Only Rakes Need Apply

Book 1: Rakes of London

by Kate Pearce

Genres: Historical Romance; Regency Romance

Synopsis

A sexy new series begins as three daring Regency ladies each seek lovers with no strings attached . . . and find even the most unfettered hearts can get tangled up in passion.

What’s a woman to do when her husband has departed but her . . . desires . . . very much remain? The only thing Lady Carenza Smythe-Harding misses about her late spouse, a notorious gambler and adulterer, is his expertise between the sheets. After two years donning mourning dresses, it’s her turn for some frisky fun. But with no intention of remarrying, how can she find the right devil-may-care rogue for the job?

Titled lady seeks experienced, unmarried rake for afternoon dalliance . . .

The anonymous newspaper advertisement leaves little to the imagination, and has the gentlemen of the ton wagering who is the temptress taking applications—and measurements!—to fill a most enticing position.

Thanks to an unexpected inheritance, confirmed bachelor Julian Laurent is free to indulge his passions—including the occasional seduction of married ladies. Still, he is appalled to discover his longtime friend, Carenza, is behind the public proposition. Surely Julian can prevent a damning scandal by pleasuring the lady to her heart’s content. After all, it’s the gentlemanly thing to do. . . . But as their sensual escapades tumble into a dangerously addictive game, might their friends-with-benefits arrangement take them from bedding to wedding?

Publisher: Kensington Books

Print pages: 320

Sample

Tavistock Square, London 1819

Lady Carenza Smythe-Harding put down her teacup and sighed. “There is one thing I miss about being married.”

Her sister, Allegra, looked up from her embroidery. She sat close to the large window overlooking Tavistock Square to take advantage of the light. “Having someone to reach those high shelves for you and murder the occasional spider?”

“Those things are very useful,” Carenza acknowledged. “But I was thinking about something rather more … intimate.”

There was a snort from the other side of the fireplace, where their friend Olivia Sheraton sat, her slippers propped up on the fender in a very unladylike manner. “Like what exactly?”

“The … marriage act.”

“You miss Hector’s cock?”

“Olivia!” Allegra exclaimed. “How … crude!”

Olivia raised an eyebrow. “You know how long it takes Carenza to get to the point. I just thought I’d move the conversation along at a more interesting pace.” She took off her spectacles. “I can imagine that lacking an effective male member after being in an intimate relationship might be difficult.”

“And, for all his faults, Hector was very good at it,” Carenza admitted.

“He was a terrible womanizer, sister. He learned all those skills at your expense!” Allegra frowned. “You’re lucky he didn’t give you the pox!”

Olivia nodded. “She’s right about that, but if he gave you pleasure in your marriage bed, you were lucky.” She shuddered slightly. “I can’t say I enjoyed a second of Albert’s attentions. Not that he was able to perform very often, being so elderly and infirm.”

Allegra raised her hand. “Have you both forgotten I am a spinster? This is not a topic of conversation I am qualified to participate in.”

“Then perhaps you should listen carefully,” Olivia said. “It will help you not to make the same mistakes we did.”

“I don’t consider Hector a ‘mistake,’” Carenza objected. “I was delighted to marry him.”

“Because he charmed you and your parents into believing he was a gentleman of honor, when, in fact, he was a horse-mad, gambling man whore.” Olivia had always been a plain speaker. “Who shot himself in the head when his gambling debts outweighed what was left of his fortune, leaving you reliant on your father to give you a home.”

“Yes,” Carenza said. “Thank you for reminding me.”

“I’m sorry.” Olivia made a face. “I’ve done it again, haven’t I? Been too blunt. No wonder no gentleman wants to marry me.”

“Even with your substantial fortune,” Allegra said helpfully.

Silence fell as Carenza poured them all more tea. She was currently living in her father’s town house in London. He much preferred his estate in Norfolk and rarely came to the city. He’d been happy to let his younger daughter, Allegra, reside in the town house with Carenza as chaperone, claiming it kept the staff on their toes and the place less likely to be robbed.

