The Bedding Proposal

Book 1: Rakes of Cavendish Square

by Tracy Anne Warren

Genres: Historical Fiction; Historical Romance; Regency Romance

Synopsis

Lord Leo Byron is bored with the aristocratic company he keeps; he needs a distraction, preferably in the form of a beautiful new female companion. So when he sets eyes on fascinating and scandalous divorcée Lady Thalia Lennox, he's determined to make her intimate acquaintance. But the spirited woman seems to have no intention of accepting his advances no matter how much he chases-or how hard he falls...




Once a darling of Society, Thalia Lennox now lives on its fringes. The cruel lies that gave her a notoriously wild reputation have also left her with a broken heart and led to a solemn vow to swear off men. Still, Leo Byron's bold overtures are deliciously tempting, and, for the first time, she finds herself wondering whether it just might be worth the risk to let the attractive rake into her life-and her bed...

Release date: March 3, 2015

Publisher: Berkley

Print pages: 352

Sample

Praise for the Novels
of Tracy Anne Warren

Also by Tracy Anne Warren

SIGNET SELECT

Chapter 1

London, England
October 1817

“This party is duller than a Sunday sermon,” Lord Leopold Byron complained, with a sigh.

From where he stood with his elbow crooked idly atop the fireplace mantelpiece, he surveyed the other guests. Not for the first time, he wondered why he’d bothered to accept this evening’s invitation; the only amusing activity was drinking, and he could have done that anywhere. At least the champagne was a palatable vintage. Taking consolation from the thought, he drank from the crystal flute balanced in his other hand.

At the opposite end of their host’s mantelpiece stood his twin brother, Lord Lawrence Byron. Given that they were identical, Leo supposed they must make a picture, particularly dressed as they both were in black silk evening breeches and black cutaway coats with crisp white shirts, waistcoats and cravats.

Lawrence looked at him and raised an eyebrow, its color two shades darker than his golden brown hair, which fell past his jaw; Leo also tended to wear his hair slightly long. “Just be glad you aren’t actually in church,” he said.

“If I were, at least I’d be able to catch up on my sleep. Rather handy, being able to doze off with my eyes open; fools the vicar every time. Tough to do standing up, though.”

“I can manage in a pinch, so long as there’s a convenient wall to lean against. Last time I tried it, though, I started snoring. Great-aunt Augusta caught me and boxed my ears.”

Leo chuckled in sympathy. “She may be pushing eighty, but the old gal can still pack a wallop.”

Lawrence nodded. “I’ll wager she could make even the great Tom Cribb shake in his boots.”

Both men grinned for a moment at the image of their formidable aunt taking on one of England’s fiercest boxers.

“You can’t expect London to be terribly exciting this time of year,” Lawrence said, “what with most of the Ton off at their country estates. I don’t know why you didn’t stay at Braebourne with everyone else for another few weeks.”

“What? And leave you rattling around Town all by yourself? I know you’ve taken it into your head to actually do something with your legal studies, but coming back to London early in order to set up your own practice? It’s beyond the pale, even for you.”

Lawrence gave him a wry half smile. “At least one of us values his education. I happen to like the law; I find it fascinating. And might I remind you that you also studied the law, same as me?”

“Just because I earned a degree in jurisprudence doesn’t mean I want to spend the rest of my life pitching my oars into legal waters. You know I studied the law only because I couldn’t stomach anything else. Now that the war’s over, the military holds little appeal. As for taking ecclesiastical orders—” He broke off on a dramatic shudder. “Not even Mama can see me in a vicar’s collar with a Bible tucked under my arm.”

Lawrence laughed. “No one could see you in a vicar’s collar with a Bible under your arm. The very idea is sacrilegious.”

“You’re right,” Leo said. “I prefer to live a gentleman’s life, as befits the son of a duke. And thanks to some sound financial advice, courtesy of our inestimable brother-in-law, Adam, and our brother Jack’s friend Pendragon, I can afford to do so, even if I am the fifth youngest of six sons.”

