Kissing the Rake (Howertys #2)

Chapter 1: Letters from Home

Lady Hennessy raised a perfectly groomed, dark eyebrow. "Aren't you taking a lot for granted?"

He smiled daringly as he met the woman's gaze directly. "Am I?"  

She looked torn, as if she couldn't decide whether to be offended by his boldness or excited. Finally, she seemed to settle on the latter as she smiled invitingly. "Very well," she said. "I admit I came here to find out if the rumours are true."

"And which rumours would that be?" He gave her an amused look as he stood up behind his desk and walked around it.

"Well," the woman hedged, watching him warily as he came closer. He was a rather intimidating man, tall with wide shoulders. "Surely you know that you have quite the reputation."

"Indeed, I have," he easily agreed as he stopped in front of her and looked down, keeping her eyes on his. "I believe they call me a reprehensible rake. Is that perhaps what you are referring to?"

She nodded slowly. "Yes. They say that you're a good one too. Who makes it worth a woman's while."

He leaned closer so he could whisper in her ear, "I certainly do that, my lady."

Gooseflesh travelled down the woman's arms and her breath fluttered against his cheek before he straightened and gave her another look-over. This was almost too easy. The women in London just weren't a challenge anymore. They came to him rather than him having to seek them out. There was no excitement in the hunt anymore, because there simply was none. Taking a step back and turning towards his desk, he casually threw over his shoulder, "Just go on and I will join you in a moment. It's the second bedroom on the right, just up the stairs."

Lady Hennessy was quiet for a moment, surely offended by his brusque manner, but he didn't much care if she went upstairs or left in a huff. It mattered none to him. If she stayed, fair enough, they'd have a nice tumble, but if she left, that was just as well. Another moment passed before he heard her leave the study and walk up the stairs. He smiled wryly to himself. It never ceased to amaze him how much some women put up with as long as they thought they would be well compensated in bed. Walking over to the desk, he looked down at the letter from his father still lying unopened on the smooth surface. Without really thinking, he reached out and grabbed it. Putting it in his coat pocket, he then refilled his brandy snifter and went upstairs to his bedroom.

She had left the door open, and he went inside to find her standing in the middle of the room waiting for him, a seductive smile playing on her lips. Closing the door behind him, he sat down in a chair, his eyes not leaving her body. Taking a sip of his brandy, he smiled lazily. "Please, undress."

Lady Hennessy's smile widened. She seemed to appreciate the game. As she slowly undressed, he only paid her a modest amount of interest, not really into the courtship himself. When had London become so dull? When he'd been young he'd revelled in the parties and women, but as he was getting older, he was growing bored.

Finally standing up to join the lady, he felt the letter from his father in his pocket and retrieved it. Staring at it for a moment with a frown, he muttered a curse and without bothering to get a letter opener broke the seal and unfolded the piece of paper. His father's neat handwriting filled the page. Reading the short missive, he started scowling, and then he read it again.

"What the bloody hell..." Tossing the letter on the small table next to the chair, he strode over to the door, flung it open and bellowed for his butler.

"What is the matter?" Lady Hennessy asked with a worried glance at the door.

He turned around to look at her. He'd forgotten for a moment that she was there. "I think it is best that you leave now," he said sharply.

"I beg your pardon?" Her eyes narrowed dangerously.

"You will have to leave now," he repeated, walking into the room and picking up the shawl she'd dropped on the floor while undressing and handed it to her.

"This is outrageous!" she cried indignantly, angrily snatching the item from his fingers. "You cannot throw me out. I am not fully dressed."

"Then I suggest that you dress quickly," he replied coolly. "Because my butler will be here at any moment." Without caring to see if she was doing as he'd suggested, he strode over to the door and opened it, glancing down the hallway to see if Dawson was on his way yet.

"I have never..." Lady Hennessy huffed as she pulled her clothes back on and strode passed him, her dress still slightly askew. "Good night to you, Lord Wortham. Don't think you'll ever get this opportunity again."

"What a loss," he muttered sarcastically as he went back inside to wait impatiently for Dawson.

The butler arrived a few moments later, a politely questioning look on his face. "You called, my lord?"

"Yes, Dawson. Please ensure that the lady left the house and is not skulking in the drawing room waiting to stab me in my sleep," he said as he picked up his brandy snifter and drained it. "Then have my horse saddled."

"May I enquire where you are going, my lord?"

"I am going home." Even the word was distasteful to him.

"To Holcombe Hall, my lord?" Dawson simply asked with no sign of surprise.

"Yes."

"My lord..." Dawson sounded hesitant, obviously aware that his master was in a rather foul mood. "May I suggest that you postpone your trip until the morning? Travelling at night is rather hazardous."

Jacob nodded. The butler was right, of course. What was he thinking to leave now? It was so typical that his father upset him like this. "Very well, but make sure that my horse is ready first thing in the morning."

"Naturally, my lord." Dawson left the room to do as he'd been asked and closed the door behind him. Seeing the letter lying on the table, Jacob bent to pick it up and read it once more. The content hadn't miraculously changed since the last time he had, and he angrily stuffed it into his pocket. What was his father thinking?

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