Page 282 of From Rakes to Riches

Adjacent to the zoo, the London elite flooded Regent’s Park, eager to bask in the rare warmth and to hunt for any hint of emerging buds on the winter-bare flora.

Raphael watched the skeletons of the trees with grim detachment.

Knowing he would not live long enough to see them blossom.

What wouldshelook like in the spring, surrounded by blooms shamelessly baring their colors for her? The most vibrant lily couldn’t compete with the shade of her lips once they’d been plumped and pinkened by his kiss. The bluebell would wither in contrast to the hue of her eyes.

She was unlike anything or anyone he’d ever before encountered.

Mercy.

Even her name was a phenomenon he’d never known.

A concept he didn’t understand.

It surprised him how powerfully he longed to explore her. Desired her to show him Mercy. In any form.

Herdelectable form.

Indulging in a faint sigh, Raphael turned to see Marco Villeneuve saunter toward him, adjusting the diamond-encrusted cufflinks on his shirtsleeves.

A tittering group of schoolgirls in beribboned hats passed by, accompanied by their chaperone, a middle-aged woman with a sour face and cheeks drawn down by years of disappointment.

The handsome Spaniard touched the rim of his hat, and the ladies giggled.

When Raphael did the same, they sighed.

When he winked, two of them stumbled.

“You are shameless,hermano,” Marco drawled, drawing closer and clasping his hand in fond greeting. Were they in their own countries, they’d greet with a kiss on each cheek.

Raphael scoffed. “Shame is a futile emotion crafted to plague those fragile enough to care what others think of them.”

“Indeed.” Marco leaned his shoulder against the wrought iron gate of the wolf enclosure and flashed his cocksure grin. Though his suit was of the finest craftsmanship, his chocolate-colored hair hung longer than was proper beneath his hat. It lent his tall, rangy form an untamed element that added to the dangerous allure he weaponized against women.

Intelligent females saw through him before he was able to break their hearts.

The others, well...they went away more cynical and suspicious of handsome rogues.

Marco slid his whiskey-colored gaze to the wolf enclosure and studied the five creatures as they paced and panted, eyeing the men as if to invite them in rather than warn them away.

They were of a kind, these beasts.

Raphael hated to see them caged.

One wolf, a dark, scruffy fellow with a blaze of white on his wide chest, climbed the hill that had been artfully arranged with boulders and soil to appear as if made by the chaos of nature. As the beast approached a lounging grey wolf, he flattened his ears and made a feral sound, yellow eyes snapping with ferocity.

The grey wolf bolted upright, relinquished his position, and slunk away, head and tail low as he found a new spot to rest.

The alpha sat above all.

“Well,Jefe, everything has been arranged as you instructed.” Marco extracted a box of matches and lit a cigarette with a long draw before releasing the smoke on a heavy exhale. “Lord Longueville will be attending the Midwinter Masque, and will be likely to bring his generals from the High Street Butchers. You, Gabriel, and I will be present, of course, though I wonder if we should invite a third party to witness our conversationwith Longueville. Word will spread that the battle for control of supplying vice to thetonis about to commence.”

“I do not disagree.” Raphael was careful not to let his complicated emotions show on his countenance. He was stirring trouble.

The lethal kind.

“I thought this wasloco—I still do—but it might actually be crazy enough to work.” Marco puffed out a breath filled with smoke and wonder before he glanced up. Whatever he read in Raphael’s expression caused him to amend. “I should know better than to doubt you,Jefe.”

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