Happily Bedded Bliss: The Rakes of Cavendish Square

by Tracy Anne Warren

  It wasn’t as if he had no understanding of the compulsion. He’d experienced the insanity of love once himself in his youth. But luckily he’d been shown the perfidious nature of the emotion, the shallow core of what was ultimately an excuse for self-delusion and personal debasement.

  He sighed and drank more brandy, aware of the terrible ennui that plagued him. A hollow emptiness that nothing seemed to fill, not even the hot, mindless pleasure of sex. Of course he wasn’t about to turn celibate; he had lost neither his mind nor his basic male needs. But clearly he would have to find other means of entertaining himself.

  He would also have to seek out fresh ways to antagonize dear uncle Sidney, other than hosting scandalous orgies at his town house, adding to his erotic art collection, and seducing the young wives and daughters of his uncle’s friends and political allies.

  Pissing the old man off, now, that truly was one of life’s greatest pleasures.

  He tossed back the last of his brandy, then returned to his book. He’d just turned a page to begin a new chapter when a heavy knocking echoed from a distant part of the house.

  He glanced up at the clock and saw that it was nearly midnight. Who would be banging on the front door at this hour? Well, whoever it was, Cray’s servants would send them on their way.

  He’d barely had time to read another page when he heard the unmistakable sound of raised voices.

  Men’s voices, several of them.

  Then there were hurried footsteps.

  A quick rap came at the library door. It opened without his permission, and in rushed the butler.

  “Forgive the intrusion, my lord,” the servant said in a breathless voice. “There are several gentlemen here to see you. I explained to them about the late hour and that you are not receiving, but they are most insistent.”

  “Did these gentlemen state the nature of their business?”

  The butler shook his head. “No, but they are—” He paused and visibly gulped. “One of them is the Duke of Clybourne. The others are his brothers and his brother-in-law, Lord Gresham.”

  They were men of whom he had heard but whom he had never met. Actually, the only members of the Byron family with whom he was acquainted were Lords Leopold and Lawrence, who were his neighbors in London. He knew that Braebourne, the great country estate of the Byrons, abutted Cray’s lands, but since he wasn’t here to socialize, he hadn’t bothered to pay calls on any of the local aristocrats or gentry. Given his dreadful reputation, most of them likely wouldn’t have welcomed a visit from him anyway.

  So why the late-night call? He couldn’t fathom a reason. Unless they were here to carouse, but that seemed as unlikely, given the circumstances, as the visit itself.

  He set his book aside. “Very well, show them in.”

  “That won’t be necessary,” said a voice deep and rich with natural authority. “We decided to let ourselves in.” The dark-haired man, who Gabriel presumed must be the Duke of Clybourne, flicked a glance toward the hapless butler. “You may go.”

  The servant bobbed his head and fled.

  One of the other men shut the door. Gabriel began counting Byrons—there were seven, or rather six, if you didn’t include the brother-in-law. They were all tall and powerfully built, and they were all wearing hard, angry expressions, even the twins, who were usually grinning or making some humorous jest over their latest scheme.

  No, this was definitely not a social visit.

  Gabriel gave no outward sign of concern as he rose slowly to his feet, his own great height putting him an inch above even the tallest of them. “Good evening, gentlemen. Lawrence. Leopold. Perhaps one of you might be so good as to do the introductions. I presume these are your brothers.”

  A muscle ticked in Leo’s jaw—at least Gabriel thought it was Leo, since it wasn’t always easy to tell the twins apart; the two men looked so much alike.

  Lawrence’s eyes narrowed and for a minute Gabriel thought he might refuse. “Lords Cade, Drake and Jack Byron,” Lawrence said, gesturing toward each one in turn. “Edward, Duke of Clybourne, and our brother-in-law, Adam, Lord Gresham.”

  Gabriel inclined his head. “I would offer all of you refreshments but I have the feeling you are here on more important business. So, what may I do for you?”