Olivia was the first to start speaking again. “My experience of being a widow has been that many well-meaning gentlemen have offered to ‘console’ me. Has that not happened to you?”

“Married gentlemen, yes.” Carenza sighed. “I had to pour a glass of red wine down Lord Stratford’s coat last week to make him understand that I was not interested, and his wife is a friend of mine.” She frowned. “I just want a man in my bed.”

“You have staff,” Olivia pointed out.

“And I live in my father’s house, where most of the staff have known me since I was a child. I can hardly jump into bed with any of them.”

“They’d probably tell Father, too,” Allegra added. “He’d be extremely annoyed if he had to fire any of his old retainers.”

Carenza fought a smile. “He’d probably care more about that than about what I was up to.”

“What you need is the kind of man Hector was, but without the entanglement of being his wife,” Olivia said thoughtfully. “A rake, in fact. He will need to be discreet, free of disease, not demand payment—because then you would be veering into paid-companion territory—and not be after your name, notoriety, and, most important, your money.”

Carenza nodded. “Yes, and he can’t be married, engaged, or publicly courting another woman. He must be content with a few hours of my time at my convenience and nothing else.”

“A few hours?” Allegra frowned. “I thought a physical union took only seconds.”

“Maybe if you are a stallion or a pig,” Olivia said. “But humans can do far better than that.” She winked at Carenza. “One good thing is that Hector set your standards very high.”

The door into the drawing room opened to admit Maude Cooper, the fourth member of their enduring circle of friends and Hector’s sister. She took off her bonnet, revealing hair the same auburn color as her deceased brother’s, and sparkling blue eyes.

“Hector had high standards? For what exactly?” She set down her bonnet and gloves on the sideboard and helped herself to tea. “Why have you all suddenly gone quiet? Were you talking about me?”

“We were talking about being widowed—something that has not happened to you,” Carenza said.

“I might as well be widowed,” Maude said as she sat down. “It feels as if Gerald will never come back from France. The war ended years ago, but apparently he still needs to be there to soothe foreigners’ brows and reassure them that such a man as Napoleon will never terrorize France again.”

“Napoleon wasn’t a monster,” Olivia objected. “He initiated some excellent policies in his day.”

“Before he proclaimed himself emperor and crowned himself at his coronation?” Maude asked. “He ended up being just as awful as the previous monarchy.”

“That is somewhat debatable,” Allegra submitted. “The Bourbon dynasty were far worse. In fact—”

“Be that as it may.” Carenza hastened to intervene before the discussion turned into an argument. “We were discussing the limitations of being a widow.”

“Carenza is missing her husband’s intimate attentions,” Olivia said.

Maude made a face. “Ew.”

“We were discussing ways she could find someone to replace him in a somewhat more limited fashion,” Olivia explained.

“It’s a shame we aren’t in France,” Maude said. “The French are very accommodating about such matters and consider lovers an important addition to any long-term liaison. When I resided there, I was propositioned quite openly, often in Gerald’s presence.”

“We’re in London. There have to be some gentlemen to fit the bill.” Allegra rose and went across to the desk. “Shall we make a list?”

“And do what with it?” Carenza inquired. “Pin it to the door and wait for them to come knocking?”

“That probably wouldn’t be a good idea.” Allegra frowned. “Is there anyone we could ask? Papa, maybe. Or Dorian?”

All the Musgrove children had been blessed with interesting names by their somewhat eccentric parents.

“I don’t think our father or oldest brother would wish to be party to such a thing.” Carenza shuddered. “If I did involve them, Papa will assume I want to be married again, and that is far from the truth.”

“I suspect it will take you years to get over Hector’s unfortunate death,” Maude said. “And you are only a year out of half mourning.”

“Papa has been asking about both of us marrying,” Allegra said apologetically. “He said that two years is quite long enough to mourn such a noddlecock.”

“Allegra!” Carenza shook her head.

Maude started to chuckle. “It’s all right, Carenza. I loved my brother very much, but he wasn’t the most reliable of men. He’s been dead for over two years, and you deserve to have some fun.”