“Only by two minutes,” his twin reminded. “You know, I’ve always wondered if the nursemaid didn’t switch us in our cribs and I’m actually the elder.”

“Not likely, considering I’m the brains behind the majority of our greatest schemes.”

“The brains, are you? I’ll admit you’ve got a God-given flair for making mischief that few others can match, but I’ll thank you to remember who it is who always manages to talk our way out of the thicket when we land ass-first in trouble.”

“You do have a knack for turning a story on its head.” Leo drank more champagne. “Which leads me back to this career nonsense of yours. You invested successfully with Pendragon, same as me, so I know you don’t need the blunt. Why, then, do you want a job? You know as well as I do that gentlemen don’t engage in trade.”

“It’s not trade. The law is a perfectly honorable profession,” Lawrence said as he fiddled with his watch fob; it was a gesture Leo knew always indicated defensiveness on his twin’s part. “As for my reasons, it keeps me from being bored—unlike you.”

Leo rolled his eyes. “God, save me. Next you’ll be telling me I should join you in chambers and hang my shingle up next to yours. Or worse, take up a cause and run for Parliament. I can see it now: the Right Honourable Lord Leopold, standing on behalf of Gloucester.” He shook his head, smiling at the absurdity of the idea.

But his twin didn’t return his grin. “Might be good for you. You’re five-and-twenty now. You could do with some purposeful direction.”

“The only direction I need is to be pointed toward a fresh glass of wine,” Leo said, tossing back the last of his champagne. “That and a proper bit of entertainment.”

“A woman, you mean? Maybe you shouldn’t have broken things off so soon with that pretty little opera dancer you were seeing over the summer. She was a prime bit o’ muslin.”

Leo scowled. “Oh, she was pretty enough and most definitely limber, but after a couple of weeks, the attraction began to wear thin. Outside the bedroom, we had absolutely nothing in common. Her favorite topics were clothes and jewels and the latest amorous intrigues going on backstage at Covent Garden. It got so that I had begun making excuses not to visit her.”

He paused and briefly drummed his fingers against the mantelpiece. “I knew enough was enough when she started hinting that she wanted to quit dancing so I could take her on a tour of the Continent. As if I’d consign myself to spending weeks alone in her company. I’d rather be clapped in irons and paraded naked through the streets than endure such tedium.”

Lawrence chuckled. “I hadn’t realized the situation was quite so dire.”

“That’s because you were too busy with your own flirtations.” Slowly, Leo turned his empty glass between his fingers. “No, if I wanted to set up another mistress, she’d have to be someone unique, someone incomparable, who other men would go to great lengths to possess. Someone like—”

And suddenly, from across the room, a woman caught his eye.

Her hair was as dark as a winter night, upswept in a simple yet refined twist that showcased the delicate, creamy white column of her throat. Around her neck hung a plain gold chain with a cameo that nestled between her breasts like a cherished lover. Despite the surprisingly modest décolletage of her silk evening gown, the cut served only to enhance the lush curves of her shapely figure, while the brilliant emerald hue of the material cast no illusions regarding her sensuality and allure.

He knew who she must be, of course. He’d heard talk that she might make an appearance tonight—none other than the infamous Lady Thalia Lennox.

Ever since the firestorm of scandal that had erupted around her nearly six years earlier, she’d become both disgraced and notorious. Even he, who had been no more than a green youth reveling in one of his first years about Town, had been aware of the uproar at the time.

The gossip had ignited first over her much-publicized affair, then exploded during the divorce proceedings that followed. Divorces were virtually unheard of among the Ton, and extremely difficult to obtain due to the necessity of three separate trials and an Act of Parliament. Nevertheless, her cuckolded husband, Lord Kemp, had sued against her and been granted a termination of their marriage.

And while a taint of scandal continued to trail Lord Kemp even to this day, the proceedings had turned Lady Thalia into a social outcast. Once a darling of the Ton, she now dwelled along the fringes of genteel respectability, invited out only by those who either were dishonored themselves or simply didn’t care what anyone thought of them—or so said the gossips who continued to relay stories of her alleged exploits.

