The Hunt Club Chronicles Bundle (15 page)

Terrance Bridgewater has freedom at long last with no one to slow down his pursuit of reckless pleasure. He's in
London
briefly en route to a ship bound for the continent to see the things he's only read about. Running into the dark and dangerous Duke of Lewes is a complication he'd hoped to avoid. Terrance would rather forget the wicked games he played with the duke and his role as the dominant whore, Archer, at the Hunt Club.

Despite his mistrust, the volatile duke's plea for a second chance tempts Terrance to lower his guard. Yet what can come of two souls with nothing in common but lies and lust, two men with opposite desires and far different plans for the course of their life.

Authors note: This book contains explicit sexual content, graphic language, and situations some readers may find objectionable: anal play/intercourse, light bondage, male/male sexual practices.

BARELY A MASTER

Chapter One

Powder. Shot. Pull the trigger. Just three actions to end the misery. Aiden Banks, the Duke of Lewes, shifted under the weight of Lady Russell's feminine bulk, too dejected to remove his hand from her large breast. It hadn't been his choice to fondle her. She'd taken the initiative all on her own the moment she'd invaded his study and perched her ample hide on his lap.
Confounding creature.
It never ceased to amaze him that she was so blind to his indifference to her reputed charms.

Lady Russell fingered his cravat, a slow crafty smile curving her lips upward in evident satisfaction. “Darling, perhaps we should adjourn to a more fitting location?”

Unfortunately, the deepest parts of hell were all taken.

He dropped his hand so it hung down the side of the chair, so as not to touch her more than he had to. He didn't know what she could possibly want with him. He'd never encouraged her to think him open to her inducements.

Powder. Shot. Pull the trigger.

The refrain grew louder with each passing day.

“I'm expecting company at any moment,” Aiden murmured.

“Your heir? How delightful. Robert is a handsome young man, every bit as promising as his father was as a younger man.” She moved to touch Aiden’s head, perhaps to smooth a lock of his hair from his eyes. He escaped her attempt. He didn’t like to be touched. “I think we should educate him in the ways of the world. I've never romped with a duke and his heir before. It could be quite . . . stimulating.”

Over Aiden's dead body. He had firm limits to how far he’d let his debauchery take him. Lady Russell, on the other hand, did not entertain a scruple of limitation in her being. She liked wide variety in her steady diet of willing men. Young, old, experienced, novice—she wasn’t fussed so long as she got her pleasure first. Aiden wouldn’t be surprised if she wasn’t riddled with disease. The thought made him fidget.

Perhaps he had some obligation, aside from dying and bestowing the title to his late brother's child. He should warn Robert to stay clear of Lady Russell. If she had set her mind on him as her next conquest, Aiden would interfere. The duchy must have healthy heirs.

A bitter laugh welled up inside him.

Yet he couldn’t let it out.

“Stimulation will have to wait for another day.”

Aiden glanced up sharply as his sister-in-law, Mrs. Josephine Banks, stalked into the room like an elemental tempest. Tall, thin and composed of unbendable determination, she'd become the bane of Aiden's existence. His unlikely savior today, however.

“Ah, Mrs. Banks. Did you have a good visit to the Royal Academy of Arts?”

Josephine raised one imperious eyebrow at his lack of courtesy. “Never mind that.” She glared until Aiden dumped Lady Russell on her own feet and stood as good manners decreed. Her gaze swept over his attire from head to toe and, as he was still properly attired, she turned on Lady Russell. “What are you doing here again?”

Lady Russell shook out her skirts, ignoring the venom in Josephine’s words. “The duke and I were discussing the possibilities of the future. Nothing that concerns you, my dear.”

Although it was hardly ladylike, Josephine folded her arms beneath her meager breasts and scowled at Lady Russell. “The duke's future concerns me very greatly. We are family and with family come certain moral obligations to protect them from adventuresses. He's not for you, and you are certainly not good enough for him. You are attempting to interfere with the course of my brother-in-law's life. That is certainly my concern.”

Oh, if only Josephine knew of the pistol hidden from view within his desk drawer. Then he'd see if she cared more for the planned course of his life, or for her son's imminent inheritance. Some days with Josephine it was hard to tell. She was certainly fond of keeping the ladies out of his company.

On some level, he appreciated her meddling. He didn't want to marry, had never intended to marry since he’d once had a brother and now only a nephew to take his place when he grew tired of pretending he liked living. So far, since Josephine had moved into Mercer House, she’d prevented six young ladies from compromising themselves and becoming his duchess. He should thank her one day for that. Perhaps dying swiftly and early would be thanks enough.

But in truth, Josephine’s enmity towards Lady Russell had nothing to do with the lady's recent habit of gracing his knees. Their hostility stretched back almost two decades to their first season as combatants on the marriage mart.

Never one to take a subtle, or not so subtle, snub to heart, Lady Russell shifted against his side restlessly. Aiden wondered if it was meant to be a sensual enticement. But the action left him utterly cold still. He shifted his weight to his other foot so they didn’t touch anymore.

“Your Grace?”

So much for keeping Robert and Lady Russell apart.
Aiden stepped away from Lady Russell to face his nephew. “Come.”

Lady Russell followed him, her hand stroking up Aiden's arm and tightening around his bicep. Could she really be this stupid? He shook off her grip.

