partner. She couldn’t let this paragon of sin and vice slip through her fingers, not until she had made herself known to him. She wanted him to remember her name and her face and dream about her every night until he whisked her away on his noble steed.

Very well, that was probably doing it a bit brown. She had never been that sort of extreme romantic. But it would be nice should he sweep her into a dark corner and kiss her senseless.

She bit her lip, fantasizing about that very moment when the music stopped and the conversation began to buzz around her once again.

She lifted her skirts and closed the remaining distance between her and the duke, but when she heard her name called, she had no choice but to mumble a curse beneath her breath and turn to glance at the speaker. “Yes?”

It was a middle-aged earl something-or-other and he smiled broadly at her, as if she was already the prize he’d managed to win. Lexie understood that sometimes convenient matches were made as opposed to love matches, but she had to draw the line when it came to someone old enough to be her father. She had just turned twenty, and while some would say she was in danger of being on the shelf if she didn’t wed soon, she was perfectly content to keep her options open.

And they didn’t include the earl.

However, if she didn’t play by the rules of society and conduct herself with decorum, she would soon be ostracized, which meant shipped back to her father’s estate in shame. Since she didn’t want to waste the opportunity she’d been given, she forced a smile to her face as she allowed the earl to take her hand and bestow a kiss upon her glove.

“I believe our dance is next.”

Lexie wanted to inspect the card dangling innocently from her wrist, but she had to concede that the earl was probably right. “Of course. But if you don’t mind, I was just heading for some punch?—”

“Allow me,” he said pleasantly and offered his arm to her.

She reluctantly threaded her arm through his.

As they turned back to her original destination, she felt her heart sink.

The villainous duke was no longer there.

Drat.

She wanted to stamp her foot in frustration.

A quick scan of the area proved that he wasn’t close by, so any hope that she could “bump” into him was lost as well.

As the earl gathered her punch, she took a few sips out of politeness alone and allowed him to escort her to the floor where, thankfully, another country dance was starting to play.

Although Lexie didn’t care for her partner, he didn’t make any suggestive comments or lewd remarks while they danced, for which she was grateful. She wasn’t sure she could accept defeat and unwanted advances.

As she waited for part of the line to move, Lexie happened to glance toward the terrace doors leading to the gardens. Her pulse fluttered when she spied a dark shadow slipping out into the night air. She snapped to attention in enough time to resume her steps so she didn’t make a fool of herself, but her mind was whirling with the prospect of cornering the elusive duke once again. It would certainly be easy enough to slip outside for a breath of air. No one would consider that odd in the least.

Satisfied that she had put a second plan into place, she quite enjoyed the rest of the dance.

Dominic Eastland, the Duke of Cuthbert, watched the intriguing woman from the shadows of the terrace doors. He had felt her stare on him from the moment he had appeared at the ball and while most of the ton whispered about him and his misdeeds, this was the first time he had been able to feel his skin crawl. But no, he supposed that wasn’t the proper term, because he hadn’t felt disgusted by her regard in the least. In truth, it was the first time in a long time the stirrings of lust had traveled through his body.

Unfortunately, it was too risky to form any sort of attachment to the lady because not only was his society reputation quite lurid, but the life he kept carefully guarded was one shrouded in danger. He was known in those circles as Avalon, the leader of the Blue Boys gang in the East End. They were some of the worst cutthroats, feared by the most hardened criminals. Even the Bow Street Runners gave them a wide berth. Because of this, Avalon was afforded many freedoms, but he was finding that trying to lead two separate lives was starting to take its toll. He’d found it amusing two years ago when he’d taken up the reins and held private meetings at his office at the Crown and Sceptre pub in Whitechapel. He had always fought against the strictures that his title had placed upon him.

On a lark, some years ago, he’d dressed up as a commoner and headed to the streets to experience a different side of London. He’d nearly paid the cost with his life. For some reason that he had never been able to fathom, he was spared and instead, offered a position within the coveted gang. It had been the outlet he’d been searching for, and although it was believed that they actually committed all the misdeeds that had been rumored, most of it was highly fabricated. But the gossip helped to secure his standing within the ranks and the ability to move about the East End and take care of the true mischief makers .

