Page 1 of The Wolf of Mayfair
Chapter 1
I wish that all those, who on this night are not merry enough to speak before they think, may ever after be grave enough to think before they speak!
—Ann Radcliffe,The Italian
“A visitor has arrived, my lord.”
While the rest of Polite Society departed for the winter months, ensconcing themselves in their cozy country estates, the Marquess of Wingrave took refuge in London. It spared him the tediousness of being shut away with his family, the annoyance of putting up with the domineering influence of his father, the Duke of Talbert.
When the duke left and took his subservient wife with him, Wingrave remained in this coveted residence and envisaged a time when it would belong to him—whenall of itwould.
Few things fired his lust more, though much did.
Conveniently, in remaining in London, Wingrave found there was no end to the debauched pleasures awaiting him.
Leaning over the billiards table, he assessed the green velvet surface for his next shot.
“A visitor has arrived, my lord.”
“I heard you the first time.” He drew back his cue and propelled it effortlessly forward.
Out of the corner of his eye, he caught the mottled color splotching the stout fellow’s big cheeks. “I thought you might care—”
“I don’t.” Wingrave didn’t care about anything or anyone. The world knew that. Apparently, however, his family’s recently hired butler had not received the memorandum.
“This particular visitor claims to have business here—”
“I’m not expecting anyone.”
“No, she indicated as much.”
She.
His curiosity picked up. Over the years, there’d been any number of bold widows, married ladies, and lusty mamas who’d sought him out. Always in his bachelor’s residence, though—never the ducal townhouse.
Now,thatwas a titillating prospect. An image slipped forth: of him and some wanton fucking in every room, in every bed, on every table, until Wingrave had succeeded in marking this place thoroughly and completely his.
He went hard.
The other man finally had his attention.
“A lady of the night?”
The servant dissolved into a choking fit. “N-no, my lord. I’d never dare let such a person in the ducal household.”
Wingrave’s erection wilted in an instant. “As long as I’m here, I am in charge. I do not care if the most notorious trollop on God’s green earth arrives naked on my doorstep, you’ll let me decide whether she remains or goes. You’d do well to remember that. For someday,” he whispered icily, “this residence will belong to me. And your employment? Will depend on me. Is that clear?”
His butler gave a juddering nod. “Y-yes, my lord,” he croaked. “It i-is understood. As I said your current visitor is no lady of the night, but rather alady.” The young man’s voice slipped to a whisper, like the latter was the more scandalous of the two possibilities.
And in a way, it was.
“A lusty widow then?” Wingrave snapped.
Color set the other man’s cheeks aflame. “I ... would not know, m-my lord,” he stammered.
Wingrave smiled coldly. “Oh, you’d know.” From their state of dress—or undress—they were easier to identify than a whore in church.
“I ... She is young. A veryyounglady.”
