Romancing the Rake: Seven Regency Romances

by Tammy Andresen

  How interesting. And they said men were far simpler than women…

  She looked back at the massive man filling the doorway. His dark looks as intriguing as they were hard. He was the first man to ever utter little pearls of truth about what men did when they weren’t pretending to be gentlemen. He could teach her a great deal.

  She touched her lips with a single finger. She wanted to marry a good man, a man of quality, of course. And knowledge of men could only help with that, but right now she wished for a few more immediate needs to be met. Excitement. Interesting company. The Baron of Balstead could potentially help her with all of that.

  And of course, she’d be able to sharpen her sparring skills. She’d lost the first round handily. But that didn’t mean one should give up. No, quite the contrary, she would try again. It was time for round two with her Bawdy Baron.

  Raithe swore softly under his breath. These lords that he’d invited to his home were all pairing off already. Damn it all to bloody hell, he’d needed them single.

  His childhood friend, Lady Cassandra Rainsville, had been recently widowed. Not surprising considering she’d married a man who’d been ill from the start. But to her dismay, he’d not left a single shilling to his wife’s name.

  Raithe had offered to marry her himself, and she currently lived in his home. He’d not allow her to be turned out onto the streets, but she’d flatly refused his offer of marriage. Something about marrying for the wrong reasons once was enough.

  He supposed he understood. He’d married for the right reason at the age of twenty, before he’d discovered he was the next Baron of Balstead.

  He’d loved Jennifer with his whole heart and when she’d grown heavy with his child, his affection had only grown deeper.

  Neither of them had survived the birth. They’d left him alone and adrift in this world. The familiar ache weighted his stomach. The one he usually lessened with alcohol and meaningless liaisons.

  But one good marriage had ruined him for the institution forever so he could see how a bad one might frighten Cassandra away.

  Yet, he wanted her to be happy. She was the closest thing to family he had. And so he’d chosen some of the most eligible bachelors he could find to attend his party. Men who had slightly tarnished reputations and might be willing to overlook her poverty while still being kind-hearted enough to make a decent spouse.

  He scratched the back of his neck. Unfortunately, he’d been right. They were primed and ready for a good match. Just not with Cassandra.

  “Have a seat.” Mr. Moorish gestured for him to step further into the room. “Dinner will be served shortly. Cordelia was about to play for us.”

  Balstead crossed the room as everyone returned to his or her seat. Charlie sat down on the settee she’d been lounging on but blessedly didn’t stretch out. If she lay back again, he might…what? Toss himself atop her in front of all these people?

  Belatedly, he realized the only chair left was next to the very woman currently torturing him. With a frown, he slid next to Charlie as the music began.

  He’d heard a great many debutantes “entertain” with pianoforte recitals, but never had he heard anything like the Moorish woman. The music flowed through him, sweet and strong as the heat from Charlie’s body penetrated into his side. He closed his eyes, wondering how Charlie might feel pressed against him. Then he gritted his teeth. Somehow the music was making the whole experience of sitting next to her extra intimate.

  The song finally ended and he breathed a sigh of relief. Which was a mistake. Dashlane had slid next to him at some point, sitting just to his right. And Charlie leaned against his left side in a way he wasn’t prepared for. Her shoulder and left breast brushing down his arm making everything inside him rock hard.

  “She’s so wonderful, Lord Dashlane,” Charlie gushed, her breath tickling across Raithe’s neck.

  “That was excellent,” Raithe called over the clapping. “You’ve a gift.” He needed to focus on anything other than the woman pressed to his side.

  “Thank you,” Cordelia said, giving him a smile.

  From his left, Dashlane let out a gurgle deep in his throat. “She’s taken,” he gritted out the words through clenched teeth.

  Raithe looked at the other man. He’d do nearly anything to ignore how Charlie’s touch was affecting him. “Dashlane,” Balstead drawled, meeting Dashlane’s angry gaze with an unspoken challenge. “I do believe you’re getting sand on my arm.”