This evening’s supper party was hosted by a marquess who was separated from his wife, lived openly with his mistress and most definitely didn’t give a fig about other people’s opinions.

Frankly, his host was one of the reasons Leo had attended tonight’s revel, as Leo had assumed the party would be wilder and more amusing than it had turned out to be thus far. But now that he knew Thalia Lennox was among the guests, his expectations for a lively evening were reinvigorated.

“You were saying? Someone like who?” Lawrence asked, picking up on the sentence Leo had never finished.

“Her.” Leo set his glass aside.

Lawrence’s gaze moved across the room. “Good Lord, surely you aren’t thinking what I think you’re thinking?”

“And what would that be?” he said, not taking his eyes off Thalia, who was conversing with an elderly roué who couldn’t seem to lift his gaze higher than her admittedly magnificent breasts.

“We were discussing women, and, if I’m not mistaken, that’s the scandalous Lady K. over there. You must be out of your mind to even consider making a play for her.”

“Why? She’s stunning. One of the most enchanting women I’ve ever beheld. And I believe she goes by her maiden name of Lennox these days.”

“However she’s called, she uses men like toys and discards them once they’re broken, to say nothing of the fact that she’s several years your senior.”

Leo couldn’t repress a slowly forming grin as he turned to his twin. “Just look at her. She can’t be that much older, even if she has been married and divorced. As for her using me like a toy, I look forward to being played with. Anywhere. Anytime.”

Lawrence shook his head. “I’ll be the first to admit she’s attractive, and I can see why you’d be tempted, but do yourself a favor and find another opera dancer. Or better yet, go visit one of the bawdy houses. You can slake your thirsts there without causing any lasting damage.”

“Ah, but where is the challenge in that?” Leo said. “I want a woman who can’t be had simply for the price of a coin. A spirited female with some good solid kick to her.”

“The only kick you’re going to get is in your posterior when she boots you out of her way. My guess is she won’t look at you twice.”

Leo raised a brow. “Oh, she will. Care to wager on it?”

Lawrence narrowed his eyes. “All right. Ten quid.”

“Make it twenty. Ten’s hardly worth the effort.”

“Twenty it is.”

They shook, sealing the bet.

Lawrence stepped back and crossed his arms. “Go on. Amaze me, Don Juan.”

Leo brushed the sleeves of his coat and tugged its hem to a precise angle. “Take the carriage home if you get tired of waiting. I’m sure I’ll be otherwise occupied tonight.”

With that, he set off in search of his quarry.

*   *   *

I should never have come here tonight, Lady Thalia Lennox thought as she forced herself not to flinch beneath the leering stare of Lord Teaksbury. She didn’t believe he had met her eyes once since they had begun conversing.

Old lecher. How dare he stare at my breasts as if I’m some doxy selling her wares? Then again, after nearly six years of enduring such crude behavior from men of her acquaintance, one would think she would be well used to it by now.

As for the ladies of the Ton, they generally looked through her, as if she were some transparent ghost who had drifted into their midst. Or worse, they pointedly turned their backs. She had grown inured to their snubs as well—for the most part, at least.

Still, she had hoped tonight might prove different, since her host, the Marquess of Elmore, had known his own share of personal pain and tended to acquire friends of a more liberal and tolerant persuasion. But even here, people saw her not for the person she was, but for who they assumed her to be.

Ordinarily, she tossed aside invitations such as the one for tonight’s supper party—not that she received all that many invitations these days. But she supposed the real reason she had come tonight was a simple enough one.

She was lonely.

Her two friends, Jane Frost and Mathilda Cathcart—the only ones out of all her acquaintance who had stuck by her after the divorce—were in the countryside. They had each invited her to join them at their separate estates, but she knew her attendance at the usual autumn house parties put each woman in an awkward and difficult position. Plus, neither of their husbands approved of their continued association with her, their friendship limited to occasional quiet meals when they were in Town, and the back-and-forth exchange of letters.

No, she was quite alone and quite lonely.

