Lord Devere's Ward by Sue Swift Page A

Notorious Rake had palled; the seduction of virgins held no more mystery; the prospect of a duel bored him to tears, so much so that he could not be bothered to ravish his friends’ wives.
    He felt disinclined to set new fashions or to depress the pretensions of upstart mushrooms of society.
    Whereas his exploits had previously been attended with a certain lust for experience, he approached his thirtieth year with uncharacteristic ennui.
    Then, all had changed, like a sudden thunderclap on the afternoon of a sultry summer day. He had beheld Purity and Love in the form of the Honorable Louisa Penrose, and he would never be the same man.
    The day after his epiphany, Sir Willoughby presented himself at the front door of the Penrose home on Bruton Street. Discreet inquiries through servants led him to believe that an early visit would favor his suit. Hawkes had become aware that the mistress of the house would be occupied with housekeeping details, such as conferences with cook and butler, and that the master would be tutoring the younger children.
    Hawkes knew his planning had borne fruit when he was escorted into the drawing room by an inexperienced footman. For a treasured moment, the object of his affections was both alone and completely unaware of his presence as she practiced the pianoforte. Mozart, thought Sir Willoughby. The Sonata in C major. And rather well done, he decided, listening to the rippling scales and cascades which flowed from Louisa’s clever fingers like a waterfall.
    He saw that his nymph was one of those fortunate ladies who are flattered by the clear, harsh light of morning. The sunlight streaming through the window lit her aureole of blonde hair, turning it into a halo. She wore pink, and that very feminine color awakened mad thoughts of marriage in the breast of a gentleman who had previously referred to wedlock as
    “a damnable state, fit only for weak-livered clerics and timorous virgins.”
    As the footman announced Sir Willoughby, she looked considerably jolted. For the first time, Hawkes experienced a flash of regret over his misspent youth, and wondered if any breath of scandal had come to his fair darling’s ears.
    Probably not, he thought with relief, for after the young lady had recovered her composure, she calmly ordered the footman to tell Lady Anna there was a visitor, and to bring tea. That task completed, Louisa was alone with the most notorious rake in London.
    Hawkes saw that she was as nervous as a filly confronted by the bridle for the first time, but he couldn’t fault any aspect of her manner. She dealt with him with a degree of equanimity unusual in such a young lady.
    “Good morning, sir.” She remained formal as she curtsied slightly.

    “Good morning.” He bowed. “I ask your
    forgiveness.”
    “Pardon me?”
    “I fear to address you incorrectly. Devere introduced three lovely ladies in rather quick succession. I am sure you are not Miss Tyndale,” he added with a sarcastic edge to his voice. “May I assume you are Miss Penrose?”
    “Yes, I’m Louisa Penrose.”
    “Your mother has been hiding you in the country, I daresay,” he remarked. “I could not fail to notice you had we previously met.”
    “Yes, I’m to be fired off this Season,” she stated, with a trace of humor in her voice.
    Though miffed, Sir Willoughby concealed his reaction. Fancy Devere keeping this diamond out of reach! Hawkes remembered he’d asked Devere if there were any eligibles making their debuts, and Devere had denied the existence of anyone who might suit the baronet. Hawkes’ brows drew together as he deduced that his friend had concluded Sir Willoughby was not a worthy match for Devere’s niece. But I’ve no one to blame if my reputation is, perhaps, a bit tarnished.
    The door flew open and Lady Anna entered the room, followed by a footman with the tea tray. “Sir Willoughby, a pleasure,” she said through gritted teeth. She allowed him to make his bow over her hand, which