Deliciously Debauched by the Rake

Elizabeth Bentham has been John, Lord Radthorn's lover for five glorious years. But she wants him to have a chance to marry a respectable lady, not a woman with her tarnished reputation. Elizabeth thinks telling him their relationship has lost its spark will help him move on…but John isn't prepared to lose her, and sets out to prove their passion is as strong as ever….

Robert and Charlie, the twins in
The Gamekeeper's Lady
and
More than a Mistress,
were just so delicious, I just knew Robert's best friend, John would be their equal. The fact that he had a long time mistress, made him all the more intriguing. Indeed, why would a young nobleman take his mistress to visit his grandmother's house?

Discovering John and Elizabeth's story was a real pleasure. I hope you enjoy their journey too.

The Gamekeeper's Lady
and
More than a Mistress
are available as ebooks at www.harlequin.com

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

About the Author

The house resounded with silence. The mantel clock's steady tick echoed in the chill drawing room. The candle on the sofa table fought the encroaching evening gloom. Dressed in bonnet and fur-lined pelisse as elegant as her surroundings, the surroundings she'd live in for the past five years, Lady Elizabeth sat opposite the unlit hearth.

Numb. Cold on the inside.

She kept her mind carefully blank. It did no good to go over and over the speech she must give. The decision was made. The words set in stone.

The case clock beside the front door struck the quarter hour. The carriage was due at any moment. If John didn't come soon, their conversation would wait for another day. Putting off something she dreaded. Though her absence from the house might be a clue as to her intentions. Her gloved hands clenched in her lap. With deliberate care, she relaxed her fingers. No point in being impatient. Or upset.

Hooves rattled on the cobbles outside. Wheels ground to a halt. A carriage door slammed. Instinctively, she flinched at the sound of a key tuning in the front door lock. She forced herself to stillness, her face pleasantly blank. An expression learned years before and now put to good use.

Footsteps tramped along the tiled corridor. They stopped at the doorway.

“Elizabeth?” The deep rich voice resonated with surprise and, blast him, gladness.

“John,” she replied with a bright smile. “As ever, your timing is perfect.”

He strode into the room, manly, tall, with light brown hair ruffled by the wind. Her heart leaped as it always did when she saw him. Intelligent gray eyes looked at her in puzzlement. A frown disturbed his classically handsome features. His lips, his beautiful mouth that when he smiled made her toes curl with anticipation and love, parted to form a question.

In that moment, the temptation to change her mind beat in her blood with irresistible force. She must not. She'd been fortunate to keep him this long. To hold him at her side any longer was unfair. Pure selfishness.

“I didn't expect to see you for a day or so,” he said. “Is something wrong? Did my grandmother not treat you well?”

She hadn't expected him to be quite so perceptive. “Your grandmother was a most kind hostess.” Generous. Sweet. Kind. To a woman who did not belong among polite society. To have gone had been utter folly.

The frown remained. He glanced at the trunk and the hatboxes neatly stacked beside the door. “Did you only just arrive? I'll have Dunbury take up your trunks.”

Lean and lithe, he moved swiftly to the bell pull.

“I gave Dunbury the evening off.” She'd given all the servants a holiday. She rose to her feet, smiled at him fondly, with no hint of the sorrow pressing at her heart as she gazed into his beautiful face. “You arrived just in time to bid me farewell.”

He stared blankly. But John was a clever man and in a second his mind grasped her meaning. His expression darkened. “Something has happened.” His jaw tightened. He strode closer, reaching for her hands, his gaze fixed on her face. “What is wrong?”

She let him keep her hands, but rested them loosely in his grip. “It is over, John. I am leaving you. A carter will call in the morning for my things. I will stay with a friend this evening.”

He shook his head, his expression one of shock. “Why? Because I left you in Kent? I thought you didn't mind.”

She had known he would ask, of course. And she knew what to say; she just hated the thought of causing him pain. “I didn't mind.”

“Then why?”

“For that very reason. Because I didn't mind. I didn't care if you left or if you stayed.” She had minded, but she hadn't objected, because knowing him as she did, she knew he would not be able to let his best friend down. He was a good and honorable man. And kind and generous. The greatest man she knew. He had never treated her as anything but a lady. And that was why she had to let him go. “You left without a second's thought and it didn't trouble me one bit. The spark is gone.”

