Page 2 of One Night with a Rake

“Will your charming sisters be in attendance?” Nate asked. Debutants were sometimes classed as “coltish” for their lithe arms and long legs. The Daventry twins had earned the designation.

“They will indeed.”

Unfortunately, the Daventry twins were considered coltish not for the length of their limbs, but for the size of their teeth.

“Ah, then I shall make every effort.” Not to be there, Nate finished silently.

Still, for Caro’s sake he ought to go, he decided as he left the coffeehouse. It was some months before her formal debut, but it wouldn’t hurt for potential suitors to see her in an informal venue.

Wind whipped down the man-made canyons of four-story structures as Nathaniel trudged along. He turned up his collar and shoved his fists into his pockets. His eyes burned after the full night of gaming, but he knew sleep would flee from him, even if he found a bed.

It was January. Again. And the 25th. Again.

He wondered if he was doomed to relive this hopeless anniversary each winter or if his heart would ever feel anything. Again.

It was easy enough to pretend his life went on. To all appearances, his was a full plate. Since his return from the Continent, his polished Hessians had rested beneath the beds of numerous wayward wives and widows. Throughout the Upper Ten Thousand, tales of his bed skills were whispered behind countless lace fans. While Nathaniel was careful to leave each lady with a smile on her face and no regrets when he tugged on his boots again, he was equally careful never to form a close attachment to any of the women he bedded.

He couldn’t bear to lose anyone else.

Without his conscious volition, his feet found a path to the gated churchyard. The outer walls and floors of the little stone structure were honeycombed with small cells that were occupied by the bones of the faithful departed. So a patch of hallowed ground sprouted gray headstones of varying heights for those who’d had the misfortune to depart this world after the church proper’s niches were already filled.

He stopped before a granite slab that had been there for only four years. Not long enough for rain and wind to turn the engraving into dark dimples in the stone.

“Hello, Anne.” His voice sounded unnaturally loud. He’d meant only to whisper. Anyone passing by would think him late for Bedlam. Nathaniel squared his shoulders and decided he didn’t care. “It’s been a while, I know. I’ve been meaning to come by. Truly. But there’s something I must do, you see, and it’s something you won’t…”

Hang it all, there was no way to explain this tangle to her. Not in a way she’d understand. He wasn’t sure he understood it himself. Now that he was committed to it, he didn’t see any way out except going through with the blasted agreement. He hoped his father and older brother would appreciate the lengths to which he was prepared to go on the family’s behalf.

Of course, if he succeeded, chances were good that Mr. Alcock would never let his family know how near they’d come to losing everything. And if he failed…

“Thought I might find you here, Colton.”

“Speak of the devil,” Nathaniel said under his breath. Evidently merely thinking of the fiend was sufficient to call him forth. “What do you want, Alcock?”

“What we all want—a sound British pound, better drainage in the poorer quarters of London, and for the Duke of Cambridge not to marry the Marquis of Yorkingham’s daughter.” Fortescue Alcock’s tight-lipped expression made it clear he considered all three of equally vital importance. “As a Member of Parliament, I’m working diligently on the first two. Why, I wonder, has there been no progress on the last item?”

Nathaniel clenched his fists and wondered if Fortescue Alcock had any idea how close he was to being throttled to within an inch of his life. Nate had never bowed to the will of any man. It rankled his soul to give in to this one. “I’ll get to it in due time.”

“That’s just the trouble. Time is of the essence, milord. The royal duke’s emissary is paying court to Lady Georgette nearly every day. Once she accepts Cambridge’s suit, there’ll be no recourse. Trust me, it’s one thing to seduce an unattached virgin. Quite another to deflower one who’s formally betrothed to a royal duke.” Alcock sent him a sly sidelong glance. “Not that it would be impossible for you to achieve, given your past performance, but frankly, I doubt even you’d care to face the consequences of tweaking His Highness’s royal nose in that manner.”

Alcock was right. Once the lady was betrothed to a member of the royal family, seducing her would rise almost to the level of treason.

Frustration boiled in his gut. “Why did you choose me for this blasted assignment?”

Alcock stared at Anne’s gravestone. “You know the family well. You have a natural point of entry into this situation. Lord Rhys Warrington is making spectacular progress with his prospective duchess, so I can’t rightly reassign him to Lady Georgette, but if you’d prefer this particular lady be plucked by your friend Sir Jonah Sharp, I could—”

“No, I agreed to do it.”

Not that Nathaniel had much choice in the matter. Either he accepted Alcock’s Faustian deal or the bastard would dredge up the whole sordid mess at Maubeuge again.

Nathaniel and his friends, Lord Rhys Warrington and Sir Jonah Sharp, were implicated in the same stunning defeat at Maubeuge that occurred just before the English victory at Waterloo. There had never been enough evidence of treachery to do more than taint them all with the whiff of scandal. Now Alcock claimed to have proof that would see Nate brought before the House of Lords in chains for spying for the French and leading his men into a trap.

The scandal would ruin the Colton name and crush any hope of his sister making the brilliant match that was her due. Since their father, the marquis, had suffered several debilitating losses in the market in recent years, the family was counting on Caroline to raise their power and influence by snagging a wealthy, well-connected husband.

If Nathaniel suffered the disgrace Alcock threatened, Caro would be fortunate to land a position as governess with a family of the middling sort.

All Nate had to do to avoid this calamity was steal Lady Georgette’s chastity, making her ineligible for the Duke of Cambridge’s attention. It was a tangled web, with more than a few innocent flies about to blunder into Alcock’s sticky labyrinth. But when was anything political ever less than a spider’s lair of lies, broken promises, and arm-twisting deals?

“Haven’t you anything better to do than decide which virgin needs debauching?” Nate asked between clenched teeth. “You’re no better than a bawd in Covent Garden.”