Excerpt of Too Hot For A Rake by Pearl Wolf

Prologue
Paris: Sunday, The twenty-second of March, 1818

The young Englishman stepped out of the hired chaise, his
face at once assaulted by the icy March winds. He shuddered
against the inhospitable cold that bit into him and raised
his eyes to the formidable façade of Le Chabanais.

To keep his beaver hat from blowing away, he held it firmly
in place as he climbed the steps of the building, an
establishment that took its name from its location: 12 Rue
Chabanais. He raised the knocker on the door, let it fall
and waited. One eye appeared through a small hole.

“I’ve come to see Lord Bannington. Is he at home?” He
pressed his calling card to the hole.

The door opened a crack and a hand snaked out to snatch the
card from him. “I shall inquire if Monsieur is at home.”

When the door clanked shut, the man had to content himself
with stamping his feet to keep from freezing. He raised his
fist to bang the knocker again, when the ponderous oaken
door swung open.

“Entrée’, s’il vous plais, Monsieur." The porter led him through a dimly lit hall that opened into a large room where the visitor was at once blinded by the blaze of hundreds of candles. He handed his coat, hat, muffler and gloves to a footman and surveyed the scene. The mirrored room was the size of a large London ballroom.  Itsa walls were lined with red banquettes.  Young ladies in various states of undress lounged on them, apparently awaiting the arrival of male clientèle, a reasonable assumption considering the nature of the business conducted at 12 Rue Chabanais. Someone behind him tapped a fan on his shoulder.  He turned, startled by the astonishing sight of  a tall, buxom woman of a certain age.  She wore a low cut black gown studded with crystals, long white gloves and a black lace mantilla attached to her haïr, powdered in the French fashion. "Monsieur? Welcome to Le Chabanais.I am Madame Z’evareau.  How may Iserve you?  Our salon offers the finest young ladies in Paris.  But you can see that for yourself.  How many of our ladies would you like this evening ?   One, two, more ?"

He took the hand she offered and bent to brush his lips over
it, a gesture she appeared to expect. "No, Madame. I am
not here to be entertained this evening. I seek an audience
with Lord Bannington. He resides here, does he not?"

“Ah, oui. Le roue’ Anglais. He is our guest. The dear boy may be occupied at the moment, however. Allow me to inquire.” She turned and said to a young lady nearby, “Entertain the gentleman, Cecelie.” She hurried off, Darlington’s card in hand.

“What is your pleasure?” Cecelie asked him. In spite of her
painted rouged cheeks, charcoaled eyelids and short red
hair, she could not have been more than sixteen. She wore
a sheer white chemise over long black stockings and red
high-heeled shoes.

“I’m not here for your services, mademoiselle. I’ve come to see Lord Bannington.” He resisted the urge to loosen his neck cloth.

The harlot giggled. “You are a friend of le roué Anglais?
Then there shall be no charge, monsieur. He pays for all
his friends.” She reached up to kiss him on the lips, but
Darlington restrained her.

“You do not like Cecilie? Perhaps you would prefer another…?”

To his relief, Madame Z’evareau returned, saving him from
further embarrassment.

“Lord Bannington will see you now. Follow me if you please.”

He tried to ignore the snickers he heard and the lascivious
ogling that followed him as he made his way past to the red
banquettes, but he reddened just the same.

“Pay no attention to my girls, monsieur. Sunday evenings are always thin of visitors here at Le Chabanais. Our clientele’ prefer to remain at home with their families, you see. My little cocottes work hard all week. One must allow them the release of a bit of naughty mischief on Sundays.” She led him up the red-carpeted grand staircase to the first chamber on the left and knocked on the door.

“Come,” a deep male voice said as she opened the door.
“Thank you, Madame Z. You may leave us.” Come in
Darlington. Have we met before? I can’t recall, for I have
an atrocious memory. Shocking, but there it is.”

