Waking Up With a Rake Read Free

the situation which drove me to my…unorthodox plan. You see, the people are weary of our mad king and his unlikeable son. We hoped for better things from Prinny’s daughter and the child she carried.” Mr. Alcock’s mouth turned down in a grim line. “Surely even dedicated rakes such as yourselves noted that the princess passed away after the birth of her stillborn son in late autumn.”
    “It was hard to miss.” Rhys drained the rest of his tea. Even the coffeehouses and clubs had closed down for two weeks last November after Princess Charlotte died. “The whole country donned crepe.”
    “All except Princess Charlotte’s uncles, the royal dukes,” Jonah said.
    The unmarried sons of King George saw a chance to put themselves, or at least their progeny, on the throne if they could produce a legitimate heir. Unfortunately, His Majesty’s sons were more inclined to mistresses than marriage. Only the Prince Regent had presented King George with a grandchild who didn’t bear the stain of bastardy.
    And now Princess Charlotte was dead.
    “The ‘Hymen Race Terrific’ is engaged in earnest. The sons of ‘Farmer George’ are hot to wed, bed, and breed,” Alcock said. “Three of the royal dukes have gone a-courting with the Crown as the ultimate prize, but I intend to see that their plans are thwarted.”
    “Are you suggesting that not everyone wants to see the House of Hanover continue on the throne?” Rhys guessed.
    “Did I say so? Certainly not,” Mr. Alcock said. The mere thought bordered on treason. “But for the sake of argument, suppose someone did want to see the Crown devolve to another ruling line. If one could confound these marriage-minded dukes, the task would be half accomplished.”
    Nathaniel laughed mirthlessly. “You’ll need more luck than you deserve. What woman wouldn’t jump at the chance to wed a royal duke and perhaps wear a tiara of her own if she manages to pop out a royal heir?”
    “No doubt, the dazzle of a possible crown does tend to outweigh the general distastefulness of the sons of King George,” Alcock said, his lip curling. “But since it would be impolitic to publicly point out their many deficiencies, I intend to marshal my forces in another direction.”
    “How so?” Rhys asked.
    “Only the young, fertile, and chaste need apply for the position of royal duchess, you understand. I merely need to make sure the ladies in question are disqualified from consideration on account of impurity,” Alcock explained. “I ask you, who better to make sure the dukes’ intended brides don’t remain virgins than three determined rakes?” He skewered them each with a pointed look.
    “You mistake me, Alcock.” Rhys rose and strode toward the door. The last wisp of rum-soaked fog lifted and his mind was suddenly clearer than it had been in weeks. “Thus far the depth of my depravity does not stoop to debauching virgins. Pray, do not include me in your machinations.”
    “Or me,” Nathaniel said, falling into step behind him.
    “Too bloody right.” Jonah brought up the rear.
    For a moment, Rhys’s chest swelled with an unfamiliar sensation. Satisfaction . His old friends had backed him. Not that refusing to deflower a green girl was all that praiseworthy. In good conscience, what gentleman wouldn’t? But at least Rhys and his friends had found common ground at the bottom of the pit into which they’d sunk. It felt good to have Nate and Jonah on his side again.
    “So you care nothing for your honor?” Alcock said.
    “Honor bought at such a price can hardly be worth the name,” Rhys said, stopping with his hand on the parlor door.
    In all his sexual adventures, Rhys had never seduced a virgin. A green girl was sacrosanct. Rhys had always been fond beyond the common of his younger sisters. If some rake had preyed on them, used them, and tossed them aside, nothing would have stayed him from demanding satisfaction and killing the bastard.
    Now Fortescue Alcock wanted him