Allegra held up her pen. “How about putting an advertisement in the newspaper? We could do that anonymously and have the newspaper’s office collect the replies.”

“That’s not a bad idea,” Olivia said. “Write this down, Allegra. ‘Titled lady seeks experienced, unmarried rake for afternoon dalliance. Please reply to this advertisement with precise measurements including height, age, length and girth of male member, and current financial statements. Interviews will be conducted before the end of the month.’”

“I was only teasing.” Allegra set down her pen. “I cannot write such an invitation to licentiousness.”

“Then pass the paper to me.” Olivia held out her hand. “I’ll wager we’ll get plenty of applicants to interview if we word it like that.” She glanced over at Carenza. “I’ll even pay for the damned advertisement and help you make the final decision.”

“How kind of you,” Carenza said.

“You aren’t really thinking of doing this, are you, sister?” Allegra asked, her expression concerned. “Father would not be happy with you at all.”

“He won’t know anything about it unless you tell him,” Carenza said. “And I’m sure you wouldn’t do that. Neither of us want to be dragged back to Musgrove Hall in deepest Norfolk, do we?”

Allegra looked thoughtful. “I’d prefer to stay in London, but if I don’t tell him, I would prefer to be kept in ignorance of the entire proceedings.”

“I promise I won’t say a word about it,” Carenza assured her. “In truth, I doubt we’ll get any replies at all.”

Olivia walked over to the desk, dipped her pen in the inkwell, and started writing. “I’ll get my maid, and we’ll walk around to the newspaper offices on the Strand. I’ll send her in with the advertisement and the money, and make sure that no one recognizes me at all.”

Struck by a sudden qualm, Carenza addressed her friend. “There is no need for such haste. Perhaps I ought to consider the matter before I come to a decision.”

“It takes you an hour to pick which gown to wear every single day,” Olivia objected. “And that was when you were wearing unrelieved black. If I wait for you to make up your mind, we’ll both be another year older, and you’ll be turning into one of those bitter dried-up widows we used to laugh at when we were debutantes.”

“That’s rather harsh,” Carenza tried to protest. She looked over at Maude, who was listening with a smile on her face. “What do you think I should do?”

“If you are careful, I cannot see any harm to it,” Maude said. “You are a widow, and there is nothing wrong in having a little fun now and again.”

“Allegra?” Carenza turned to her sister, who was looking rather dignified.

“I have already expressed my thoughts on this matter. I request not to be involved in the slightest.”

Carenza looked out of the window and attempted to gather her thoughts. She did miss being bedded. If she could find an unexceptionable man to give her his all, why shouldn’t she?

“All right. I’ll do it.”

Olivia clapped her hands. “Excellent news. I’ll just call for my maid, and we can stop at the Strand on our way home.” She winked at Carenza. “If things go according to plan, you’ll be well bedded in a week!”

The Honorable Julian Laurent made his leisurely way through the entrance hall at White’s, pausing only when his progress was impeded by a crowd gathered around the infamous betting book.

“What on earth is causing such a hubbub?” he murmured to the overexcitable heir to a dukedom who happened to be standing next to him. “Has Prinny died?”

“God forbid.” The hapless youth grinned sunnily at him. “This is far more exciting.”

“Somehow, I doubt that.”

“There’s a bet been placed about the identity of the so-called ‘lady’ who paid for the advertisement!”

Julian raised an eyebrow. “How thrilling. Please excuse me.”

He eased past the excited throng and made his way into the dining room, where he was due to meet his younger brother. He smiled slightly as Anton rose to greet him.

“You’re early,” Julian said.

“You’re always late,” Anton replied as they shook hands. He was sporting a rather fine and luxuriant mustache in the style of many cavalry officers. “And the military has made me very punctual.”

As Julian joined his brother at the table, he noted that he looked well in his new uniform. Julian would never tell him so, but he was proud of his brother. After their widowed mother had applied to Julian for funds, he’d happily bought Anton his new commission.