  Leo’s eyes flashed and he took a step forward as though Gabriel’s words had unleashed some self-imposed restraint. “You smug bastard. How dare you act like you have no idea why we’ve come. Or are you going to claim next that you didn’t have any idea it was her?”

  “Her? Her who? Obviously this has to do with a woman.” He folded his arms. “You’ll have to enlighten me further, since I know a great many hers and sometimes it’s difficult to recall one from another.”

  “Why you—” And suddenly Leo leapt the distance between them, his fist connecting with Gabriel’s jaw before he even knew the blow was coming.

  His head snapped back as he absorbed the punishing blow. His own fists instinctively came up, deflecting a second punch, which would have landed in the center of his gut. He shifted stealthily out of the way and readied himself for more.

  He’d heard about Leopold’s boxing prowess but had never been on the receiving end of it before. Now he knew why even formidable men thought twice about crossing Leopold Byron.

  Before the fight could escalate further, two of his brothers, Jack and Drake, caught Leo around the chest and arms and wrestled him back.

  Leo struggled. “Leave off. I’m not finished with him yet.”

  “You can pummel him to bits later,” Jack said, “and it will be our pleasure to join in, won’t it, Drake?”

  “Indubitably,” Drake agreed.

  “But only after we’re done talking to him,” Jack said.

  “What’s there to talk about?” Leo shot back. “It’s plain enough what he’s done.”

  Lawrence pounded one balled up fist into his other hand. “I’m with Leo. Punishment first, then a hearing, once Northcote’s regained consciousness, that is.”

  “That’s not very lawyerly of you,” Gabriel said. “Don’t I at least deserve a chance to know of what it is I’m accused? Innocent until proved guilty and all that.”

  Lawrence shot Gabriel a furious glare. “Since we’re not in a court of law and I’m not acting as counsel, I believe I can set the finer points aside in your case.” He smacked his fist into his cupped hand again. “To think I considered you a friend, only to find out you would do such a no-good, reprehensible thing. This is beneath contempt, Northcote, even for you, and that is saying a very great deal.”

  “Let me go,” Leo demanded in a voice that was nearly a growl. “Let me hit the stinking blackguard just one more time.”

  “Are you sure only once will do?” said Lord Cade, glaring menacingly.

  “Yes, I’d say several times more seems fitting.” Adam Gresham tightened his fists, his knuckles popping.

  Gabriel tensed, raising his own fists another defensive inch higher in case Leo broke free, or one of the others decided to have at him instead. He took a moment to assess his adversaries. The older Byron brothers, and Gresham, were unknown quantities, but they all looked to be lethal in a fight.

  As for Lawrence, there was a curious kind of irony in their present circumstances considering the two of them had once fought side by side in a bruising tavern fight that had landed them both in gaol. Lawrence was a seasoned fighter and Gabriel knew not to underestimate him any more than his twin. But he could handle himself, having participated in his own share of dirty, bare-knuckle street fights and vicious brawls over the years. He’d rather not fight Lawrence, or Leo, come to that, but he would if necessary, even as badly outnumbered as he was.

  “I’ll take you on, all of you, if that’s what you want,” Gabriel challenged. “Seven to one. I’ll make book on those odds.”

  “I’m going to tear you apar
t, Northcote!” Leo struggled anew against his brothers’ hold; Jack and Drake suddenly looked as if they just might set him loose.

  “Enough!” the duke ordered with a crisp authority that quieted everyone in an instant. “We will hear Lord Northcote out and see what explanations he can offer for his actions. Then we’ll decide how best to vent our collective fury. Even I would not be averse to a good old-fashioned horsewhipping; or mayhap some boiled tar and goose feathers might be better.”

  Damn, Gabriel thought, but Clybourne just might be the most dangerous one of them all.

  Leo gave a low grunt of frustration but ceased his struggles, while Lawrence lowered his fists to his sides. The rest of the men stood down. Satisfied that Leo was no longer going to attack, Jack and Drake released him.

  Slowly, Gabriel relaxed his fighting stance as well, letting his arms drop to his sides. “So, let’s hear what it is all of you think I’ve done. Or should I amend that to say who I’ve done, since you made mention of a ‘her.’”