Bannington had dark hair streaked with hints of the sun and
blue eyes the color of the sea. His lordship lounged on a
large bed in the middle of the room. He wore nothing save
loose black silk pantaloons, but the women in his bed wore
nothing at all. His head reclined on the breasts of a young
girl whose fingers played with his long curls. Another was
trimming his nails while a third massaged his feet.
Embarrassed, Darlington’s gaze wandered over his lordship’s
opulent surroundings, his eyes fixed everywhere but on the bed.

The chamber was large, its walls lined in red silk. The
floors were covered with a carpet of Turkish design. The
ceiling revealed a scene filled with curvaceous women
engaged in sensual couplings, but over the bed itself, a
mirror the length and width of the bed was prominent.
Opposite the headboard there stood a large desk and chair.
Beyond that, a huge stone fireplace faced the footboard, two
comfortable chairs on either side, and a round table between
them. A settee facing the fireplace completed the sitting area.

“What do you think of my home, Darlington,” asked
Bannington, much amused by the scandalized expression on the
face of his visitor. “I prefer to live here, you know.
Meets all my needs most conveniently.”

“Handsome surroundings, but as marquis…”

“Marquis? Why do you address me thus? I am Lord
Bannington. I have had no other name for these past twelve
years.”

“So I have been informed, my lord.”

“Why have you come? Who sent you?”

“I must insist upon speaking with you alone, your lordship.”

“Pay no attention to my playmates. None of them understand
the English tongue. What is it you want of me?”

“My mission is too sensitive. Privacy is essential, your
lordship.”

A condescending grin met Darlington’s plea. “As bad all
that, eh?” He turned to his companions. “All right, my
lovelies. Party’s over.” He kissed each one in turn.
“Amelie’. Babette. Colette. Be off with you, my
delectable ABC’s. I’ll send for you later,” he said,
lightly patting each on the derriere’ after each one kissed
him adieu’.

When the giggling trio put on their robes and danced out the
door, Waverley said, “You must join me for dinner, old chap.
The food’s excellent, and I am starving.” He rang and at
once a small brown man appeared as if from nowhere. He wore
a turban, a yellow satin coat, black tights and shoes with
turned up toes.

“Dinner for two, Rabu. Tell Madame Z we should like two
bottles of her best wine and some French brandy later.”

“Yes, Mastah!” His bow almost touched the tip of his shoes.

“You seem shocked, Darlington. This is my valet Rabu. I
lived in India for years, you see. The little devil adopted
me there and I cannot rid myself of him no matter how hard I
try. One must be gracious in defeat, mustn’t one?” He rose
from his bed as he spoke, donned a dressing gown and slid
his feet into slippers.

“Le Chabanais is the finest bordello in Paris, you know, which is why I choose to live here. It is well known for its cuisine, thanks to Madame Z’s outstanding chef. Let us sit by the fire, sir. You can tell me your business after we finish our dinner.” Waverley sprawled in a seat opposite Darlington and took some snuff from an ornate box resting on the small table beside his chair.

In spite of himself, Darlington enjoyed every bit of the
French cuisine, a rare treat for him. The first course was
a delicate turtle soup. The second was a ragout of beef,
which proved to be succulent. The meal ended with a
chocolate soufflé that defied description. When Rabu
cleared the last of the dirty dishes, he set the brandy on
the table along with a bowl of nuts and some fruit.

“Leave us,” said Bannington, dismissing his valet with a
wave of his hand. He waited for Rabu to disappear through a
side door. ” We are alone now, sir. What brings you to Paris?”

“I have been searching for you for almost a year, your
lordship. I am an envoy from the home office, sent to find
you.”

“Really? What can the home office possibly want with an
expatriate like me?”

Ignoring this for the moment, Darlington said, a hint of
frustration in his tone, “I made my way to India to seek
you, but you had already left that country.”

“Ah, India. I lived in Calcutta for ten years. It is where
I made my fortune, more to luck than to business acumen, I
might add.”

“You led me a merry chase all over Europe, my lord. My
search took me to Greece, Italy and Spain, all to no avail.”

His host’s brow furrowed. “Come to the point, Darlington.
Why were you sent to seek me out?”