Ironic, she mused, considering the constant parade of lovers she supposedly entertained—at least according to the gossip mavens and scandal pages that still liked to prattle on about her. Given their reports of her behavior, one would imagine her town house door scarcely ever closed for all the men going in and out—or perhaps it was only her bedroom door that was always in need of oil for the hinges?

She felt her fingers tighten against the glass of lemonade in her hand, wondering why she was dwelling on such unpleasantness tonight. Better to put thoughts like those aside, since they did nothing but leave the bitter taste of regret in her mouth.

A hot bath and a good book—that’s what I need this evening, she decided. That, and to tell the old reprobate still leering at her to take his eyes and his person somewhere else.

If only she hadn’t given in to the temptation to wear emerald green tonight, perhaps she wouldn’t have ended up being ogled by a loathsome toad like Teaksbury. But she’d always loved this dress, which had been languishing in the back of her wardrobe for ages. And honestly she was tired of being condemned no matter what she wore or how she behaved. In for a penny, in for a pound, she’d thought when she made the selection. Now, however, she wished she’d stuck to her usual somber dark blue or black, no matter how dreary those shades might seem.

Ah well, I shall be leaving shortly, so what does it really matter?

“Why, that’s absolutely fascinating,” Thalia said with false politeness as she cut Teaksbury off midsentence. “You’ll have to excuse me now, Lord Teaksbury. After all, I wouldn’t want to be accused of monopolizing your company tonight.”

Teaksbury opened his mouth—no doubt to assure her that he didn’t mind in the least. But she had already set down her glass, turned on a flourish of emerald skirts and started toward the door.

She had made it about a quarter of the length of the room when a tall figure stepped suddenly into her path, blocking her exit. She gazed up, then up again, into a boldly masculine face and a pair of green-gold eyes that literally stole her breath. The man sent her a dashing, straight-toothed smile, candlelight glinting off the burnished golden brown of his casually brushed hair in a way that only increased his appeal.

Saints above, she thought as her heart knocked hard inside her chest, her pulse leaping as it hadn’t leapt in years—if it ever had at all.

Schooling her features so they revealed none of her inner turmoil, she gave him a polite nod. “Pardon me, sir.” She waited, expecting him to step aside.

Instead, he executed an elegant bow. “Allow me to introduce myself. I am Lord Leopold Byron. My intimates, however, call me Leo.”

Arrogant, isn’t he? Well, she’d met arrogant men before, many times.

She gave him a long, cool stare. “Do they? How nice for them. Now I must insist you step aside. We haven’t been properly introduced. As you ought to know, a gentleman never speaks directly to a lady with whom he is not acquainted. Pity one of your intimates isn’t here to do the honors. Good evening.”

She took a step to the right.

He matched her move, impeding her path once again. “Shall I go find our host, then?” he asked pleasantly. “I’m sure Elmore would be happy to affect an introduction. Frankly, though, it seems like a great lot of bother, particularly since we are conversing already.”

Reaching toward the tray of a passing servant, he picked up two glasses. “Champagne?” he offered. Smiling that devastating smile again, he held out one of the crystal flutes with its golden draught effervescing inside.

Audacious as well as arrogant. That and handsome in a sinful way no man had a right to be.

Call me Leo, indeed.

She didn’t know whether to be annoyed or amused, particularly since she was sure part of his strategy in waylaying her was to provoke a strong reaction. Still, she found herself accepting one of the proffered glasses, if for no other reason than to give herself time to steady her nerves.

“Since I doubt you’ll volunteer your name, not without Elmore’s aid at least,” Lord Leo continued, “I suppose I must try guessing on my own. Lady Thalia Lennox, is it not?”

The wine suddenly turned sour on her tongue.

Of course, she realized, she ought to have known that he was only playing games and knew her by reputation. Everyone in the Ton did, it seemed—even if they wouldn’t associate with her any longer. “Then you have me at even more of a disadvantage than I realized.”

“Not at all, since we have only just met and need time to learn about one another.”

“I am sure you’ve heard all you need to know about me. Divorce trials will do that for a woman. Now, if you’ll—”

“If you’re concerned I mind a sheen of scandal, I don’t. I’ve weathered a few of them myself over the years, so such matters make no difference to me.”

