An Earl For Hire
A "Tales From Seldon Park" Novel
By Bethany M. Sefchick
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2017
Bethany M. Sefchick
All rights reserved
For Amy...
who gave me the inspiration for this story
Prologue
Late June 1820
Fairhaven
Hampshire
Tossing back the contents of his glass, Will strode away from his bedchamber window that overlooked the lake at Fairhaven, Lord and Lady Enwright's sprawling country estate. The moon shone down brightly, illuminating the shimmering waters of the lake as well as the lush, green grounds surrounding the enormous body of water. In the distance, he could see two lights bobbing along the lakeshore, likely two lovers eager to meet for a late-night assignation. This would not be the first time such goings-on took place at Fairhaven. After all, the duke's famous masquerade ball was infamous for such things.
After refilling his glass, he returned to the window to resume his brooding. For why bother to call what he was doing anything other than what it truly was? From this distance, everything in the world below him looked peaceful, including the calm waters of the lake. Even now, with the light north wind, barely a ripple could be seen on the silvery black lake.
Only a few short hours ago, he had put his body to good use on that same lake, helping the members of the Fairhaven House team finally wrest the Fairhaven Cup from the hands of the team fielded by neighboring Crestfield Hall. It had felt good to be a part of something, even though he had only contributed but a little, and even then, only in the preliminary rowing portion of the competition. Still, his muscles had burned pleasantly after the exertion, and that same euphoria his friends had enjoyed over the win had followed him all the way into the dining and dancing portion of the celebration that had taken place earlier in the night.
It had been nothing short of Heaven. For a time anyway.
For a few hours, Will had been happy. He had forgotten his troubles, the lack of funds in his accounts and the desperate need to secure a good match for his sister, Anna, during the upcoming London Season. Well, he'd been enjoying himself until Lady Frostburn had remarked upon Anna's gown, which was, Will silently admitted, from earlier in the Season and no longer in the first stare of fashion. However, it was a quality gown that had been sewn by Madame LaVallier herself and had hardly been worn. Will hadn't thought that at a country house party such things would have mattered. As usual, he had been wrong.
With dark, glittering eyes full of lust, Lady Frostburn had also added that a good brother would do whatever was necessary to ensure that his sister made a good match, which included making certain she was properly attired on all occasions. When Will hadn't responded, the despicable woman had moved just a little closer and whispered in his ear that Society women who lacked funds often became the mistresses of wealthy and powerful men and that it was becoming increasingly common for lords in similar situations to do the same. Especially if it meant keeping their families from falling into abject poverty like poor Lord Hunt.
If Will were to offer himself for such services, Lady Frostburn had hinted, she would be among the first in line to welcome him into her bed - along with plenty of coin in compensation for his...services. After all, it was no secret that he enjoyed a good fuck and was excellent at bedsport. Or so she had heard from several of the women at the house party who had enjoyed Will's attentions in the past.
At first, Will had been so appalled that he had been unable to speak. Under normal circumstances, he would have cut the rude lady with a sharp remark or simply walked away. However, whether it was because of the late hour, the drinks he had consumed, or simply because of the shocking nature of the comment, he hadn't uttered a word. That, apparently, led Lady Frostburn to believe that Will was amenable to such an arrangement, and she had mentioned that, additionally, if he was willing to secretly provide stud service to some young women of the ton who had recently married much older men, well, then he could essentially name his asking price.
That, finally, had been enough to drag Will from his stupor and he had muttered something about being shocked before spinning hard on his heel and walking away from the still smirking woman. Still, her eyes had followed him as he departed and he had the distinct impression that she knew her words had hit their intended mark.
For the rest of the night, Will tried to pretend the conversation had never taken place. Yet every so often, he could feel eyes upon his person and he would turn to see Lady Frostburn or one of her close friends watching him with knowing eyes, their gazes hungry and full of lust as if they were all but undressing him in the middle of the Enwright's crowded ballroom.
He had departed the ball soon after that, claiming exhaustion, but that was far from the truth. In his room, rest had not come. Nor had sleep. That was why he was now pacing his chamber, drink in hand, and looking out into the inky black night, hoping that something, somewhere, might finally calm his thoughts enough so that he could rest.
Sadly, he feared that any sort of rest might be out of the question this night and for many nights to come.
The truth was, he was just slightly above becoming as impoverished as Lord Hunt. He knew it and all of Society certainly knew it. His friends, the few that he had anyway, didn't seem to care, but Will himself did.
His long-term financial prospects looked hopeful but nothing was a certainty in this day and age, and in the short term? Well, he had no idea how he would be able to afford everything that was required for the next London Season. That was why Lady Frostburn's words haunted him so deeply.
