Nine Rules to Break When Romancing a Rake Read online

  An icy look from Ralston stopped the words in the man’s throat. “Leave us.”

  Nick watched as the footman scurried away, one brow arched in amusement. “I had forgotten how charming you are in the morning, Gabriel.”

  “What in God’s name brings you here at this hour?”

  “I went to Ralston House first,” Nick said, “When you weren’t there, this seemed the most likely place to find you.” He let his gaze slide past his twin to land on the woman seated in the center of the enormous bed. With a lazy grin, Nick gave a nod of acknowledgment in the direction of his brother’s mistress. “Nastasia. My apologies for the intrusion.”

  The Greek beauty stretched like a cat, sensual and sybaritic, allowing the sheet she held in feigned modesty to slip, revealing one luscious breast. A teasing smile played across her lips as she said, “Lord Nicholas. I assure you, I am not the least bit put out. Perhaps you would like to join us…” She paused suggestively. “For breakfast?”

  Nick smiled appreciatively. “A tempting offer.”

  Ignoring the interaction, Ralston prodded. “Nick, if you are in such need of female companionship, I am certain we could have found you a destination that did not so summarily disturb my rest.”

  Nick leaned against the doorframe, allowing his gaze to linger on Nastasia before returning his attention to Ralston. “Resting, were you, brother?”

  Ralston stalked away from the door, toward a basin in the corner of the room, hissing as he splashed bracing water on his face. “You are enjoying yourself, aren’t you?”

  “Immensely.”

  “You have mere seconds to tell me why you are here, Nick, before I grow weary of having a younger sibling and toss you out.”

  “Intriguing that you would select such a relevant turn of phrase,” Nick said casually. “As it happens, your position as eldest sibling is why I am here.”

  Ralston lifted his head to meet his brother’s gaze as droplets of water coursed down his face.

  “You see, Gabriel, it appears that we have a sister.”

  “A half sister.”

  Ralston spoke flatly, staring down his solicitor, waiting for the bespectacled man to overcome his nerves and explain the circumstances of this surprise announcement. Ralston had perfected the intimidation tactic in gambling hells across London and expected that it would work quickly to get the little man talking.

  He was correct.

  “I—that is, my lord—”

  Ralston cut him off, stalking across the study to pour himself a drink. “Spit it out, man. I haven’t got all day.”

  “Your mother—”

  “My mother, if one may use such a word for the unloving creature who bore us, departed England for the Continent more than twenty-five years ago.” He swirled the amber liquid in his glass, affecting a look of boredom, “How are we to believe this girl is our sister and not some charlatan eager to capitalize on our goodwill?”

  “Her father is a Venetian merchant with plenty of money, all of which he left to her.” The solicitor paused, adjusting his spectacles, warily eyeing Ralston. “My lord, he had no reason to lie about her birth. Indeed, by all accounts, it appears that he would prefer not to have alerted you to her existence.”

  “Then why do so?”

  “She has no other family to speak of although I am told that friends were willing to take her in. According to the documents that were sent to my offices, however, this is your mother’s doing. She requested that her”—he paused, uncertain—“husband…send your…sister…here in the event of his death. Your mother felt certain that you would…” He cleared his throat. “Do right by your family.”

  Ralston’s smile held no humor. “Ironic, is it not, that our mother has called upon our sense of familial obligation?”

  The solicitor did not pretend to misunderstand the comment. “Indeed, my lord. But, if I may, the girl is here and very sweet. I’m not certain what to do with her.” He spoke no more, but his meaning was understood. I’m not certain I should leave her in your hands.

  “Of course, she must stay here,” Nick finally spoke, drawing the grateful attention of the solicitor and an irritated look from his brother. “We shall take her in. She must be rather in shock, I’d imagine.”

  “Indeed, my lord.” The solicitor readily agreed, latching onto the kindness in Nick’s eyes.

  “I had not realized that you were able to make such decisions in this house, brother,” Ralston drawled, his gaze not wavering from the solicitor.

