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Authors: Monica McCarty

Taming the Rake

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TAMING THE RAKE

 

Monica McCarty

 

 

Table of Contents

Acknowledgments

TAMING THE RAKE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

EPILOGUE

AUTHOR’S NOTE

Excerpt from THE UNTHINKABLE

COMPLETE MONICA MCCARTY BOOKLIST

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Acknowledgments

 

A huge thanks to Jami Alden and Bella Andre who were my critique partners at the time I wrote this novel about ten years ago. You guys were—and still are—the best. Jami, a huge thanks for reading this
yet again
(twice!) in recent months to help me get it ready for publication. Thanks also to Carrie at Seductive Musings for this gorgeous cover, Shona McCarthy for her extremely helpful copyediting, Anne Victory and Cyrstalle for their eagle-eyed “oops” detecting, Lisa Rogers for the ebook formatting, and the extremely generous (& knowledgeable) Isobel Carr for the print formatting. Another huge thanks—you are the best. Pretty soon I’m going to owe you my first-born (although he’s a teenager so you might not want him)!

TAMING THE RAKE

 

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

 

TAMING THE RAKE Copyright © 2015 Buccaneer Press LLC

Excerpt from THE UNTHINKABLE Copyright © 2015 Buccaneer Press LLC

Cover Design: © Seductive Designs

Photo copyright: Couple

© Jimmy Thomas, RNC

Photo copyright: Background:

© Depositphotos.com mppriv

Photo copyright: Swords:

© Depositphotos.com Seamartini

Photo copyright: Medallion:

© Depositphotos.com AnnaPoguliaeva

 

This is a work of fiction. References to real people, events, establishments, organization, or locales are intended only to provide a sense of authenticity, and are used fictitiously. All other characters, and all incidents and dialogue, are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real.

 

All rights reserved. No part of this novel may be reproduced without prior written permission from the publisher, except for brief quotations for purposes of review.

 

TAMING THE RAKE

 

They are known as the Rake Slayers…
Tired of the different standards applied to the men who flout society’s rules, three young ladies seek a little primitive justice and hatch a plan to bring a few of London’s most notorious rakes up to snuff before refusing them. But they soon learn exactly what it is that makes rakes so dangerous.

 

Tasked with bringing down the most notorious rake of all, the always capable and efficient Lady Georgina “Gina” Beaucler
k
is determined to show the wicked Earl of Coventry just what she has to offer… by promptly turning his dissolute world on its ear. Instead she finds her own world spinning out of control. Because even after she has organized his household, rid his home of alcohol, and paid off his mistress, she can’t help but see that there is more to the handsome earl than first she realized.

 

Forced into respectable society to escort his debuting sister, Coventry intends to find her a husband posthaste so he can return to the freedom and debauchery of his clubs. After the death of his unfaithful wife, the disillusioned Coventry has no intention of ever marrying again—especially not to an interfering busybody who won’t take “no” for an answer. No matter how much she tempts him.

CHAPTER ONE

 

Mayfair, Tuesday, 30 March, 1812

 

They were a scurrilous bunch. Three highly marriageable young ladies thoroughly dissatisfied with their lot—a veritable tempest of ennui waiting to explode in rebellion. Gina gazed fondly at her two companions. Cecelia’s ink-black head was bent in apparent concentration over her tambour frame, and Claire, as fair-haired as her twin was dark, was fighting to keep her eyes open as she half read a salacious novel that had somehow escaped the watchful eyes of her mother. Gina shook her head. Looking at the three of them, who would have guessed what restless turmoil lurked below the deceptively placid surface?

Cecelia tossed her needlework aside with disgust. “I’m bored,” she said, summing up the situation succinctly, if unimaginatively.

Claire smiled softly, her eyes still clouded with the vestiges of the afternoon nap she’d taken in her chair. “How can you be bored, dearest?” she asked. “The season has only just begun.”

Cecelia ignored her younger (by ten minutes) sister and stood up.

“You could play the pianoforte,” Gina suggested.

Cecelia put her hands on her hips, her mouth drawn in a tight line. “I
always
play the pianoforte.”

“Then work on your watercolor,” Gina countered indifferently, knowing that when one of Cecelia’s moods hit, she was virtually impossible to placate.

Cecelia gave her the evil eye.

Gina laid down her own needlework in a nice, neat pile. “Very well then, what would you like to do? You haven’t alphabetized your offers in some time.”

“Very funny.”

“Do you really alphabetize?” Claire’s eyes rounded. She thought for a moment then nodded her head in apparent understanding. “I suppose it would be helpful as there are so many to consider. Father and mother are forever losing track of who has actually proposed. Perhaps you should advise them of your method?”

Gina looked at Cecelia and shrugged as if to say, “What can you do?” Claire was hopeless when it came to sarcasm—or any kind of subtlety for that matter.

“I’m tired of the same parties, the same drawing rooms, the same callers,” Cecelia lamented. “Nothing ever changes. Day in, day out, it’s all the same.”

Gina shook her head. Cecelia was only giving voice to what they all felt. Nevertheless, Gina felt it was her duty to rein in Cecelia before she did or said something outrageous. “What did you expect? That you would return from rusticating all winter in Staffordshire to an entirely new crop of suitors? The beau monde is rather limited in its members, Cece. As the daughter of a marquess, there are only so many suitable men to choose from.” Gina grinned. “Though Prinny is rather appallingly fond of you: perhaps you could ask him to create a few more peers to expand your realm?”

Cecelia shot her a look of mild disgust. She wasn’t too fond of her sobriquet, “The Queen of Broken Hearts.”

