Lavinia had allowed herself to stew about Beck’s rakishness for most of yesterday, but she didn’t plan to give him such time today. Though it was difficult not to think of him, because every time she looked at her expanded fossil collection, he was right there.

And she refused to return them.

So instead, she focused her energy on planning a geology-themed excursion. She often tried to find places around London where she could take a short jaunt. It took some planning—convincing her mother to go with her, which hadn’t happened in a few years, or taking some other chaperone, such as her sister-in-law if she was in town.

Lavinia had a destination in mind and a chaperone. Hopefully, her mother would agree to both. In the meantime, she’d write to Diana and ask if she’d chaperone. It was rather helpful to have a married friend who was a duchess to boot.

As she sat down at the desk in the upstairs sitting room, the butler came in to announce the arrival of Sarah. Lavinia hadn’t been expecting her. “Send her up, please.”

The butler nodded and left. A few moments later, Sarah, who’d come up to this sitting room dozens of times, came in wearing a tense expression. She removed her gloves and took her bonnet from her head.

“Is something amiss?” Lavinia asked.

“Not amiss, but I do have something to share.” She perched on the small settee and waited for Lavinia to sit in the chair angled toward her.

“You’re causing me concern,” Lavinia said.

“I don’t mean to. I just—” Sarah dropped her gloves in her lap and set the bonnet on the settee. “After what you told us about Northam the other night, I felt I had to tell you what I’ve learned.”

Instantly, Lavinia thought of his secret identity, but doubted that could be it. “What’s happened?”

“Anthony saw him—Northam—at a brothel last week. He was there with his friend, Mr. Jeffries, and Felix, of course.”

Lavinia felt a bit sick. Which was ridiculous. Beck was a rake. He likely went to brothels quite often. In fact, he’d probably been many times during their acquaintance. Perhaps he’d even gone to one after leaving Violet’s party the other night. After they’d kissed. “Well, I guess we have our answer regarding his reputation.” And it stung.

“Still a rake,” Sarah said flatly. “I’m sorry. I knew you’d want to know.”

“You were right. Don’t be sorry. I expected nothing from him. That kiss was a curiosity, nothing more.” Lavinia ignored the constriction in her chest and swallowed past the bitterness in her throat. “Enough of that. I’d like to take an excursion to the Charlton Sand Pit about ten or eleven miles east of town. I’m going to ask Diana to chaperone. Would you like to come?”

Sarah brightened, which did wonders for Lavinia’s mood. “Of course! But do you think your mother will allow Diana to chaperone?”

“I hope so. I believe she and Violet won her over with their wonderful party the other night. The scandal surrounding them is starting to recede.”

Sarah nodded in agreement. “Yes, it seems to be.” Her eyes lit with an idea. “Should we plan a picnic and include Fanny?”

“Oh yes, let’s!” Lavinia felt better already.

“If your mother refuses to allow Diana, perhaps Fanny’s sister would chaperone.”

“A splendid alternative. I’ll speak to Cook about preparing the picnic. We’ll leave midmorning.”

Sarah’s brow creased. “Why do you want to visit the sand pit?”

“Through excavation, they’ve uncovered an amazing strata of dirt. I’d like to see it.” Lavinia had read about it in Philosophical Transactions, the Royal Society journal.

“How wonderful.” Sarah was always so supportive of Lavinia’s interests. “I look forward to seeing it too. When shall we go?”

“Later this week, if we can manage it. Perhaps Thursday or Friday.”

Lavinia’s mother swept into the room, her gaze settling on Sarah. “Good afternoon, Miss Colton. I’m afraid Lavinia has a gentleman caller.”

Sarah’s widening eyes connected with Lavinia’s. Who could it be? She’d met so many gentlemen the past couple of weeks, but none of them had called. She also hadn’t encouraged any of them to, a fact she needed to change.

Lavinia rose from the chair and smoothed her hand down the side of her day gown. “Who is it, Mother?”

“The Marquess of Northam.”

Swallowing an inelegant sound of disgust, Lavinia looked to Sarah, who was busily tying her bonnet beneath her chin. She gave Lavinia an apologetic wince, then tugged her gloves on.

“Come down to the library, Lavinia,” the countess said, turning and departing the sitting room.

Lavinia groaned softly as she made her way toward the door behind Sarah, who turned to say, “I’m sorry. But do let me know how it goes. Later at the park?”

“Yes.” Lavinia nodded, then trailed Sarah downstairs.

Sarah looked back over her shoulder and gave her an encouraging glance and a small wave before moving into the entrance hall.