  Dashlane grimaced, rising from his seat even as Charlie eased back, giving him room to breathe.

  What was he doing here?

  But he knew. Even as he’d realized the men were taken, already engaged, he’d realized that another person in this room could help Cassandra. She was young and beautiful with all of London at her feet. Lady Charlotte Summerset was one of the few people he might be able to coerce into helping Cassandra. What he needed to discover was what Charlie would ask for in return.

  Chapter Three

  Dinner was lovely as always, though Charlie had been distracted by the man who remained next to her. He’d said little since the music room, but she felt his presence like a physical touch. She fiddled with the stem of her glass as she gave him another sidelong glance. Was he as aware of her as she was of him?

  And how did one go about getting sensitive information from a man she hardly knew? And one who stole her breath every time he moved even the slightest bit?

  “I need to speak with you,” he whispered softly, barely looking her way.

  Her eyebrows lifted. That was convenient. “Good. I want to speak with you too.”

  His lips pressed together making the angles of his face even more prominent. “You want to speak with me?”

  She gave a small nod, leaning toward him once again. Why did she keep doing that? She was like a moth drawn to a flame. “I have some questions.”

  “Questions?” The thin line of his lips turned down into a decided frown. “What sort of questions?”

  She most definitely was not answering that yet. “When the men go up to smoke. Excuse yourself. I’ll meet you in the garden.”

  Then she straightened, turning away from Balstead. The last thing she needed to do was make Mr. Moorish or her cousin suspicious.

  Soon enough everyone stood, the men retreating to wherever it was they took themselves off to while the women made their way back to the music room.

  She took a deep breath. “I find that champagne has given me an awful headache.” She started rubbing her temples.

  Mr. Moorish was an avid Shakespeare fan and she suspected he’d had a secret wish to be an actor. The Moorish girls had grown up putting on plays. Which meant acting was a dangerous endeavor when trying to trick them.

  But fortunately, Cordelia turned around, giving her a sympathetic glance. “That’s happened to me too. Go to bed and take a bit of laudanum.”

  Charlie gave a forlorn nod, parting from the group and heading to the back stair. But she didn’t go up, rather down. She crept down the hall until she reached the kitchen door. Opening it as slowly as possible, she slipped out and back around the side of the house to the garden.

  She wasn’t certain how long she’d have to wait, so she searched for a good place to hide. Somewhere she could see the patio doors and perhaps the kitchen too.

  “For a woman who made an illicit meeting, you’re doing a terrible job of hiding yourself.”

  Balstead. She spun about seeing the glow of a cigar coming from the shadows. “You’ll have to forgive me. This is my very first one.”

  “Your first?” He stepped out so that she could see his exceedingly large outline, the raw masculine edges of him. “I’m honored.”

  That made her smile and she walked toward him, sinking into the darkness. “What did you need to speak with me about?”

  “Oh no, I’m enough of a gentleman to know that a lady should go first.”

  “Not that much of a gentleman, I hope,” she muttered, not meaning to say it out l
oud.

  “What is that supposed to mean?” he asked, his voice dropping low, the deep timbre of it reverberating through her.

  Her tongue darted out to wet her lips. Despite the dark, she heard him make a low noise, deep in his throat that sounded a bit like a moan. She pulled her tongue back into her mouth. “Did you mean what you said earlier? Do lords attend parties where they drink and bed women away from the eyes of society?”

  He straightened. Her eyes were adjusting to the dark and she could see his near black irises glittering in the sliver of moonlight that lit the night sky. “Many. Yes.”

  A shiver skittered down her spine. Oh, this was terribly exciting. Her idle mind needed this meeting, the information exactly what she craved to fill her thoughts. “What sort of women go to these parties if not ladies? Are they light skirts?”

  He let out a sigh. “Why do you wish to know all this?”

  She cocked her head. How did one say that she kept busy with parties and gossip because she hated the feeling of quiet? “I’ll marry someday. Knowing all of this will help me choose the right husband for me.” She raised a finger. “Which reminds me. Do good men or bad men ultimately make better husbands?”