He cursed under his breath. “Blast it, Elizabeth, say what you mean.”

They'd always been frank and open. She owed him nothing less now. “When we first met, we couldn't get enough of each other. We couldn't bear to be out of each other's sight. Now we act like an old married couple, taking each other for granted, going our separate ways when it suits us.” She lifted her shoulders in a careless little gesture of dismissal. “There is no excitement left.”

“Are you saying you are looking for a new lover?” Incredulity filled his voice. She knew how he felt. It had taken her some long hours to become accustomed to the idea.

“I always liked that about you,” she said with a quick laugh and hoped he couldn't hear the brittleness beneath the light airy sound. “Your quick understanding.”

He moved closer, looking down into her eyes. The shadowy room would keep him from seeing the truth. She hoped. “I will not allow this, Elizabeth.”

The growl in his deep voice, the note of possession, struck a chord low in her belly. Jealousy. It got to her every time. Not that John ever had reason for jealousy. Until now.

She forced her smile to brighten and raised a brow. “I filled the terms of our contract long ago, Lord Radthorn. You have no hold over me. Or I over you.” She touched his cheek, glad of the kidskin guarding against his warmth, the feel of his skin, yet it still cost her to touch him. Cost her more pain. More sense of loss. “I'm sorry if this comes as a surprise.”

“Grandmother,” he said. “She said something. How dare she?” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I never should have taken you there.”

“No,” she said coolly. “You should not have.” The hopes for great grandchildren the dear old dowager had expressed with such a look of longing in her face and not a smidgeon of malice had brought Elizabeth up short. Made her look at her life. And the deeper she looked, the more she realized the wrong she was doing. She and John had become too easy with each other. Too comfortable. A man in his position had duties. And he deserved to find love. And a woman he could marry.

Sadly, she could not be that woman. Not with her tarnished reputation. Their time together had been wonderful, and she had known all this from the start. Over time she'd just forgotten. They'd been so happy.

She'd even thought about having his child. Making them a family. It wouldn't be fair. Not to him or the children. So this must be done.

“You took me to a family party.” The laugh came a little easier. A little harder. The perfect note for one such as she. “The height of dullness. Boring. You have become boring.”

He recoiled from her cold words, looking at her as if he no longer recognized her, confusion filling his face. “I've always treated you with respect, if that is what you mean. If you find that dull—” his voice became hard “—then there is no more to be said. When you find a suitable candidate for your bed, do not hesitate to request a letter of reference, should one be required.”

If her gentle reasonable John was lashing out, then she had hurt him deeply. Her heart longed to offer comfort. She must not. It would be better for them both if he stayed angry. “You are generous to a fault, as always,” she said with calm practicality, retrieving her overnight valise from the floor. “But it will not be required. I will be staying with Miss Barnhurst until my plans are finalized. You can expect her footman to call for the luggage sometime tomorrow.”

The door knocker banged.

“My carriage,” she said calmly.

John, looking grim, opened the door and bowed her out.

“No need to see me off,” she said, praying he wouldn't insist. The tears welling in her throat might not remain dammed for much longer.

It would be a disaster if he saw tears.

 

John stared into his glass of brandy. “I still can't believe it.”

Lord Robert Mountford, sitting opposite shook his head. “How long is it you have been together?”

John thought back to the first time he met her. A beautiful young widow, with golden hair and the joy of life in her bright blue eyes. She'd rented a box at the opera. As good as put a sign over her head. Destitute widow available to the right man. Word had rippled through the ranks of the male members of the
ton
, bachelors and husbands alike. But he'd won her. They'd liked each other on sight. He'd seduced her not with riches, for he was by no means the wealthiest male knocking at her door, but with the respect she'd so clearly deserved. Despite her being three years older than him, he'd wooed her into his bed. She'd been his goddess.

Was she right? Had he really become dull and boring? “Five years.” He remembered the day as if it was yesterday when he'd taken her to that small house on the edge of town and made his offer of a
carte blanche
. She'd flung her arms around his neck and kissed him. You would have thought he'd offered her the moon.