Squaring her shoulders, Lavinia went to the library, which was really just a larger sitting room where they kept a few bookshelves. Inside, Beck stood in profile near the front windows, his hat in his hand. He turned to face her as she entered and offered a courtly bow. “Good afternoon, Lady Lavinia.”

Lavinia darted a glance toward her mother, who’d come in behind her. Beck bowed to her and offered a greeting. It was all very stilted and formal while Lavinia fought to hide her frustration and hurt.

Hurt? Why should he have hurt her?

Because he’d kissed her while still carrying on with Lady Fairwell and going to a brothel. She’d thought him better than that, but why? He was an unapologetic rake, and she’d known it. She’d kissed him in spite of that, and even now couldn’t bring herself to regret it. Those moments in his arms sparked a heat she worked to quash.

How she wished she could say precisely what she thought of him. The presence of her mother prevented such satisfaction.

“Would you care for refreshment?” the countess asked, spurring Lavinia to stifle another groan. She wanted this over as quickly as possible. What was he even doing here? He had no interest in courtship.

“No, thank you. I’d like to take Lady Lavinia for a turn around the back garden, assuming you have one?”

This seemed to please her mother, for she smiled quite brilliantly. “Yes, of course.”

Beck turned his head toward Lavinia in invitation. She wanted to tell him she’d rather take a turn with the devil, but then decided this could very well be the same thing.

Notching her chin up, she turned and strode from the room, turning right to lead him to the morning room, where they could exit to the garden.

She didn’t wait for him or her mother, who followed them to supervise from the morning room. Lavinia opened the door and stepped outside. Beck came out behind her and closed the door, then offered his arm.

“I suppose I have to take that?” she said with considerable rancor.

“I’m sure it would please your mother, and I’m afraid that is my primary goal today.”

She stared at him, utterly confused. In the end, she curled her hand around his arm, and they began a circuit of the garden. Suspicious curiosity overtook her other emotions. “Why are you trying to please my mother?”

His brow furrowed. “Because—”

Lavinia’s other emotions weren’t content with being pushed aside. “You know, I don’t actually care. I don’t know why you’re here, nor do I care about that either. I’m not interested in taking a turn about the garden with an unapologetic rake who visits a brothel, is likely still carrying on with a married woman, and kisses me at the same time.” She tried to remove her hand from his arm and go back inside.

He put his free hand over hers and squeezed her close. His gray-green eyes bored into hers with intensity. “Well, I am not interested in being manipulated. Just walk with me, dammit.”

“Manipulated? Who is manipulating you?”

“I thought you might be, but I gather it’s just your parents.” He started walking, albeit slowly, dragging her along.

“Explain.”

“Your father approached me at Brooks’s last night. He informed me that I am to court you, or he’ll expose me as the Duke of Seduction.” He looked down at her, and she detected anger in his gaze. “What I can’t understand is how he found that out.” His tone held an accusatory edge.

She stopped again, and this time, he let her remove her hand from his arm. Turning to face him, she touched her chest, irritated he would doubt her loyalty. “I didn’t tell them.”

“It had to be you. The only other person who knows is my butler.”

His butler? Just her and his butler? That knowledge prompted a slight flutter in her belly. Followed by a sharp queasiness. “Your butler wouldn’t have told them.”

His gaze didn’t move from hers. “No.”

“I swear I didn’t tell anyone—not even Sarah.” Though she’d wanted to, and if they hadn’t been interrupted today, she might have. She’d been that annoyed with him. “I only—” She clapped her hand over her mouth as her eyes widened. “My diary. I wrote about it in my diary.” She sent a livid glance toward the house. “She reads my bloody diary?”

“Apparently.”

She looked at him in abject apology. “I am so sorry.”

“Not as sorry as me. Now they are using this information for extortion—I am to court you, or they’ll expose me.”

“They asked you to marry me?” Oh God, this was too awful. She knew they wanted her wed, but to resort to such despicable tactics was unconscionable.

“No. They believe my courtship will prompt others to come forward. They are rather impatient to see you betrothed.”

The sick feeling in her gut increased. She glanced toward the house again and squinted. Her mother was standing inside the door, watching them. Lavinia spun about and took his arm once more, pulling him farther from the house to the opposite corner of the garden.

“They’re horrid.” It was all she could manage to say right now. Her parents would see her wed at any cost. Given their haste—and apparent desperation—Lavinia was afraid they’d betroth her to nearly anyone. She needed to accept the inevitable: she was going to wed this Season, and if she wanted a husband of her own choice, she’d best find one.