He’d been embroiled in scandals, had he? Vaguely she remembered mention of various members of the Byron family involved in deeds that had shocked Society at one time or another. But none of their acts had made any of the Byrons outcasts. And being that Lord Leo was a man, the Ton was, of course, more apt to forgive, no matter how serious the trespasses might have been.

As for his “over the years” remark, he didn’t look old enough to have weathered all that many scandals. In fact, just how old was he? Certainly not her own one-and-thirty, even if he had the confidence of a man in his prime.

Regardless of scandals and age, she had no interest in setting up flirtation with a stranger. “It has been . . . interesting meeting you, Lord Leopold, but I really must be going.”

“Why? It is early yet. Surely you can remain a while longer?”

“Truly, I cannot,” she said.

He gave her a shrewd look, as if he saw right through her excuses. “Afraid you might enjoy yourself? Or are you worried I’m going to stare down your dress like Teaksbury?”

Her mouth dropped open before she could recall herself.

“It was rather hard to miss that crass display of his,” Lord Leo remarked. “The man’s a boor. It’s a wonder he wasn’t actually drooling. Not that I can entirely blame him, given your irresistible feminine charms. Still, were I to feast my eyes upon you, I promise it would leave you in no doubt of my sincere admiration.”

Slowly, his gaze dipped down, moving gradually over her body in a way that felt almost like a caress.

When he met her eyes again, his own were alight with unrepentant desire. “You are the most exquisite woman I have ever beheld. Even a god would find himself tempted by you.”

A hot flush burst over her skin, shocking her with its force. Only barely did she resist the urge to reach up and cover her hot cheeks with her hands. The sensation was truly singular considering she hadn’t blushed since her girlhood and her first London Season.

Experienced women did not blush.

Yet this outrageous lord with his heart-stopping smile and velvety voice roused emotions in her that she hadn’t realized she still possessed.

“Now,” he said, “why don’t we go somewhere more private so we can get even better acquainted? I have my coach just outside. And please, I insist you call me Leo. As I said before, all my intimates do.”

All his bedmates, he meant, his meaning clear.

Without even knowing what she intended, she flung the contents of her glass up into his face, champagne splashing everywhere.

He blinked wine out of his eyes, a stunned expression on his wet face.

“You and I shall never be intimates. Good night, Lord Leopold.”

Spinning around, she marched toward the door.

As she did, she caught sight of a man standing across the room—a man she would have sworn was Leopold Byron had she not known he was still dripping somewhere behind her. Her step wobbled slightly as her mind worked to figure out the unexpected anomaly.

Twins? Good God, are there two of him?

And his brother was laughing, making no effort at all to contain his mirth.

Well, let him laugh. Impudent beast, just like his sibling.

As for the rest of the guests whose stares pierced her from all directions, she was used to such scrutiny.

The entire incident would be in tomorrow’s papers, of course.

But what do I care? Tossing champagne into a man’s face was nothing, not compared with what she’d been through already. For when you’ve known the worst, the rest was naught but a trifle.

*   *   *

Leo withdrew a white silk handkerchief from his waistcoat pocket and dried his face as he watched Thalia Lennox disappear from view with a final flourish of her green skirts.

Lawrence appeared at his side moments later, his grin so wide it was a wonder it didn’t split his cheeks.

“Well, that went swimmingly,” Lawrence said, with a hearty chuckle. “Had her eating right out of the palm of your hand, at least until she decided to give you a champagne bath!” He laughed again. “You owe me twenty quid. Pay up.”

“I will when we get home.” Leo wiped briefly at his sodden cravat before giving up.

“What on earth did you say to her anyway? I knew she’d rebuff you, but not with quite so much enthusiasm.”

Somewhat begrudgingly, Leo provided him with a brief recounting.

Lawrence erupted into fresh gales of laughter, so loud the outburst drew every eye.

“Oh, do shut up, won’t you?” Leo told his brother with a grumble. “I think there might be one scullery maid in the kitchen who hasn’t heard you.”

