Pleasures of the Night by Heather Boyd

Chapter 1

May 1816

London

“Why are you deferring to Sylvia at home? It is not as if she’s becoming royalty,” Eugenia Hillcrest complained to her youngest cousin as they entered Wharton House, the Marquess of Wharton’s grand London mansion in Cavendish Square, after a night of rubbing shoulders with the cream of society.

“Close enough,” Aurora noted as she passed off her shawl and reticule to a hovering servant. “Sylvia is to marry one of the most eligible bachelors and popular lords in society. Everyone had been trying to catch his eye until our cousin seduced him.”

“She did not seduce him,” Eugenia hissed and then moderated her tone down to a whisper. “They fell in love in the best way. Secretly.”

“I still cannot believe she didn’t say a word to warn us of the blossoming romance, and she should have given us time to prepare for all this,” Aurora said, casting a glance up at the vaulted ceiling, where a pastoral scene had recently been painted. Gilt and mirrors, too, as far as the eye could see. “I thought we had a pact to share everything.”

Eugenia had thought so, too. But Sylvia had deceived them both, meeting secretly with a marquess for weeks before they’d both borne witness to the most startling marriage proposal from Lord Wharton. Although annoyed with Sylvia, Eugenia could understand why she had kept her silence about the affair. There were some situations in a woman’s life that were impossible to explain properly, especially when one’s heart was deeply involved.

The Marquess of Wharton was quite the catch, but he had flaws, too. The first being, he was extremely high-handed. They would never have imagined such a powerful man might be drawn to their dear but poor cousin. But he was utterly besotted with Sylvia. She was glad Wharton had done the honorable thing in the end and proposed a partnership of love and trust.

It helped that Sylvia loved Wharton to distraction, too, and had declared him her perfect match in every way that mattered. Wharton’s respect for Sylvia’s opinions, even when they were the opposite of his own, had made it easier for Eugenia to accept the match in the end. With Sylvia’s marriage into an important family, though, Aurora and Eugenia were both under the continual scrutiny of the unforgiving ton forevermore.

And members of the ton were easily provoked to spiteful tattling. Even women of her age, seven and twenty, came in for censure for misbehavior, real or imagined, all the time. It was fortunate she had no expectation of making a match herself, but she did worry about spoiling her younger cousin’s chances by putting a foot wrong.

A hard rap on the door sounded behind them, and the butler sprang into action to admit a dozen titled gentlemen, wives, and bachelors who had been invited to follow them home. Lord Wharton liked to entertain.

“Ooh, look. More company for tea,” Aurora crooned in obvious delight.

Actual tea at this hour of the night tended to be in short supply for Wharton’s impromptu parties, but spirits and wine were always plentiful and far more popular.

Eugenia glanced over her shoulder as a pair of late stragglers were admitted. Mr. Thaddeus Berringer, a dark-haired gentleman she’d admired from afar for a while, and Lord Sullivan, a former client of the Hillcrest Academy, strode into the chamber and looked about them, smiling.

Eugenia uttered a happy sigh.

The attendance of the Duke of Exeter’s heir would make the evening more enjoyable for her. Good-looking men were meant to be appreciated from all angles and from top to firm-muscled bottom.

She leaned toward her cousin. “Lord Sullivan is here.”

Aurora made an unhappy sound but did not turn to see. She had never hidden the fact that she thought little of Lord Sullivan.

Eugenia sighed. “Why can you not be kinder to our former client?”

“I have my reasons,” she said loftily.

Sullivan was a nice man. Wealthy. Softly spoken when in the company of ladies. He had not been keen to marry the last time they had met, although he was being pressured by his family. She shrugged away her curiosity about Lord Sullivan’s arrival or situation. They were no longer in the business of helping gentlemen prepare to find a bride. Sylvia’s engagement had made continuing their work impossible.

She resumed her discreet admiration of Mr. Berringer. “Do you think Exeter’s heir has a mistress yet? There is any number of ladies I know trying to catch his eye.”

“All the ladies I know who have tried have been soundly rebuffed,” Aurora confided.