“As the daughter of a duke, your choices are even
more
limited, Lady Georgina Beauclerk,” she said tartly. “I see your barely concealed grimace when you are partnered by the same men dance after dance. And you’ve had two seasons to choose to our one, so don’t pretend you don’t know to what I am speaking.”

“It’s appalling,” Gina mocked. “The dusty shelf of spinsterhood looms ever closer.”

“Jest all you want, but there is talk. Five proposals, five rejections over two years is ‘not the thing’ at all. I would think you would be aware of this today of all days.”

Gina grimaced, properly chastised. Today was her twentieth birthday, though she was doing her best to ignore it. Cecelia was right. Gina wasn’t completely immune to the gossip. But she would not settle for a husband just to satisfy the likes of some narrow-minded dowager with nothing better to do than tally the numbers of proposals per debutante each season.

Satisfying her father, the Duke of St. Albans, however, was another matter. Gina knew her time to make a decision was running out, but having tasted freedom, she was reluctant to relinquish it. For years she had managed her father’s many properties with little interference.

She bit back the feelings of bitterness. His recent marriage had changed all that. She didn’t blame him for remarrying; her mother had been gone for almost ten years now, but did he have to choose Lady Louisa Manners—a woman not much older than herself? A young woman intent on staking her claim to the household. And usurping all the tasks that Gina took pride in. Left with little to do for the last few months, Gina had felt utterly rudderless.

She shook off the unhappiness caused by thinking about her new “mama” and turned back to Cecelia. “So what do they say about ten rejections in one season?”

“Twelve, counting the two in the country,” Cecelia corrected automatically, scowling when Gina smirked.

“I feel utterly pathetic with only three,” Claire chimed in.

“Chin up, love,” Gina teased, patting Claire’s hand. “Give it some time. You still have an entire year before you reach the lofty age of twenty.”

“It’s not just the men,” Cecelia continued. “It’s everything. Sometimes I feel like I’m being smothered by rules: ‘That is just not done, Lady Cecelia’ or ‘You mustn’t do that, Lady Cecelia,’” she mimicked in the haughty, slightly bored tone universally adopted by the ton’s matrons. “My every movement, my every conversation is controlled by what is deemed proper for a well-born, fashionable young lady.”

She was right. Society was a tough, unforgiving taskmaster. “But what is the alternative?” Gina asked. “Would you ignore society’s dictates and end up like poor Lady Alice?”

All three girls fell silent, the unfortunate fate of their friend appallingly fresh in their minds.

Claire broke the silence. “There does seem to be something patently unfair between what is acceptable for a lady and what is acceptable for a gentleman. Lady Alice was forced to flee to the wilds of Scotland”—she shuddered dramatically at the very idea (who in their right mind would want to go to Scotland!)—“to escape scandal, yet Lord Coventry is welcomed at whatever ball or assembly he deigns to attend. Outwardly Lord Coventry is condemned as a rake, but the condemnation is tinged with admiration.”

Gina and Cecelia’s eyes met again, both struck by one of Claire’s rare moments of insight. With her sweet disposition and innocent naïvety, it was sometimes easy to forget that Claire was a thoughtful young lady.

Cecelia’s face darkened. “Rakes. Rakes. Rakes. If I hear that word one more time, I swear I’ll—”

“Don’t swear, darling,” Gina chided. Turning to Claire, she whispered, “She’s still not over ‘The Incident.’”

Cecelia bristled. Her chin lifted haughtily. “I don’t know to what you are referring, Lady Georgina.”

“I think she’s referring to the Duke of Beaufort, dearest,” Claire said helpfully.

Gina giggled. Cecelia looked as if she could strangle her sister.

“Come now, Cecelia,” Gina said soothingly. “That was last year. You still cannot be—”

“Don’t you dare lecture me, Gina. You were not made the laughingstock of the season.”

“I’d hardly call you the laughingstock of the season,” Claire said. “There was that other incident when Lady Penelope tripped down the stairs and landed at Prinny’s feet with her skirts bunched around her ears and her bottom wide for everyone to see.” She wrinkled her nose. “Or should I say her wide bottom for everyone to see?”

Cecelia threw her sister a venomous glare. “You aren’t helping, Claire. Beaufort made a fool of me and I’ll never forget it.”

The vehemence in Cecelia’s tone stopped Gina’s teasing cold. She sobered. The Incident had obviously affected Cecelia much more than Gina had realized. Cecelia’s pride had taken a vicious beating. As the reigning beauty, and an heiress to boot, Cecelia was not used to men who did not drop at her feet in besotted supplication.

The Duke of Beaufort—the leader of the Hellfire Rakes club and a man renowned for his exquisite taste—had taken her down a peg or two when he’d declared within perfect earshot of many a young buck, “Attractive enough if you like a chit right out of the schoolroom.” But far worse was when he looked at his sensuous, well-endowed paramour in pointed comparison. He’d turned his quizzing glass on Cecelia’s more modest bosom. “I confess I don’t see what all the fuss is about.” It was obvious that this arbiter of beauty found Cecelia’s willowy figure sadly lacking.

“I’m sure everyone has forgotten,” Gina offered optimistically, while knowing that it was unlikely. Not when the duke never missed an opportunity to remind the ton of his unique opinion of Lady Cecelia Leveson-Gower, cherished daughter of the Marquess of Stafford. Gina took Cecelia’s hand and gave it a comforting squeeze. “I know you were badly maligned, but it’s nothing compared to what happened to dear Alice.”

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