In Search of a Mistress (Book 1 Regency Series)

Chapter 1(currently editing)

I am extremely excited to share a little of myself with everyone, and I hope that you will enjoy what I write. Thanks for reading and thanks ahead of time for your feedback.........

IN SEARCH OF A MISTRESS

By Cheryl Boyett-Ball

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Copyright © 2014 by Cheryl Boyett-Ball

Thank you for downloading this free Ebook. Although this is a free book, it remains the copyrighted property of the author and may not be reproduced, scanned, or distributed for any commercial or non-commercial use without permission from the author. Quotes used in reviews are the exception. No alteration of content is allowed. If you enjoyed this book, then encourage your friends to download their own free. This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author's imagination and used fictitiously. 

Adult Reading Material *Young Readers are advised of mature content

Chapter 1

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"Each moment of a happy lover's hour is worth an age of dull and common life."

Aphra Behn

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Mayfair in London, England

May 1829

Charles Roan, Duke of Carrington was sitting behind his desk in his Mayfair townhouse attempting to review last months' ledgers that Mr Allen, his solicitor dropped off to him days ago. He was frustrated, he could not concentrate on the task at hand and sitting here stewing was not helping matters. This is not working, I have to get out, I have to do something  he thought. "Damn it", he growled. He stood up and slammed his hands on the desk letting out a loud grunt. He looked around himself, he was suffocating. The walls of his study at Carrington House were closing in on him. 

His attitude the last few weeks had sent his loyal servants into the shadows just to avoid him.  Since they were an intelligent lot, most of them were steering clear of him, but not Browning, his very staunch, very proper, know-it-all Butler. Browning was always under foot. Sometimes he thought that Browning could read his mind, the man was a marvel of efficiency. Over an hour ago, Browning had brought him a new bottle of Brossault Reserve Cognac,  handed him a glass and left without a word. That glass sat still empty on his desk and the bottle sat unopened. His frustrations had gone far beyond the need for drink, he needed to act and now.

He stood and walked to the window that overlooked the garden. He put his hands behind his back and just stared outside, not really seeing anything. His problem was obvious....it had been too long since he had had a woman and She was not making it easier for him. He had to make some changes and remedy this tragedy before he lost his mind. Visiting a House of Pleasure was the last thing that he would do, he had more respect for his body than to subject it to the pox. A Mistress is what he needed and fast. The situation had gotten worse since he began dreaming of Her. She had been tormenting his dreams for months now, always causing him to wake in a cold sweat and so hard that he hurt for hours after. Unless he took matters into hand, which he was sick to death of doing, there was no relief in sight.

He wished he knew who she was and where to find her. The woman was a complete mystery. When he first started dreaming of her, he would catch himself looking at every women that crossed his path thinking he would find her, but he had yet to figure out to do so. He could only ever see her from behind, standing before him gloriously nude. She was always just out of reach and every time he got near to her she would become smoke and fade away, leaving the scent of roses that he could smell even after waking. He was struck with the feeling that she was young and innocent but also that she had this glorious passion flowing through her blood. Passion that could not be contained and he so wanted to experience that passion for himself. He just knew that they would be molten fire together. He could picture her now, with soft silky looking skin, a lithe body and long golden yellow hair that hung down her back that stopped just before her delectable derriere. "Damn It," he said, he had to stop doing this to himself. Thinking about her was getting him nowhere but in pain. It was time to do something, time to have a sensual and  passionate woman at his beck and call, day or night. Since he could not have her, whoever the hell She was, he would take action today to find his sanity again.