  He scoffed. “Depends on the man, the woman, and the circumstance.”

  “Lord Crestwood and Lord Craven?” She was sincerely concerned for her friends.

  He shook his head. “Good, I would wager. They are likely in love.” His tone held a bitter note that caught her ear.

  “You don’t believe in love?” She found herself once again drifting closer.

  He held up a hand, which stopped her movement forward. But the brush of his fingers on her arm also sent a shower of shivers down her skin. He stroked along the flesh. Other than their dance when he’d held her waist in a firm grip, he’d never touched her like this. She pulsed with excitement at the light caress. “I do.”

  That was surprising. “Really? I’d have thought you more the cynical type.”

  “Oh, I’m terribly cynical. At least when it comes to myself. But I have a friend and she could use some help and a real chance at love.”

  A friend? She? Jealousy flitted through her stomach, making her curl in a bit. “What sort of help?”

  He brushed his fingers down the length of her sleeve. “Invitations. Introductions. The sort a marquess’ sister might provide.”

  Charlie paused. “You want me to help your friend find a husband?”

  “I do,” he answered. “As an unmarried man, I’m ill-suited to the task.”

  Charlie shook her head. “I don’t know anything about her.”

  Balstead stepped closer. “She’s a lady and a widow. Her husband left her…vulnerable. She needs help.”

  She shook her head. “I’m sympathetic but—”

  “I’ll tell you whatever you want to know. About men or—”

  She stilled. This was getting interesting. “You’ll tell me all about rakes?”

  She heard him pause. Were his molars grinding together? “Yes.”

  This should be fun. And she didn’t mind helping his friend. Both activities would be a lovely diversion to fill the long, lazy summer ahead. “You’ve got a deal.”

  Raithe looked down at the woman who sparkled in the moonlight. Her skin glowed and her eyes looked like pale emeralds. Damn it, but he wanted to kiss her. Drink from those delightful lips.

  Which was why he’d been avoiding this woman for months. He liked her fiery nature, her classic beauty, her effortless charm.

  And it was a devil’s deal he made now, educating an innocent on rakes. He’d have to spend time with her, talk on illicit subjects. He closed his eyes for a moment. The whole thing was…mad. And intoxicating.

  Part of him liked the delicious torture she presented. He’d never touch her, of course. That would mean marriage for certain.

  But his more sensible half would normally turn and walk the other direction if not for his loyalty to Cassandra. She needed his help and Charlie was a beautiful answer to his dilemma.

  “Let’s agree to some more terms before we shake on it, shall we?”

  “Shake?” She wrinkled her nose. “That’s a terrible idea. My first stipulation is that we close the bargain with something far more interesting.”

  “Such as?” He raised his brows, attempting to look stern as he glared down at her.

  She didn’t look frightened in the least. Most innocents were deathly afraid of him. Perhaps titillated but not willing to approach him. He was large, dark, and he scowled far more than he smiled. On purpose. He didn’t want most people to find him approachable.

  But Charlie either wasn’t innocent or didn’t care. He’d been wondering which since the first moment he’d met her. Which was the first sign of danger, really. He shouldn’t be wondering about her at all.

  When Jennifer had died, he’d sworn that she alone would hold his heart. He was a young man, and at some point, physical need had come knocking, but he kept those trysts as meaningless as possible. Full of sinful, physical delight and devoid of any emotion.

  He grimaced, his gut clenching. Why did being with Charlie now make him question the wisdom of that choice? Like he’d defiled himself, or Jennifer, or his memories with all his debaucherous behavior?

  “Well…” she started. “I’m looking for an education on the behavior of rakes and you are agreeing to give it to me. What might a rake do to seal a bargain?”

  He drew in a long breath through his nose. “Minx.”

  The single word fell between them, making her grin. “My brother would never use that word, but I believe the sentiment is the same. I do tend to stir trouble.”

  He shook his head, what had he gotten himself into? “Do you like trouble?”