“I wish there was something I could say to ease your distress,” he said softly.

She appreciated that, but the period for emotional reactions was over. It was time to act. “You were going to help me find a husband. That is more important than ever since I seem to be running out of time.”

“What about Horace?”

She paused again and narrowed her eyes at him. “The same Mr. Jeffries who went to a brothel with you? Be honest with me—is he a rake like you?” She wouldn’t have guessed it based on their introduction, but what did she know about him really?

Beck gestured toward the bench that sat in the corner of the garden just a few feet away. “May we sit?”

Wordlessly, Lavinia withdrew her arm from his and went to perch on the bench. He sat down beside her—not too close—and stretched one leg out as he angled himself toward her.

“Horace does like women, though I’m not sure I’d classify him a rake. Honestly, I’m not sure I’d classify myself a rake anymore either. Yes, I went to Madame Bisset’s with Horace and Felix. I played chess.”

Lavinia blinked at him in confusion. “You can play chess there?”

His mouth cracked in a brief smile. “Or cards or backgammon or any number of things. The women there provide whatever entertainment a man desires—and it needn’t be, er, sexual.” He averted his gaze from hers as he spoke the last.

The implications of what he was saying only made her more curious. “Were you even a rake at all?”

He looked at her then and promptly burst out laughing. Whether it was due to the absurdity of the question or the tumult of emotions she’d gone through in the past quarter hour, she joined him. It was a long moment before they quieted, and she could only imagine how this looked to her mother. If she could even see them. There was a well-placed shrubbery that afforded a measure of privacy for their location.

“Without going into specifics, I’ve behaved in plenty of rakish ways. However, I am not seeing Lady Fairwell any longer—much to her dismay—and sometimes I prefer a game of chess to something…else.”

The memory of his lips on hers stole over her, and she couldn’t imagine preferring chess to that sensation. She was, however, pleased to hear that he wasn’t entertaining Lady Fairwell any longer and that he hadn’t gone to Madame Bisset’s for the typical reason. Which was silly because he wasn’t a potential husband. He wasn’t really courting her. Or so he’d said.

Did she want him to?

She turned toward him slightly. “Just so I understand, you are not courting me with the intent to marry. You are courting me to provoke others to launch a courtship.”

“That is what your parents want, yes.”

Her bloody parents. “I won’t let them reveal your secret—I promise.”

His gaze softened. “I appreciate that, but are you sure you’d be able to stop them?”

“I will if I become betrothed. So that must be my primary goal.” The knowledge that her freedom, such as it was, would soon be curtailed filled her with dread. Unless she could find a husband that supported her interests. Would he let her do things such as take excursions to the sand pit?

“And Horace is out, it seems,” Beck said.

Lavinia clasped her hands in her lap. “Is he? If you have reason to doubt his fidelity, then yes, I’d prefer to look elsewhere.”

“I’m not certain,” Beck said. “However, I’m also not certain he’s ready to wed. He’s a bit awkward, if you didn’t notice.”

“I did, but I actually found it endearing. Plus, he revealed all sorts of tantalizing information about you.” She flashed him a smile, and his eyes darkened and narrowed slightly. His expression made her heart skip, and she realized she wanted to kiss him again.

Blast it all, he was not courting her.

She forced herself back to the matter at hand—her future husband. Recalling the various men she’d met over the past few weeks, the only one who stood out was Sir Martin, and that was largely because of his scientific leanings. Since she was short of time and, apparently, of acceptable potential suitors, she would have to determine if he would suit.

“At this point, I think Sir Martin Riddock is my best option. However, I have an idea that might help me see if anyone else would suit. I am taking a picnic to the Charlton Sand Pit later this week to look at the stratification that’s been exposed there. If Sir Martin could come, and perhaps a few other eligible bachelors, I could ascertain their attitudes toward my scientific interests. It’s the perfect setting since I will be researching and discussing geology.”

“You’re taking a picnic at a sand pit?” He smiled as he gave his head a shake. “Of course you are. And this is a brilliant idea. In fact, if you’ll permit me, I’ll speak to Felix, and he can turn the excursion into quite the thing. Then you’ll have a plethora of gentlemen to choose from, and you’ll be the star of the day as you explain the importance of the stratification to everyone.”

Lavinia’s pulse quickened. To think that she could speak about geology in front of people gave her a heady sensation. The goal of finding a husband faded to the back of her mind. “Do you think people would come?”

“Most definitely. Felix can persuade just about anyone to do just about anything.”