That made Eugenia even more curious about him. It was no hardship to imagine he could have his pick of lovers. “Married or other?”

“Married,” Aurora said with a heavy sigh. “It seems our Mr. Berringer has a severe dislike of becoming an adulterer, and he avoids marriage-minded spinsters, too.”

“Society is overrun with both.” She chuckled. “Widows will be overjoyed if they figure out they have the best chance of becoming a duchess one day. But I like him all the more for his restraint when it comes to avoiding married women,” Eugenia murmured. “I dislike the idea of anyone coming between a couple, even if they are poorly matched.”

“Do not disregard the appeal of illicit love,” Aurora warned. “He’s a man. He’ll find someone willing, I’m sure,” she said with a decidedly wicked laugh.

He might, too.

Thaddeus Berringer was handsome, of sober habits so far, and a duke’s heir. It was widely reported that the Duke of Exeter had settled funds and property on his heir last year. There would be no limit to the vices and scandals he might indulge in one day, if he had the money and the company of wicked friends. He had little influence yet, though, and did not appear overly ambitious. Everyone gossiped over the tiniest details about his days. She had heard he’d left Town two weeks ago, and everyone speculated that there’d been a falling out in the family.

Utterly unfounded, most likely. She had borne witness to the Duke of Exeter and Thaddeus Berringer laughing together with pleasing frequency.

But debutants constantly followed him around ballrooms, hoping to be noticed and singled out for attention. Little was known of his reputation with the ladies at all, which was likely why she found him fascinating.

If he turned out to be as predictable as all other lords in society, Thaddeus Berringer would align himself with a woman of fortune and family in an attempt to gain power and influence over society, even before he became a duke.

They flowed along with everyone else to the drawing room as conversation sprang up between guests. Aurora and Eugenia were largely ignored. They had neither fortune nor fame. Although Sylvia looked their way with an expression of longing, they knew better than to believe she would join them tonight. Wharton talked of politics a great deal at these sorts of things, or he flattered Sylvia outrageously. Neither Eugenia nor Aurora enjoyed such talk for too long, but Sylvia hung on his every word—as it should be.

Besides, there were other topics that interested Eugenia and Aurora, which could entertain them for hours. Their favorite subject would shock prudish members of the ton.

Eugenia drew her younger cousin along, circling those gathered. She leaned close to Aurora to whisper, “Who would you have?”

“Tonight…” Aurora pursed her lips briefly, a small smile emerging as they strolled about the chamber considering the choices before them. “I think I should like tall, dark and,” her eyes lit up, “mysterious.”

Eugenia scanned the crowd again. Tall, dark, and handsome was in plentiful supply. Mr. Berringer was present, and Eugenia’s interest had become sadly fixed of late on him—the unobtainable man. But then a new man caught her eye—a stranger to Wharton’s late-night gatherings who seemed to match Aurora’s description. “I wonder who he could be?”

“Who cares who he is. It’s what he can do for a lady that is the real question.”

Eugenia hid a smile and discreetly observed the fellow, from the top of his perfectly tousled dark hair to the nicely formed bulge in his black satin breeches. “He seems quite well turned out. Meyer?”

“No, he wears a Weston creation, I believe.” Aurora made an approving sound as she twisted a lock of hair around her gloved fingers. “Delightfully fitted garments, one and all. I swear I can estimate his measurements even from here. I wonder if our cousin has the time to introduce us.”

Sylvia had her back to them and was laughing in Lord Wharton’s company.

“Patience, cousin. Anticipation is half the reward.” And it did not do to appear too eager at these sorts of gatherings. Some gentlemen took exception to women they considered forward, and all men gossiped as well as women. If they put a toe out of line, they could find themselves on the outs very quickly with this persnickety set. That might impact Sylvia’s standing in society, too.

Aurora pouted. “But am I not deserving of a reward as enticing as he appears to be?”

“Rewards might have to wait until Sylvia is actually married, and we can be ourselves again,” Eugenia said, reminding Aurora of their mutual decision to be on their best behavior. Eugenia appreciated a well-proportioned man as much as Aurora did. But the way they had pursued pleasure before Sylvia’s engagement was markedly different to how they could do so now.