“It is probably time you married and got yourself an heir, anyway,” Robert said, staring moodily into his glass.

“Since when did you concern yourself with family duties?” he said pointedly. “What are your plans now? Not returning to the family fold, I assume?”

Robert's expression turned grim. “Not a chance. I thought I'd go to America.”

“You mother won't like that.”

His dark eyes flashed fire. “What are you going to do about Elizabeth?”

John let Robert change the subject, because that was what friends did. And Robert had been tormented enough for one day. “What can I do? She wants more excitement. I've sent around a bank draft as promised in our contract.” He took a deep breath as a vision danced in his head. “And I'll kill any man who goes anywhere near her.” But he wouldn't, not if that was what she wanted.

Robert gave a crack of a laugh. “It is going to be odd seeing one of you without the other.”

“In other words, we were as dull as an old married couple.” His chest tightened as he echoed Elizabeth's words. He never imagined she could hurt him quite so much. Or that she would ever leave.

Robert grimaced.

“Damn it all, Robert, it was good. Or I thought it was. Years ago, when we first met, she said she would never marry again. Now I know why. She clearly prefers variety.”

Robert downed a huge swallow of brandy. “So she's ready to move on. To find someone new to light her fires.” He shrugged. “I guess you let the flames go out.”

John shot to his feet. “Damn you, Robert. I did not let—” Had he? Wasn't that what Lizzie had said?
The spark is gone.
Then why did he care? Why did he, every time he thought of her with another man, want to choke the life out of someone?

Robert peered up at him. “Never take a woman for granted, John,” he said glumly. “Don't forget to send her diamonds or pearls or she'll be calling you a skinflint behind your back.”

If he didn't leave soon, it might be his best friend he murdered. “Thanks for the advice. Will I see you tomorrow?”

Robert downed the last of his brandy. “Likely not. There is nothing for me here. I've an interview with my mother in the morning, then I'm gone.”

“So having debauched an innocent, you are just going to walk away. I thought better of you.”

Robert glared at him. “Look to your own house before you poke your nose in mine.”

Not one to be easily aroused to temper, John was shocked at the ire burning in his chest. The fury running though his veins. He glared at his best friend. “Then I wish you the best of luck. If you can ever bend that stiff neck of yours enough to ask for help, you will always find it at my door.”

He threw a few coins on the table and stomped out of the disreputable inn where Robert had taken rooms.

Now what? He glanced up and down the street. This area really was unpleasant and he'd be wise to take a hackney home. Except he didn't want to go home.

The thought of his neat little townhouse without Elizabeth's smiling face and delectable body didn't hold any allure. Then he'd go to the Bedford Square town house. His official residence. A place he only set foot in once or twice a year. He'd order up the best wine from the cellars and see how many bottles it took before the pain in his chest subsided.

Lost the spark, had he? That was like telling a man his wedding tackle no longer worked. Well, his worked fine, thank you very much. He had no doubt there would be a dozen females lining up to enjoy what he had on offer once they knew Elizabeth was out of his life.

A sense of purpose filled him. Dammit. He'd show Elizabeth he hadn't lost his spark. By thunder, he would.

 

With the Season barely begun, the opera house audience was sparse. Most of the
ton
remained at their country estates after holidays, until Parliament resumed. It was a good thing. The absence of Society's high sticklers would allow Elizabeth to become accustomed to her new state of affairs.

Widow. A woman alone.

She didn't need another protector. John had been more than generous over the years. But since she'd told him she was looking for excitement, she could hardly sit at home mourning for what could not be.

Living with John all of these years had put her beyond the pale of good Society, so here she sat in her rented box at the opera, another gift from John, looking as if she was selling her wares. And when the time came, she would enjoy watching John choose his bride and begin his family.

Without her.

It was the right thing to do. For him. The thought of seeing him was like a knife in her heart. She'd been angry after her husband died, longing for freedom. But she'd also been poor and desperate.

John had rescued her from the prospect of utter destitution. At the time, she hadn't realized he was younger than she was. Inheriting his title so early had matured him far beyond his years. She owed him her gratitude. This was one way she could repay that debt. Cut him loose. Make it impossible for him to come back by taking another man.