Ann Lethbridge has been reading Regency novels for as long as she can remember. She always imagined herself as Lizzie Bennet or one of Georgette Heyerâs heroines, and would often recreate the stories in her head with different outcomes or scenes. When she sat down to write her own novel, it was no wonder that she returned to her first love: the Regency.
Ann grew up roaming England with her military father. Her family lived in many towns and villages across the country, from the Outer Hebrides to Hampshire. She spent many memorable family holidays in the West Country and in Dover, where her father was born. She now lives in Canada, with her husband, two beautiful daughters, and a Maltese terrier named Teaser, who spends his days on a chair beside the computer, making sure she doesnât slack off.
Ann visits Britain every year, to undertake research and also to visit family members who are very understanding about her need to poke around old buildings and visit every antiquity within a hundred miles.
Chapter One
London, 1815
Brunettes, blondes and even a redhead displayed their mouthwatering attributes while they handled the cards at the green baize-covered tables with the dexterity of Captain Sharps. Tony Darby sauntered ahead of the Evernden brothers into what had once been a ballroom. At each table, fashionable gentlemen leered at their scantily clad banker, or stared at their cards.
Piquet. Whist. Vingt-et-un. Women. All the usual pastimes. Tony sighed as ennui swept through him and then turned to his companions. âThis is why you dragged me all the way to Hampstead, Stanford? A gambling hell in a brothel?â
âIndeed,â the fair haired and usually cheerful Christopher Evernden said with a grimace. âYouâve got a lot to answer for, Garth.â
On the other side of Tony, Christopherâs brother, Lord Stanford, grinned, his dark eyes unrepentant. âLady Falstow will have your head if she hears the word 'brothelâ in her establishment. The women here are looking for amusement, not money.â
âGood Lord,â Christopher said. âIs that Ladyââ
âNo names,â Garth murmured. âIn this club, discretion is the watchword. One wrong word and we will never darken these hallowed portals again. Look at them. Itâs a banquet of female desires.â
Following the direction of Christopherâs stunned gaze, Tony recognized one of Londonâs foremost hostesses, known for her sumptuous dinners and witty conversation. Tonight, the blonde wore a carnivorous expression and a gown diaphanous enough to shame a courtesan.
She caught his glance. Her gaze ran down his length, obvious and assessing. Clearly liking what she saw, she beckoned.
Tony stifled the urge to flee and pretended he hadnât noticed.
Christopher groaned. âI have no interest in playing stud for some bored hausfrau. You promised piquet in interesting surroundings.â
âCan it get more interesting than this?â Garth asked. âLook at them. Theyâll rip your clothes off, theyâre so desperate.â
âThe next time I go to Whiteâs I donât want to shake some fellowâs hand knowing I tupped his wife,â Tony said, speaking from an experience that still gave him nightmares.
âNor me,â Christopher said.
âYou do the ladies no favors,â Garth said. âThey are here because their husbands donât give a damn whether they are happy or not.â Strangely enough, the usually insouciant Garth sounded rather grim. âAnd besides, many of them are lonely widows.â
âI donât have the ready to set up an indigent widow with a host of hungry mouths to feed,â Tony said. Tomorrow morning he had an appointment to view a property, which, if he decided to purchase, would empty his pockets.
âI thought you came into some money,â Christopher said.
âGone.â He wasnât going to let the cat out of the bag and let them ridicule his decision to give up a life of idleness. Not until he made a success of it. âIf you want gambling and a prime article on each arm, I know a great little hell in the Seven Dialsâno limit on play and no commitment.â
âSuch gratitude,â Garth muttered. âI invite you to Londonâs most exclusive club and you prefer Haymarket ware. Do as you please. I have someone waiting upstairs, and I never disappoint a lady.â