Why a Marauding Marquess is Best (Romancing the Rake 4)

Crestwood quirked a brow. “How else should a man be? We are young, single, titled. Seems perfect to me.”

“It’s tawdry. It’s one thing to participate in such behavior but another to speak so openly about it.”

Rathmore frowned and Raithe realized he should get this conversation moving before the men squabbled. That could come later. “Gentlemen,” he started, clearing his throat. “I’m having a party at the end of next week. You are the premier guests on the list.”

Crestwood slapped the table, his attitude completely changing. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”

Craven continued to grimace; his face a complete mask. “What sort of party?”

“The sort men of your kind would like.” He winked. Raithe had a particular sort of reputation for having parties filled with women and liquor. That wasn’t what this was going to be and so he wouldn’t outwardly promise such delights. It would give him plausible deniability later.

Rathmore dropped his arms to his sides. “Next week? I couldn’t possibly.”

Raithe tried not to frown. The duke, once a notorious rake, had hardly been seen at the gaming hells or at parties of ill repute. Coupled with his comments to Crestwood, that made him the most important candidate of them all.

Hartwell stepped forward. “We’re headed to the coast to check in on some of our properties.”

Excellent. He tightened his grip around his glass. “Then you’ll be close to my home. Surely, you can spend a few days with us.”

Hartwell shook his head. “My sister will be travelling with me. I seriously doubt she is suited to one of your parties.”

Raithe didn’t respond. This gathering would be perfectly appropriate for such a lady, but he wasn’t about to tell them all of that. Besides, Charlie was the last woman he wanted in his house, under his roof, near his bed. “That doesn’t mean Rathmore can’t attend. For a few days at least.” He leaned forward. “Tell me you’re not craving something different.”

/> He saw the flicker of indecision in the other man’s eyes.

Victory roared in his blood.

“Count me in,” Crestwood crowed. “What about you, Dashlane?”

Dashlane took a sip of his drink. “Why not? I could use a change of pace. Craven?”

The third man frowned. “I suppose.”

Raithe didn’t care if Craven attended or not. In fact, he’d prefer he didn’t but the three were often together making Craven a necessary evil. “Rathmore?”

“I’ll think on it.” Rathmore shrugged, staring at the far wall.

“I’ll attend,” another voice called from the corner. Raithe turned, his jaw clenching when he’d seen who spoke. His Grace, the Duke of Danesbury sat, partially obscured by shadow. The man was rarely seen out, his face having been scarred on one side from some accident or another. Raithe’s eyes widened to see the man here on such a busy night. “Your Grace?” he asked. Strictly speaking the man was not invited but as a duke, he’d be difficult to refuse.

“I’ve heard of your parties, Balstead. I’ll come if you’ll have me.”

Raithe swore softly under his breath. This was not one of the carefully chosen men. He didn’t know what sort of man Danesbury was and didn’t wish to find out. “Of course, Your Grace.”

Raithe sat back in his chair. He had five men after all. Not the five he’d originally set out to invite but still… that ought to give Cassandra some choices…

Chapter One

Dane Summerset, The Marquess of Hartwell, sat in the carriage staring out at the ocean views as his sister chattered incessantly. “A wedding! It’s so exciting, isn’t it?”

He grimaced, not looking at Charlie. Her proper name was Lady Charlotte Summerset, but no one called her by her given name. Anyone familiar enough to know her, referred to her just as Charlie. “Hardly.”

She clucked her tongue, swatting at his arm. “Our dearest cousin is getting married. We should be happy for him.” She fluffed out her skirts. “I’ve missed nearly the entire season and I am still thrilled.”

Dane turned to his sister. “There are worse things in life than missing a season.” He gave her a long stare to emphasize his point. “For example, Rathmore left our company a week ago a determined bachelor.” He did not add that the duke had been heading to a house party filled with the sort of sinful delights he hoped Charlie never understood. “Now, he’s engaged to a completely unknown girl, who isn’t even titled. If you ask me, something dreadful has happened.” And he had every intention of figuring out what that was.

Charlie sighed, the sort that made his brow draw together. The sigh spoke volumes, accusing him of being absurd. He frowned. How did she not see that she was the one being ridiculous? “Maybe they fell in love,” she said, pressing her fingers to her cheeks as she stared dreamily out the window.

He scoffed at her statement. “Or perhaps she trapped him with some claim.” The idea made him shift a bit in seat. Rathmore was a rake to be certain but he usually kept his activities to women who understood the bargain. Dane didn’t think he would have knowingly compromised an innocent lady. If he had, there was no helping him. But, if this girl had made some sort of false charge, then, there might be something Dane could do. He had no idea what, but his first objective was just to understand the situation. His second was to help his cousin out of whatever bind he’d landed himself in.