She had offered him a way to make some coin. A lot of coin, really. But only if he was willing to whore himself out for that coin. The very idea made him shudder, but really, women did it all the time. They might not enjoy the prospect, but they swallowed their pride and did what was necessary to survive. Was he any better than those women? As the head of his household and a peer, wasn't he all but required by Society to do whatever was necessary to ensure the care and safety of his family? To ensure that his family's dynastic line continued?
With another sigh, Will moved away from the window again and back to the decanter of brandy that had mysteriously appeared in his room while he had been at the ball, likely a brazen gift from some woman hoping to tempt him into her bed. Could he do what Lady Frostburn had suggested? Could he sell himself, body and soul, and become some wealthy lady's plaything? Worse, could he eventually sink so low that he would essentially sell his cock so that some other peer's line could continue while his own died out? For what woman of quality would have him as a husband if they ever learned he was even considering fathering a married lady's child for coin? None.
No woman would consent to be his wife if he did this. For he was not foolish enough to think that such a secret would be kept quiet. Society ladies talked, as did their servants. Once he sold himself like some common whore, that would be the end of his suitability as a proper husband. There would be no wife. No children. No heir. No, if Will did this, he would be sacrificing his future for his present. But then, would he even have a future if his present situation was not improved?
Knowing that the answers would not come tonight, he poured himself another drink and willed sleep to come. It did not but as the rosy fingers of dawn began to touch the sky, Will finally passed out, the empty bottle of scotch beside him and his head full of nightmares about what was to come.
&
nbsp; Chapter One
March 1821
Blackthorne House
London
Lord William Davenport, the current Earl of Blackthorne and better known as Will to his friends, exhaled deeply as he stood in front of his oversized, floor length mirror examining his naked body for flaws. He was attempting to do an honest assessment of the image staring back at him. For he had made his decision and now, the perfection of his body would be largely responsible for how this decision played out.
To him at least, the reflection that stared back at him was hardly impressive. Curly dark blonde hair kept short and neat, deep brown eyes that bordered on muddy, and a well-muscled chest were hardly anything new or even much to be excited about. At just over six feet, his height was hardly anything impressive either. Neither was his slightly angled jaw, the result of falling out of a tree as a child, or his slightly crooked Roman nose, that defect courtesy of Lord Buxton during a scuffle back at Eton. He possessed a rather sizeable cock that he knew how to put to good use, but then so did many other Society men. And his was not even the largest cock that he knew of - not that men compared themselves or anything.
No, Will was far from physically perfect. In fact, when taken all together, in his opinion, he looked like just about every other titled gentleman of his association. Neither better nor worse. Just...there. The same as all the rest.
Yet for whatever reason, women flocked to him like the proverbial bees to honey. Or they did until they learned he had barely a shilling to his name. Then, his attractive looks and body were no longer quite enough to hold their attentions. Though most of the ladies would indulge in a quick tumble before walking away from him. After all, his noted skills in the bedchamber were gossiped about regularly and many ladies wished to experience the pleasure to be had for themselves.
He'd like to say that his sparkling personality was also a good quality, though he was honest enough with himself to know that any wit and charm he had once possessed was now long gone and had been since he had become the earl. After all, it was difficult to be cheery when one had less blunt than a common fishmonger.
No, it was his body and his face that captured and held the attentions of the women who flocked to him and he well knew it. Which was why he was about to do the unthinkable and sell his body to the highest bidder - in a manner of speaking anyway.
It was Lady Frostburn who had first put the idea into his head at the Fairhaven house party. She had remarked, rather casually at first, that it was a pity that men did not whore themselves out for money as women did since she would be the first in line for a spot in Will's bed. She had mocked his sister's gown and questioned the sincerity of Will's love for his family since he had allowed them to fall into such dire financial straights. Which was not entirely true, as the financial disaster that was the Blackthorne estate was caused by Will's risk-taking father and art patroness mother. Which was something else that all of Society knew good and well.
However, Lady Frostburn hadn't known, or if she had, she didn't care. She simply wished to fling her barbs and plant the seeds of the idea in Will's mind. And, much to his disgust, she had succeeded rather well.
At first, he had been appalled, of course. After all, just because he was impoverished did not mean he was of low morals. So, after a night of guilt mixed with heavy drinking, he had been able to put those horrible thoughts and words out of his mind. For a time, anyway.
However, when he and his sister Anna had retreated to their family's country estate for the Christmastide season, the woman's comments once more rang in his ears when he saw the truly terrible state of Hunter's Glen. After a few quiet conversations with close friends, Will quickly came to realize that some men did, in fact, whore themselves out for money, and did rather well for themselves in the process. Those who did so were not just courtesans or people of low birth but exceptional looks, either. Even some members of the ton did such a thing, though none of his friends would say whom.
Still, he had refused to seriously consider debasing himself in that manner. Finances were tight, yes, but some of his investments were beginning to pay off. The next year or two might be meager but after that? Well, he was hopeful - and he prayed not too overly optimistic - that their fortunes might turn around.