The same sort of luck had been extended to his position in the dukedom. Most gave him a wide berth because they thought him a true ne’er-do-well. While they might not have been far off the mark in that regard, Dominic was grateful for the opportunity to slip away from society at a moment’s notice and no one batted an eyelash at his disappearance. Most likely breathed a sigh of relief that his presence wouldn’t have to be tolerated.

Together, his two personas had found a way to be compatible. Since he could move freely about in both sides of society, he’d been able to gain a lot of knowledge. Most of it was written in a journal that he kept in a secret location, known only to him. Should he ever find himself on the opposite side of the law or the king’s favor, he would have a winning hand to play to secure his freedom.

However, as the pressure to find a wife and do his duty by his line was starting to increase, Dominic had decided that it was time to choose a successor for the Blue Boys. After the betrayal of his former right hand, he’d appointed Amos the honor of becoming his second. He had come to know the man quite well after a recent altercation with him and the infamous Mr. Drake Porter. Their interaction had ended quite amicably, more so than he might have anticipated. Drake was known to be just as ruthless as Dominic in his dealings, but it was his new bride that had managed to rein in the scoundrel.

Dominic had been envious of Drake’s attachment to Miss Fleur Davies, but when it became evident the lady was steadfast in her devotion to Porter, he had ceased his pursuit and stepped back. But it hadn’t ceased Dominic’s wondering if he might ever be so fortunate to discover the same sort of all-consuming love. He had enjoyed lust, certainly, but always when the fire died down, he was searching for his next conquest.

He searched out the woman once more and narrowed his eyes. He didn’t recall seeing her before and that was the first warning he ought to have heeded. A new debutante in London would only cause trouble. She was likely an innocent, searching for a wealthy husband and eager to settle down and start a family. While he had plenty in his coffers, he wasn’t quite ready to become a father just yet. Just the prospect terrified him. Thinking back to when he was ten years old and he’d watched them lower his father’s coffin into the family plot with a sense of relief had never made him eager to repeat the devastation of his childhood. It was likely the only reason that his mother had borne Dominic and his brother, Edmund. While Dominic had always been the heir and Edmund the spare, Edmund was the one who had succumbed to illness when he was just fourteen. That was a death that was a bit more difficult for Dominic to witness. He had always been close to his younger brother even if Edmund had dealt with ill health most of his life.

These days, his mother was all that was left, and she never came to London for any reason. She remained at the estate and spent her days in seclusion reading or doing needlepoint. Dominic had never pried about why she had closed herself off from the rest of the world. He doubted that it was her husband’s death that had caused her melancholy. It might not have even been Edmund’s. The truth could be that she was just grateful to have a rest and let the rest of the world fade into oblivion.

It could have been a challenging time for Dominic, watching her withdrawal, but being sent to school was his saving grace. He was spared the horrors of home.

He knew that was where some of his worst rebellion had come into play. However, there was nothing he could do for his actions now but try to make a fresh start. He told himself he wanted to change, to become an honorable man like Porter had managed to accomplish. He’d set all his misdeeds aside and, the last Dominic knew, he was living a fairytale life with his new wife, Fleur.

Dominic moved away from the ballroom and walked to the stone balustrade that surrounded the terrace. He set his hands on top of the cool stone and exhaled slowly. If there was one thing he knew, it was that he was far from being the prince from a children’s story. He would surely be cast as the villain, but he intended to change all of that very soon. He intended to hand the responsibility of the Blue Boys to Amos or his son, Devon. He had come to trust both men quite highly and he knew that they would carry the gang in the right direction without letting them fall prey to the worst of temptations that lay in the East End.

Looking out over the darkened gardens beyond, Dominic was starting to ponder the next move his life might take, when the voice of an angel spoke up behind him.

“Lovely night, is it not?”