The Bluestocking and the Rake (The Regency Gentlemen Series) Read Online Free PDF

hidden behind ugly spectacles.
    If Mr. Davenham had been fortunate enough to have seen her without the spectacles and the cap and the prim clothing, he might have thought her an attractive woman, but as it was he thought her a country dowd and someone’s poor relation at that. The suspicion that she was about to claim some link to Lord Marcham and wheedle her way into his purse was not lost upon the butler, nor was the thought that she might be some lightskirt from the earl’s colourful youth and about to foist a lovechild upon him. Equally alarming was the thought of what his lordship would do to him if he let her anyway near him. He ran a forefinger between his collar and his neck, already imagining his master’s hands around his throat. He watched the young lady tuck away a long tendril of chestnut hair. It curled gently against her cheek and had escaped from the prim arrangement of her headdress.
    “Well, he will be at home to me, when he hears what I have to say to him,” she replied, stripping off her gloves. “I have an appointment of some weeks standing. My father’s man of business arranged it and I am not about to be turned away at the last fence by you or anyone else. I know that his lordship has a policy of not receiving visitors, but this is not a social visit, I can assure you. I am here on business and I must ask you again to please inform Lord Marcham of my arrival.”
    “His lordship is indisposed ,” said Mr. Davenham, his slightly protruding eyes almost popping out of their sockets.
    “If he is truly indisposed then I am sorry for it, but if he is, as I suspect, avoiding me ―”
    “Wait! Ma’am, you cannot go in there!”
    The woman had moved swiftly across the hallway towards a closed door from behind which she could hear masculine laughter and excited shouts of encouragement. She placed her hand upon the door knob.
    The butler looke d at her so fearfully that she almost burst out laughing.
    “Madam please, his lordship will turn me out of the house if I let you in there! Come into the parlour and I will fetch my master to you.”
    She smiled at him kindly. “What a silly creature you are to be so afraid of your master. He must be a tyrant indeed to instil such fear in you,” she marvelled. “But never fear. He will not seek retribution from you, I promise. Forgive me Mr. Davenham, but I really will not be put off my purpose this time.”
    She turned and flung the door wide open and for a moment she stood there in stunned disbelief; the scene before her was one that she had not ever encountered before.
    The room was low-lit, the curtains still drawn, even though it wanted only fifteen minutes until midday and the candles burned low in their sockets. Around the table were perhaps ten or twelve gentlemen of differing ages, some older with their wigs askew, others younger, who had cast aside their coats or undone their cravats, their chins scratchy with unshaven stubble, their eyes bleary with drink and lack of sleep. The room reeked of alcohol, and the table was littered with empty bottles, wineglasses and the remains of supper. Several young ladies in varying states of undress sat on the laps of the gentlemen, one couple was engaged in a very indecent embrace on a sofa against the wall. Rose petals were strewn across the table cloth and standing in the middle of the table as the centrepiece was a woman, clearly in the process of stripping off her clothes for the entertainment of the gathered male company. The shouts of men she’d heard had been encouragement to remove the last item of clothing, a rather expensive looking but decidedly indecent undergarment. The half dressed woman had halted her disrobement as the door was opened and stared agog at the prim woman looking so coolly back at her.
    To the woman standing in the doorway it seemed that twenty pairs of eyes had swivelled in her direction. Every instinct told her to flee. She most definitely should not be in such a place. She was