One Night With A Prince
Jaquette du Livre
Sabrina Jeffries
Continuing her irresistible Royal Brotherhood Series, bestselling author Sabrina Jeffries introduces the third of three half-noble half brothers -- the brashest rogue in all of London.Proper Lady Christabel, the Marchioness of Haversham, is desperate to regain some letters that could destroy her -- so desperate that she pretends to be the mistress of notorious gaming-club owner Gavin Byrne to accompany him to a scandalous house party where she can reclaim them. But when she agreed to let Byrne coach her on how a true mistress behaves, she never suspected how very...persuasive his wicked lessons would be.Gavin is secretly determined to find the letters himself and use them for revenge against the noble sire who abandoned him to grow up in London's worst slums. He's also delighted at how very successful his "mistress lessons" are: it won't be long before the luscious young widow is in his bed. But when Christabel catches Gavin in his own seductive net, he faces a difficult choice: to wreak the vengeance he's planned all his life, or to protect the woman he may -- to his own astonishment -- need more than revenge.
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Contents
Chapter OneLondon Autumn 1815
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
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Chapter Twenty-Four
Author’s Note
Her face brightened. “You can get
me invited as your mistress!”
Gavin stared at her. Few people could astonish him; the impetuous Lady Haversham had done so twice. This was the most novel invitation he’d ever received. And oddly enough, the most intriguing. He trailed his gaze down her body, lingering over her ample bosom and the black fabric that hid what he’d discovered was a trim waist and nicely plump arse. When she blushed, he nearly laughed aloud. The woman screamed innocence, so why the devil was she offering to be his paramour?
“I’m sure I could play the fawning female well enough,” she said. “How hard could it be to act the role?”
His smile vanished. “You’re suggesting that you pretend to be my mistress?”
She blinked. “Of course. What else?”
“If you’re willing to risk scandal by pretending to be my mistress, you might as well be my real one.”
She looked alarmed by the very idea. “Why would I want to do that?”
“The obvious reasons,” he said. “Entertainment, companionship…,” he bent close, “…pleasure.”
Acclaim for Sabrina Jeffries!
“Sabrina Jeffries’ wit, passion, and ardent characters will enthrall you.”
—Christina Dodd
“Anyone who loves romance must read Sabrina Jeffries!”
—Lisa Kleypas
And praise for her previous
works of romantic fiction
The Royal Brotherhood Series
IN THE PRINCE’S BED
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“A traditional Regency told with sparkle and energy…the chemistry among all the characters—not just the hero and heroine—ensures that there’s never a dull moment in this merry romp…. The attraction between the protagonists is electric, and it’s consistently entertaining to watch them juggle their various secrets. Fans of historical romances will find the simple pleasures of this novel irresistible.”
—Publishers Weekly
“Delightful, sensual, and poignant, Jeffries’ latest brings humor and pathos to a richly peopled tale. This is a delightful start to a new series featuring a trio of heroes to die for.”
—Romantic Times
“Jeffries’ enticing tale will have readers rooting for the outgoing and upbeat Abby while she tames her dreadful viscount. It’s an enjoyable and lusty read.”
—The Oakland Press
“The biting, humorous repartee and slowly building sexual tension, along with a cast of utterly delightful characters, will have you captivated from the first page to the chilling climax. This delightful and passionate romance is guaranteed to win your heart and earn a space on your keeper shelf.”
—Romantic Times
“One will be wonderfully light of heart at its end, and pleasantly sated by Ms. Jeffries’ wickedly nimble prose.”
—Heartstrings
“Ms. Jeffries has created a delightful, light-hearted tale with winning characters and sparkling romance.”
—Romantic Times
“I would recommendAfter the Abduction to anyone, but those who love Regency type historicals definitely won’t want to pass this one by.”
—The Word on Romance
Also by Sabrina Jeffries
To Pleasure a Prince
In the Prince’s Bed
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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
AnOriginal Publication of POCKET BOOKS
A Pocket Star Book published by
POCKET BOOKS, a division of Simon &
Schuster, Inc.
1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY
10020
Copyright © 2005 by Deborah Gonzales
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information address Pocket Books, 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020 ISBN: 1-4165-1027-3
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POCKET STAR BOOKSand colophon are registered trademarks of Simon & Schuster, Inc. Visit us on the World Wide Web:
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To Rexanne Becnel, the best critique partner ever—what would I do without you?
Autumn 1815
When choosing a lover, I made sure we
both agreed to the terms of the liaison, so
there would be no recriminations later.
—Anonymous,Memoirs of a Mistress
Sometimes having half brothers was a bloody nuisance.
Gavin Byrne scowled at them both. The youngest—Alexander Black, the Earl of Iversley—was the only one of them whose mother had waited until he was full-grown to tell him that his real father was the Prince of Wales. Next came Marcus North, the Viscount Draker, whose massive build and scandalous past still had society calling him the Dragon Viscount. Draker had known their father most of his life and did not consider that agood thing.
It was Draker’s study that they stood in now. And it was Draker who was behind this insanity.
“You want me to dowhat ?” Gavin bit out.
