His Party Guest: Rakes of Mayfair Book Five

by Barron, Melinda

  His Party Guest

  Rakes of Mayfair Book Five

  Melinda Barron

  Blushing Books

  Contents

  What’s Inside

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Melinda Barron

  EBook Offer

  Blushing Books Newsletter

  Blushing Books

  ©2018 by Blushing Books® and Melinda Barron

  All rights reserved.

  No part of the book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  Published by Blushing Books®,

  a subsidiary of

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  is registered in the US Patent and Trademark Office.

  Melinda Barron

  His Party Guest

  EBook ISBN: 978-1-61258-797-4

  Cover Art by ABCD Graphics & Design

  This book is intended for adults only. Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are fantasies only, intended for adults. Nothing in this book should be interpreted as Blushing Books' or the author's advocating any non-consensual spanking activity or the spanking of minors.

  What’s Inside

  “Clarissa, if you don’t want this tell me now,” he said. “I will never force you to do anything.”

  She couldn’t tell by the tone of his voice what would happen if she said no. Would he leave her? Would this be their first—and last—night together? She didn’t want it to be. Being with him had been incredible. It had let her know how enjoyable sex could be.

  “Just my wrists?” she said.

  “Yes.” He held up the ribbon that had been laced through her nightdress and tied under her breasts. “It’s soft, and it won’t hurt. I will tie it loose enough so if you want to pull free you will be able.”

  That made it more amenable to her. But she was still a little worried about it.

  “Is this some sort of test?” She couldn’t help but ask the question.

  “No,” he said. He moved toward the bed, the ribbon dragging on the floor beside him. “It is something I enjoy, true. If things are to progress between us I would like you to enjoy it, too. But, as I said, it is not something I would force upon you. It’s your choice.”

  Clarissa held her hands out to him. “Then do it before I change my mind.”

  He pounced on her, and she let out a whimper, but then she laughed as he started to tickle her, running his hands over her body until she dissolved in laughter and worked to push him away from her. If he was trying to calm her down he was doing a good job. Her nerves had been on edge, but she was calmer now, and the longer he touched her the more she wanted to give herself to him and allow him to do whatever he wanted to her.

  She was on her back now, and he straddled her. He had the ribbon in his hands and he stretched it out so she could see it.

  “Clasp your hands together,” he ordered. She hated to admit that she rather liked the tone of his voice. When she’d done as he’d asked, he said, “Now, don’t hold your arms together, just leave them as they are with a bit of space between your wrists. That makes it so that I can wrap them together, and leave you room, as I said, to slip out of the ribbon if that is your wish.”

  Her nerves were back up again, and she felt as if she might lose the ability to breathe. “All right,” she managed to say.

  “Relax, my sweet,” he said. “If you don’t I’m not going to do it. I don’t want you to have a heart seizure while I’m inside you.”

  Clarissa giggled. “If I did it would be from the excitement of having your manhood in me.”

  He chuckled, and Clarissa bristled. “I’m sorry if you think my words are yours to laugh at.”

  “No, my sweet, that’s not what I meant,” he said. “You say manhood. I want to teach you to say prick. Dick. Cock.”

  “Can I learn to take the ribbon, and then work on my vocabulary?”

  Chapter 1

  October 1889

  “You know, the only house parties that hold my interest are ones held by The Club.” Andrew Tarton, Lord Beaton, stretched his long legs and stared at his friends. So many things had changed in the past few years. It used to be they were all single, enjoying the pleasures of their private organization, The Rakes of Mayfair, without having to worry about commitments.

  Then his friends started falling in love, one by one. All that was left of the single members of the Rakes were himself and Lord Barton, whom their friends referred to as the ‘B’ Lords. Even Amelia and Edward had married and become Lord and Lady Cannonberry, and were now expecting a child.

  “It might be fun. Don’t discount the party until you’ve experienced it,” said Dalton, Lord Essex. “Charlotte tells me several lovely young widows will be in attendance. Perhaps you can find one to alleviate your boredom.” Dalton finished his deal and looked at his cards.

  Andrew couldn’t help but sigh in disgust. “I want to point out that you started the end of the Rakes when you married Charlotte. Besides, I’ve been with many widowed ladies, and none of them have interested me.”

  The men sitting around the table all laughed. Lord Essex had his Charlotte; Lord Ellington had his Carin; and Lord Buxton had his Alice, and Fergus had his Gabby.

  “It’s not fair, really. There are hardly any more single female members of The Club.”

  “Then you need to find someone,” Buxton said, as he placed a bet in the center of the table. “Find a young widow who needs a good fuck. I’m sure there is a comely woman to meet your needs.”

