Page 14 of Taming of the Rake
Steady Regina. It is the only way …
Swallowing past the bundle of nerves lodged in her airway, Regina rested one hand on the mantelpiece. As a young woman she had been foolishly idealistic, and such folly had cost her dearly. Older, wiser, and battered to cold, hard steel by experience, she had learned to adjust her expectations and take comfort in what shecouldhave. A happy life with a man who loved her? Impossible after what she had been through. Passion and romance? Randolph had ensured she could never have them.
Love … she didn’t think she could ever come to feel it for any man. This courtesan would simply be a channel through which she might gain the one thing she wanted most in the world. It was a gamble, especially when she was not certain how she might react to his touch.
However, Regina would be willing to endure it if there was even the slightest chance fate might finally decide to start smiling on her. It was her due after the torment she had lived through and the resulting emptiness that festered within her—a wound that refused to heal. Wasn’t she owed something good after all that had been taken from her? Yes, she was owed, and rather than lament that she might never come to have the life she wanted, Regina had decided to take matters into her own hands. After all, Randolph’s death had left her with more money than she knew what to do with. A terrible husband he might have been, but no one could accuse him of neglecting his duties to matters of business and his estate. Regina was now the sole owner of everything that had belonged to her late husband, though she was still uncertain how that had come to be. At times, he’d even seemed to hate her. Why would he leave her everything when there was a male cousin next in the line of succession?
When Randolph called to his solicitor from his deathbed, she had feared the worst. Regina expected to receive nothing, not even a dower’s jointure. However, her otherwise predictable husband managed to shock her during his last days, altering his will so she gained everything the moment he’d taken his last breath.
Perhaps staring death in the face had forced Randolph to confront the truth about himself. He had been a surly, ruthless bastard who made the lives of everyone around him miserable. Maybe it had been his way of atoning for all the pain and degradation he’d subjected her to during the eight years of their marriage. Or perhaps agony and laudanum had taken him out of his right mind.
Whatever the case, Regina chose to think of her unexpected inheritance as a blessing. It had given her the freedom to avoid a second marriage, to walk about the corridors of this house without cowering in fear, and to heal as best she could.
Glancing down at her shapeless mourning attire, she frowned. It wouldn’t be seemly to be seen wearing anything else, though Regina despised the idea of Randolph exerting any modicum of control over her even in death.
It will not be forever,she reminded herself.The day you cast off these horrid black rags is the day you are finally free of him.
The ghastly black did nothing for her fair complexion and bright red hair, nor did the heavy bombazine complement her figure. Her courtesan was sure to think her a sorry sight, but then she did not require him to desire her. Her husband certainly hadn’t suffered any hardship subjecting her to his attentions, no matter how poorly she looked or felt. For what Regina was hiring her courtesan to do, the man needn’t think her beautiful. He only had to make his cock rise to the occasion when she required it, and if a male whore couldn’t be counted on to achieve that, who could?
Regina had told herself that nothing was worth submitting herself to the unwanted attentions of a man ever again. She now enjoyed autonomy and wouldn’t surrender that for anything. However, to get what she wanted, there was no choice but to allow this courtesan into her bed for however long it took. And she would do it while maintaining possession of herself in every sense. If this courtesan wanted to earn the money she was willing to part with for his services, he would abide by her rules or she’d find someone else.
A scratch at the door preceded the entrance of Powell, his hulking frame taking up the entirety of the opening. His craggy features, overshadowed by a mop of dirty blond hair and made sinister by eyes so dark they appeared black, had intimidated her at first. Over time, she had come to think of his face as one of the dearest sights in the world. To call him a footman would be an insult, despite the livery he wore and the position he’d held in this house since before she had become its mistress. However, he meant so much more to her than a mere servant—a confidante, a friend, a protector.
“He has arrived, ma’am,” he informed her, his voice deep and rattling as if a handful of nails was lodged in his chest.
Her hand tightened on the mantel, but Regina straightened her spine. “Very good. His name?”
“Mr. David Graham.”
“What do you make of him?”
Powell shrugged one colossal shoulder. “Pretty.”
She wrinkled her brow, though not due to Powell’s curt answer. He had always been a man of few words. No, it wasn’t that he had answered with one word, but that ‘pretty’ was the one he used. She had never heard a man described that way before, which left her with an image of some effeminate fop.
“I see,” she murmured. “Very well. Show him in, and … you’ll remain, will you not?”
Powell’s hard face softened, and he gave her the barest hint of a smile. “Always, ma’am.”
That offered some relief. At times, Powell’s strong presence had been the only thing keeping Regina alive. While the danger had passed, it was still reassuring to know he was there.
She turned to face the door, hands folded before her just as Powell returned, leading her new courtesan. The instant she laid eyes on Mr. David Graham, Regina realized why her servant had referred to the man as ‘pretty.’ There was, quite literally, no other description that would have fit. Still, the picture of some thin, pasty dandy was burned to ash by the tall, broad-shouldered specimen standing before her.
Hair black as pitch fell over his brow in a glossy tumble, and matching brows might have been considered too thick on any other face. Notthisface. They were a perfect match for his headful of hair, enhancing features that looked as if a sculptor's loving hands had molded them. Aquiline nose, strong chin and jaw, slashing cheekbones, and just the hint of a dimple in his left cheek when he offered her a warm smile. A flash of perfect, white teeth was a startling contrast to skin that held a swarthy, olive cast. Even more astounding were his eyes—the brightest blue she’d ever seen, rimmed with a heavy fan of dark lashes.
Regina hadn’t realized how long she stood there silently appraising him until he spoke.
“Mrs. Hurst, I presume?”
His voice was deep and silky, holding cultured tones those could rival those of any highborn peer.
“Y-yes,” she stammered. “Thank you for coming, Mr. Graham.”
His smile widened as he approached, long legs carrying him toward her far too fast, the ripple of muscle and sinew beneath his clothes both an enticement and a threat.
“That’s close enough,” she blurted in a shaky but forceful voice, one hand raised to ward him off.
Mr. Graham nearly tripped over his own feet at the vehemence in her tone, but halted just short of arm’s length from her. Regina took a step back, but could go no farther unless she wanted to incinerate her skirts in the hearth. A wave of calm rushed over Regina at the ease with which she’d been able to command him. As she had thought, hiring a professional was the best way to achieve her goal. If the man wanted his money, he would dance to her tune and then leave when he was finished.