  The other men bristled.

  Jack’s eyes flashed fire. “Why, you loathsome son of a—”

  “Quiet,” Clybourne ordered in a hard, smooth tone that cut through the impending chaos. Once everyone had calmed again, the duke fixed Gabriel with a glacial stare. “I’m going to enjoy making you suffer for your insolence. Now, tell me how you come to know my sister.”

  “Sister?” Gabriel scowled, racking his brain as he flipped quickly through his extensive list of current and former sexual partners. “Lady Mallory, do you mean?”

  “Lady Gresham,” Adam Gresham shot back. “And what do you know of my wife, sir? How dare you impugn her reputation when she is an angel and wholly above reproach.”

  “Yes, so I hear. The lady and I are scarcely even acquainted. I admit that I may have danced with her once, years and years ago. Is she ginger haired?”

  “No, she most certainly is not.”

  Gabriel shrugged. “Well then, there you are. I guess I do not know her, after all.”

  Gresham made a sound like an angry bear.

  “Calm yourself, Adam,” Clybourne told his brother-in-law in a low aside. “Mallory is not at issue here, and it’s clear he does not know her.”

  “Then he ought not to have even mentioned her name,” Gresham said.

  Gabriel briefly lifted his eyes to the ceiling before focusing again on the duke.

  Clybourne looked back. “We are speaking of our other sister.”

  “And what is her name?”

  “Lady Esme.”

  Silence fell, the others clearly waiting for his reaction so they could pounce again.

  But he didn’t have one. “Sorry, I’m afraid I don’t know her either. She’s not a ginger, is she, by any chance?”

  Cries of outrage erupted.

  “Bastard!”

  “Blackguard!”

  “Liar!”

  “Lord Northcote,” Edward Byron said in voice so cold it could have frozen the Thames, “you are walking a very fine line. We all know you are lying and that you do know our sister. Tell us how it is you came to meet her and how long this”—the duke briefly closed his eyes as if he were in pain—“liaison has been going on. Was it at Cavendish Square? Did you see her perhaps when she was visiting one of her brothers, or Lady Leopold, and formed an acquaintance?”

  Gabriel grew abruptly annoyed, his hands turning to fists at his sides. If there was one thing he disliked, it was being accused of deceit. “As I’ve told you already, I do not know her. I have never met Lady Esme Byron. I don’t even know any women named Esme.”

  He shot looks at Leo and Lawrence, meeting their eyes. “The pair of you know me, at least a bit. Do you honestly believe I would seduce your sister? Your unwed sister, I presume, since there has been no mention of a cuckolded husband demanding we trade pistol fire at dawn. No, black as my reputation may be, and I in no way dispute the fact that it is every bit as bad as rumor claims, I am not in the habit of pursuing naive young girls.”

  The twins gave identical frowns and exchanged looks with each other. Their silent debate went on for several tense moments before they returned their gazes to him.

  “Very well, if it is as you say,” Lawrence stated in the erudite rhythms of a trained barrister, “and you take pains to avoid romantic dealings with innocent young ladies, then why is it our sister happens to have a drawing of you in her sketchbook?”

  Gabriel stared. “Does she? How very peculiar.”

  “A naked drawing!” Lawrence added.

  Gabriel took a moment to digest that particular revelation. “Are you certain it’s me?”

  “Of course it’s you,” thundered Leo. “You’re not all that difficult to recognize.”

  “Show him,” Clybourne ordered.

  One of the others came forward, Lord Cade, if he remembered correctly. The man walked with a slight limp, courtesy of an old war wound, he thought. “Here.” Cade held open a sketchbook.

  Gabriel glanced at the picture, which was surprisingly well-done. “A fine likeness. But the drawing appears to be of a flock of sheep in a field. Although I do agree that they’re all naked except for their natural woolly coats.”

  Cade looked down, scowling heavily. “No, not that one.” He flipped to the next page. “This one.” He held the book out again.

