Desired by Nicola Cornick Read Free Book Online Page B

confessed to spending it all on sex with handsome young men. There were political hostesses, of course, formidable matrons who supported the Whig or the Tory cause and gave smart dinners to promote their husbands’ careers. Reforming politics was a different matter, too extreme, dangerous and inappropriate, with its emphasis on improving the conditions of the working classes. No one in society should concern themselves with such matters. Charity was one thing; political reform quite another.
    “My gambling debts are enormous,” Tess said, reaching for an excuse that never failed, “and perhaps I may catch myself a rich duke this time. I have no wish to go down the social scale rather than up.”
    “Then you truly are limiting your options,” Joanna said sarcastically. To Tess’s relief she seemed to have swallowed this explanation. “Let me see,” her sister continued. “We need to find you a duke or a prince, old enough to die within a year or two so that his continued existence does not inconvenience you, sickly enough not to be interested in his marital rights and rich enough to increase your fortune! How very romantic!”
    “I do not require romance from marriage,” Tess said.
    “So I have observed.” Her sister sprang to her feet.“I do not believe that even The Gazetteer will be able to furnish you with the direction of such a nobleman.”
    “I have whittled it down to a list of a few possibilities,” Tess said. “There is one duke, Feversham—”
    “He died two weeks ago,” Joanna said.
    “Oh. Well, what about the Marquis of Raymond?”
    “Also very nearly dead.”
    “Then there might still be time to catch him—”
    Joanna glared. “Tess, no!”
    “Lord Grace?”
    “He is in the Fleet.” Joanna smiled sweetly. “You could have adjoining cells.”
    Tess pulled a face. “Lord Pettifer?”
    Joanna shook her head. “He is in Bedlam.”
    Tess deflated. “Then there is no one,” she said.
    “I told you so,” Joanna said, not unkindly.
    After Joanna had gone, closing the door with exaggerated quiet behind her, Tess finished her cold tea and picked up The Gazetteer once again, flicking listlessly through the pages. Joanna was correct, unfortunately. The list, whilst giving the details of many eligible gentlemen, did not also come with a guarantee that they would see marriage in the same idiosyncratic light that she did. Not many men, when it came down to it, wanted a marriage of no more than convenience. Many wanted an heir, of course. Some wanted to sleep with their wives occasionally if they could not get a better offer. Many thought that a marriage should suit their convenience—that that was what the phrasemeant. Tess had no intention of being available to service the needs of her husband. That would not suit her convenience. And so her choice was limited to the ancient, the infirm, the impotent or those who were attracted to their own sex rather than hers.
    With a sigh, she put the book back in the drawer, retrieved one by Voltaire instead and wandered out into the hall.
    Tess liked living with Joanna’s family in Bedford Square. The house was elegantly appointed and filled with the warmth and laughter of a happy family. It gave Tess a spurious sense of belonging to stay there. She had never had a home of her own, or at least not one she chose to live in. Her various marriage portions had given her a scattering of houses on estates across the country, but any of these would have been under the disapproving eye of her relatives by marriage, not a tempting option. Besides, she hated the country. It was dull and intensified her sense of loneliness. Only in London was there diversion enough to keep solitude at bay.
    Tess knew that Joanna would never evict her but she had from time to time thought that she should purchase her own London house. It was embarrassing to be hanging on her family coattails at her age. The idea of living alone did not appeal, however. It made the cold chill in