“Prince George, our Regent, most urgently requests your
return to England, my lord.”

Waverley was amused by the young man’s pompous turn of
phrase, but he ignored it. “The Regent? How is this?”

“The Third Marquis of Waverley, your father, passed away a
year ago. His majesty is anxious for you to return him to
take his place.”

Bannington’s eyes widened. “Then I am the Fourth Marquis of
Waverley?” He laughed, a sound tinged with resentment.

“Sir?”

“If my father knew I was being summoned home to England to take his place, he would rise from his grave to protest, for there was no love lost between us. This is the first communication I’ve had from him since he disowned me twelve years ago. Inform Prince George that I renounce my right to the marquisate. I have no reason to return, for I have fashioned a life in Paris that suits me well. I have many friends here, and none in England. Besides, there is no longer anyone alive at Waverley Castle now that my father is dead.” Now that my father is dead, there is no longer any opportunity for reconciliation, though God knows I tried more than once during my long exile.

“You mistake, my lord. Your grandmother is alive. Her
ladyship lives at Waverley Castle.”

Thunderstruck by this news, Bannington turned pale. “My
grandmother is still alive? You can’t be serious. I
thought she died years ago.”

“No, my lord. Our grandmother is eighty years old and very
much alive.”

“Is she being well cared for?”

“I can’t answer that question, my lord. Six months ago,
distant cousins took up residence at Waverley, to care for
your grandmother.”

“Their names?”

“Mrs. Jennie Trasker and her son Harry.”

“Never heard of them. How do you come by all this
information, Darlington?”

“My information comes from the intelligence division of the
home office. It is entirely reliable, though not public
knowledge, my lord. I must urge you to reconsider and
accept the marquisate, for the sake of England if not for
your grandmother. If you do not, Harry Trasker is next in
line. Mu information is that he is ill equipped to take
your father’s place.”

Bannington stared into the embers as if they held the answer for him. Grandmother alive? Does she still love the lad I once was or did my unforgiving father forbid her to communicate with me? All these years I thought I had no family. Now I have a grandmother and two cousins. I must return, for her sake. A gamble, to be sure, but no worse than the risks I’ve been forced to take all my life. Waverley Castle. I loved it well once. Aloud he said, “If I decide to return, what then?”

Darlington relaxed for the first time for this was his area
of expertise. “When you return to London, you will find a
warm welcome awaiting you. Viscount Sidmouth, the home
secretary, is most anxious to meet you. You may count on him
to counsel you in light of this…delicate situation.”

“Delicate? Have you been withholding something from me? Is
my grandmother in any danger?”

“I have not been thus informed, but I cannot say for a
certainty.”

Desmond again stared into the fire, struggling with his
conscience. He recalled a gentle lady who loved him well.
At last he spoke. “If my grandmother is alive, for her sake
I have no choice but to return to England.”

The envoy looked relieved. “It is my duty to escort you to
London for your investiture by the Regent. How soon can you
be ready to leave, your lordship? Bannington’s brow cleared
and he smiled. “How long have you been searching for me?”

“I’ve been away from my home for more than a year.”

“Have you a wife? Family?”

“No, your lordship. But I am betrothed.”

“I wish you happy, old chap. All right. I’ll be ready as
soon as may be.”

“Appreciate it, sir.”

“I need time to wind up my affairs here. Shouldn’t take
more than a few days at the most. Will that do?”

“Yes, of course. With your permission, I’ll arrange for a
carriage to take us to Calais where I can book our passage
to Dover.”

“Order two carriages, one for Rabu and all my possessions
and one for the two of us. Which reminds me. I haven’t any
place to stay. I have no idea whether my father’s London
domicile is habitable and hotels frown on my little Indian,
which makes me uncomfortable. Any suggestions?”

“I would be honored if you were to accept my hospitality,
your lordship. You may stay as long as you need to arrange
your affairs. I live in Mayfair, an easy ride to Carlton
House where you shall meet with the Prince Regent.”

“You are an excellent fellow, Darlington. I accept your offer.”