Irresistible Read Free

mind was quite set against a wife, he felt an almost overpowering need for a woman. Sometimes it amazed and even alarmed him to realize that he had not had one for almost two years. Yet all through his years with the army he had been as lusty as any man and a good deal lustier than most—he and Rex and Ken and Ede had never lacked for willing partners. And those months after Waterloo had been one continuous orgy—or so it seemed in memory. He supposed he must have taken a few nights off for sleep. Though perhaps not.
    It was next to impossible in the country to satisfy his very natural male appetites without at the same time saddling himself with a wife. But London was a different matter. Georgie and Lavinia were without a doubt his primary responsibility. But they would not take all his time. There would be all sorts of activities that were for ladies only, and Margaret was sure to be a diligent chaperon. Besides, his nights would be his own except on those occasions when there was a ball—though they would be frequent enough, he realized.
    He intended to slake his appetites quite thoroughly while he was in town. Eden would be sure to have a suggestion or two on the topic.
    Yes, it definitely felt good to be back. His carriage drew to a halt before a tall, fine-looking house on Upper Brook Street. It was the house Nathaniel had leased for the Season. It was, he knew, not far from Park Lane or from Hyde Park itself. It was in one of the best neighborhoods of Mayfair.
    He vaulted out of the carriage even before his coachman had put down the steps, and looked up at the house. He had always taken bachelor lodgings when he had stayed in London. But with a sister and a cousin to bring out, of course, a house was necessary. It felt good to stretch his legs and to breathe in fresh air. He turned to hand down the ladies.
     
     
    Early the following morning a lady sat alone at the escritoire in the sitting room of her home on Sloan Terrace, brushing the feather of her quill pen across her chin as she studied the figures set out neatly on the paper spread before her. Her slippered foot smoothed lightly over the back of her dog, a collie who was snoozing contentedly beneath the desk.
    There was enough money without dipping into her woefully meager savings. The bills for coal and candles had been paid a week ago—they were always a considerable expense. She did not have to worry about the salaries of her three servants—they were taken care of by a government grant. And of course the house was hers—given to her by the same government. The quarterly pension money that had been paid her last week—the coal and candle bills had been paid out of it—would just stretch to pay off this new debt.
    She would not, of course, be able to buy the new evening gown she had been promising herself or the new half boots. Or that bonnet she had seen in a shop window on Oxford Street when out with her friend Gertrude two days ago—the day before she had been presented with this new debt.
    Debt —what a sad euphemism! For a moment there was a sick lurching in her stomach and panic clawed at her. She drew a slow breath and forced her mind to deal with practicalities.
    The bonnet was easily expendable. It would have been a mere extravagance anyway. But the gown ...
    Sophia Armitage sighed aloud. It was two years since she had had a new evening gown. And that, even though it had been chosen for her presentation at Carlton House to no less a personage than the Regent, the Prince of Wales, was of the dullest dark blue silk and the most conservative of designs. Although she had been out of mourning, she had felt the occasion called for extreme restraint. She had been wearing that gown ever since.
    She had so hoped this year to have a new one. Although she was invited almost everywhere, she did not usually accept invitations to the more glittering ton events. This year, though, she felt obliged to put in an appearance at some of them at least. This year