Date with a Regency Rake: The Wicked Lord Rasenby / The Rake's Rebellious Lady

With a sigh, and a renewed determination to get her proposition finally out of the way this evening, Clarrie smiled up at Kit. ‘We’ve wasted enough time discussing other women. I’ve no aspirations to replace them in your affections. What I want from you is temporary.’

‘You’re frank, at least. Tell me then, precisely what is it you want me for—temporarily.’

‘I will, then. But you must hear me out without interruptions, for it is vital that I make the terms as clear as possible—do you understand?’

His lips twitched as he repressed a smile, but Kit simply nodded his assent and sat back to watch her. This was proving to be worth every minute. Not once this evening had he been bored.

‘I said I did not want to replace Miss du Pres, or anyone else—any of your opera singers or bits of fancy or whatever term you prefer.’ Clarissa looked up, flushing. ‘You’re laughing at me?’

‘No, no, I promise. I am merely impressed at your opinion of my prowess. Just how many of these bits of fancy am I supposed to be maintaining at one time? I am but a man, you know.’

A small gurgle of laughter escaped Clarrie. Shocking as this conversation was, it was more shockingly fun. ‘Well, you told me yourself that your reputation is very bad, so I naturally assumed that you would place quantity over quality.’

At this, Kit gave an amused chuckle. ‘No, I assure you, Clarissa, you are mistaken. I very much prefer quality, it’s just that it is so difficult to come by. However, I am interrupting you once again. Please do continue, this is most—most—intriguing.’

‘Well, I’m glad to hear you say that you would prefer quality, because that’s what I’m offering. I’m four-and-twenty, and it is way past time I was married. But marriage, as you’ve said yourself, is a lifetime commitment to boredom, and for a lady, especially, promises no real pleasure.’ A deep blush was stealing over Clarissa’s cheeks, but she was determined to get this over with, no matter how embarrassing it all was. ‘However, married I must be, and soon, or I will be too old.’

Looking up, Clarissa saw unease writ large on Kit’s handsome face. She hastened to reassure him. ‘Fear not, I have no matrimonial expectations of you. I am under no illusions there, and must aim rather lower, for I have neither dowry nor traditional beauty. I have someone in mind, you know, but the problem is that he is just a little staid and more than a little old.’ Ruthlessly thrusting her neighbour Bingley Smythington into the role to give her lies some authenticity, Clarrie shuddered effectively. Bingley had clammy hands, and such a bumptious manner, as well as being nearer fifty than forty, that she had no qualms about using him so ill. ‘So I thought, while I resigned myself to a life of propriety, that I might indulge myself first, and have one little adventure.’

Clarrie stopped talking, and looked at Kit, trying to assess his reaction to her words, but he merely raised an eyebrow, indicating that she should continue. She had thought through this approach so carefully, knowing she had to come up with something that would surprise him, that she forgot her modesty in her determination to make him agree.

‘So, you see, that is why our relationship would have to be kept very private. And of short duration. I must on no account be publicly compromised. And I picked you because you said you had no qualms, you see, about seducing virgins, provided that they were willing. And I am willing, provided that it’s fun. And of course, I know it will be—fun, that is—since your reputation as a ladies’ man must mean—well, you know what I mean.’ Clarrie paused, flushed at the path her thoughts had taken. Of course it would be pleasurable, sharing herself with this man, she had no doubt at all on that score. But she wasn’t actually going to go that far, she had to remind herself. So really, she had to stop thinking about it.

With a shake of her curls to dispel the images she had conjured up, Clarrie returned to her proposition, finding that Kit was watching her with an amused, and slightly bewildered, look upon his face. ‘I must insist that you promise to abandon—for just a little while—your pursuit of any other females. Indeed, I must make it a condition of your acceptance that you do so. What I want first and foremost is for you to surprise me. I want an adventure, not just a liaison.’

Once again, she held her hand up to stop him speaking. This was the tricky bit. ‘I know you said that lack of experience was not something you relished. And I can’t pretend that I have the skills of the likes of Charlotte du Pres. But I’m willing to learn, and I’m sure you won’t find me bashful or—or unsatisfying, if you’re willing to take a chance.’

She sat back, amazed at her own temerity. She had said it. She had been as blunt as she could be, and as clear about her terms. Surely he wouldn’t resist the challenge? This evening had shown to her, if nothing else, that he was ripe for a change, and surely she had offered just that?

