Rake's Honour by Beverley Oakley Read Free Book Online

sardonic twist to his sensuous mouth… The recollection of the reactions that mouth had aroused in her made her hot with longing.
    And shame.
    Yet had not his boldness exceeded hers? Who was he to make her feel she’d been the only one to venture beyond the limits of propriety?
    “Lord Fenton would have been my choice, too.” Returning his attention to Fanny once her sister had left her side, the Earl sighed, wistfully. “Such a beautiful young man—so perfect in every way.” He clicked his tongue. “I’m sure he’d do very well for you, Miss Brightwell. He returned to London only last week after two years travelling the Continent, prostrating the women with his wicked poems and manly attractions. I believe he’s mellowed sufficiently for me to introduce you, though I must warn you again, he’s an incorrigible rake. Dashed irresistible, nonetheless.”
    “No!” Fanny ground out, adding in response to his look of enquiry, “That is, I already know he’s a rake.” The hand that held her champagne coupe trembled. Taking a great leap of faith and desperate to unburden herself now that Antoinette had gone, she said softly, “I believe he is the gentleman who—er—whisked me away from Alverley several nights ago in the Druid Walk.” She took a convulsive sip of champagne before explaining briefly what had happened. “You are the only one to whom I could admit such a thing.”
    Lord Quamby raised an effete hand to pat a faded red curl into place.
    “Masquerades carry that risk,” he soothed. “One quite forgets oneself and then one is awfully sorry in the morning. Well, I don’t feel that way anymore now, but I remember it when I was young and guilt was my faithful companion. I was convinced I was damned for all those desires of the flesh I could not control. If it’s any reassurance, Lord Fenton is a rake who adheres to Rake’s Honour.”
    Fanny closed her eyes briefly. A man who adhered to Rake’s Honour would never divulge that which might compromise a lady. It was reassuring that Lord Quamby appeared so confident but what if his confidence was misplaced? “If Lord Fenton uttered one word about what had happened…” She couldn’t continue. The thought of losing her reputation on account of her simple, mindless stupidity was too dreadful to contemplate.
    “Lord Fenton would never knowingly take liberties with a lady. He may be a rake but he is first and foremost a gentleman. Another thing that may be of interest”—Lord Quamby’s tone was contemplative—“he has promised his mama that by season’s end he will have found a wife.”
    Fanny refused to be drawn by his obvious allusion. “If he’s marrying to please his mama, he’ll have the pick of the company here tonight.”
       “Why, Miss Brightwell, you are his equal in every way”—her companion cleared his throat—“if we neglect to mention your dissolute father and the daughters’ dowries he gambled away.”
    Fanny’s gaze remained fixed on the tousle-haired young man whose poetic good looks would surely win him an earl’s daughter with ten thousand a year. And that was discounting the fact that he was a viscount with a long-established title and vast estates in the north, which he’d inherited two years before.
    Lord Fenton.
    The mere sight of him heated her blood as much this evening as two nights ago—and would have done so had he been no more than an impecunious poet.
    If only he had been!
    Intruding upon her lustful fantasies came the reality of Lord Slyther. How could she give herself to such a repulsive creature when she could enjoy a lifetime of bedroom delights with a man like Viscount Fenton—legally? Apart from the fact that she was penniless, she had the credentials that made her Fenton’s equal—and it was quite apparent by the heated glances he’d sent her earlier that he felt the same connection.
    Sucking in a breath through constricted airways, she took another sip of her champagne. Within twenty-four