The Rake's Mistress
From Chapter 1
There was an ominous click
as the door of the coach unlatched from the outside. An icy gust of air
blew in, bringing with it a spattering of rain. In the aperture stood a man
with a lantern in one hand. He looked like an avenging angel with the light
illuminating his dark auburn hair and casting shadows across the hard planes
of his face. A cool hazel gaze swept over Rebecca in challenging appraisal.
This man was older than
Stephen Kestrel, ten years older at a guess, but he had enough of Stephen’s
spectacular good looks to make him instantly recognisable. Here there was a
harder edge, something altogether more intimidating than Stephen’s boyish
charm. This, Rebecca thought, must be the infamous Lucas Kestrel himself.
It was clear that Lord Lucas
had returned home for the night, for he was dressed with an informality that
only befitted his drawing room. His jacket was unbuttoned and his neck cloth
loosened. The casualness of his attire did little to soften the impression
of uncompromising maleness. Rebecca shivered. This was the sort of man
about whom the chaperones would issue dire warnings. Every instinct that
she possessed told her to tread very carefully. She had no difficulty at
all in identifying him as an out and out rake.
Rebecca drew back into her
corner as the icy wind whipped inside the carriage. Lord Stephen made a vain
grasp at the cloak, but it blew aside to leave him once more half-naked and
caught in the lantern light in all his glory.
“Stephen?” Lucas Kestrel
said incredulously. The dark frown on his brow deepened. His gaze shifted
back to Rebecca and seemed to pin her to her seat. She felt a strange,
swirling sensation in her stomach, a wariness with an edge of excitement.
It set her heart racing. She turned hot despite the icy draught.
“Stephen,” Lucas Kestrel
said again, without taking his eyes from Rebecca, “what the devil is going
on?”
“Hello, Lucas.” Stephen
Kestrel was stuttering. “I… I do apologise. This must look quite bad…
I…This is Miss Raleigh…”
“How do you do, Miss
Raleigh,” Lucas Kestrel said. His voice was lazy and smooth and it sent a
ripple of awareness down Rebecca’s spine. A smile that was not in the least
friendly lifted the corner of his mouth as he looked at her. “I do not
believe we have met before.”
“How do you do, Lord Lucas,”
Rebecca said. She inclined her head politely. “I am sure that we have not
met. I would most certainly have remembered. Your family do seem to make
quite an impression.”
That earned her another
look, hard and unsmiling. “Pray excuse me a moment,” Lord Lucas said, with
exemplary courtesy. He took his eyes from her at last and Rebecca managed
to breathe again. She made a small business of smoothing her skirt and
adjusting her gloves. It was unnecessary but it helped to settle her
nerves. She had been unprepared for the impact of Lucas Kestrel’s presence
and it had disturbed her far more deeply than any man had done before.
“Out of the coach, please,
Stephen,” Lord Lucas said. “I shall see you in the Library in half an hour.
Fully dressed, if you would.”
Rebecca watched as Stephen
drew the cloak about him with the forlorn dignity of a dethroned emperor and
descended the carriage as decently as he could. Once he was standing on the
pavement he turned back to her and sketched a rather comical bow, hampered
as he was by keeping the cloak tightly wound about him.
“I am indebted to you, Miss
Raleigh,” he said. “If you would give me your direction I shall call to
convey my sense of obligation. And to return your cloak, of course-”
“Enough, Stephen,” Lucas
interrupted. “I will deal with Miss Raleigh.”
Rebecca did not like the
sound of that. She arched her brows haughtily. Ignoring Lucas, she turned
to his brother who was now shivering in the chill autumn breeze.
“It was a pleasure to meet
you, Lord Stephen,” she said. “I am glad that I was able to be of service.”
That brought Lucas’ eyebrows
snapping down in an intimidating stare. Stephen gave her a tentative nod
and sped away up the steps into the house, where a blank-faced butler held
the door open for him. Stephen disappeared. Lucas did not. Despite the
fact that her insides were quaking, Rebecca turned a disdainful gaze upon
him.
“I assure you that I do not
require dealing with, Lord Lucas,” she said. “If you would be so good as to
close the carriage door, I will make my way home at once. I have already
been delayed far too long.”
In response, Lucas held the
door open a little wider. “If you would be so good as to descend,
Miss Raleigh,” he said, with unimpeachable politeness, “then we might
continue this conversation in the warmth.”
“No, thank you,” Rebecca
said.
Lucas’ lips almost twitched
into a smile. Rebecca felt herself warm to him slightly. She did not seem
able to resist. The man evidently had a sense of humour, deep though it
might be buried.
“It was not an invitation,”
Lucas said gently.
Rebecca smiled. “It was not an acceptance,” she
said.