Draker exchanged a glance with Iversley. “Perhaps our older brother is losing his hearing.”
Iversley chuckled. “Perhaps so, now that he’s in his dotage.”
Gavin rolled his eyes. “I could whip you pups with one hand tied behind my back. And if you think wounding my vanity will provoke me into doing this, you’ve obviously forgotten whom you’re dealing with. I was manipulating men before you grew hair on your ballocks.” Though he should have suspected something when Draker asked him to arrive early for dinner. Gavin selected a prime cigar from the oak box on his brother’s desk. “Why in hell would I do a favor for Prinny anyway?”
“For the reward, of course,” Draker said. “Prinny is offering you a barony.”
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Ignoring the instant leap in his pulse, Gavin lit his cigar. A title wouldn’t make up for spending the first twenty years of his life being called Byblow Byrne to his face, and the last fifteen being called it behind his back. It couldn’t erase the stigma of being Prinny’s unclaimed bastard. Besides, he already possessed everything he required. His gentlemen’s club had made him wealthy beyond his wildest expectations, he never lacked for a woman in his bed, and his friends were all viscounts, earls, and dukes.
All right, so perhaps those friends weren’t the enduring sort, more interested in his wit than his welfare. And perhaps he was sometimes painfully aware of that invisible line of illegitimacy that separated him from them, despite his royal blood. But that was nothing to him. “Why should I care about a barony?”
“If you don’t care for your own sake,” Iversley said, “consider your future children. Your first legitimate son would inherit the title.”
Gavin snorted. “That’s no incentive. I don’t plan to marry or sire a ‘legitimate son.’ With luck, I won’t sire any children at all.”
“Then consider this.” Draker eyed him closely. “Titles are bestowed in Parliament by the Regent himself. It’s the closest you’ll ever get to having Prinny acknowledge that you’re his son.”
Nowthat gave him pause. The idea of Prinny being forced publicly to give a title to the bastard he’d denied for years was enormously tempting. Even if it was only a fraction of what he wanted from the man. “He agreed to that?”
“He did,” Draker said.
Gavin chomped down on his cigar. “That doesn’t mean he can’t renege.”
“He won’t,” Iversley insisted.
“He has before.” His brothers knew what Prinny had done to Gavin’s mother.
“I’ll make sure he keeps his word,” Draker said.
“Ah, yes,” Gavin said dryly. “Now that you and our sire are such fast friends, you think you have some influence over him.”
Draker snorted. “We’ll never be fast friends, but to his credit, he’s begun to regret his past actions. So yes, I have some influence over him.”
Gavin shook his head. “I swear, you and Iversley have gone soft. Ever since you settled down with your pretty wives, you see the world through a haze of sentimental nonsense.”
Hearing envy creep into his voice, Gavin ruthlessly squelched it. He didn’t envy his brothers their contented marriages. Heliked his life—liked being his own man, liked his easy, nonthreatening liaisons with the married women who turned to him for a few hours of wickedness here and there. He liked being essentially alone and rootless.
A scowl knit his brow. “So what must I do to gain this dubious reward?”
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Iversley relaxed. “It’s nothing, really. Convince Lord Stokely to invite a certain widow to the annual house party he throws for his gambling friends.”
“How do you know about that?” Gavin asked.
“Prinny has his spies,” Draker put in.
Gavin knocked some ash from his cigar into the tin bowl Draker kept for that purpose. “I take it that the woman is one of them? Or one of his mistresses?”
Iversley shook his head. “She’s definitelynot Prinny’s mistress. And I would guess, having met her, that she’s not a spy either.”
“Stokely is very particular about his guests. They have to be adept at whist and comfortable with wickedness, not to mention discreet. Is she?”
Draker looked blank. “I’m sure she can be discreet, under the circumstances. I suppose she could pretend to be comfortable with wickedness, but I have no clue if Lady Haversham is any good at—”
“Wait a minute—the Marchioness of Haversham?She’s the one you want Stokely to invite? Are you insane?”
That seemed to catch Draker off guard. “She’s not your average marchioness,” he said defensively.
“She’s General Lyon’s daughter.”
“That’s probably why the bloody chit nearly blew my head off a year ago,” Gavin said. Draker blinked. “You’ve met her?”
“If you could call it that.” An image rose instantly in Gavin’s mind, of a small, raven-haired lass with a very large gun. “I rode out to speak to her husband at his estate about his mounting debt at the Blue Swan, and she put a hole in my cabriolet—not to mention my hat.”
Iversley smothered a laugh. “You mean, she didn’t take a liking to you at once, like the other ladies in society?”
Gavin arched one eyebrow. “Apparently the good Lady Haversham didn’t approve of her husband’s gambling. She was reloading her repeating rifle when Haversham himself came out and coaxed her inside. Otherwise, I’d probably be missing a crucial piece of my anatomy.”
He shook his head. “That termagant could never blend in at Stokely’s, even if the man would invite her. She’s clearly opposed to gambling, and probably wickedness, too.” Gavin scowled. “I take it she didn’t tell you of our disastrous first meeting?”
“No,” Draker admitted. “And if it was so disastrous, why did she choose your name from among the list of guests Prinny procured?”