the luxuriousness of her surroundings. Remington's Gentleman's Club was a pleasure den, a bastion of male comfort and iniquity. Hugh had steeped himself in the environment, surrounding himself with erotic novels and scandalous peep-show boxes, as well as a social circle made up entirely of debauched rakes. She'd been forced to study the enemy simply to know what she faced.
Well, that wasn't entirely true. Julienne had to admit she was curious about carnal relations. She hated to be in the dark about anything, and Aunt Eugenia was no help at all, stuttering and stammering every time she was asked anything of a sexual nature. The books and contents of the boxes had answered many of Julienne's questions, but in the process they had raised many more, and unfortunately they had told her nothing about how to remove Hugh from his path of self-destruction.
Standing, she crossed to the window and stared at the darkened London skyline. Remington's was Hugh's favorite establishment, and after seeing the inside of the famous club, Julienne could understand why. He'd been absent for a week, which was not unusual, but the hounding creditors were driving her mad. Usually Hugh dealt with them, charming them into allowing him a few more days. She, on the other hand, had no notion of what to say, and while the duns strove to be polite to her, they grew angrier by the day.
There would be hell to pay when Hugh showed his sorry hide again. But in the meantime, she was inclined to think her adventure had been worth it just for the few stolen moments she'd enjoyed of Lucien Remington's company. The fact was, the possibility of seeing him up close, of hearing his voice, of watching him at her leisure, was what had prompted this plan. Finding Hugh would have been a bonus.
Under no other circumstances would Julienne have been allowed to make Remington's acquaintance. She knew very little about him, since he was not a fit topic for unmarried ladies. Furtive eavesdropping in retiring rooms had only whetted her appetite to learn more. But there was one thing she knew for a certainty: Lucien Remington was a naughty man.
And she rather liked that about him.
He knew how to enjoy himself without running headlong into the poorhouse. In fact, rumor said he was one of the richest men in England. She hoped Hugh could learn similar self-restraint and financial acuity.
Releasing a deep breath, Julienne turned toward the bed. At times she truly hated being an earl's daughter and all of the social strictures that came with that station. She wished she could be like her abigail, who was seeing the neighbor's footman and was blissfully in love. Instead Julienne would be forced to marry for prestige and money. It really wasn't fair. Playing the martyr didn't suit her nature. Hugh made his own messes, and as far as she was concerned, he should clean them up himself. Unfortunately, that wasn't the way it would be.
But her dreams were her own. And if those dreams were of Lucien Remington and his wicked smiles, no one else would ever have to know.
Lucien strode to the sideboard, poured two fingers of brandy, and tossed the fiery liquid back in one gulp.
He'd lost his damn mind. There was no other explanation for forcing Lady Julienne La Coeur to stay. His hand went to the front of his trousers and rubbed the length of his aching erection. His arousal was ridiculous. She was dressed in men's clothing, for Christ's sake!
Closing his eyes, he pictured the sway of her hips in those trousers as she'd left the room. His cock throbbed in response.
Hell and damnation! He should have shoved her out the door. Gently, of course, but shoved with haste, nevertheless.
Instead he had sent her upstairs to the room that adjoined his. She was an innocent, that was painfully obvious, but despite her unfamiliarity with sex, she was no stranger to desire. She'd looked at him as if she wanted to eat him alive. And, God, he'd love to allow her to. With very little effort, Lucien could imagine sliding his cock in and out of her delectable mouth. It would feel like warm silk…
He groaned as his trousers grew even more uncomfortable.
With a muffled curse, Lucien set his empty glass on the desk and walked to the bookshelf. Glancing quickly through the spines, he located the file for the Earl of Montrose. The earl's entire monetary history could be found in here, from the amount he owed his tailor to the balance in his bank account.
Lucien had been aware that Montrose was playing too deep. Any other patron would have lost his credit privileges long ago. But Lucien had left the young earl's accounts open, for one reason and for one reason only-he wanted Julienne La Coeur. He'd coveted her across many a crowded ballroom. Tiny but temptingly voluptuous, with dark blonde hair and mischievous eyes, Julienne had stolen the breath from him at first sight.
He'd wanted to approach her, to beg a dance with her, so he could hold her in his arms. But his reputation as a notorious rake and debauched libertine, as well as his livelihood in trade, had made him vastly unsuitable for even an introduction, let alone a waltz. So he'd allowed Montrose, his one connection to Julienne, to continue playing, to keep him close until he could think of a way to get to his sister.
Lucien wasn't certain what he'd do with Julienne when he caught her. Perhaps he could seduce her and ease his craving. Maybe a longer association would be required. He honestly didn't know what he wanted. He only knew that he wanted. Badly.
Never in his wildest imaginings (and his imaginings could get pretty wild) had he ever thought she would come to him. And dressed as a man, no less.
But he rather liked that she had. It took a formidable will to risk such a scandal. And she'd stood up to him, before whom even some dukes cowered. Julienne La Coeur was no simpering miss.
Now she was upstairs, preparing to slip into one of his beds. He could imagine her curls spread across his silk- covered pillows, her head thrown back with pleasure, as he rode her hard and deep. She'd be ravishing all flushed with passion…
He was driving himself mad.
Before he aroused himself enough to do something he'd regret, Lucien returned the file to the shelf and exited to the gambling area. He wandered among the gentlemen of the Beau Monde, keeping an eye on who was winning and who was losing. He directed the courtesans toward members who looked to be in need of a little amusement, and signaled the servers to water the drinks of those who looked to be falling too far into their cups. He socialized with patrons who sought him out, and paid attention to the quantity and quality of food leaving his kitchens.
Busy with work, he was able to pass some time without a full-blown cockstand. But as the hours passed and more gentlemen made use of the courtesans, his mind wandered back to Julienne.
Beautiful, untouchable Julienne.
He'd watched her draw wallflowers out of their shells and turn the Beau Monde's social dragons into purring pussycats. And he coveted her gentle regard.
Lucien left the main floor and made his way upstairs. Before he realized it, he stood in the bedroom he reserved for his own use when the lateness of the hour or sheer exhaustion made it impractical to go home. He hesitated in front of the connecting door to the Sapphire Room. His erection was back, hot and throbbing in the tight confines of his trousers. He rested his forehead gently against the portal, knowing Julienne was just inside, so close. Achingly close.
He paused and took a deep breath. He reached for the doorknob and was gratified when it turned. Julienne hadn't had the foresight to turn the lock. Fortuitous, or a disaster? Lucien couldn't be certain. A gentleman would walk away. Of course, a gentleman wouldn't have come up here in the first place.
But then he'd never claimed to be a gentleman.
Before he could think better of it, Lucien pushed the door open and walked right in.
Chapter Two
Julienne woke, alerted to the presence of someone else in the room. She was a light sleeper, always had been, and she lay quietly, attempting to ascertain who'd entered.
'You're awake.'
She stiffened. That velvety voice was unmistakable. Sitting up in the massive bed, she held the sheet to her neck and glanced toward the door. Light filtered in around Lucien Remington's tall form, casting half his features in shadow. He looked like the devil incarnate, all raw power and luscious dark masculinity.
