One Night of Sin Read Free Page A

protested as the others laughed and heartily assented.
    “Good advice! Get wapt, my boy. You’ll be right as rain in no time.”
    “Cheers, to a vigorous humping,” Drax declared. “ ’Tis the only cure for whatever ails a man.”
    “You think I haven’t tried that?” Alec answered.
    “When?” Rush demanded.
    Alec heaved a sigh and looked away.
    “Admit it, man! You’ve been a monk ever since her wedding, and that, to put it mildly, is unlike you.”
    Drax leaned forward. “Tell us what’s the matter, old chap. We are your friends. Heartbroken?”
    “Hardly. She is happy: I am happy for her. End of tale.”
    “Problem with the tackle, then? Bit of the clap?”
    “God, no! Jesus, Draxinger! Nothing like that.” Alec scowled and shifted in his seat.
    “He’s not eighteen anymore,” the ever-loyal Fort said in his defense, his hazel eyes twinkling. “I’m sure we all know better than to go into battle without armor.”
    “I daresay,” Alec muttered.
    “Well, then?” Drax’s ice-blue eyes searched his face in concern.
    Alec stared at him, and then merely shook his head. He had always been their leader in mischief, so how could he tell them that, these days, their constant pursuit of pleasure had begun to seem intolerably, well . . . pointless to him?
    They all kept going through the motions, he knew not why. And unlike his mates, he had made mistakes—serious mistakes—spurred on by the nameless hunger that would not be satisfied, try as he may to chase down any reckless impulse of excitement.
    But as lost as he might be, complaining seemed beneath contempt. All the world envied him and his friends their glamorous existence at the pinnacle of Society. Women wanted them, and men wanted to be like them. Surely this aching hunger for more was wrong. Even after his losing streak at the tables, Alec knew he still possessed more than a human being could reasonably ask of life.
    Then again, when had he ever been a reasonable man?
    His comrades awaited his explanation, but he shrugged it off, loath to discuss his disenchantment. If he did not speak of it aloud, perhaps it would go away. “No doubt you’re right,” he said after a long moment, a jaded half smile curving his lips. “I probably just need to dock a bit of prime tail.”
    “Good lad! That’s the spirit.”
    “Pemberton’s wife was throwing herself at you all night—”
    “No, no, this calls for a professional.” Rush reached into his pocket with a grin and tossed over the latest edition of an infamous little volume called
The Whoremonger’s Guide to London.
“The evening’s bill of fare, my lord?”
    “Here, have a drink.” Drax, owner of the equipage, opened the satinwood liquor compartment beside him, selected a bottle by the light of the tiny interior carriage lamps, and then passed Alec a crystal decanter of fine French brandy.
    Alec accepted it with a nod and downed a determined swig, then passed the bottle on to Rush.
    Meanwhile, Fort picked up the
Whoremonger’s Guide
and held it up to the little flickering lamp, squinting at the pages upon pages of names and addresses. “Ah, yes, now, let us plan the night’s menu,” he said cheerfully. “For the hors d’oeuvre, I believe I shall start with the Summerson twins—”
    “Excellent choice,” Drax chimed in.
    “And for the first course, hmm, this Spanish señorita called Bianca sounds intriguing—she’s new, but I’ve heard good things. As for the remove, Kate Gossett is always very tasty—”
    “God, I love her,” Rush vowed. “What a dairy she’s got in her bodice.”
    “Magnificent bosoms, yes. Second course, all four of the Wilson sisters, I should think—”
    “No, no, I’m tired of them,” Rush protested. “Something different, something new.”
    “Yes,” Alec echoed softly.
Something new.
    As his friends’ jaunty arguing about nothing in particular resumed, he considered their advice. Perhaps they were right. Perhaps a night of lust was all