  “Not in the city of London,” Beaton answered. “Maybe I should put an advertisement in Gabby’s newspaper, or she could do a story on a poor, rich boy who wants to find a wife. I’m wanting to find someone who fits me as well as you found to fit all of you.”

  “The perfect reason, then, to go to the house party,” Ellington said as he raised Buxton’s bet. “Perhaps one of the lovely ladies attending will be adventurous in the boudoir.”

  “Fat chance of that,” Beaton said. He shook his head in disgust at his cards and threw them face down on the table. “Ever since Shelia McCoy married and went back to Scotland I’ve been bored with every woman I’ve met.”

  “You should have made an offer for her when you had the chance,” Barton said as he threw his cards down, indicating he was also out for this hand.

  “She wouldn’t have had me,” Beaton replied. “We got along well enough, but not sufficiently for marriage. Who is hosting this party?”

  “The Duke and Duchess of Stanhope,” Essex said as he raised his bet. He gave Buxton and Ellington a stone-faced look, and the two men responded with the same. “Charlotte tells me that the duchess is now nine months recovered from having their first child and is anxious to get back into the swing of things. She has planned a scavenger hunt, and lots of cards, food and dancing. The party starts early Friday morning and goes until late Monday morning.”

  Beaton pursed his lips and nodded. “That might be entertaining, and it would be good to get out of town before winter sets in.”

  “Charlotte will be happy to hear you’re going,” Essex said. He laid t
hree queens on the table and grinned.

  “Good news indeed,” Buxton said. He laughed as he laid down a full house, kings over tens. Essex frowned and they all turned to Ellington.

  “Excellent, indeed,” Ellington said. He laid four aces down on the table, laughed and gathered the money toward him. “Hopefully you all will have better luck at the party than you have had tonight.”

  * * *

  Beaton shook his head and looked at the assembled crowd. It was almost noon, and guests had begun arriving at the Stanhope party as early as eight. He himself had traveled with Dalton and Charlotte.

  He smiled as he remembered Charlotte’s running list of the widows who would be attending the gathering. She’d gone through the pros and cons of each lady, from temperament to money.

  “Really, your best hope is Lady Strauss. She’s been the mistress of several of society’s more fashionable men, most recently the late Duke of Melbourne. Since he’s died, I understand that she’s looking for a new bedmate.”

  “Melbourne? Why did he need a mistress? I understand that he had a young and beautiful wife who was very much in love with him. What did he die of, anyway?”

  “Consumption. And his wife was more than twenty years younger than him, and she saved him from ruin. They say his estates were falling down before her father offered her, and quite a sizable dowry, because she was so in love with him.”

  “Hmm,” Beaton considered his choices and then shook his head. “I think I’ll just sit back and see what turns up. I think that Lady Strauss and I would bump heads too much. I’ve seen her at more than a few balls and she seems to offer her favors to any man who asks. I don’t like that idea.”

  “I’m not saying you have to marry her,” Charlotte said. “Just consider it. Maybe she would be amiable to a good romp.”

  “It might take the edge off you,” Dalton said. “You’ve been a bear lately.”

  Beaton snorted. “Sod off, Dalton.” But he had to admit his friend was probably right. He was not in the best of moods when he wasn’t having sex. It had been so long since he’d taken a willing, sweet woman to his bed. He wanted to find a woman who would pique his interest, but he doubted that he would find her here.

  In true house party fashion he was sure that widows would be inviting the eligible males into their beds at night, but most of them would be older women just looking for a one-time thing. He could, of course, take advantage of their willingness. But nights like that usually left him feeling empty. He would wait and see who turned up before he made any decisions.

  The carriage rounded a corner and joined the line of conveyances in front of the Stanhope’s huge manor home.

  Charlotte craned her neck to see who was arriving. She gave her traveling companions a running commentary of who was alighting from the carriages. A huge intake of breath told the men that someone had arrived whom she had not expected.

  “There she is, the Duchess of Melbourne. She’s been out of mourning for seven months now and hasn’t been seen anywhere. Now she turns up at the same party as Lady Strauss? Oh, this ought to prove interesting. The duchess made no bones about the fact that she hated her husband’s mistress.”

  “Well, then, it seems like the weekend will have more than cards and croquet for entertainment,” Beaton said. “Which one is she?”

  “There, standing near the front door. She has black hair, and she’s large, very tall. Almost as tall as you are.”

  Beaton’s eyes rose with appreciation as he looked at the young duchess. He put her age at around thirty, just a few years younger than him. She had a healthy figure, and wasn’t corseted in until she looked like a stick figure. Her breasts were round and high up, and her rounded bottom could provide hours of entertainment for them both.

  “Very nice,” Beaton said. “Perhaps things are looking up for the weekend.”

  Charlotte laughed. “Think again, Andrew. The duchess, they say, is a prude. Which is the reason why her husband went looking for Lady Strauss.”

