Happily Bedded Bliss: The Rakes of Cavendish Square Read Online Free Page A

neighbor from Cavendish Square,” Lawrence finished.

Chapter 3
    G abriel poured himself a fresh brandy and leaned back in his chair. After taking a swallow of the alcohol, which left a fiery tang in his mouth and throat, he returned to his reading.
    A fire crackled in the library hearth. The comfortably masculine, book-lined room was scented with a mixture of leather, parchment, woodsmoke and lavender.
    Earlier, he’d considered venturing out to see what female sport might be had in the nearby village. But in spite of his admittedly strong sexual appetites, he’d come here for several days of rustication, not with the intention of trolling the local taverns in search of fresh bedmates.
    He could find that sort of company anywhere, and lately he’d begun to grow bored with women who were easily had. Frankly, he was bored even with the ones who weren’t so easily had.
    Naive virgins were strictly off-limits, of course, since they always expected a ring to accompany any deflowering, and he had no intention of falling prey to matrimonial shackles.
    As for virtuous widows and repressed wives, now, they could be interesting game, especially the ones who needed a bit of coaxing before surrendering to the lustful desires they claimed not to have. Such women had long been a favorite hunting ground of his.
    But recently, even they were leaving him cold.
    Perhaps after years of determined debauchery, he was becoming jaded. A few of his former paramours had even accused him of cruelty, claiming he’d ruthlessly seduced them only to cast them aside with barely a backward glance.
    But he felt no remorse. He believed in pleasure for pleasure’s sake and always left his partners thoroughly satisfied; there were never any complaints when it came to the sex itself. It was only later that matters sometimes grew unpleasant, particularly with the ones who fancied themselves in love.
    They weren’t, of course; love was a delusion, a kind of temporary insanity that polluted the brain and the bloodstream, ravaging its unwitting victims like a disease until the fever eventually broke.
    It wasn’t as if he had no understanding of the compulsion. He’d experienced the insanity of love once himself in his youth. But luckily he’d been shown the perfidious nature of the emotion, the shallow core of what was ultimately an excuse for self-delusion and personal debasement.
    He sighed and drank more brandy, aware of the terrible ennui that plagued him. A hollow emptiness that nothing seemed to fill, not even the hot, mindless pleasure of sex. Of course he wasn’t about to turn celibate; he had lost neither his mind nor his basic male needs. But clearly he would have to find other means of entertaining himself.
    He would also have to seek out fresh ways to antagonize dear uncle Sidney, other than hosting scandalous orgies at his town house, adding to his erotic art collection, and seducing the young wives and daughters of his uncle’s friends and political allies.
    Pissing the old man off, now, that truly was one of life’s greatest pleasures.
    He tossed back the last of his brandy, then returned to his book. He’d just turned a page to begin a newchapter when a heavy knocking echoed from a distant part of the house.
    He glanced up at the clock and saw that it was nearly midnight. Who would be banging on the front door at this hour? Well, whoever it was, Cray’s servants would send them on their way.
    He’d barely had time to read another page when he heard the unmistakable sound of raised voices.
    Men’s voices, several of them.
    Then there were hurried footsteps.
    A quick rap came at the library door. It opened without his permission, and in rushed the butler.
    “Forgive the intrusion, my lord,” the servant said in a breathless voice. “There are several gentlemen here to see you. I explained to them about the late hour and that you are not receiving, but they are most insistent.”
    “Did these gentlemen state the nature of their