  “I’m simply shortening Wingate’s agony,” Nick replied, with a nod to the lawyer. “You won’t turn away blood.”

  Nick was, of course, correct. Gabriel St. John, seventh Marquess of Ralston would not deny his sister, regardless of his deep-seated desire to do so. Raking a hand through his black hair, Ralston wondered at the anger that still flared at the thought of his mother, whom he hadn’t seen in decades.

  She had been married at a young age—barely sixteen—and had borne twin sons within a year. She was gone a decade later, escaped to the Continent, leaving her sons and their father in despair. For any other woman, Gabriel would have felt sympathy, would have understood her fear and forgiven her desertion. But he had witnessed his father’s sorrow, felt the pain that the loss of a mother had caused. And he had replaced sadness with anger. It had been years before he was able to speak of her without a knot of fury rising in his throat.

  And now, to discover that she had destroyed another family, the wound was refreshed. That she would bear another child—a girl no less—and leave her to a life without a mother infuriated him. Of course, his mother had been correct; he would do right by his family. He would do what he could to atone for her sins. And perhaps that was the most maddening part of this whole situation—that his mother still understood him. That they might still be connected.

  He set his glass down, resuming his place behind the wide mahogany desk. “Where is the girl, Wingate?”

  “I believe she’s been placed in the green room, my lord.”

  “Well, we might as well fetch her.” Nick moved to the door, opening it and sending an unseen servant to retrieve the girl.

  In the ensuing, pregnant silence, Wingate stood, smoothing down his waistcoat nervously. “Indeed. If I may, sir?”

  Gabriel fixed him with an irritated look.

  “She is a good girl. Very sweet.”

  “Yes. You’ve mentioned as much. Contrary to your clear opinion of me, Wingate, I am not an ogre with a taste for young girls.” He paused, one side of his mouth kicking up. “At least not young girls to whom I am related.”

  The arrival of their sister prevented Gabriel from taking pleasure in the solicitor’s disapproval. Instead, he stood as the door opened, his eyes narrowing as he met the eerily familiar blue gaze leveled at him from across the room.

  “Good Lord.” Nick’s words mirrored Gabriel’s thoughts.

  There was no question that the girl was their sister. Aside from her eyes, the same rich blue as her brothers’, she shared the twins’ strong jaw and dark, curling hair. She was the image of their mother—tall and lithe and lovely, with an undeniable fire in her gaze. Gabriel cursed beneath his breath.

  Nick regained his composure first, bowing deeply, “Enchantée, Miss Juliana. I am your brother Nicholas St. John. And this”—he gestured to Ralston—“is our brother Gabriel, Marquess of Ralston.”

  She curtsied gracefully, rising and indicating herself with a delicate hand, “I am Juliana Fiori. I confess, I was not expecting—” She paused, searching for the word, “I gemelli. My apologies. I do not know the word in English.”

  Nick smiled. “Twins. No, I imagine that our mother did not expect i gemelli either.”

  The dimple in Juliana’s cheek was a perfect match for Nick’s. “As you say. It is quite striking.”

  “Well.” Wingate cleared his throat, drawing the attention of the rest, “I shall take my leave, then, if my lords have no further need of me.” The little man look
ed from Nick to Ralston, eager to be set free.

  “You are free to go, Wingate,” Ralston said, his tone icy. “Indeed, I look forward to it.”

  The lawyer exited, bowing quickly, as if afraid that he might never escape if he tarried too long. Once he had left the room, Nick consoled Juliana, “Don’t let yourself be fooled by Gabriel. He’s not as wicked as he seems. Some days, he simply likes to play the lord of the manor.”

  “I believe that I am the lord of the manor, Nicholas,” Ralston pointed out dryly.

  Nick winked at their sister. “Four minutes older, and he cannot help but hold it over me.”

  Juliana offered Nick a small smile before turning her clear blue gaze on her eldest brother, “My lord, I should like to leave.”