“Do you think—” The boy’s words ended abruptly as he took the scene before him. “Forgive me, Your Grace. I didn't realize you had company.”

“Lady Russell was just leaving.”

Since both Aiden and Josephine spoke the sentiment aloud at the same time, it wasn't surprising that Robert’s eyes widened with surprise. He looked suddenly uncomfortable standing there in the doorway.

Aiden took stock of his heir. Tall and weedy, possessed of a sad habit of blushing when he was the center of attention—he feared for the boy’s future. Josephine’s coddling had ensured he would be easy prey for the most ambitious of the
ton
. Robert needed to learn how to hide his emotions better before he became duke. But that could take years.

Aiden couldn’t wait years.

He gestured for Robert to come closer, and then cursed under his breath as Lady Russell glided forward to meet him, smiling as she went. “Mr. Banks, what an unexpected pleasure.”

She held her gloved hand out to Robert and he gallantly kissed the air above her knuckles. “Lady Russell,” he murmured softly.

Josephine hissed loud enough that Aiden heard, “Little better than a common strumpet.”

Lady Russell's back stiffened. She smiled sweetly at Robert and then she took her leave, flouncing out of the chamber with a spring in her step.

“I thought she'd never leave,” Josephine muttered, ignoring her son's puzzled expression. She turned to Aiden. “What in God's name were you doing with that woman on your knee? My husband always claimed you had better taste than encouraging an aging harpy with a habit of outliving her husbands. How many has she had now, three?”

“Two. There was never proof of the second.” Aiden held his hands out before him, hoping to forestall her tirade. “I hardly encouraged her. She must have bribed the butler again.”

When Josephine sniffed her disapproval, Aiden turned for the brandy to ease the pain of her impending lecture.

“Really, Lewes, the company you keep. And that Bellow's fellow is the worst bounder. How can you still employ him as a butler? He'd let a street thief into your home.”

Aiden tossed down his brandy and refilled the glass. “Nonsense. Bellows terrifies street thieves with merely a look, as does most of my household staff. An essential trait to have when one works for me.”

Aiden needed them to keep the world at bay. A pity they failed in Lady Russell's case. She must have used new inducements to get past Bellow. He'd have to increase his pay again to keep her out.

Josephine settled on the edge of a chair, hands elegantly clasped in her lap. “Well, my son and I must live here, too. They have already corrupted my sweet boy into an itinerant gambler. Why I caught him playing Hazard with your valet last night. I’d thought at least he was honorable.”

Aiden rubbed his jaw as he studied his nephew. Robert appeared uneasy. “Did you win?”

A dark blush formed over the boy’s face as his mother bore holes into his head with her steely glance. His nephew shook his head. “Almost.”

Aiden stepped between them, even though Josephine would likely run her mouth at Robert the minute they were alone again. He was very keen to miss that in its entirety. “Hazard is a devilishly tricky game to win. Few seldom come out ahead. What were you gambling for?”

Robert’s cheeks tinted with brighter color. “Cravats, Your Grace.”

Aiden turned and regarded his sister-in-law. Her claim of corruption hardly rated a mention, yet she acted as if her son bathed in vice. He supposed he should say something wise, almost fatherly, given his late brother's absence. “Hazard could rob you of the estate long before you inherit a single chair. Keep your wits about you when playing. Bet no more than you carry.”

There. That was sufficiently frugal advice to please Josephine, but soft enough not to bruise the boy's pride. Yet, not for the first time, he wished Jared Banks, his younger brother, hadn't left him to provide for his family. What on earth had possessed him to fall off his horse and die from the injuries he'd suffered?

Vastly inconsiderate. But that had been Jared’s nature since birth.

Josephine rose to her feet, a pleased grin tugging her lips away from her usually stern expression. “Well, now that is all settled I'll leave you two gentlemen alone. No doubt my son could learn something new about the estate this afternoon, rather than gambling his day away with a mere valet.”

Aiden didn't smile in return as Josephine swept out. He sank into his chair and cursed the day he'd foolishly allowed her free with his home.

His nephew frowned at the door. “I wish she would give me a moment's peace.” Robert threw himself into a chair, sprawled untidily with his legs over the arms, and covered his face with his hands.

Aiden blinked at the outburst. “She means well.”

Robert dropped his hands and stared at him as if he were addled. “Means well? Every time I try to speak with you she's here before me, getting your hackles up by mentioning I should be instructed in how the estate runs. It’s positively ghoulish how she mentions my eventual inheritance every day.”

Aiden steepled his fingers on the desk, pondering his nephew's startling outburst. “Well, you will inherit. She is correct that you have a lot to learn.” And little time to do it. However, Josephine would have no idea that he had no plans for a long rein as the Duke of Lewes.

Robert turned fully in the chair. “What I don't understand is why you haven't married one of those women who sigh as you pass. Why just last week, my dance partner asked all sorts of questions about you. The next night, mother caught her slipping through the drawing room window.” He folded his arms across his chest. “My mother is constantly commenting on everyone else's prospects for marital felicity, except yours. She's even gone so far as to point out who would suit me, and I'll not marry for a bloody long time. I’m barely old enough to be shackled to one woman. Why do you not stop her meddling in your life?”