‘Let me get this straight—for I have to tell you that I’ve never heard anything like it in my life.’ Kit ran a distracted hand through his hair. He didn’t believe her, but he was tempted, just to see how far she’d go. The claim of virginal innocence, he dismissed immediately. No virgin discussed such things so openly. It was a mere ploy to whet his appetite. And it was working. Virgin or no virgin, he wanted her.

‘I have to forgo all other women for the duration of our acquaintance. I must see you only in secret. And you want nothing from me other than this—no recompense, only my silence?’

‘Yes.’

‘Further, you wish what you call an adventure in my company. I take it you mean something other than the adventure of sharing our bodies?’

She was blushing furiously now, and managed only a slight nod. Really, she was an excellent actress.

‘And you cannot be more specific as to the nature of this?’

‘No. That is your payment, you see. You arrange something out of the ordinary, something illicit, something thrilling, something I can remember when I’m old. And something too that you will enjoy, of course. As a prelude. I thought that you’d relish the challenge, that it would help, for a while, to ease your boredom. I thought—well, I thought we could have some fun together.’

‘Fun? Good God, I don’t think I’ve ever had fun with a woman. I’m not even sure I would know what you mean by it.’

He was looking at her assessingly now, and Clarissa desperately wanted him not to turn her down flat. The whole idea of an adventure was just a delaying tactic. The longer he took to organise something, the more time she had to separate Amelia from him. And until he could arrange whatever he was going to arrange, Clarrie was free from any threat to her virtue. She also needed time to think over what she had done—for she really had no idea yet how she was to manage to pull this off.

‘Perhaps it would be best if I were to leave now, and we can discuss this further once you have reflected?’

‘You’re right, I need time to think. I’ll meet you in Hyde Park tomorrow at four.’

‘No, no,’ Clarrie said agitatedly, ‘that is the fashionable hour. We will be seen. I will meet you at the gates of Green Park—no one goes there at that time.’

‘Very well.’ Kit stood and raised a hand to help her out of her seat. Taking her by surprise, he pulled her close, one arm around her slim waist, cool on her skin through the thin fabric of her dress, the other tilting her chin upwards. ‘No women other than you? You ask a lot of me. I think a sample of the merchandise would be appropriate, don’t you agree? Just to prove you are worth the sacrifice. I warn you, my fair Clarissa, I won’t be cheated, and I won’t let you go back on your bargain. You do realise that?’

Clarrie licked her full bottom lip nervously, but made no move to escape. The sensation of his hand on her body was sending shivers up her spine. She had never been so close to a man before, and had no idea that it could be so very exciting. ‘A kiss to seal a bargain, then,’ she whispered.

Kit laughed, low and aroused. ‘You are sealing a bargain with the devil.’ His lips brushed hers, smooth and cool at first, a featherlight touch at the corners of her mouth. He ran his tongue over her full bottom lip. She smelled of roses and vanilla, she tasted sweet and hot. Her breath was warm, her breathing shallow.

Clarrie sighed at his touch, leaning closer in to the hard wall of Kit’s chest, inviting him to deepen the contact. She could feel the heat from his body building a slow fire somewhere deep inside her. Experimentally, she let the tip of her tongue run over Kit’s lower lip, mimicking his actions, feeling him groan in response. His lips took possession of her mouth fully, one hand on the sensitive nape of her neck, holding her carefully close, the other at her waist.

Clarrie surrendered to temptation and let an instinct she didn’t know she possessed take over. Tongues met in a kiss that took them both by surprise. In an instant, Clarrie moved from warm tingles to searing heat. Kit’s lips were soft and hard at the same time. He was kissing and licking her mouth in a way that left her weak with wanting. His tongue flicked to the sensitive corners of her lips, then back to tangle with hers. He licked along the length of her lower lip, then his mouth fastened fully on hers again.

She wanted more. She ran her hand over the nape of his neck and up into the short cropped hair on his head, relishing the rough feel of it, contrasting it with the soft, hard, smooth feel of his mouth on hers. Her nipples hardened as she pressed into his chest, rubbing against him, relishing the small shivers and the pleasure-pain feeling that the contact gave her, even through their clothes.

Kit groaned softly, and pulled back. His breathing slowed. He eyed her through heavy lids, careful not let her see how much she had aroused him. All her pretence of virginity must be at an end. This woman knew exactly what she was doing. ‘Enough. That is definitely enough for now, I think. You have proved yourself entirely, madam.’

Clarrie, still trying in vain to control her overwhelming and totally unexpected response to his kiss, could do no more than blink up at him, confused. ‘I—I—I’ll get better in time, sir.’

