Page 1 of One Night with an Earl

Chapter One

London, May 1817

Miss Ana Gardner was determined to lose her virginity that night.

And yet, as she stood outside one of the salons of the elite brothel, her courage threatened to fail her. Even though no one could possibly recognize her in the shockingly daring red gown and half mask, a tight knot formed in her stomach.

Could she do this? Could she spend a night with a strange man?

A rustle of silk reminded her she was not alone. “A woman must be in charge of her own pleasure.”

“How?” Ana’s heart beat wildly as she glanced at the woman beside her.

Madame Crescent owned the infamous establishment known as the Silver Chalice. A woman in her early fifties, she had a slender waist, fair hair, pale blue eyes, and few wrinkles. If Ana had met the madame at a ball or garden party, she would assume she was a titled lady or a rich merchant’s wife. She was still surprised the proprietress of sin had agreed to her proposition.

One night. One man of her choosing. No names.

“Confidence is as alluring as beauty. It will allow you to be in control,” Madame said.

Panic rioted within Ana. Confidence? Any second now, she’d turn and sprint for the front door.

She took a deep breath. She needed to distract herself. Taking a deep breath, she studied her surroundings.

The elegant salon could have been in any wealthy nobleman’s home. With mahogany furnishings, a pale gold-and-blue striped sofa, gilt mirrors, and blue velvet curtains, it was fashionably decorated.

But one had only to look closely to note differences.

A small marble statue on a dainty end table portrayed an amorous couple entwined in each other’s arms.

A painting above the fireplace exhibited a blonde woman reclining on a settee without a stitch of clothing except for her white silk stockings tied with red bows at her plump thighs. Her legs were sprawled across the arm of the settee, one hand covering a breast while the other shockingly rested between her legs. Her eyes were heavy-lidded with passion.

Ana wanted to experience that passion.

At twenty-nine years of age, she was not entirely ignorant of what occurred between the sexes. She’d overheard the servants’ gossip about their own amorous encounters at Malvern Manor, where Ana was employed as a chaperone to Lord and Lady Malvern’s daughter. Her position was little more than a step up from one of the servants.

A position that offered little hope of ever having an amorous encounter of her own.

Her circumstances had led her to the Silver Chalice, the most elite brothel in London. The owner, Madame Crescent—which Ana doubted was her true name—had agreed to meet her when she’d knocked on her door. Madame sat across from her in a private sitting room and, without a hint of judgment in her eyes, listened to Ana’s request: she desired to spend a night with a lover before her looming thirtieth birthday.

Life was passing her by, and she wanted something for herself. She was proud that she’d taken this much control over her situation, but now that she was observing the men in the room, the composure she’d spent years perfecting was but a fragile shell around her.

According to the madame, a nobleman, Lord Elton, was to marry in a week and had brought along his friends to celebrate.

What might Elton’s fiancée think if she were to see her betrothed now?

No one yet had noticed her or the madame, and she had a chance to observe the room’s occupants. Half a dozen men were drinking, laughing, and enjoying the charms of the demimondes who strolled about the room. Each of the women was beautiful—one blond, one brunette, and one red haired.

The blonde trailed her fingertips across the shoulders of a man’s jacket and leaned forward to whisper something in his ear. From his wide grin, he appeared quite receptive to whatever she’d suggested.

The brunette bent low as she served a gentleman a tumbler of whisky, the tops of her rouged nipples revealed to his hungry gaze.

The red-haired courtesan sat on a man’s lap and wrapped an arm around his neck as he slipped a finger inside her bodice to fondle a breast. Her eyes slid half closed, and she sighed as if enjoying each stroke.

Oh my God.

“As I told you when you first came to me, a clever woman holds much power,” Madame said.

Power. It was something Ana had never had in life. If anything, she’d struggled simply to survive. Her downward spiral had begun after her mother’s death. Her grief-stricken father, a baron, had gambled away the family home to an unscrupulous peer, the tuition needed for her younger brother’s schooling, and her own dowry. The fickle men of the beau mode had quickly turned their attention elsewhere once they learned her father had gambled most everything away.