“Thank you.” This was better than she could have imagined. “That would be wonderful. The Duke of Seduction is a very helpful gentleman.”

His answering smile made her heart turn over again. “He tries to be.”

Anticipation coursing through her, she stood before she did something foolish. “I’ll endeavor to ensure this faux courtship is brief.”

“Take all the time you need,” he said.

No, she wouldn’t do that. She feared even a pretend courtship with him could lead to something that just might leave her wounded. She took his arm, and he escorted her back toward the house.

“Shall we plan for Thursday?” she asked.

He nodded. “I’ll talk with Felix immediately and leave a note in the tree confirming things.”

“I won’t be able to get there today,” she said. “I’ll be in the park later, however. Perhaps you should come and promenade with me—my parents will be expecting that.”

“Yes, that will kill two birds with one stone.” He opened the door for her to the morning room, and she preceded him inside.

Beck took her hand and brushed a kiss over the back of her knuckles, sending a shiver up her arm and over her shoulder straight to that spot on her neck. She drew her hand away perhaps a bit too quickly. “I’ll see you later at the park,” he said softly before turning to bow to her mother.

After he was gone, the countess tugged Lavinia to the settee. “Tell me everything he said.”

Lavinia bit her tongue before she could respond, Including how you and Father are extorting him to court me? Instead, she smiled pleasantly and told her they’d discussed the weather, music, and rock stratification.

At that, her mother flinched. “He couldn’t have wanted to hear about that.”

“Actually, he was quite intrigued,” Lavinia said haughtily.

The countess gave her a condescending look and patted her knee. “I’m sure he was just being kind, dear. You mustn’t test a gentleman’s patience.” Because he was only feigning interest? That was certainly what her mother obviously thought. Her parents’ manipulations made her ill.

Lavinia jumped to her feet. “I’m feeling a bit peaked. I should go rest if I’m to go to the park later.”

Her mother stared up at her imploringly. “You must go to the park.”

If Lavinia didn’t know better, she’d think her parents would gain some sort of prize for marrying her off with the utmost haste. Their urgency coupled with their deviousness was wholly disturbing. She exhaled with sudden weariness and decided she did need a rest—from her parents. “Yes, Mother, I must do many things. And I’m confident you’ll ensure I do them.”

She swept from the room, her back rigid, and vowed to look to the future where, no matter what, she wouldn’t have to deal with them anymore.

* * *

The past few days had been a whirlwind of activity. Beck had promenaded with Lavinia in the park twice and danced with her at a ball once. He’d also watched as Sir Martin had paid her specific attention, along with two other gentlemen. He tried not to watch too closely because it made him distinctly uncomfortable.

He didn’t see the point in exploring why that was, so he didn’t.

Meanwhile, Felix had organized the picnic of the Season. A multitude of vehicles and riders on horseback descended upon a green space near the Charlton Sand Pit early Thursday afternoon.

Lavinia was already there—Beck knew from the planning that she was to be one of the first to arrive. She’d taken up a position near an exposed wall of rock and dirt in the sand pit. It was a beautiful stratification of bands of varying texture and color. Throughout the afternoon, she talked with people about the history of those bands, sometimes going deep into discussion about the potential age of the Earth. Some people shook their head with doubt, but most were fascinated by her knowledge.

Beck was a bit infatuated. Was there anything more attractive than an intelligent woman? He didn’t think so. One of the reasons he’d fallen so hard and so fast for Priscilla had been her intellect. Her father was a scholar at Oxford, and she’d learned from him and his colleagues. She wasn’t a scientist like Lavinia, but a literary historian. Her love of words was part of what had inspired Beck to write.

The young spring day was cloudy but not cold, and, thankfully, dry, which made it a perfect occasion to spend time outdoors. The picnic area was a bit rambunctious. Felix had set up a shuttlecock net and bowls, and a group was currently playing a rousing game of blind man’s bluff.

Beck watched the festivities with amusement but didn’t particularly want to join in. What he wished he could do was sit beneath a tree and play his guitar. But of course he hadn’t brought it and never would. Not to an event such as this. Not to any event.

“Excuse me, my lord?” A feminine voice drew him to turn. The woman addressing him was tall with light brown eyes and a charming smile. He recognized her as the Duchess of Kendal.

Beck offered her a gallant bow. “Good afternoon, Your Grace.”

“Good afternoon. We met at the Kilves’ dinner party.”

“I remember.”