‘A word of warning. I will play these games only so far. You can abandon, once and for all, this pretence of innocent virginity, for the passion in your kisses prove you to be far from innocent.’ Looking down at her, he was taken aback to see a sheen of tears glazing her speaking emerald eyes.

‘Rest assured, your lack of innocence does your case no harm. Had you really been the virgin you claim to be, I would have hesitated. I need now have no scruples, and can consider your proposition with a clear conscience. The footman will call a hack for you. Good night.’

With a slight bow, he turned away from her, ringing the bell for the servant. Clarissa stumbled out to the waiting hack, her mind a swirl of abject confusion and unexpected hurt.

So distressed was she that she failed to notice the figure turning the corner into the street. Lord Robert Alchester, returning home early of necessity since his pockets were to let, from the tables of the hell in St James’s currently favoured with his patronage, was most intrigued. Well, well, the woman from last night, if he was not mistaken, and emerging alone from Kit Rasenby’s town house. This development was worth keeping an eye on.

Chapter Four

Clarissa rose heavy eyed the next morning, having slept only fitfully, haunted by the memory of Kit Rasenby’s kisses and her own shocking response. What was it about the man that made her act so out of character? Needing to clear her head, she eschewed her usual morning chocolate and settled instead for a brisk, invigorating walk around the park. This fever her body had succumbed to was but a passing fancy, surely. Triggered, like as not, by the novel experience of being kissed for the first time, and nothing more. It was not that Kit was irresistible at all. It was just that she had never had such contact with a man before. He was a novelty, that was all.

Entering the little breakfast parlour an hour later, she was grateful to find that both her mama and her sister were as yet abed. Resolutely putting all thoughts of Kit to one side, Clarissa partook of coffee and warm rolls, finally able to mull over the events of the previous night with something approaching her usual rational calm.

Kit’s ruthless assassination of her sister’s character she acknowledged to be sadly all too accurate. There could be no doubt that Amelia would accept whatever Kit Rasenby offered, proper or improper. What would count with Amelia would be the recompense in purely financial terms. And the higher the terms, the less Amelia would concern herself with the loss of her virtue. Kit Rasenby was right. Amelia would be plucked—she shuddered at the awfulness of the term and all it implied. If not by him, then certainly by some other opportunist with a large and generous purse and a taste for virgin flesh.

Ruefully, Clarissa realised she would not wish Amelia as a wife on Kit Rasenby even had he any such intentions. It would be the road to misery for them both. Not, she cautioned herself, because she had any feelings for Kit herself, mind you. No, it was merely that she was sure they would bring only unhappiness to each other. And even a rake, after all, deserved more from matrimony. No, Amelia and Kit must not—would not—marry.

Amelia herself put an end to these musings, storming into the breakfast parlour in a state of high dudgeon, bright flags of anger flying in her cheeks. She was not yet dressed, and though she had discarded her nightcap, her hair was hanging loose, and the muslin wrapper she wore over her chemise was only loosely tied.

‘Clarrie, there you are. I’ve been looking for you everywhere—where have you been? I’ve had the most dreadful night, I’ve hardly had a wink of sleep.’ Throwing herself into a chair, failing to notice that her sister looked singularly tired from her own restless night, Amelia’s mouth puckered in temper that boded a storm of tears in the near future. Reaching for a roll from the basket, she discarded it again petulantly. ‘These are cold. And I expect the coffee is, too! I want fresh. Where is that dratted maid, she’s never here when I need her? Honestly, Clarrie, is it too much to ask that we employ servants who can actually fulfil their duties? I swear that woman hates me. How I detest being poor!’

Pulling the bell to summon fresh coffee, Clarissa eyed her sister with an impending sense of gloom. The last thing she needed was one of Amelia’s tantrums, which were not only exhausting, but all-consuming. And unstoppable. There was no point in trying to do anything other than let them run their course, so she simply sat back and waited.

‘Don’t look at me like I’m some tiresome child to be indulged. I won’t be ignored! Oh, Clarrie, you don’t know—how can you know?—how truly dreadful it is to be me. Sometimes I almost wish I wasn’t so beautiful. If I was merely pretty, like you, then it wouldn’t be so bad.’

Clarissa, inured to such casual insults, continued quietly with her breakfast. Amelia slumped into her seat, causing her to hope that a full-blown tantrum was to be avoided, but this was dashed when, with a long drawn-out ‘Ohhhhhh’ of frustration, her sister rose abruptly, pushing her chair over, and started pacing in front of the fireplace. With a sigh, Clarissa gave Amelia her full attention.

‘Come Amelia, what ails you? Won’t you sit down and tell me?’ She patted the chair invitingly, but Amelia continued to pace.