Free Rapturous Rakes Bundle by Georgina Devon Nicola Cornick Diane Gaston

‘Sometimes,
    however, a man must follow his instinct.’
    ‘Following one’s instinct can get one killed,’ Lucas
    said bleakly.
    ‘And ignoring it can lose a man the one thing he
    most desires,’ Cory pointed out gently.
    Lucas shifted irritably. ‘Marriage is making you
    soft, Cory Newlyn. Why tie yourself to one woman
    when there is an entire legion of them out there?’
    ‘Perhaps,’ Cory said, ‘because one particular
    woman is all you need?’
    Lucas gave him a cynical smile. ‘Definitely soft,
    Cory.’
    ‘All rakes reform in the end,’ Cory said, ‘unless
    they want to end as sad old roueś leaning on their
    canes and leering at the de´butantes.’
    Lucas shuddered. ‘You paint such an attractive pic-
    ture.’
    ‘Think about it,’ Cory said, smiling. ‘Look at Rich-
    ard.’
    Lucas shook his head. ‘Richard was ready to re-
    form,’ he said slowly. ‘He was in love. I...’ he hesi-
    tated, ‘...I am not.’
    Cory sighed. ‘Nor ever shall be? I thought that you
    had recovered well enough from your youthful dis-
    appointment to realise that not all women are design-
    ing harpies.’
    Lucas laughed. ‘Oh, I have. My antipathy does not
    stem from that.’ His face stilled. ‘It is more that I have
    72
    The Rake’s Mistress
    never met a woman to whom I wished to be faithful.
    Ever after is a long time.’
    ‘You are thinking of your father,’ Cory said acutely.
    Lucas shrugged. ‘I am thinking of my mother,’ he
    said. ‘She detested Papa’s philandering, but she never
    said a word against him.’ He shifted uncomfortably in
    his chair for, even now, the memories were hard to
    recall. ‘She never said a word, but she lost the hap-
    piness that once lit her eyes. I could not ask for such
    stoicism from my wife.’ He fixed Cory with a sardonic
    look. ‘If you start to tell me, in that exasperating man-
    ner of happily married people, that I shall feel differ-
    ently when I meet the right woman, then—’
    Cory held up a hand peaceably. ‘I should not dream
    of it, Luc.’ He got to his feet and slapped Lucas good-
    naturedly on the shoulder. ‘I wish you good fortune. I
    am away, home to my wife.’
    Lucas watched Cory’s tall figure thread its way
    through the milling crowd about the card tables. He
    saw Cory pause to greet an acquaintance here and
    there, but there was a barely repressed impatience
    about him that soon had him on the move again. Lucas
    noticed that he turned down at least two offers of a
    round of piquet and several invitations to join some
    cronies for a drink. He shook his head thoughtfully.
    He had the greatest admiration for Rachel Newlyn, but
    he could not see why Cory should be in such a hurry
    to return to her side. Petticoat government... He had
    done very well without it these twenty-eight years past
    and he was not about to succumb to its lure now. This
    business with Rebecca Raleigh was a different matter
    entirely. The only reason he felt badly about deceiving
    Nicola Cornick
    73
    her was because she was young and alone. She had
    struck him as gallant. Yes, that was the word to de-
    scribe Miss Raleigh. She was gallant in the face of all
    the odds and he admired her courage whilst being in
    danger of trampling that very gallantry underfoot.
    ‘Devil take it!’ Lucas said bad-temperedly, slapping
    his glass down so hard that the table shook. He had
    come out to drown his sorrows and yet it seemed there
    was nowhere to hide. He felt the greatest scoundrel in
    the whole world.
    With two commissions to complete, Rebecca rose
    each day when the bleary London dawn spread across
    the sky and worked late into the night. During daylight
    she would throw the shutters wide to draw as much
    natural light into the workshop as possible. When
    night came she would light the candles and continue
    until her head ached and her eyes itched. There was
    no sound in the studio but for the diamond scribe
    scratching the glass as she meticulously picked out the
    pattern of