The waiter took their order, and Julian set his napkin on his lap. “When are you off?”

“Three days.” Anton grimaced. “I’m not looking forward to the journey.”

“It’s a long way to India,” Julian acknowledged. “But you wanted this advancement, yes?”

“Of course. It’s the only way for a man to get ahead now that the war with France has ended.” Anton frowned. “Don’t you approve?”

“I’d rather you were closer to home,” Julian said easily. “But that’s mainly because, as her second-favorite son, our dear mother worries about you so much.”

“Which means she’ll be directing all her attention at you.” Anton grinned. “You’ll constantly be at her beck and call, which will leave you no time for dalliance.”

“Oh, I suspect I’ll manage somehow, and we both know she far prefers the company of Aragon. As the heir, he is the only son who truly matters.” Julian poured them both some wine. “Just promise me that you will write to her on a regular basis, and all will be well.”

“I’ll do my best. It’s the least I can do.” Anton held up his glass. “Thank you for everything you have done for me.”

“I can hardly take credit for everything.”

“Mother couldn’t afford to buy me a commission, Julian. I know it was you.”

“What else is one to do when one is a veritable Croesus?” Julian shrugged. “I never expected to inherit a fortune from my dearly departed godmother—God bless her eccentric little heart.”

“The Walcott family still hate your guts for that.” Anton topped up his glass. “Percival absolutely radiates with fury every time your name is mentioned.”

“Percival should have spent less time mocking his great-aunt and more time listening to her incredibly outrageous stories about the court fifty years ago. I learned a lot and gained a whole new level of disdain for the aristocracy who rule us.”

“Of which you are now one,” Anton pointed out.

“I have no title,” Julian returned. “Only ‘the honorable’ from our father, as I’m the second son.”

“Poor Aragon might have Father’s title, but he has only a tenth of your wealth.”

“Which is why our mother cordially dislikes me.” Julian smiled at his younger brother. “And Aragon constantly asks to borrow money.”

He would miss Anton’s breezy presence in more ways than one. Not only had Anton provided their mother with someone to dote on, but he’d been a jovial barrier between his two older brothers. With no Anton to joke with, how would he and Aragon negotiate their somewhat delicate relationship?

“Excuse me, sir.”

He sat back to allow the waiter to set his plate in front of him.

Anton picked up his knife. “The beef looks excellent, as always.”

“Indeed.”

Another burst of noise filtered in from the crowded lobby as one of the diners exited.

“What’s this nonsense about a bet?” Julian asked, watching Anton begin to eat his dinner with remarkable speed.

“The mysterious lady?” Anton chuckled. “If I were staying in London, I wouldn’t mind having a pop at that.”

“Pop at what exactly?”

“You haven’t heard? Apparently, a lady put an advertisement in one of the newspapers asking for applications for a lover with a very specific set of requirements.”

“One has to doubt a lady would stoop to such behavior,” Julian remarked. “And wonder why the gentlemen in the hallway care so much.”

“I suspect it has something to do with the frankness of the advertisement.” Anton waved down a waiter. “Can you provide me with a copy of today’s Times?”

“Of course, Captain.”

Within two minutes, the man was back with a well-ironed copy of the newspaper.

“Thank you.” Anton looked over at his brother. “Excuse me for a moment while I locate the specific advertisement.”

Julian continued to eat his dinner as his brother went through the long list of personal columns.

“Ah! Here it is.” Anton cleared his throat. “‘Titled lady seeks experienced, unmarried rake for afternoon dalliance. Please reply to this advertisement with precise measurements including height, age, length of male member, and current financial statements. Interviews will be conducted before the end of the month.’”

“Good Lord,” Julian said.

Anton refolded the paper and grinned at him. “I know. It must be a joke. Someone wants to see who’ll take the bait and will record the names of all these fools being interviewed by some madam and publish them to much ridicule.”

“That sounds highly likely.”

“I mean, if a lady wants a lover, there are better ways to find one.”

“Through her husband, perhaps?”