Then came the devastating fire that had destroyed three of his tenant cottages and funds that were supposed to have been used to fund Anna's upcoming Season had to be appropriated in order to rebuild the cottages. For if the tenants could not farm, there would be no income for the earldom. Will had been frugal, true, and there was still enough blunt to begin the Season but there would not be enough to finish it.
Already, his beloved sister had been forced to cancel several of the dresses she had ordered from Madame LaVallier's and today's visit to the modiste had all but sounded the death knell for Anna's Season. Will could make do with the clothes he already owned. After all, few cared if his waistcoat was not in the first stare of fashion. Where Anna was concerned, however, how she dressed mattered a great deal - especially if she hoped to snare a husband. Or at least if she hoped to snare a husband other than the middle-aged Marquess of Winthrop who smelled of onions and moldy feet and had a penchant for fondling ladies' breasts in public.
Winthrop had been pursuing Anna for the last two years and made no secret that he wished for her to become mother to his existing brood of five children and perhaps bear him three or four more children as well, just to make certain his bloodline continued. It mattered little to the man that he had already fathered eleven known bastards with his various mistresses and a possible six more that were likely, but not conclusively, his.
After all, the man was among the richest in England and to his mind, he could do what he pleased and with whomever he pleased. The marquess also like the idea of trying to "tame" Anna and derived a great deal of pleasure in describing to his close confidantes exactly how he would bring her to heel at his command. Never mind that Anna was far from a tease or a flirt or any such thing. In Winthrop's mind, Anna was young so therefore, she needed to be "broken of spirit" and the breaking of young women's spirits was something he excelled in, at least according to him.
Will tended to believe that, for the man had at least nineteen badly beaten former mistresses and two dead wives littering his past. Not that those numbers seemed to bother Winthrop in the least. After all, according to him, women were often times "far too delicate" for his mannerisms and were little more than disposable playthings.
Much like Will himself was about to become for the lady with the most coin.
That was not the sort of life Will desired for Anna, at least not while there was still breath left in his body. So while he might not have caused the mess that the earldom's finances were in and he had yet to be able to completely right the sinking ship that was Blackthorne, he also refused to allow his beloved sister to suffer for mistakes she had not been a part of making either.
Whether he liked it or not, Lady Frostburn had put the idea into Will's brain and he had not been able to dislodge it. Nor had he been able to deny that he was considering such a proposition, especially not after his discreet inquiries to his friends.
Society knew well what he was considering. Or at least a particular segment of Society did. And he had done nothing to quell the rumors that quietly surrounded him in those dark, secret circles.
That was why when Lady Colchester had approached him the other night, inquiring as to whether or not he was "available for services," Will had paused only a moment before he had nodded discreetly. It was well known that Lady Colchester had coffers full of funds, including much of her own coin inherited from her first husband - a duke, and a second husband - another duke - who completely ignored his slightly aged but wealthy wife in favor of his much younger mistresses.
Lady Colchester also had a rather insatiable sexual appetite if rumors were true and had been known to pay her lovers rather well in exchange for unlimited access to their bodies. Typically, her lovers came from the low
er ranks of Society but it had been rumored that an impoverished peer or two had been the beneficiary of her largesse as well.
That morning, a note had arrived for him via courier requesting his and Anna's presence at the Earl of Raynecourt's annual Spring Ball. Though the note was unsigned, Will understood immediately that it had come from Lady Colchester. She was ready to make her offer. And Will? Well, as distasteful as he found the entire situation, he was ready to accept.
He didn't want to do this, but he also felt as if he did not have a choice. His investments, while sound, had yet to pay off as well as he had hoped, and he could not and would not force Anna to wed that despicable marquess. He wanted her to be free to marry for love as their parents had. That Will would likely never have the same luxury mattered little. His reputation was already in tatters as it was, given the rumors now swirling about him. His only path to redemption would be to court and wed a lady of impeccable standing and extreme wealth.
Society forgave a man much, but the one sin they could not forgive was the sin of poverty and that was one sin Will had committed in abundance. Even if he was not the one who had committed the original sin.
Will had also come to accept that this was his first step on the path to eventually whoring himself out to the wealthiest married woman he could find who was desperate for a child and could not get one by her husband. To become a stud for another peer was the lowest possible way he could debase himself. Well, perhaps there were one or two other things he might sink to, but that was among the lowest. After that, there would be no going back. No redemption. That was why he hoped to see Anna well married long before then, so that his actions would not sully her reputation.
He consoled himself with the knowledge that particular fate was still some ways off, though he could still see that eventuality on the horizon. After all, he was only eight and twenty and hadn't even considered filling his own nursery yet, let alone another man's. Still, that dark day was likely coming quicker than he had imagined. He did not wish to resort to impregnating the first rich woman who would have him in order to earn funds, but then, he had responsibilities and if fulfilling them meant that he sold his body - in particular his cock - then that was precisely what he would do.
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