Rapturous Rakes Bundle

The Rake’s Mistress

Nicola Cornick

TORONTO • NEW YORK • LONDON

AMSTERDAM • PARIS • SYDNEY • HAMBURG

STOCKHOLM • ATHENS • TOKYO • MILAN • MADRID

PRAGUE • WARSAW • BUDAPEST • AUCKLAND

Chapter
One

October
1803

The young man who climbed into Miss Rebecca Ra-

leigh’s carriage that night looked as though he had

escaped from a bawdy house.

It was not an encounter that Rebecca had been ex-

pecting. The carriage had paused briefly to avoid two

drunken gentlemen who were weaving their way

across Bond Street in the thin autumn rain. Rebecca,

twitching the curtain back into place with a sigh,

wished that she had not left it quite so late to return

home from the Archangel Club. This was the time of

night when the young bucks were out on the streets in

search of an evening’s entertainment, and the fact that

she was travelling in a coach with the crest of the

Archangel on the door would be protection from some,

and provocation to others, for it was known to be the

most exclusive gentleman’s club in the whole of Lon-

don.

The carriage was just picking up speed again when

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The
Rake’s
Mistress

the door slammed open without warning and a young

man tumbled inside in a welter of tangled limbs. On

closer inspection—and Rebecca was able to make a

very close inspection indeed—he looked to be about

nineteen years of age. He had the sort of boyish good

looks that would melt the heart of the sternest dowa-

ger: dark hair, hazel eyes and a sweetness of expres-

sion that was well nigh irresistible. He was also miss-

ing quite a quantity of clothing, he smelled pungently

of a mixture of stale wine, cheap perfume and strong

tobacco, and his face was covered in red carmine

patches as though he had received a quantity of over-

ardent kisses. Rebecca was hard-pressed not to laugh.

As soon as he saw that there was a lady in the car-

riage, the youth made a sound like a strangled cat and

flapped his hands about in a vain attempt to cover

those parts of his anatomy he evidently thought would

cause her offence. He was still wearing his shirt, if

little else, and had he kept still it would have success-

fully covered the one thing he most wished to hide.

Unfortunately in his confusion he gave Rebecca a very

clear view of precisely that which he was trying to

conceal.

In her professional work, if not her private life, Re-

becca had seen far worse sights than a semi-naked

youth and, as he collapsed on to the seat, his hands in

his lap, she calmly removed her cloak and passed it to

him with a kindly smile.

‘Take this,’ she advised. ‘It will preserve your mod-

esty and keep you warm. Indeed you look chilled to

the bone. It is a cold night to be out without the proper

attire.’

Nicola
Cornick

9

The young man grasped the cloak to him gratefully,

though his gaze was still wary, as though he were

waiting for her to swoon—or call out the Constable.

Rebecca pushed the hot brick across the floor to-

wards his bare feet and nodded encouragingly at him.

After a moment’s frozen surprise, the youth had

wrapped the cloak about his person and now rested his

feet on the brick with a little sigh of relief.

‘Thank you, ma’am,’ he said. ‘I must apologise for

this intrusion. Indeed, you must think it quite odd in

me.’ He was well spoken, with the ingrained charm

and confidence of the aristocrat. Rebecca placed him

unerringly as a young sprig of fashion who had been

caught out in a prank.

‘I do think it odd,’ she agreed, ‘but I am sure that

there is a perfectly sensible explanation.’

The young man did not look so certain. He gave

her a timid look from beneath his ridiculously long

black eyelashes.

‘Well, of course...’ He was trying to sound like a

man of the world, but his tone was a little too lame to

convince and the chattering of his teeth did nothing to

add to an impression of sophistication.

‘May I introduce myself, ma’am?’ he said. ‘Lord

Stephen Kestrel, at your service.’ He leaned forward

and held out a hand to shake hers. The cloak slipped

a little and he withdrew hastily, curling up as though

he had been scalded.

‘Pray do not stand on formality with me, Lord Ste-

phen,’ Rebecca said, smiling. ‘I am pleased to make

your acquaintance. I am Miss Rebecca Raleigh.’

There was a short silence in the carriage. Rebecca

10

The
Rake’s
Mistress

knew that Lord Stephen was trying to work out, on

the basis of this meager information, just who Miss

Rebecca Raleigh might be. She could read his

thoughts, for his expression was transparently puzzled.

Here was an unmarried woman travelling alone at

night. She was soberly and inexpensively dressed, if

the dim light thrown by the carriage lanterns was any

guide. She was past the first flush of youth, but not

old by a long chalk. She spoke like a lady but could

hardly be one of the gentry...