“You’ve had your share of married lovers, brother.”

“Only when both parties understand the terms of the … liaison, and hopefully no one gets hurt.”

He tried not to think about his recent experience with Lady Brenton, when his blithe confidence in their arrangement had been sadly mistaken. It had almost put him off fornication for life.

“Well, whoever she is, I wish her luck.” Anton set the newspaper on the tablecloth. “Do we have time for pudding? We’re not due at Musgrove House until three.”

Julian followed Anton into the drawing room of Musgrove House, where they found not only their two hostesses but their friend Mrs. Sheraton. As his brother was busy charming the Musgrove sisters, he went over to pay his respects to the rather eccentric widow. She had a classic oval face, dark hair and blue eyes, and a perfect rosebud mouth. She was brutally honest, happy to send any gentlemen who offended her running for the hills, and had the acid wit of a cynic. He enjoyed her company immensely.

“Mrs. Sheraton.” He kissed her proffered hand. “How lovely to see you.”

“Always a pleasure, sir.” She smiled at him. “Carenza tells me that Anton is on his way overseas.”

“Yes, he sails in three days.”

“Allegra will be devastated.”

Julian turned slightly so that he could see the grouping around the fire. Anton’s face was alight with excitement as he described something vividly with his hands. Lady Carenza was smiling and nodding, but her sister seemed somewhat distraught.

“I never realized she had a tendre for him.” Julian spoke more to himself than to his companion.

“Neither did she, until she heard he was leaving,” Olivia murmured back. “I suppose as you all grew up on neighboring estates, she just assumed he would always be there.”

“A terrible mistake to make.” Julian’s thoughtful gaze fell on Carenza.

“I’m sure she will write to him,” Olivia said.

“I hope she will. Whether he’ll reply is another matter. He is not the most reliable of fellows.”

“You are one of the very few gentlemen of my acquaintance who are capable of being objective about your family.”

Julian bowed. “I am a realist, Mrs. Sheraton. It seems I cannot help myself.”

Carenza came toward him, her hands outstretched. “It is always a pleasure to see you, sir.”

He smiled down into her hazel eyes. Her honey-blond hair was gathered in a high topknot with a single curl resting on her throat. She wore a modest lace fichu knotted over the bodice of her gown. She wasn’t an acknowledged beauty, having been dubbed too countrified on her debut by one of the unkinder patronesses at Almack’s, but Julian had always admired her.

“Anton insisted that he had to say his farewells to you and your sister in person.”

“And that is the only reason you came to visit us?”

“You know I enjoy your company, Carenza,” Julian said as she offered him a seat. “We have much in common.”

She went to ring the bell for refreshments. “Including my late husband,” Carenza said lightly as she returned to sit opposite him. “Although even you were unable to contain his excesses in the end.”

“I did my best, but Hector was …”

Mrs. Sheraton spoke over his shoulder as she came to join them. “An inconsiderate and amoral reprobate?”

“He had his demons, as most of us do,” Julian admitted.

“He had more than most, and they killed him in the end,” Mrs. Sheraton said as she sat down and spread out her skirts. “How you two were ever friends is a puzzle to me.”

“We met at Harrow when we were seven.” Julian shrugged. “We formed a bond to fight off all the bigger bullies.”

“Hector was never a bully, Olivia. You can at least give him credit for that,” Carenza said.

Mrs. Sheraton sniffed. “When one sets such a low standard, surely even Hector can crawl under it.”

Anton tried and failed to conceal a snort.

“Your new gown is very fetching,” Julian said.

“Thank you.” She smoothed her skirt’s folds. “After two years of mourning dresses I was convinced that in light pink I looked like one of the madams seeking customers in Covent Garden.”

“You look delightful.” Julian smiled at her.

Her cheeks blushed to compete with the rose of her dress. “I appreciate the opinion of one of the best-dressed men in London.”

“My brother is rather fine, is he not?” Anton agreed. “Even in my dress uniform, he threatens to outshine me.”