  Gabriel nodded. “Understandably. I will have your things brought to one of the chambers above stairs. You must be weary from your travels.”

  “No. You do not understand. I would like to leave England. To return to Venice.” When neither Gabriel nor Nick spoke, she continued, her hands moving in time with her words, her accent thickening as emotion crept into her speech. “I assure you, I cannot comprehend why my father insisted I come here. I have friends at home who would happily welcome me—”

  Gabriel cut her off, firmly. “You will stay here.”

  “Mi scusi, my lord. I would prefer not to.”

  “I’m afraid you do not have a choice.”

  “You cannot keep me here. I do not belong here. Not with you…not in…England.” She spat the word as though it were foul-tasting.

  “You forget that you are half-English, Juliana,” Nick said, amused.

  “Never! I am Italian!” Her blue eyes flashed.

  “And your personality shows it, kitten,” Gabriel drawled. “But you are the very portrait of our mother.”

  Juliana looked to the walls. “Portraits? Of our mother? Where?”

  Nick chuckled, charmed by her misunderstanding. “No. You will not find pictures of her here. Gabriel was saying that you look like our mother. Exactly like her, actually.”

  Juliana slashed one hand through the air. “Never say such a thing to me again. Our mother was a—” She stopped herself, the silence in the room heavy with the unspoken epithet.

  Ralston’s lips twisted in a wry smile. “I see we have found something upon which we can agree.”

  “You cannot force me to stay.”

  “I am afraid I can. I’ve already signed the papers. You are under my protection until you marry.”

  Her eyes widened. “That is impossible. My father would never have required such a thing. He knew I have no intention of marrying.”

  “Whyever not?” Nick asked.

  Juliana spun on him, “I should think you would understand better than most. I will not repeat my mother’s sins.”

  Gabriel’s eyes narrowed. “There is absolutely no reason that you would be anything like—”

  “You will forgive me if I am not willing to take such a chance, my lord. Surely we can reach an accord?”

  In that moment, Gabriel’s decision was made.

  “You did not know our mother?”

  Juliana held herself perfectly straight and proud, meeting Ralston’s gaze without flinching. “She left us nearly ten years ago. I believe it was the same for you?”

  Ralston nodded. “We were not even ten.”

  “Then I imagine neither of us has much love lost for her.”

  “Indeed.”

  They stood like that for a long moment, each testing the truth of the other’s words. Gabriel spoke first. “I will offer you a bargain.” Juliana shook her head in an instant denial before Ralston lifted one hand and halted her words. “This is not a negotiation. You will stay for two months. If, after that time, you decide that you would prefer to return to Italy, I will arrange it.”

  She tilted her head as though considering the offer and the possibilities for escape. Finally, she nodded once in agreement. “Two months. Not a day more.”

  “You may have your pick of the bedchambers above stairs, little sister.”

  She dropped into a deep curtsy. “Grazie, my lord.” She turned toward the door of the study and was stopped by Nick’s curiosity.

  “How old are you?”

  “Twenty.”

  Nick cast a fleeting look at his brother before continuing. “You will need to be introduced to London society.”

  “I hardly think it necessary as I am only here for eight weeks,” Her emphasis on the last words was impossible to mistake.

  “We shall discuss it when you are settled in.” Ralston ended the conversation and escorted her across the room, opening the door to the study and calling for the butler. “Jenkins, please escort Miss Juliana upstairs and have someone assist her maid in unpacking her things.” He turned back to Juliana. “You do have a maid, do you not?”

  “Yes,” she said, amusement crossing her lips. “Must I remind you that it was the Romans who brought civilization to your country?”

  Ralston’s eyebrows rose. “You plan to be a challenge, do you?”

  Juliana smiled angelically. “I agreed to remain, my lord. Not to remain silent.”

  He turned back to Jenkins. “She will be with us from now on.”

  Juliana shook her head, meeting her brother’s eyes. “For two months.”

  With a nod, he revised his statement. “She will be with us for now.”