Rubbing moisture from the corners of his eyes, Lawrence did his best to silence his mirth, though his lips continued to twitch. “My condolences for your loss.” He laid a consoling hand on Leo’s shoulder. “You know what your trouble is?”

Leo sent him a baleful look. “I’m certain you shall be happy to illuminate me.”

“You’re too used to being fawned over by women. When was the last time one of them turned you down? You were what? Fifteen?”

“Thirteen,” Leo countered, unable to repress a grin. “Remember that gorgeous little chambermaid at Braebourne? She never did let me steal more than a kiss.”

Lawrence’s eyes twinkled with clear recollection. “She let me steal two.”

Leo shot him a fresh glare.

“Never say you weren’t warned,” Lawrence continued. “I told you the ex–Lady K. would knock you down and kick you into a convenient corner. From now on, stick to more accessible, and appreciative, females.”

Leo considered his twin’s remark. “I do not believe I shall.”

“What! But surely you’ve had enough?”

“No,” he said, his gut tightening with the knowledge that he wanted Thalia Lennox, now more than ever. She’d said they would never be intimate, but he’d learned long ago the mistake of saying never, since fate had an interesting way of turning matters on their head.

“She may have eluded me tonight, but our paths will cross again. And when they do . . .”

“You’re deluded, that’s what you are,” Lawrence said.

Leo grinned. “No, just determined. Now, how about making our excuses to our host and finding some company with a bit more fire in their blood? Fancy a game of cards or dice? I know a prime hell we haven’t tried.”

Lawrence’s eyes brightened. “By all means, lead on, brother mine.”

Slapping a hand across his twin’s shoulder, Leo led the way.

Chapter 2

Four mornings later, Thalia sat at the writing desk in her small study and added a last few lines to the letter she was penning to her friend Jane Frost. Satisfied after a quick final perusal, she laid her quill aside. She then sanded the ink dry and folded the missive into a neat square before sealing it with hot wax from the nearby candle, which she blew out the moment the task was complete.

Once, she would have thought nothing of letting the taper burn down to a nub, but the past few years had taught her the expense of items such as candles and the wisdom of frugal living.

Actually, despite her straitened circumstances, she counted herself lucky that she was able to live in a decent part of London. Were it not for the small unencumbered legacy that had been left to her by her maternal grandmother, which included the furnished London town house and enough money to maintain it, she would have had nothing. But to her everlasting gratitude, the bequest had somehow miraculously escaped inclusion in her marriage settlement.

Gordon had seen to it that she hadn’t received so much as a farthing from him in their divorce, and had kicked her out of his family’s massive ancestral residence in Grosvenor Square with nothing but the clothes on her back that dreadful June day so many years ago.

Her lady’s maid, Parker, had taken pity and, with the help of a footman who’d had a soft spot for Parker, had spirited out a couple of trunks of Thalia’s clothes a few days later. Even so, she hadn’t gotten so much as an additional handkerchief after that, not even the jewels that had been hers prior to her marriage.

Under the law, everything she’d owned belonged to Gordon, down to the last hairpin and thimble. Sadly, that had included a string of hundred-year-old pearls that had been passed down to her from her great-grandmother. She’d pleaded with him for their return, but he’d laughed and said he’d sold them, along with all the other “unwanted baggage” she’d left in the house. He hadn’t wanted her possessions, but spiteful to the end, he’d made sure she didn’t get any of them back.

The luxurious emerald green dress she’d worn to Elmore’s party the other evening had been one of the gowns packed inside that long-ago trunk of clothes from her maid. The dress had been involved in a sea of trouble then and it had caused her nothing but trouble again.

Call me Leo.

A memory of Byron’s velvety voice rang inside her head once again, warm and silky as a caress.

She shivered, her eyelids sliding a fraction of an inch lower. He really had been arrestingly handsome and surprisingly charming—at least until he’d made his outrageous proposition to her.

But why was she thinking of Lord Leopold anyway? It’s not as if she would be seeing him again. Time to move along, just as she always did.

She gave herself a hard shake.

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The Bedding Proposal

Tracy Anne Warren

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