“You spoke with my husband that night—he told me of your conversation. I hope you don’t think me presumptuous, but I wanted to tell you I did meet your sister. Lady Helen was a kind and gentle soul. I’m sorry to hear she passed. I did wonder what had happened to her, but I lost touch with nearly everyone after I left town.”

Beck tensed upon hearing the duchess had known Helen, but relaxed slightly at her compassionate recollection. “Thank you for your kind words.”

“That was a nasty Season.” A slight tremor flitted across her shoulders. “Not just what happened to me—though, in hindsight, several of the gentlemen seemed rather predatory.”

Beck thought of the man Helen had mentioned in her letter. Had he behaved like that? “It seems as though it was very competitive.”

“Quite. Some of the young ladies could be ruthless in their pursuit of matrimony.”

He nodded in agreement. “That was my impression. My sister mentioned a couple of those women, but only by their initials—SW and DC. I don’t suppose you recall who they were?”

She pressed her lips together, her eyes narrowing slightly. “I don’t even have to think about it. They possessed the most acidic tongues that year. In truth, they haven’t improved much over time, particularly Lady Abercrombie.”

He had a name at last. “She’s one of them?”

“Yes, she was Susannah Weycombe then, and DC refers to her closest friend, Dorothy Cranley—she is Lady Kipp-Landon now.”

Satisfaction curled through him, but knowing their identities wouldn’t truly grant him victory. He vaguely knew who they were, but wasn’t entirely sure he could pick them from a crowd. He glanced around, wondering if they were here.

The duchess gleaned his thoughts. “They wouldn’t be here. They aren’t in this circle. I doubt the Earl of Ware would invite anyone like that.”

No, she had that right. “True, but sometimes things get out of hand with one of Felix’s events.”

“Is that so? Well, that sounds like it could be good or bad.” She grinned briefly, then fixed him with a sympathetic stare. “Does it help you to know who those women are? I sense it’s somehow important to you.”

“My sister had a difficult time of things, and they were part of that. I don’t know that it helps, but I certainly appreciate knowing who they are so I may give them the cut direct. Should the occasion ever arise.”

“I wouldn’t blame you. They tried to befriend me when I married Titus, but I may have ensured they were excised from my mother-in-law’s considerable sphere of influence.” She shrugged without a bit of concern, provoking Beck to laugh. “And my husband may have punched Lord Haywood, but I daresay he deserved at least that.”

Beck had met Haywood, who was more than a decade his senior. He was known as a bit of a gambler and a drinker. “Haywood is the man who—?” Beck didn’t want to say and knew she would understand the question.

“The man I was foolish enough to meet alone? Yes. He possessed an exceedingly charming demeanor. I had no idea he wasn’t sincere in his pursuit of me.” Her lips quirked up into a self-deprecating smile. “It turned out he was pursuing many young women. With no apparent intent to wed any of them.”

“He strung them along with empty promises.”

“He certainly did me,” she said. “And I was the perfect target—young, foolish, and desperate to marry.”

Exactly like Helen. Had she fallen prey to Haywood or someone like him?

“I’m happy things worked out for you.” Beck smiled at the duchess despite his sorrow at how things hadn’t worked out for Helen.

She let out a light laugh. “Exceedingly well, thankfully! And now I must be off. I have children to attend at home.” She glanced about briefly before returning her attention to Beck. “First, I must find Ware and thank him for this charming affair. Did you happen to listen to Lady Lavinia talk about the stratification in the sand pit? It was absolutely fascinating.”

“I did, and I agree.”

She bid him farewell, and Beck found himself drawn back down to the sand pit. There was no one there at present, and he wondered where Lavinia had gone. He meandered to the exposed layers she’d talked about earlier. Removing his glove, he ran his bare fingers over the lowest band of dirt, wondering at what things might have lived on it.

His mind turned to a more recent history—that of his sister’s last Season. Now that he knew who those women were, he wanted to ask them why they’d tormented Helen.

Beck’s family knew little of the circumstances of Helen’s death. Could these women shed any light? Would Beck trust anything they said?

The satisfaction he’d felt at learning their identity faded away. The helplessness and despair and anger he’d nurtured for years flooded back over him, driving him from the sand pit toward a copse of trees away from the revelers. People were beginning to depart. Good. He’d hide until then. He didn’t want to see anyone in his current mood. He’d leave, but he’d come out with Felix and would have to find someone else to take him back. The only person he thought he could suffer right now was Felix, and so he’d wait.

The only other person?

Lavinia filled his mind—her wit, her beauty, her keen intellect and confidence. Yes, he could suffer her quite well. Too bad their courtship wasn’t real.