Page 1 of Taming of the Rake
Prologue
London, 1819
Benedict Sterling paced the length of the dressing room, hands folded behind his back. His entire body thrummed with nervous tension, making it difficult to stand still. His patience was paper thin, but snatching his watch up and noting the time, he realized there was no reason to rush. He had over an hour before his assignation. If only that knowledge could ease his mind. As it was, he hadn’t slept the night before and couldn’t stomach a bite of food. He was a powder keg ready to explode at the slightest provocation.
He flicked his gaze at the woman preening before the cheval mirror, hands braced on her hips. Wearing a riding habit of navy blue, Lady Celeste Browning, Dowager Countess of Langford, was dressed for an afternoon of being seen in Hyde Park. Driving down Rotten Row with her at his side, the hood of his landau lowered for all the world to see, was typically one of his favorite past-times. Firstly, because he knew word of his every move always reached his father—and if there was one thing Benedict enjoyed, it was annoying the viscount. Secondly, there was the appeal of Celeste herself, who had become as close to him as his male friends over the years. Few were privy to the secrets he kept close to the chest, but he trusted the woman the entiretonthought of as his mistress.
If only they knew the truth. As a gentleman courtesan, he was in no position to keep a mistress—not that he particularly wanted to.Hewas the one who did the servicing, along with the dozen other men he had hired to join the agency. Only he, Celeste, and two of his closest friends knew the entire truth of their arrangement. Most had no idea whatreallywent on when he visited the countess’s townhouse three nights a week. His role as proprietor of the agency was only one aspect of Ben’s secret profession. It wasn’t necessary for the others to know what he was up to, and Celeste offered the perfect smokescreen.
However, it had begun to wear thin. While he had never been more financially secure, and was glad to have helped his friends achieve the same success, Benedict was beginning to regret founding The Gentleman Courtesans. What had started out as a means to make money had become an enterprise fraught with dangers. The threats of exposure and scandal had always hung over their heads, but they were now exacerbated by a gossip columnist with a penchant for unearthing the most salacious stories.
How could Ben have guessed she would latch onto the notion of male courtesans in London and make it her personal mission to unmask them?
Really, it wouldn’t have bothered him so much if not for the other things he wished to keep hidden—secrets so damning that ‘ruin’ would be too mild a world to describe the consequences of their discovery. Aside from that, there were his friends to consider. Out of the original five men who had founded the agency, three were retired and settled with wives. One was even expecting his first child. They had families to protect, and Benedict would never forgive himself if his downfall led to their shame.
It was up to him to ensure the protection of not just his own secrets, but theirs, as well. His mother and brothers were dead, and he abhorred his father. For all intents and purposes, the other gentleman courtesans were all the family he had, and he would be damned if the devious London Gossip trifled with them.
Celeste turned away from the mirror, her cat-like blue eyes following his progress—back and forth, back and forth. “Ben, do relax. Have a drink.”
Benedict waved her off. “I need to be sharp when I meet her. I cannot afford to be addled with drink.”
“You mean, whenwemeet her,” she corrected, turning to lift two hats into the light. Celeste inspected them with a critical eye—one a sedate design matching her habit, the other a deep violet with an array of flamboyant plumes. “Which hat? I think the blue would be best, to help us avoid too much scrutiny.”
“No, wear the feathered one,” he muttered. “A little attention might not be a bad thing. The Gossip obviously wants us to be seen. She chose the fashionable hour for our meeting, and I will not have her think she has intimidated me into trying to go unnoticed. Either she plans on making a spectacle of me, or she wants to use the crowded park as a safeguard.”
“She fears you would wring her neck otherwise,” Celeste quipped, setting the blue hat aside and settling the violet one over her dark brown hair. “Not that anyone could blame you if you did.”
Benedict was known for his lethal fists, but he would never use them against a woman. However, the author ofThe London Gossiptempted him sorely, and at times he couldn’t help but think he would like to make her choke on the pen she used to slander everyone who crossed her path.
“I don’t want you involved in any of this,” he grumbled. “As I’ve said countless times, anyone caught—”
“Associating with you may also be ruined,” she interjected, rolling her eyes. “Yes, I did hear you the first ten times you said it.”
“This is no laughing matter.”
“Of course it isn’t. If you think I will allow that shrew to scare me into shunning you, you do not know me at all.”
Benedict sighed. Hedidknow Celeste, and one of the things he admired most about her was the unflinching strength and bravado with which she faced the world. The gossip about her ran rampant, with all of society speculating that she had murdered her husband to earn his fortune. Like Ben, she wasn’t interested in anyone’s approval, least of all acceptance into a world where a friend could become an enemy with nothing more than a whisper in the right ear.
When he had come to her with his proposal that she pose as his mistress, Celeste had laughed in his face. But, when he explainedwhyhe needed her to do it, she embraced him and agreed to help him for as long as he required it. He had come to her aid once, and though he insisted she owed him nothing, Celeste asserted that she most certainly did.
“It will cost me nothing to do it,”she had said when he’d made the suggestion three years ago.“Besides, I think it should be quite an amusing lark.”
Now, it would seem his machinationswouldcost her something. The rumors about her notwithstanding, for Celeste to be tangled up in his eventual ruin would see her ostracized.
No, Benedict would not let it come to that. The London Gossip had dealt a few blows, but nothing they couldn’t recover from. This had not spiraled too far out of his control.
The minutes passed far too slowly, but once Celeste announced it was time to leave, all that changed. It seemed he entered his waiting carriage only to blink and find himself strolling along a footpath with Celeste on his arm. The late afternoon air held a biting chill, and he faintly noticed the smell and taste of coming rain. Nevertheless, Hyde Park was as crowded as could be for this time of year, where those who only journeyed to London for the Season had taken their leave. The dismal gray of the sky fit his mood. He fairly vibrated with unease, eyes darting as he sought out his enemy.
He had never seen her face, of course, but would know her when he saw her. Benedict could picture her as he had last seen her—dressed in black from head to toe, with a veiled hat obscuring her features. He recalled the scent that tickled some buried memory in the back of his mind—one that had him reaching up to finger the scar on his right temple. The thin line was only visible when his hair was combed back and someone stood close enough to notice. Many had tried to draw him into conversation about the injury, but it was his habit to spin some outlandish story about where it had come from.
“Did she specify where you were to meet her?” Celeste asked, interrupting his convoluted thoughts.
“She only mentioned the Serpentine, but if I haven’t missed my guess, she will want to be visible to as many people as possible. From here, anyone walking the footpaths or riding Rotten Row will be able to see us. She’s close.”
The plumes in Celeste’s hat brushed his jaw as she craned her neck to look around, her grip on him tightening. “There?”
He followed her gaze to where a woman stood near the edge of the Serpentine. Awareness prickled the back of his neck as he spotted the lonely figure dressed in somber gray instead of black. But, everything else about the London Gossip was the same, right down to a wide-brimmed hat with a veil. Benedict narrowed his eyes as he noticed the four hulking men standing in loose formation around her. After being accosted and assaulted by two of them, he had expected this. She had planned it all perfectly—ensuring he would not be able to unmask her without causing a scene.