There were many delights Eugenia had forbidden herself. Dalliances with anyone connected to the Marquess of Wharton’s family were a risky venture. She might talk of hope of seduction, but that was as far as she dared imagine for now. And since they mingled almost exclusively with Wharton’s set of friends, opportunities for trysts were virtually nonexistent.

A woman joined the mystery man, capturing his arm and full attention. She clung to the man with a proprietary air, so it seemed clear he belonged to some lucky woman. A wife?

Aurora sighed sadly. “Sometimes wondering is more enjoyable than discovering the truth that a man might be married already.”

“Indeed, it is.” She flashed a conciliatory smile in Aurora’s direction. “We can still observe and imagine.”

“Indeed, we will, cousin,” Aurora promised.

A call rang for everyone to move along to another room where refreshments had been laid out, and they followed with the masses again into the long gallery. After Wharton and Sylvia’s engagement had become common knowledge, they had all been pressed to come and live under Wharton’s not unsubstantial roof. Not for his benefit but for his mother’s health and happiness. Lizzy, the Marchioness of Wharton was still recovering from her breast surgery and remained in a delicate state of health in her chambers upstairs.

They had come along with Sylvia to cheer up the marchioness, distract her from the pain if they could. Neither task was easy, but none of them minded very much. Out of the three of them, Sylvia was most often in her future mama’s company. The marchioness had a dry wit Eugenia found compatible with her own, and she didn’t mind feeding the older lady harmless tidbits of gossip discovered during their outings.

But their new lives were not confined to sitting by the marchioness’ bedside every day. They had been invited to make themselves at home. Sixteen bedchambers, a ballroom, a vast library, a dining room, and a long gallery were now their playground. They were to enjoy themselves at any of Wharton’s impromptu gatherings as if they were family already, too. They could drink and entertain their friends as much as they liked.

Until the marchioness’ strength returned, the wedding ceremony had been delayed indefinitely, so they lived in wait for that happy day to come.

Eugenia smiled, knowing her evening was likely bound to be long, but the view always pleasurable. The opulence of the marquess’ home had been startling at first, but she’d grown accustomed to gilt everything, and even being introduced to members of the king’s family, too. The marquess and his mother kept a large circle of acquaintances from all walks of society, and close friends tended to drop by at all hours.

However, despite Eugenia’s love of conversation, she was often relegated to the sidelines due to circumstances beyond her control. First, she was a woman, considered by society as dependent on Wharton’s charity because of Sylvia’s future elevation to marchioness.

Second, she was considered a bluestocking sort of woman. She had been the driving force behind the Hillcrest Academy—managing the accounting and negotiations for their little enterprise. No one seemed quite sure what to make of their ties to trade. But she had been told that an unmarried cousin of a future marchioness could not possibly earn her own way in the world without facing criticism from all quarters. The Hillcrest Academy was no more.

And third, unfortunately, the best conversations tended to be led by the very same irritating creatures who constantly overlooked that she was more educated than the wealthy debutants they circled. They only asked exceedingly naive debutants of fortune their opinion on any number of topics they could never have knowledge or experience of at their tender ages.

Eugenia possessed a brain and the will to use it. She refused to become a sheep—following nose to tail because she was expected to be like every other lady. She was more intelligent than most debutants and unimpressed by what was considered popular.

As expected, Wharton swept Sylvia into another political debate, leaving Eugenia and Aurora to their own devices as usual.

“There they go,” Aurora grumbled. “Forgetting us again.”

Eugenia sometimes preferred it that way. An hour with Wharton pontificating on what society needed to do, or stand for, tended to give her a sore head.

Little groups sprang up immediately; gentlemen with their wives and friends attracted most of the bachelors for the present moment. “Would you care for a breath of fresh air, cousin?”

“Yes, indeed I would.”

Arm in arm, they sauntered away from all to the quiet end of the long gallery, where a grouping of chairs had been placed beside a window they could open a crack to let in some night air. Eugenia positioned herself directly in the cool draft and signaled to a footman. “Tea, please, Mr. Bloom.”

