CHAPTER 1
London, England
October 1, 1820
The hunt was on.Elwood Tyburne, Earl of Belmont, could feel it in his bones. The latest gossip rag had yet to announce the rake of the month in a monthly periodical entitled, “The Rake Review” where the anonymous, “Brazen Belle” would showcase her latest victim. Some inner intuition told him that he would soon be the next to face the ton’s wrath, although he hoped it was wrong. In January, when the first article had started circulating and mentioned that poor soul, Edward Johns, Elwood had found it rather amusing—like the rest of his cohorts—until a large target had been plastered ontheirbacksides.
When it became apparent that this was to be a recurring theme, some men decided to curb their raucous natures for a time, while others ignored the threat and went about their merry lives, until suddenly, they were hearing wedding bells.
Elwood shuddered just thinking that he might be cornered in such a fashion. He had his peccadilloes, and he preferred to keep his freedom, thank you very much. His parents had actually beenone of the few couples that enjoyed a happy life built on love. It was nauseating.
At one point, after his fourth, younger brother was born, he considered saying something about how much time they spent in the bedchamber, but he realized he would never be able to get the words past his throat before he choked on them.
He should be glad that his mother and father were happy, but it had soured his stomach when it came to finding his own love match. Sex was grand, but when you added the soft touches, the lingering glances from across the room, and that dreadful hand holding, that’s where he drew the line. The idea of that much affection was quite unsettling. He was quite sure that one of his younger brothers would be glad to carry on the title should he pass on without any legitimate issue, so he wasn’t too concerned about duty when there were plenty of opportunities for his father’s marquessate to carry on.
Elwood’s latest mistress had been the sort who enjoyed mutual pleasure, and other than a bauble or two, she was content to leave things at that. Unfortunately, he’d had to break things off with her. For all he knew, she could be the Belle who was writing these dreadful columns. Paranoia was starting to become very real with the bachelors of London.
He was most certainly in danger if he continued to display any sort of devilish behavior. He hadn’t gone to any of his usual gaming hells, or dared to engage in any other sort of scandalous liaisons. He rode his horse to Hyde Park in the morning and imbibed at White’s until he had to stumble back to his townhouse and stare at the wall of his study for the rest of the day, all while praying that this woman might tire of her latest entertainment, so he could return to his.
Since it was Sunday and every other man in London was shaking in their Hessians until Monday when the latest rake was revealed, Elwood decided that his presence was best served atchurch. It couldn’t hurt his chances to engage in some divine intervention while he waited for the guillotine of society to claim the next male.
Donning his best attire, Elwood grabbed his silver headed cane and hat and headed out to where his curricle was waiting. He nodded to the groom who handed him the reins and then set his mount into motion. Along the way, he did his best to appear the upstanding gentleman who would be admired. He touched his brim in greeting to the ladies and offered the men a nod of acknowledgement. He didn’t give anyone the cut, and if there had been the chance he could help an older lady cross the street, he would have vaulted from his curricle to assist, just to prove what an upstanding pillar of society that he was.
When he entered St. James’ Church, he sat throughout the entire sermon with a reverent expression on his face, doing his best to appear contrite for any past transgressions he might have embarked upon. As the service concluded, he made sure to continue with the same humble demeanor until he returned to home to Brook Street in Mayfair. The moment the door shut behind him, he headed for his study, ripping off his cravat as he went and going to the sideboard, where he poured a brandy and downed it in one scorching gulp.
If he survived another month of this inactivity, it might just kill him.
Miss Meliah Newtoncould hardly contain her excitement the next morning when the latest periodical of “The Rake Review” arrived in her greedy hands by way of a street urchin at her parent’s residence on Brick Lane in Spitalfields. She had beeneagerly awaiting the latest edition as soon as she recalled it was the first Monday of the month.
From the moment she had first caught sight of the gossip sheet in Samantha Mason’s hands, Meliah had been fascinated by “The Belle.” She hadn’t been sure where she might continue to claim the article, as it was published in secret, but thankfully, her friend, Samantha, was an orange seller who often went into the heart of Mayfair, where it was being distributed, and since she was sweet on one of Lady Graves’ footman, he had shared the information with her. Now, each month, Meliah begged Samantha for the latest release.
It was Meliah’s single hope that she might become a noted writer like “The Belle,” even if the price she had to pay was the same anonymity. She was weary of living above her parent’s weaver’s shop, expected to carry on the family tradition when they were gone. But that was not what filled her heart with purpose. She loved writing and hoped to see her book in print on the shelves of Hatchard’s someday. She was nearly finished with her first novel, and her mind had been racing, wondering how she might convince one of the printing companies to take a chance to publish her work. If she could only discover the identity of this notorious author and find out who she used as a printer, perhaps they might be willing to risk taking on another writer in secret. She wouldn’t be averse to using a pen name, so long as she could hold her own words in her hands.
She pushed those dreams aside for the moment, and eagerly read the latest Rake Review. Although she hadn’t known any of the gentlemen that had been previously mentioned, there were times when she felt some sort of… connection to them, but none so much as this month’s mysterious Lord B.
Dearest Reader,
At long last, I must present a rake of the first order. Although he must have believed himself immune to my pen, I cannot allow his licentious ways to go unnoticed any longer. It is time that Lord B —is brought to the forefront of society.
I’msure you are acquainted with the gentleman in question. It is not often any lady finds herself immune to his charm, nor those piercing blue eyes and ebony hair. I’m quite certain he doesn’t need false padding to emulate such broad shoulders, or extra cushion in his shoes to reach that towering height. But I digress.
His attributes might be aplenty,but it’s his character that has often been called into question. With his signature, silver-headed cane, that many might speculate hides a deadly sword, Lord B—frequents the worst gaming hells and dare I say it, once ran naked through a Cyprian ball while he was completely foxed. Later, it was rumored that he enjoyed some bed sport with not one, buttwoother partners, but there might have been more. I believe I also overheard there was a whip and various other torture devices involved.
Quite scandalous!
He might have curbedthese voracious appetites recently, fearing the lash of my review, but he can hide no longer. I am keen on finding the worst men of society to warn unsuspecting young ladies who might be in search of an honorable match, but although Lord B—might have a good family reputation, his own is quite tarnished. Although I admit that he has never promised any woman his undying loyalty, and has kept thesame mistress for longer than I imagined he would, I feel it’s only time to teach this rake a much-needed lesson in respect.
He claimsthat I am targeting certain gentleman without due cause, so I dare any lady to prove me wrong by noting one redeeming quality. If Lord B—wants to throw down this gauntlet, then I can assure you that the challenge will be accepted. It is my constant goal to bring these irrefutable rakes to heel, and I can assure you that there is just cause for the men I choose.
If I can sayanything else about Lord B—it is that he is nothing if not determined. And as terribly stubborn as he is handsome. This is why I am offering this grand opportunity, dear readers, to not only bring another rake to heel and eat crow, but to enjoy the victory of doing so.
Enjoy the hunt, and remember to be forever brazen,
The Belle
Excitement started poundingin Meliah’s veins. This was the moment she had been waiting for—the chance to prove herself. If she could find this Lord B—and announce that “The Belle” was absolutely spot on in her review, then surely others might applaud her efforts.
All of her dreams could finally come true.