  This time Gabriel saw what they were all talking about as he looked at a drawing in which he was very plainly the subject—and in which he was indisputably naked.

  Again, the picture was exceptionally well drawn, the artist having captured his likeness with considerable skill. Astonishing skill, actually, if this was indeed the work of an untrained young woman.

  He studied the scene, noticing that he was asleep and out of doors, a pastime in which he rarely engaged. In fact the only time in the past couple of years that he could recall falling asleep bare-arsed and lying in the grass was earlier today after his swim.

  A frisson of memory went through him of seeing an odd, lightning-quick flash of blue there in the green woods. He’d also thought he’d heard something in the trees that surrounded Cray’s lake, a dry snapping sound as if someone had stepped on a twig. But then he’d been distracted by the dog and had forgotten all about the noise.

  But now that he thought about it all again, the truth hit him like a brick to the head. By Christ, she must have been there, this Esme Byron. The little sneak had to have been spying on him as he lay asleep in the grass, observing him like some Peeping Thomasina while she drew this sketch.

  Now it was his turn to scowl.

  “Well?” demanded Lawrence, as the others looked on expectantly.

  “Obviously that is me,” Gabriel said. “I cannot dispute that fact. But the drawing was done without my knowledge or consent. I went swimming this afternoon and fell asleep afterward. Lady . . . Esme must have come upon me while I was unaware.”

  “Oh, please, give us some credit,” Cade scoffed.

  “You expect us to believe that load of horse chestnuts? You had ‘no idea.’” Jack jeered, arms crossed over his chest.

  Drake regarded Gabriel with a kind of intense scrutiny that unexpectedly made him want to squirm.

  “Pity we aren’t in London, so I could have access to my equipment,” Drake mused aloud. “I’ve been conducting some promising experiments using electricity. I’d love to see what results they might produce when it comes to truth telling.”

  “Give me a list of what you need,” Adam said. “Surely we could cobble something together.”

  “Yes, I’d be happy to send a rider to Bristol for any necessaries,” Gresham offered.

  Clybourne’s blue eyes twinkled; he was obviously amused by the turn of conversation.

  As for the twins, Leo and Lawrence exchanged another set of speaking looks.

  “Could she have done?” Lawrence said in
a low voice.

  “It would be like her—,” Leo agreed softly.

  “And she was out today—”

  “Yes, but surely she must have considered . . . ?”

  Leo shrugged. “You know how she is.”

  “But of all the coincidences. Him here and her—”

  “I know. What deuced bad luck.”

  “Hellfire.”

  “And damnation.”

  Everyone else had gone quiet as they did their best to follow Leo and Lawrence’s disjoined conversation.

  Gabriel glanced at the duke, who wore an expression that was agonized but curiously resigned.

  “Just to clarify,” Edward Byron said, his own gaze shifting to Gabriel, “this lake where you swam. It’s on Cray’s land?”

  “That’s right.”

  “And you believed yourself to be alone?”

  “Yes. I had no notion your sister was there, observing and drawing me. At least not until—”

  “Yes, until?”

  He told them about the odd flash of blue, the sound and the dog.

  “There was a dog? What did this dog look like?”

  He described the animal.

  A collective groan went through the room.

  “Sounds like Burr,” Jack said.

  “Must have been,” Drake agreed.

  “I suppose, then, that we’re to believe him?” Cade said.

  “Yes, I rather think we must,” the duke said, “particularly since Esme denied knowing Northcote. She told me it was not what we were all imagining and that I was overreacting. I must admit I was scarcely in the mood this evening to hear her out, so I sent her off to her room. Now I realize I ought to have stayed and listened to her more closely.”

  The duke fixed Gabriel with a penetrating stare. “You give me your word as a gentleman that you have never in your life met my sister Lady Esme?”

  “Yes. I swear I have never met her,” Gabriel said. “As for my word, you may have it, though my reputation as a gentleman is admittedly suspect.”

  Clybourne sighed and nodded. “Well, at least I can rest easy knowing you did not seduce our little Esme after all. However, this changes nothing about what must come next.”