“I’ve already had it sent for, Miss Hillcrest,” he said with a tilt of his ginger head.

“You are a treasure,” she enthused, pleased with the new footman’s thoughtfulness. “He’ll do well if he keeps this up,” she whispered to Aurora when he was gone.

Aurora smiled. “I think he is trying to impress you.”

“He’s the new man below-stairs hoping to make a good impression on all of us to advance his career. If he pleases me, he probably hopes I’ll put in a good word for him with the future marchioness.” She shrugged, having already made such a recommendation for him to Sylvia a few days ago. “Besides, we’re entirely predictable. We always end an evening sipping tea in our corner.”

“How terrible to be so predictable.”

“We’re likely the only ones who are.”

They remained on the edge of the crowd in the long gallery, sipping their tea when it came. Happy with their own company and confidences. Though not technically correct for them to remain apart from everyone, they resisted society’s rules as often as they could, especially here. Wharton had tried to insist they should have a chaperone when they had first moved under his roof. However, he’d quickly changed his mind when Sylvia had suggested she needed a chaperone now, too.

“Look at them,” Aurora whispered.

Eugenia studied the end of the room, where their cousin stood encircled in her future husband’s arms. It was a quick embrace, laced with much laughter and tenderness. At home, Wharton could barely keep his hands from his future bride. A chaperone would undoubtedly have gotten in his way.

Eugenia glanced down at her empty teacup and then put it aside. “Still very much in love.”

“I hope that never changes,” Aurora whispered.

“I’m sure it won’t.” Eugenia inched closer to her cousin and fluffed out the skirts of her favorite plum-colored gown. She usually favored dark colors, though her family tried to lure her into white or brighter hues. She held on to her individuality as hard as she could. “When two people love each other in that fashion, nothing but death will keep them apart.”

“Are you sure?”

She nodded slowly and smiled. “I knew a woman once who proved my point. As a young woman, she was utterly swept off her feet by a man she knew but half a day. She married him by banns a month later and had just one blissful night in his arms as his wife, before he left her.”

“This doesn’t seem a happy story,” Aurora chided.

“It’s not, I suppose. When word reached her of his death, she cried for weeks. Bereft and facing a future alone, she could have fallen down and never gotten up again. But that brief love comforts her to this very day. Love, true love, never really dies for the one left behind.”

Aurora frowned. “Why did he leave her?”

“She begged him not to,” Eugenia swallowed the lump that had suddenly sprung to her throat. Partings were never easy. “He had a mother who waited for his return far away. He was supposed to break the news of his marriage gently, since his mother’s health was delicate, and then return to Hastings. But he drowned before he even reached his mother to tell her.”

“How sad for both of them. Did they ever meet? The mother and new widow?”

“No. Unfortunately, the lady had been left with insufficient funds. She never did seek out her husband’s final resting place to mourn. She wanted to go so very badly, but…”

“What happened to her? The widow. Have you kept in touch with her?”

Eugenia nodded. “She’s content. She lives with her cousins.”

“Just like us,” Eugenia noted.

“Yes, exactly like us.” Eugenia didn’t like to imagine how her life might have gone on if not for the love and support of her cousins. Together, they had started a new and more exciting life than she’d dreamed.

“I’m glad she had a family to support her,” Aurora whispered.

Aurora and Sylvia could never understand how much Eugenia had needed them in her life. “I am, too.”

Aurora sighed. “I can’t wait to fall in love like them, your friend and Sylvia, I mean.”

“You’ll be next, I’m sure,” Eugenia promised. She ran her eye over the visitors to Wharton House. They were the same men they’d known for almost a year. None had expressed interest in courting Aurora, and Eugenia was disappointed by that. She’d always thought Aurora, being the youngest, would be the first of them to marry, if a marriage was in the cards for any. Aurora was the prettiest and most bubbly of personality, too. Sylvia the most agreeable, while also being the most stubborn.

What society thought of herself, Eugenia had no idea…but she hoped they didn’t ever inquire too deeply into her past.