Page 4 of The Duke of a Thousand Desires

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It wasawful of her to create a scandal during her cousin’s elegant soirée. Despite the Boscastle family’s notoriety, Ravenna doubted her relatives would approve of her dramatic method of exposing her fiancé’s infidelity. But what else could a lady do when those who ruled her life refused to listen?

No one at home in the castle believed the rumors that her betrothed had dishonored a maidservant during the spring fair. Sir David Cynon, a half-hearted soldier and successful tradesman, had denied the charge to Ravenna’s brothers. When confronted the girl herself swore nothing untoward had happened.

“Sir David accompanied me home in his wagon after I twisted my ankle in a sack race,” she said in a high unconvincing voice. “He was a complete gentleman.” A week later she mysteriously vanished from the village to take a position as a governess in the north, which meant she would never be seen or heard from again.

“Your wedding in London is months away,” Ravenna’s aunts had said as consolation. “Whether there is any truth to the gossip or not, David will have come to anchor by then.”

Well, it was less than a month until Ravenna and her betrothed would exchange vows in St. George’s Hanover Square church. David, ever the gentleman in public, had accepted congratulations on the engagement before supper. According to Miss Isolde Fychan, Ravenna’s maid and confidante, who had gathered her information from a footman, David had also made an arrangement with a married viscountess. The liaison was to take place in the gardens while the lady’s husband played whist in an upstairs gaming room. Ravenna’s brother had set off to confirm the unsavory details.

This time Ravenna would catch David outright and win her freedom in one scandalous act. Understandably, she would also catch hell when all was said and done, but she would worry about that later.

She followed David like a phantom as he crossed the brilliantly lit ballroom. If any of the footmen noticed her furtive escape, they looked the other way. The party had swelled to such proportions she had easily evaded her family’s attention.

The only person to view her suspiciously was her childhood friend, the Duke of Rochecliffe. Simon was no stranger to questionable conduct, but then as a peer and bachelor, the polite world winked at his misdeeds. Indeed, the more sins a duke committed, the higher his stock rose.

Granted, he might have been staring at Ravenna because she’d been stealing peeps at him since she had spotted him at supper.

Not only was he perceptive, as she recalled, but he had always been indecently attractive and difficult to ignore, even during their younger days. His dark charisma had evidently deepened into a dangerous magnetism. Tall, graceful, a wine-colored birthmark staining his left cheek, he exuded an unsmiling melancholy that stirred a woman’s sympathy. No wonder her cousin-in-law and hostess Jane, the Marchioness of Sedgecroft, had cautioned her earlier in the evening that Simon had become a man to be avoided at all costs.

“That is a tease, Jane. Now you have whetted my curiosity. Reveal what information you have to substantiate your claim.”

“I hesitate to repeat this,” Jane said. “You have been isolated most of your life and are not practiced in vice.”

“Are you?” she asked in amused curiosity.

“I’m married to Grayson. Vice was written into our wedding vows. And I’d rather offend you than be responsible for your decline. I have been told by a reliable source that the duke is a shocking man. He may or may not have become completely irredeemable. That is, his habits might discompose someone of your artlessness. I have lived in London too long to bat an eye at such things.”

“Supply the details,” Ravenna said. “I have brothers who are anything but pious. Moreover, I’ve known Simon for years. Name the unimpeachable authority who has maligned my dear friend. If he has not crossed the Border of Disrepute, perhaps he merely needs a nudge in the other direction.”

Jane lowered her luminous eyes. “You’re forcing me to share a sworn secret out of worry for you.”

“Then don’t tell me. I don’t need a burden on my conscience.” Indeed, she would be swamped with enough guilt after tonight. In all likelihood she would desperately need Jane’s support, unless the family disowned her.

“Then my conscience insists I enlighten you.” Jane resumed her confession with enthusiasm. “The owner of London’s most exclusive brothel confided in me that Simon is the most sought-after client in her house. As the gossip goes, he is a splendid lover.” She paused. “His desires are indecent.”

Ravenna’s instinct was to spring to Simon’s defense. Certainly the rumor could be true. In recent years she had heard whisperings of Simon’s romantic exploits, but none of her relatives could claim innocence when it came to love. She felt protective of her old friend.

“How do you know a brothel keeper?” she asked Jane.

“I visited her once for womanly advice on how to handle Grayson at a time when he was rather difficult. But that is another story. Do you understand what I have said?”

“I’m not an utter dunce.”

Jane’s eyes glinted. “Rochecliffe made such a strong impression on the keeper that she reserves a special room for his rare visits and has honored him with a salacious nickname.”

“Which I do not wish to hear, but you will tell me, nonetheless.” In all honesty, she would love to know, but time was ticking away, and she had her own cad to take care of. “Oh, give over. What is he called?”

“’The Duke of a Thousand Desires.’”

Ravenna smiled. “Oh, dear.”

“He is a sophisticated man,” Jane added unnecessarily.

“Due to his numerous desires?”

“I do not know the particulars,” Jane admitted. “His appearance indicates as much. I gleaned only one other tidbit of unusual information while I was eavesdropping on a conversation between my husband and Heath. It seems that Simon is involved in some risky dealing.”