“Hardly,” Allegra Musgrove said, her earnest gaze fixed on Anton’s oblivious face. “You look wonderful.”

The door opened to admit the butler with the tea tray.

“How is your father?” Julian asked.

“As hale and hearty as ever,” Carenza replied as she poured him some tea.

“And apparently keen to marry both his daughters off as soon as possible,” Mrs. Sheraton chimed in as she claimed her own cup of tea. “Perhaps he wants his town house back.”

“As he dislikes London immensely, I doubt it,” Carenza said. “He just wishes us to be happy.”

“As all fathers do,” Julian said gently, aware that Hector had proven to be a terrible husband for Carenza, and that he’d been responsible for introducing them to each other—something he bitterly regretted.

“I think Carenza will find her own way to happiness.” Mrs. Sheraton winked.

“As I’m sure will you, my dear Olivia.” Carenza sipped her tea, her smile serene. “But I am in no rush to be married again.”

“I am well aware of that,” Olivia said.

Julian couldn’t help but notice the pointed glare Carenza gave Mrs. Sheraton when she thought he wasn’t looking. Allegra’s expression appeared guilty, and he had no idea why. Was it possible that Carenza had already found a gentleman she wished to marry? The idea made him vaguely uneasy.

Anton, who was always good at defusing tension, introduced a new topic of conversation. “Are you aware of the latest scandal regarding the unknown lady seeking to interview her lovers through an advertisement in The Times?”

Allegra spluttered into her tea and hastily put down her cup. “I do beg your pardon. I have to go and speak to Cook about the lack of refreshments.” She hurried out of the room.

Mrs. Sheraton assumed an expression of great interest and replied to Anton. “It sounds quite delightful! Is this woman interviewing the whole of the ton?”

Anton chuckled. “Apparently, she wants only the scoundrels. And she requires all their measurements!”

Beside him, Carenza shifted in her seat. “Olivia …”

“But this is fascinating, Carenza! I wish I’d thought to do such a thing before my father forced me to marry a seventy-year-old man who was barely able to perform his marital duties.” Mrs. Sheraton fluttered her eyelashes at Julian. “Will you be applying, sir? It is well-known that you are an accomplished flirt and presumably skilled in bed.”

“I suspect it is all a scheme to embarrass and expose any man stupid enough to reply to a newspaper advertisement from a so-called lady,” Julian said lightly. “All a woman with such ‘standards’ will get is the dregs of society.”

“That seems harsh, brother,” Anton said. “There were plenty of gentlemen at our club today who seemed eager to either participate or place a bet on the outcome.”

“At your club?” Carenza repeated faintly.

Julian glanced sharply at her.

“Yes.” Anton chuckled. “Someone opened a bet about how many men will turn up when the lady starts her interviews.”

Mrs. Sheraton stood up. “I do apologize, gentlemen, but I must be on my way. My singing teacher is coming at four to take me through my scales.”

She kissed Carenza on the cheek and smiled as Julian and Anton rose to their feet. “I wish you all the best in India, Anton. I’m sure you’ll be a great success.”

Anton offered her his arm. “I’d be delighted to walk you to your carriage, ma’am.”

“Thank you.” Mrs. Sheraton placed her hand on his sleeve. “I’ll speak to you tomorrow, Carenza, darling.”

Julian waited until their voices died down before resuming his seat beside his hostess. “Is something troubling you?” he asked as she stared into space.

She wouldn’t look at him, and he possessed himself of her hand. “I would not normally presume to ask about something so personal, but we are old friends.” He paused. “Is it possible that … Mrs. Sheraton is the person who posted that advertisement for a lover?”

“Not exactly.”

She turned to look at him, and he went still.

“Olivia did pay for the advertisement, but …”

“But—” Julian prompted, as she seemed unable to continue.

“But she did it for me.”

The silence after she’d blurted out the truth went on for so long that Carenza grew dizzy from holding her breath.

“I … beg your pardon?” Julian’s faint smile disappeared as he released her hand.

“I asked her to place the advertisement on my behalf.”

“What in God’s n. . .