  The butler did not blink at the surprising announcement, instead offering a calm, “Very good, my lord,” and sending several footmen scurrying to remove Juliana’s trunks above stairs before leading the young woman away.

  Satisfied that his bidding would be done, Ralston closed the door to the study and turned back to Nick, who was leaning against the sideboard, a lazy smile on his face.

  “Well done, brother,” Nick said. “If only the ton knew that you have such an inflated sense of familial obligation…your reputation as a fallen angel would be shattered.”

  “You would do well to stop talking.”

  “Truly, it’s heartwarming. The Marquess of Ralston, in all his wickedness. Laid low by a child.”

  Ralston turned away from his brother, stalking across the room to his desk. “Don’t you have a statue somewhere that must be cleaned? An elderly woman from Bath with a marble in desperate need of identification?”

  Nick extended his legs and crossed one shining Hessian over the other, refusing to rise to his brother’s bait. “As a matter of fact, I do. However, she—along with my legions of fans—shall have to wait. I should much rather spend the afternoon with you.”

  “Do not stay on my account.”

  Nick became serious. “What happens in two months? When she still wants to leave and you cannot allow it?” When Ralston did not reply, Nick pressed on. “It has not been easy for her. Deserted by her mother at such a young age…then losing her father as well.”

  “No different than our own circumstances.” Ralston feigned disinterest as he sorted through a pile of correspondence. “In fact, I would remind you that we lost our father along with our mother.”

  Nick’s gaze did not waver. “We had each other, Gabriel. She has no one. We know better than anyone what it is like to be in her position; to be deserted by everyone you have ever had—everyone you have ever loved.”

  Ralston met Nick’s eyes, somber with the memories of their shared childhood. The twins had survived their mother’s desertion, their father’s descent into despair. Their childhood had not been pleasant, but Nick was right—they had had each other. And that had made the difference. “The one thing I learned from watching our parents is that love is overrated. What matters is responsibility. Honor. Juliana will be better for understanding that at such a young age. She has us, now. And likely she thinks it not much. But it will have to be enough.”

  The brothers fell into silence, each lost to his own thoughts. Eventually, Nick said, “It will be difficult to get the ton to accept her.”

  Ralston swore roundly
, recognizing the truth in his brother’s words.

  As the daughter of a woman who had not received a proper divorce, Juliana would not be immediately accepted into society. At best, Juliana was the child of a lady exiled from polite society, and she would struggle to cast off the heavy mantle of her mother’s soiled reputation. At worst, she was the illegitimate daughter of a fallen marchioness and her common-born Italian lover.

  Nick spoke again. “Her legitimacy will be questioned.”

  Gabriel thought for several moments. “If our mother married her father, it means that the marchioness must have converted to Catholicism upon arriving in Italy. The Catholic Church would never have acknowledged her marriage in the Church of England.”

  “Ah, so it is we who are illegitimate.” Nick’s words were punctuated with a wry smile.

  “To Italians, at least,” Gabriel said. “Luckily, we are English.”

  “Excellent. That works out well for us,” Nick replied, “but what of Juliana? There will be many who will refuse to socialize with her. They shan’t like that she is the daughter of a fallen woman. And a Catholic no less.”

  “They wouldn’t have accepted Juliana to begin with. We cannot change the fact that her father is of common birth.”

  “Perhaps we should attempt to pass her off as a distant cousin rather than a sibling.”

  Ralston’s response brooked no refusal. “Absolutely not. She is our sister. We shall present her as such and face the consequences.”

  “It is she who will face the consequences.” Nick met his brother’s eye as the words hung in the air, heavy with importance. “The season will soon be in full swing. If we are to succeed, our activities must be entirely aboveboard. Our reputation is hers.”

  Ralston understood. He would have to end his arrangement with Nastasia—the opera singer was renowned for indiscretion. “I shall speak with Nastasia today.”

  Nick nodded in acknowledgment before adding, “And Juliana will need an introduction into society. From someone with an impeccable character.”