Rebecca smiled inwardly and decided not to en-

lighten him. If he had seen the Archangel crest on the

door of the coach as he had leapt in, then he would

also be leaping to some rather more interesting con-

clusions about her identity. The Archangel Club ca-

tered to gentlemen of the
ton
who had exotic tastes

and the financial means to indulge them. Rebecca had

known all about the Archangel’s reputation for de-

bauchery, but she had accepted the commission any-

way. Business was business, and she had to earn a

living.

But evidently Lord Stephen had not noticed the

Archangel crest; when he spoke again, he had clearly

decided to give her the benefit of the doubt and to

treat her as the lady she appeared to be.

‘Once again, I must apologise, Miss Raleigh,’ he

said. ‘I had been at my club—’ there was a hint of

pride here, as though membership of White’s or Boo-

dle’s was still a novelty to him ‘—and some of the

other fellows decided to pull a hoax on me.’ A frown

furrowed his forehead. ‘I suppose we had all had

rather too much brandy, but it seemed amusing at the

Nicola
Cornick

11

time. They placed a bet that if they gave me two

minutes’ start I could evade the pack and find my way

home before the hunt caught up with me. Fifty guineas

said that I could do it.’

Rebecca looked at him, her lips twitching slightly

at the forlorn figure he cut. ‘I take it that you lost?’

she said sympathetically.

‘I
got
lost,’ Lord Stephen said gloomily. ‘Thought

I knew my way about London, but it’s dashed difficult

to find one’s way in the dark on foot, without a servant

to give directions. Before I knew it I was up Norton

Street and the other chaps were closing in on me, so

I headed into the nearest building and it was a...’ He

paused, looking awkward.

‘A bordello?’ Rebecca guessed.

Lord Stephen blushed. In the dark it was almost

possible to feel the heat of his embarrassment radiating

from his face.

‘Well, yes, I suppose one would call it so.’ He

shifted uncomfortably on the seat. ‘I dashed inside and

they fell on me with a great degree of enthusiasm and

I only just managed to escape with my life.’

Rebecca doubted that it was his life that the light-

skirts had been after, but she managed not to smile.

‘That is very unfortunate,’ she agreed.

‘I’ll say!’ Lord Stephen’s eyes rounded at the mem-

ory. Rebecca realised that, for all his semi-

sophistication, he had been quite out of his depth.

‘I was stripped practically naked within a second

and then they started to tie my wrists to a bedpost

and—’ Lord Stephen broke off. ‘But perhaps you do

not wish to hear about that, Miss Raleigh.’

12

The
Rake’s
Mistress

‘Perhaps not,’ Rebecca agreed.

‘No.’ Lord Stephen looked crestfallen. ‘It is no tale

for a lady’s ears. Fortunately I managed to break free,

but then the Watch came, so I ran away—’

‘And jumped into the first carriage you saw,’ Re-

becca finished.

Lord Stephen shifted with embarrassment. ‘Well,

yes. I do apologise, Miss Raleigh, but you were my

only chance. Lucas will be absolutely furious with

me,’ he added, with gloomy relish.

‘Lucas?’ Rebecca said.

‘My brother, Lucas Kestrel.’ Stephen’s face had lit

with a hero-worshipping smile. ‘He is an all round out-

and-out bang-up fellow, Miss Raleigh, quite the Co-

rinthian. When he hears what has happened he will

give me a roasting. A well-deserved one,’ he added,

with a sigh.

‘Perhaps you need not tell him,’ Rebecca suggested.

‘If you are able to creep into the house unseen, why

should your brother know?’

Stephen looked at her with a spark of hope gleam-

ing in his eyes. ‘You mean you will not give me away?

I say, Miss Raleigh...’ his voice warmed ‘...you are

a capital girl!’

Rebecca laughed. There was something about Lord

Stephen Kestrel that made her feel quite maternal, for

all that she could only be five years or so his senior.

He had an endearing air of innocence about him.

‘I do not see why I should carry tales to your

brother,’ she said. ‘I am not your nursemaid.’

The carriage had been proceeding towards Re-

becca’s home in Clerkenwell, but she doubted that this

Nicola
Cornick

13

was the correct direction for Lord Stephen, who would

surely be more likely to be found in Grosvenor or

Berkeley Square.

‘I do not suppose,’ she said ‘that my coachman will

have the same difficulty in finding your home that you

did, Lord Stephen. If you will give me your direction

I will ask him to take us there.’

This was soon accomplished. Lord Stephen did in-

deed live in Mayfair, as Rebecca had suspected, and

the coach was turned around and headed back towards

the West End. On the way Lord Stephen confided a

great deal more about himself and his family; that he

was down from Cambridge at present, that he was the

youngest brother of the Duke of Kestrel and had no

less than two other brothers and two sisters, and that