  * * *

  The Duchess of Melbourne, known to her few friends as Clarissa, smoothed down her skirt and sighed.

  “Do you think this dress will do, Sally?”

  Her maid nodded and smiled. “It’s beautiful, Your Grace. It will do for both dinner and the dancing.”

  Clarissa sighed. Dancing. She didn’t want to think about dancing. If she had her way she’d still be at her estates, reading and taking care of the household accounts. After her disastrous marriage she had no desire to ever have contact with a man again. She had a reason for attending this house party and she intended to get her business done as soon as possible and leave before she had to attend too many of the weekend’s events.

  She was sure that her first opportunity to put her plan into action would be at the scavenger hunt, which was scheduled to begin Saturday morning. While everyone was busy looking for the hidden trinkets she would sneak upstairs and do what needed to be done.

  “Thank you for your help, Sally. Now, I think it’s time to go down to dinner. I’m sure that the stir my arrival caused this afternoon will continue when I step into the parlor tonight. There must be more than thirty people here. You would think that many attendees would mean I wouldn’t garner such attention.”

  * * *

  But she had. When she’d stepped inside the parlor, ladies had whispered behind their hands and men had stared open-mouthed. She was pretty, she knew that. Her long, black hair was curly and hard to hide. Her sapphire eyes were large and becoming. She was larger than most women but what did it matter, really? She didn’t care that most men were shorter than her. She’d never lacked for suitors.

  It was a shame that she’d fallen for Taylor’s ploys. He was a Duke, for certain, and he’d been charming when he’d courted her. She’d fallen for him quickly. And the moment the vows had been said, her maidenhead was gone and her money was in his hands; he’d then informed her that the only reason that he would look at an ‘Amazon’ like her was for the money.

  He’d tried four times a year to get her with child, and failed at each attempt. Clarissa thanked her stars for that. Although she would love to have a child she didn’t want one brought into a loveless marriage.

  Taylor’s death had been a blessing. She’d been embarrassed when he’d traveled from bed to bed, testing the charms of numerous widows. When he’d finally settled in the bed of Lady Strauss she’d been furious. And he had laughed at her and told her he didn’t care how she felt.

  To save face she’d settled in their estates near the Scottish border and lived the life of a thrown-over wife, at the age of twenty-eight. Now that Taylor was gone she could live again, well, once this was all over she could. She was sure that his indiscretions were why everyone talked about her when she arrived today.

  When it was over, when they found out why she was here, she would be branded a thief, ostracized by the ton and unable to show her face in public again. But she didn’t care. She was damned if Taylor would thumb his nose at her from beyond the grave. She planned to set things right.

  She thanked Sally again, and made her way down the stairs. Most of the houseguests had already arrived and were visiting and drinking. When she stepped into the room, the talking turned into hushed murmurs. She held her head up and smiled.

  “Your Grace,” said her hostess. “It’s wonderful to see you. Please, come in and make yourself at home.”

  The room filled with conversation again and Clarissa accepted a glass of champagne from a page and moved into the crowd, her gaze roaming the room. When she didn’t find her target she frowned.

  “Is the champagne sour?”

  The deep male voice in her ear caused her to shiver. She turned to look into a pair of wide shoulders, and then looked up at the handsome man standing behind her. His dark hair brushed his collar, and his dark eyes flashed with humor. He was one of the few men whom she had to look up to. She stood five foot nine inches. This man was well over six foot.

  “Why ever woul
d you think that?”

  “The frown on your face. It seemed as if something disagreed with you.”

  “And you are?”

  “Forgive me, Your Grace. Andrew Tarton, Lord Beaton, at your service.” He bowed and Clarissa fought down a grin.

  “Oh yes, Baron Tarton’s youngest son.”

  “Yes, always a Lord, never a Baron.” He smiled when she laughed. “Shall I get you a new glass of champagne?”

  “No, thank you, Lord Beaton. There is nothing wrong with my drink.”

  “Then why are you frowning?”

  “I don’t believe that’s any of your affair.”

  “Just trying to be of service, you seemed so distressed.”

  “Perhaps it was because I failed to see anyone of interest about.”

  Beaton put his hand to his chest and swooned, and this time Clarissa let the grin spread.

  “You wound me, Your Grace. I would hope if I had not made myself known to you, that you would have thought me of interest enough to come up and introduce yourself.”

  “A lady does not approach a man.”

  “Which is why I approached you.”

  A servant announced dinner, and Beaton offered his arm. Clarissa took it and smiled at him.

  “You are a very handsome man, Andrew, if I may call you that.” When he nodded she continued, “And, of course, you must call me Clarissa. But I should tell you outright that I am not interested in male companionship. My door will not be unlocked tonight.”