  She shrugged. “I like being distracted. Have ever since—” She stopped, her face turning away from his. “I mostly keep my activities wholesome. I do intend to marry. But I find I am exceptionally restless here and I need…” She stopped talking.

  Raithe narrowed his gaze. Her words struck a chord in him. The restlessness maybe. Was she running from some feelings too? That made him hurt a bit. She was too stunning to have been wounded in such a way. “If you’re looking for a man to ruin you, I’m not him.”

  Her gaze snapped back to his. “I didn’t say that.”

  “We’re standing in the garden, alone.” He waved around them. “If discovered, you’d be a baroness before you could blink.”

  Her cheeks flushed and her hands buried in her skirts. “I don’t have a mother to teach me how to find a husband. I need some guidance.”

  He heard the pain lacing her voice and his own heart clenched. Of course, he’d known her parents had passed away, but he’d never realized how deeply she’d been affected. How old had she been when they’d died? His hand reached out, lightly caressing her upper arm. Because he understood her pain. Far more than he’d care to admit. But that was also a very good reason to keep his distance, at least emotionally. “Talk to the Moorish sisters. They can help you far better than I on that score. Hell, they can probably teach you about rakes better than I ever could. They seem exceptionally good at taming them.”

  “Are you reconsidering our arrangement?” She stepped closer, tilting her chin to look at him.

  His body was not cooperating with his mind and his fingers itched to pull her up against him. “No,” he answered, dropping his hand from her arm. “I will tell you what you want to know, but we’ll talk from now on when we’re in plain sight of proper chaperones.”

  She nodded. “I agree to your term. Now for mine.” She swallowed. “I want one single kiss to seal our bargain.”

  His lips thinned over his teeth. He couldn’t do it. She looked so tempting, tilting her chin up to him, throat exposed, body close enough to feel her heat, imagining her lush curves pressed into him. “Why?” he grated out.

  She blinked. “It seems rather important when planning to find a husband. How will I know I’m doing it right if I haven’t ever ki
ssed anyone?”

  He clenched his fists at his sides. Bloody fuck and holy hell, she’d never been kissed. “A hundred men would have kissed you last season. Why me? Why now?”

  She shrugged. “Because you’re not interested in me. Because I’m not ready to marry yet and I don’t want to falsely lead one of those other men to believe—”

  He wrapped his fingers about her upper arm. This time the touch was less of a gentle stroke and more of a firm reminder. “You’re wrong.” The words flew from his lips before he could stop them, but now that he’d said them, he couldn’t take them back. Didn’t want to. “You are a stunningly beautiful woman with enough spunk to keep a man entertained for ages. And you should marry…immediately. Your tendencies are going to get you in trouble sooner rather than later.” He stepped closer, his chest just brushing the tips of her breasts. He felt her gasp and damn it all to hell if her nipples didn’t tighten, pushing into his chest. Need swelled inside him as he thought about taking each of those little buds into his mouth. How would she taste?

  “How dare you,” she said softly after she drew in a sharp breath. The move only pushed her breasts further into his chest. “I told you. I’ve never done anything like this before. I’m using this opportunity to educate myself, but I can see now that I was wrong. I think this was a terrible idea—”

  He tugged her closer. She was going to null their bargain. He let out a low rumble of dissent. He needed this arrangement. And so he wrapped an arm about her waist, pulling her tight to his body. “The first rule of rakes is that a woman like you should never tangle with one.” Then he leaned down and captured her lips with his own.

  She inhaled and he knew that she drew in his breath. Her hands came to his chest and he wondered if she’d push him away. For a moment he held, waiting to see how she’d respond. He might be a rake but he’d never force himself on a woman.

  She softened under his stillness, grabbing his coat and pressing her lips closer to his. He nearly grinned, triumph and lust pulsing through him. She was as supple as he’d envisioned, fitting against him in the most perfect way. Her lips were achingly sweet as they pressed tentatively to his. Her education was about to begin and schooling had never been sweeter.