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

knows what to expect. I would not take a society beauty to Holme and have her wasting away and constantly berating me to move back to London. The parties and pleasures of town no longer hold any appeal for me and I require a wife who will be happy to live with me in the country. Lady Emily Holt is a respectable young woman and she will do well enough.”
    His sister stood up and went to him, laying a hand on his arm.
    “Are you sure Robbie?”
    “Certainly. How could I not be? She is an excellent female.”
    “And will turn a blind eye to your infamous parties, all night drinking and mistresses?” asked his sister, lowering her voice.
    He smiled sweetly. “My dear Caroline, I cannot imagine what you may mean.”
    “Hmm,” she replied. “Memory going already, is it?”
    “I do not have a mistress and I will wager that these days, I am very often in bed earlier than you are.”
    “I’m sure you are,” she murmured, “but I’ll wager not alone.”
    He smiled affably. “Perfectly alone, I assure you, and I prefer it that way. A man of my advanced years cannot contend with too much excitement, you know.”
    “What utter nonsense,” she declared.
    “It is not nonsense. I thought you were always up with the latest on-dit , Caro, but it seems that you have not heard,” he said. “ I am retired.”
    She choked on a laugh. “Since when did a man of your kidney retire?”
    He shrugged. “Since I realised that there are a great many days in my life spent far too foxed to achieve anything meaningful. Whole weeks have passed which I can honestly say that I do not remember a damned thing about. A life of idle dissipation, even for such a wastrel as me, ceases to hold any fascination after twenty years of it.”
    “Gentlemen in your line do not retire,” she said firmly. “And you may think it is amusing to pull the wool over my eyes, Robbie, but I am not Sarah and not as green as you may think.”
    He laughed, spreading his hands. “It’s true.”
    She gave him a knowing look. “And who was that blonde piece I saw you with last week if you are retired?”
    He grinned ruefully. “I was merely making myself agreeable.”
    “Hmm,” said his sister, clearly believing it all a hum.
    “I do not have a mistress,” he repeated, “and I have no immediate desire to change the situation. And really, sister, it is most improper in you to speak to me of such things.”
    She arched a brow. “Lady Harwich?”
    He sighed. “Lady Harwich returned to her husband a number of years ago. Your information is sadly out of date.”
    “Mrs Brandon?”
    “You have been listening to gossip,” he marvelled.
    “Miss Susan Hartcourt, then.”
    He smiled but made no answer.
    “Ah. I knew it!”
    “You’re not listening to me, sister. I have no mistress,” he said again.
    “And is your heart still untouched after all these years?” she asked softly.
    He smiled, his grey eyes twinkling. “Dear Caro, always the great romantic.”
    “I would see you in love, Robbie.”
    He pulled a face. “You would see me make a cake of myself,” he retorted.
    She took his arm and led him over to the other window, out of earshot of their mother. “Don’t throw yourself away on Lady Emily. Be patient.”
    “I would say twenty years is patient enough, wouldn’t you?”
    She stared at him. “What’s happened to you? You are so jaded.” She stole a glance at her mother and lowered her voice. “I think you’d rather read a book these days than…well…rather than make love !”
    He looked at her with amusement from under his hooded lids. “Sister, you shock me,” he murmured.
    “I am a married woman of the world―well, widowed at any rate―and you Robbie, were never shocked by a little plain speaking so don’t come the outraged prude with me. When was the last time you looked at a woman and wanted her? I mean really wanted her. You are bored. Bored with women and bored with life.”
    He smiled faintly. “But never by you, my