The Love of a Rake
Page 29
Constance regarded the jockey with a wry grin. “I did for many years. But now I have a better mount,” she said with a nod, her face taking on a sudden blush.
Had anyone been looking at Randall just then, they would have witnessed his own reddening complexion before he said, “And I do believe it’s time for your ride, my lady.”
* * *
Thank you for taking the time to read The Love of a Rake. If you enjoyed it, please consider telling your friends or posting a short review. Word of mouth is an author’s best friend.
Thank you, Linda Rae Sande
Excerpt
Read on for an excerpt from Linda Rae Sande’s
Book 2 in “The Sons of the Aristocracy” series
The Caress of a Commander
May 1818
Will Slater, Earl of Devonville, stood on the landing at the top of the stairs leading down to the Worthington ballroom, his heart racing. Jesus, it wasn’t as if he had never attended a ton ball before, but for some reason, he suddenly felt entirely out of his element. Entirely foreign to the festivities that had apparently already begun below. Entirely ill at ease.
“Are you all right?” Stephen wondered from where he stood a few feet away on the landing.
Will glanced over at his half-brother, startled to find him looking more confident and far more excited about that evening’s ball than any bastard brother had any right to. “You look as if you’re happy to be here,” he accused, tugging on his topcoat for at least the tenth time that night. Everything felt smaller, tighter, more oppressive than his naval uniform. At least he was wearing a scarlet waistcoat, although now that he could see what the other men in attendance were wearing, he realized he should have chosen a more embellished option featuring more embroidery, or more metallic threads, or more ... more.
Or he could have simply worn his uniform. He was allowed, of course, although since he hadn’t retired but merely resigned from the British Navy, he didn’t think it appropriate to wear a uniform.
Now he wished he had.
He glanced over at Stephen’s ensemble, frowning when he realized the man was wearing the very waistcoat he should have been wearing. One with a good deal of embroidery worked with metallic thread. One that fit him as if it were made by Weston. Even his dance shoes were more appropriate. Black, with silver buckles.
Will was about to suggest they trade waistcoats when the butler suddenly announced them from where he stood off to the side. “William Slater, Earl of Devonville and Mister Stephen Slater.”
Too late, he realized. Will nodded to the room below, as did Stephen, and they began their descent. He was aware of a number of lorgnettes being lifted to noses, of the slight pause in conversation, of eyes rising to regard them as they made their way down the stairs.
“Trade with me.”
The words were out of this mouth before Will could think of the repercussions.
“What did you say?” Stephen replied, his eyes occasionally darting to the steps below his feet. Goodness! How many were there?
“Be the Earl of Devonville,” Will replied quickly, his face kept impassive as he continued his descent.
Stephen blinked and resisted the urge to halt his descent. “And who will you be?” Stephen countered, giving a quick glance at his brother.
“You,” Will answered. They reached the ballroom floor in another three steps. Realizing Stephen was staring in his direction, Will responded to a comment made to him by David Carlington, Marquess of Morganfield before waving a hand in Stephen’s direction. He made his first introduction to the Carlingtons. “Lady Morganfield. Lord Morganfield. So very good meet you. I am Stephen Slater,” Will said as he bowed before the Marquess and Marchioness of Morganfield.
Stephen stared at his brother in horror. What the hell? He turned to find a bevy of young ladies rushing up with their mothers to meet him, and suddenly, all he could think about was how easy it was to say he was ‘Will Slater.’
Too easy.
He gave another quick glance in his brother’s direction along with an arched eyebrow. “You owe me,” he said in a hoarse whisper when Will was close enough to hear.
“By the end of the night, you may feel otherwise, my lord.”
Stephen blinked and regarded his brother with a hesitant grin before moving to the next woman in line to meet him.
Also by Linda Rae Sande
The Daughters of the Aristocracy
The Kiss of a Viscount
The Grace of a Duke
The Seduction of an Earl
The Sons of the Aristocracy
Tuesday Nights
The Widowed Countess
My Fair Groom
The Sisters of the Aristocracy
The Story of a Baron
The Passion of a Marquess
The Desire of a Lady
The Brothers of the Aristocracy
The Love of a Rake
The Caress of a Commander
The Epiphany of an Explorer
The Widows of the Aristocracy
The Gossip of an Earl
The Enigma of a Widow
The Cousins of the Aristocracy
The Promise of a Gentleman
The Pride of a Gentleman
About the Author
A self-described nerd and lover of science, Linda Rae spent many years as a published technical writer specializing in 3D graphics workstations, software and 3D animation (her movie credits include SHREK and SHREK 2). An interest in genealogy led to years of research on the Regency era and a desire to write fiction based in that time.
A fan of action-adventure movies, she can frequently be found at the local cinema. Although she no longer has any tropical fish, she does follow the San Jose Sharks. She makes her home in Cody, Wyoming.
For more information:
@lindaraesa
LindaRaeSandeAuthor
www.lindaraesande.com