Taming the Rake Read online

  The soft press of her breast against his arm proved that she knew exactly what he was thinking. “It could be worse, you know.”

  He watched as his daughter was dragged off to the dance floor by Beaufort’s young rakehell.

  “How could it possibly be worse?” he said, his eagle-eyed gaze following every move of the young couple.

  “You could have had only girls.”

  “Three isn’t bad enough?” He glared at her. “I swear you did it on purpose.” His pulse fired at the first note of music. “Bloody hell, I’ll tear the pup limb from limb.”

  Gina reached out and grabbed him before he could storm across the dance floor and flatten his best friend’s heir.

  “It’s only a waltz,” Gina said. “It’s been considered quite proper now for years—even at Almack’s.”

  “Not with my daughter, it isn’t.”

  “Clarie can take care of herself. I’ve seen to her instruction myself.”

  He groaned again. “That’s exactly what I’m worried about. I remember how you drove me to distraction, and all the things I wanted to do to you.”

  “You did them, too.”

  “Damn it, Gina, you aren’t helping!”

  She grinned again. “Jamie will watch over her.”

  Coventry eyed his nineteen-year-old firstborn (their two younger sons were still at Eton) who was standing with a group of young bucks near the refreshment area. Every minute or two, the young viscount’s gaze flickered over to his sister and his best friend.

  But Coventry wasn’t mollified. “You forget, I knew his father at that age.”

  “And I knew his mother,” Gina said. She bit her lip. “Perhaps you are right to worry.”

  He might have paled, and she burst out laughing so hard that more than one disapproving glance turned in their direction.

  But he didn’t care. None of that had mattered for a very long time. He had the love and respect of the people who mattered to him. Including the woman who was about to make him feel better. He grabbed his wife by the arm and started dragging her across the room.

  “Where are we going?”

  “To the balcony.”

  “Are you sure that is wise? We might cause a scandal.”+

  “You should have thought of that before you decided to marry a rake.”

  “Reformed rake,” she reminded him. “They do make the best husbands, you know.”

  He knew. He’d spent every day of the last twenty years proving it to her. “You can tell me exactly how good I am in a few minutes.”

  And she did.

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  The main characters in this book were loosely inspired by Lady Mary Beauclerk (1791–1845) and George William Coventry, 8th Earl of Coventry (1784–1843), who eloped in 1811, causing a scandal.1 The objection to the marriage appears to be that she was a young heiress and he was a widower thought to be something of a playboy.2 I borrowed their pedigree, but the love story is entirely my own invention.

  The story of Lord Petersham’s flogging in the streets by an angry husband is purported to have happened, though not by Lord Coventry.3

  The odd cue tip that Coventry uses in their billiard game was thought to have been invented by Captain François Mingaud sometime between 1807 and 1823 (for purposes of my story, I assumed the former). Mingaud’s tip revolutionized the game because it allowed a player to hit the ball off-center, paving the way for John “Jack” Carr, who popularized the “side-twist” or what we now call the “English.” Carr is an interesting character and seems to have been something of a pool shark who traveled around demonstrating, then selling his magic “twisting chalk.”

  Ironically, the “original”4 Hellfire Club founded by Sir Francis Dashwood (1708-1781) (later Baron le Despencer) was never called the Hellfire Club, but was alternatively (and irreverently) known as: the Brotherhood of St. Francis of Wycombe, the Order of the Friars of St. Francis of Wycombe, the Monks of Medmenham, and the Order of Knights of West Wycombe. The purpose of the club was clearly pleasure with a heavy Masonic influence, pagan worship of the goddess, and according to persistent rumors, Satanism. The Order met from about 1746 to 1763. Initially, the club met at the Abbey at Medmenham, but later moved to the caves under the Church of St. Lawrence on West Wycombe Hill, near Sir Francis’s estate at West Wycombe Park. The indoor stream that I mentioned was actually called the River Styx—an appropriate allusion to the separation of the living world from the that of the dead—or in this particular case, the inner sanctum from the rest of the caves.

  Finally, I apologize to Lord Byron fans for slightly anticipating the writing date of “She walks in beauty,” which was said to be inspired by Byron seeing his cousin, Mrs. Wilmot, at a party in 1814. It’s one of my favorite poems and seemed so perfect I couldn’t resist using it.

  * * *

  1

  Murray, Venetia, High Society in the Regency Period, 1788–1830, page 149, Penguin Books, 1998.

  2

  Ibid.

  3

  Ibid. at p. 39

  4

  Actually not the original, but has come to be known as the original.

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  Please continue on to read an excerpt from another Regency romance from Monica…

  Excerpt from THE UNTHINKABLE

  Five years ago Eugenia “Genie” Prescott, the daughter of a country parson, gave her heart to a young nobleman who betrayed her. Seduced by an unspoken promise of marriage, she is forced from her home to avoid scandal. Irreparably changed from the destruction wrought by the failed relationship, Genie has paid for her sins in tragedy and heartbreak. Returning to England on the arm of the man who rescued her from hell, she is determined to reclaim the life denied her and never be at the mercy of a man again. But the secrets of the past threaten to ruin her future when she comes face-to-face with the man whose betrayal nearly destroyed her.

  Forced to choose between duty and desire, Lord Fitzwilliam Hastings refused to defy his family and do the unthinkable: marry a girl of inferior wealth and rank. But by time he realizes his error, Genie has disappeared. Haunted by the failure of his youth, and by the girl he could never forget, Hastings, now unexpectedly the Duke of Huntingdon, has searched for her for five years. But now that Genie is back, the duke has his chance for atonement and is determined to make it up to her… even if the reluctant Genie has to be persuaded.

  An Excerpt from Chapter One…

  Carlton House, June 19, 1811

  The soft glow of the gaslights cast ominous shadows across the coach as it crept along Pall Mall. But not even the black curtain of a starless night could relieve the oppressive heat of the sweltering London evening. The air inside the luxurious carriage had passed beyond stagnant over an hour ago, turning the once-delicate mingling of the ladies’ fine French perfumes to pungent and cloying. The normally loquacious occupants of the coach had been silenced by darkness and shared discomfort. The short journey from Berkeley Square to Carlton House that should have taken a quarter of an hour had already extended to an excruciating three.

  The interminable wait would try the patience of a saint. And Eugenia Prescott had long ago forsaken her chances for sainthood. Tension knit with excitement balled in her gut. With what was at stake tonight, each minute of delay was pure agony.

  After years of pain and heartbreak, Genie stood poised on the verge of triumph. If all went according to plan, tonight would be the beginning of the end of her long quest to secure the life that was denied her five years ago.

  The coach lurched forward then jerked to another abrupt stop. Stop and start, like the erratic pounding of her heart. Yet each step, no matter how infinite