SEDUCING THE REGENCY DOM
Raven McAllan
Copyright
© 2014
Chapter
One
London, England 1818
"'Tis all well and good for
you, Stephen." Anthony Provost, The Earl of Sentern grumbled to his
longtime friend and confidant, as they sat side-by-side in Whites. "You
have a wife who adores you."
Stephen Brasher nodded. "And I adore
Jane," Stephen said. His eyes took on a glazed look. Tony sighed.
The only other occupant of the room apart from them—an
elderly baron—snoozed under a copy of The
Times , and his snores ruffled the sheets. Tony raised one eyebrow and
grimaced. He could see himself ending up like Stallinborough if he didn't get
his life sorted out.
"Stop interrupting," Tony said in a mock
severe tone to Stephen. "And take the sappy look from your face. It's a
disgrace. You two lovebirds are an anomaly. Now, to continue: You have your wife,
your heir and your spare. What do I have? Nothing, except a need to wed and do whatever necessary to keep Sentern
Court out of the hands of my ignoramus of a cousin. Mama is parading a
series of insipid so-called beauties in front of me at every opportunity. Lord,
Steve, if they saw a man without his waistcoat, they'd run and hide. A cock? Doesn't bear thinking about. My playroom? Well." He shrugged. "Not a cat
in Hell’s chance, I'd say. Or a deb in chains."
Stephen
patted him on the shoulder and stood up. "Sadly, I think I must agree.
Jane and I grew up together, and explored what we like together. It's not something
you can bring up in polite conversation easily, is it? ‘By the way, my dear, I
have a penchant for bondage and wax play. Don't worry––I use Spermaceti oil
candles, which don't burn you as easily. Oh, and do you know just how creative
I can be with a flogger?’"
That was the problem, Tony thought glumly, as
Stephen departed to return to his wife and left Tony to listen to the snores
and snorts of Stallinborough by himself. If—when—he married, he wanted to be faithful.
It didn't matter that a mistress was de
rigeuer and expected of men of the Ton. He intended to be like Stephen and
buck the trend. Even if, God forbid, he had to temper his dominant tendencies…provided
he could.
With a sigh loud enough to wake the devil—but apparently
not Stallinborough, who slumbered on—Tony left the club and walked briskly
along Piccadilly. His mind was busy, as he thought of the numerous young ladies
his Mama had found necessary to introduce him to over the past few weeks. It seemed
she thought that at three and thirty years of age he needed to curb his excesses
and settle down. Even though she had delicately mentioned that she understood
the needs of gentlemen lay outside of the marital bed, and any good wife would
understand the same.
I don't want a good
wife, or a compliant one. I want a bad wife, and a submissive one. The thought made him
grin. Not a likely scenario. Ever since he returned from his travels to the
newly opened Far East—where he discovered, what up until then had been missing
from his life—Tony had existed on a scratch-when-needed diet. A few demi monde
would be prepared to submit for a hefty fee and a promise he left no marks. But
it wasn't enough. Mai Li, his mistress for several years, had embraced all he
did with sensuous enjoyment, and it had spoiled him for anyone else.
He'd been called home on his father's death to take
up the reins of the Earldom. Much to his Mama's alleged annoyance, but he
suspected, private delight, he chose not to move into the Earl’s town house. He
left her and his younger sisters in residence, set up a bachelor establishment
in town, and purchased a secluded manor within a few hours’ ride.
Why he furnished a room in each as a playroom, complete
with the toys he'd brought back from the Far East, he had no idea. A whim, certainly, as his chances of using them were slim to
nonexistent. But it gave him hope that his jades and candles might one
day be used, as he desired.
Raven McAllan
Copyright
© 2014
Chapter
One
London, England 1818
"'Tis all well and good for
you, Stephen." Anthony Provost, The Earl of Sentern grumbled to his
longtime friend and confidant, as they sat side-by-side in Whites. "You
have a wife who adores you."
Stephen Brasher nodded. "And I adore
Jane," Stephen said. His eyes took on a glazed look. Tony sighed.
The only other occupant of the room apart from them—an
elderly baron—snoozed under a copy of The
Times , and his snores ruffled the sheets. Tony raised one eyebrow and
grimaced. He could see himself ending up like Stallinborough if he didn't get
his life sorted out.
"Stop interrupting," Tony said in a mock
severe tone to Stephen. "And take the sappy look from your face. It's a
disgrace. You two lovebirds are an anomaly. Now, to continue: You have your wife,
your heir and your spare. What do I have? Nothing, except a need to wed and do whatever necessary to keep Sentern
Court out of the hands of my ignoramus of a cousin. Mama is parading a
series of insipid so-called beauties in front of me at every opportunity. Lord,
Steve, if they saw a man without his waistcoat, they'd run and hide. A cock? Doesn't bear thinking about. My playroom? Well." He shrugged. "Not a cat
in Hell’s chance, I'd say. Or a deb in chains."
Stephen
patted him on the shoulder and stood up. "Sadly, I think I must agree.
Jane and I grew up together, and explored what we like together. It's not something
you can bring up in polite conversation easily, is it? ‘By the way, my dear, I
have a penchant for bondage and wax play. Don't worry––I use Spermaceti oil
candles, which don't burn you as easily. Oh, and do you know just how creative
I can be with a flogger?’"
That was the problem, Tony thought glumly, as
Stephen departed to return to his wife and left Tony to listen to the snores
and snorts of Stallinborough by himself. If—when—he married, he wanted to be faithful.
It didn't matter that a mistress was de
rigeuer and expected of men of the Ton. He intended to be like Stephen and
buck the trend. Even if, God forbid, he had to temper his dominant tendencies…provided
he could.
With a sigh loud enough to wake the devil—but apparently
not Stallinborough, who slumbered on—Tony left the club and walked briskly
along Piccadilly. His mind was busy, as he thought of the numerous young ladies
his Mama had found necessary to introduce him to over the past few weeks. It seemed
she thought that at three and thirty years of age he needed to curb his excesses
and settle down. Even though she had delicately mentioned that she understood
the needs of gentlemen lay outside of the marital bed, and any good wife would
understand the same.
I don't want a good
wife, or a compliant one. I want a bad wife, and a submissive one. The thought made him
grin. Not a likely scenario. Ever since he returned from his travels to the
newly opened Far East—where he discovered, what up until then had been missing
from his life—Tony had existed on a scratch-when-needed diet. A few demi monde
would be prepared to submit for a hefty fee and a promise he left no marks. But
it wasn't enough. Mai Li, his mistress for several years, had embraced all he
did with sensuous enjoyment, and it had spoiled him for anyone else.
He'd been called home on his father's death to take
up the reins of the Earldom. Much to his Mama's alleged annoyance, but he
suspected, private delight, he chose not to move into the Earl’s town house. He
left her and his younger sisters in residence, set up a bachelor establishment
in town, and purchased a secluded manor within a few hours’ ride.
Why he furnished a room in each as a playroom, complete
with the toys he'd brought back from the Far East, he had no idea. A whim, certainly, as his chances of using them were slim to
nonexistent. But it gave him hope that his jades and candles might one
day be used, as he desired.
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