Excerpt of Lessons In Seduction by Sara Bennett

Chapter One Berkeley Square
London
1840
Fourteen years later

Inside the tall, elegant London townhouse, Lord
Montegomery was impatiently allowing his valet to put the
finishing touches to his evening ensemble. Fitted black
coat and tapered black trousers and a fine white linen
shirt with a high collar and white cravat. The only splash
of color came from his waistcoat; bottle-blue velvet with
gold embroidery and large gold buttons.

There was a time when Oliver never would have worn such an
item, when black and white were the only accepted colors
for evening dress. The waistcoat was unforgivably vulgar
and tasteless, but he thought it appropriate; it
represented to him the present state of his life. Tonight
he was planning to spend a pleasant few hours at
Aphrodite's, before moving on to a drinking house
affectionately called the Bucket of Blood, where he hoped
to see some bare-knuckle fighting and lay a bet or two. In
the past, a night like that would occur every month or so,
but now it was close to every night. Drinking, gambling,
carousing; his standards had slipped. To all inte nts and
purposes he was on a downward slide -- everybody said so.

And that was just as he wanted it.

"My lord?"

A glance at the door showed him his butler, looking
troubled.

"What is it, Hodge?"

"The young person who called earlier is outside in the
square. I can see her lurking by the garden railings.
Should I call the constables?"

"Do you mean Miss Vivianna Greentree?"

"Correct, my lord."

Oliver frowned at his own reflection. Here was a
complication he had not expected. Miss Greentree from
Yorkshire, come to ring a peal over him.

"My lord? Shall it be the constables?"

Oliver picked up his ebony-handled cane. "Efficient as the
members of Sir Robert Peel's Metropolitan Police Force
are, Hodge, I do not think they are required just yet. Let
her be. If she tries to follow me, she will find she has
bitten off more than she can chew. Send the carriage
around. I am ready."

Hodge bowed and went to do his bidding, while Oliver
followed at a more leisurely pace. Miss Greentree might be
an unexpected complication, but he did not think she was a
particularly dangerous one. In fact, her presence in
London might well enhance his wicked reputation even more.
Time would tell what part Miss Vivianna Greentree from
Yorkshire had to play in this story.

* * *

Miss Vivianna Greentree stood outside the tall, elegant
London house, its windows ablaze with light, and felt very
small. Beneath the thin soles of her leather half-boots
she could feel every bump in the square, and the cold
crisp air made her shiver despite her sensible wool gown
and her warm cloak with its furtrimmed collar.

Impotent anger stirred inside her, a dark, smothering
sense of frustration that had been building since she left
the Greentree estate all those days ago in response to a
frantic letter from the Beatty sisters concerning the fate
of the Shelter for Poor Orphans.

Before her, on the west side of Berkeley Square, the
elegant Queen Anne home of Lord Montegomery rose up like
an accusation. The Montegomerys were an old, proud, and
aristocratic family, and Oliver was the last of them. What
would a gentleman of his privileged background know of
poverty and abandonment? Vivianna's fingers tightened upon
the riding crop she held in one hand -- protection, in
case she needed to go into streets that were less than
suitable for a woman of her class and refinement.

Vivianna had already been up to Lord Montegomery's door to
ask that he speak with her on a matter of urgency. The
supercilious-looking butler who answered her brisk use of
the knocker had informed her that Lord Montegomery was
about to go out to his club, and besides, he did not allow
unaccompanied female persons into his dwelling.

As if, Vivianna thought furiously, it was her reputation
in doubt rather than his!

Again her gloved fingers tightened upon the riding crop.
Well, he would soon realize that Miss Vivianna Greentree
from Yorkshire was not so easily thrown off the scent. She
was determined that the Shelter for Poor Orphans would not
close down because of one selfish gentleman.

A rattle of wheels and clatter of hooves heralded the
approach of a carriage from the far end of the square. It
drew to a halt outside Montegomery's house. His lordship,
it appeared, was preparing to go out to his club just as
his butler had said.

This was the moment Vivianna had been waiting for. Even
she, country bumpkin that she was, knew that fashionable
London gentlemen were wont to go out in the evening. And
from what she had learned of Lord Montegomery, he was a
very fashionable gentleman indeed.

Quickly, she moved into the shadows by the iron railings
that protected the garden and the plane trees in the
middle of the square. One of the passengers on the mail
coach, with whom she had shared the long journey south,
had been very informative when it came to London gentlemen
of Lord Montegomery's ilk, and with an eye to the future,
Vivianna had encouraged him to talk of such creatures in
general.

"Gaming and drinking clubs, night houses, and disorderly
women! My goodness, miss, you mind yourself in London, a
sweet innocent little thing like yourself."

Vivianna did not consider herself "sweet," and although
she was "innocent" in the physical sense, she was very
well read and informed. Nor did she believe herself to be
in any danger from Montegomery. A man like that would
prefer all the superficial womanly virtues -- sweet and
biddable, and certainly beautiful, in a wan and helpless
sort of way. Vivianna knew herself to be none of these
things; certainly she was not beautiful in the current
fashion ...