Chapter One
Victor Rayborne looked out over the grounds of his family’s
country estate. It had been a fortnight since his mother had
made the announcement that he and his brothers must find
brides or lose everything. His eldest sibling, Sinjin, had
succeeded in winning the hand of the beautiful Katelyn
Davenport, a woman who at the beginning of said party had
been engaged to another man.
A man who now lay dead by his own hand.
Releasing a sigh, he scrubbed a hand over his face. Unlike
his brother who had fallen in love so quickly, Victor had
not found a woman who caught his fancy among the young
debutantes that his mother had brought to Claymoore Hall.
However, he had found a chaperone who intrigued him.
Lillith Winthrop, Lady Nordland, widow and aunt to Katelyn
and her sister, Marilyn, was a beautiful blonde with
striking hazel eyes and a body built for pleasure. The
attraction had been instantaneous, and yet everything he’d
heard about Lillith revolved around her virtuous reputation
for being the very picture of decorum, an example of what
every young lady should aspire to be.
In short, she was the opposite of what kind of woman he
usually was attracted to. Actresses and dancers had always
been his type, much like his last mistress, the beautiful
twenty-five-year- old Selene.
The door to his chamber opened and his brother Rory
appeared, his messy dark hair and rumpled appearance saying
he’d just come from a liaison. Rory had been gifted with
striking good looks that women found irresistible. When he
entered a room, men held tight to their wives, daughters,
and mistresses.
“You look like hell. Where have you been?”
Rory flashed a wolfish smile. “With the incomparable Lady
Anna.”
Lady Anna had entertained both Victor and Rory in her
chamber just days into the party. Since that event he had
steered clear of the woman, but apparently Rory could not
get enough of the sexually voracious young lady. “I’m
surprised her chaperone has not caught on yet.”
“Yes, well, there is something to be said about having a
chaperone who is hard of hearing and has weak eyesight.”
Rory fell into a chair beside the fireplace.
“Perhaps you should ask Lady Anna to marry you?”
Rory snorted. “Anna is an excellent lover, to be sure, but I
cannot imagine her as a wife. I could never trust her.”
“Isn’t that a bit like the pot calling the kettle black?”
“Yes, well . . .” Rory brushed his hands through his hair
and yawned loudly. “What of you? I noticed you dancing with
a certain widow last night. Do I sense interest on your part?”
His brothers knew him better than anyone, so it was no use
denying it. “Yes, I find Lillith intriguing.”
“She’s lovely. Hard to believe she’s the aunt. I would have
taken her more as the sister, especially given that
remarkable figure,” Rory said, a smile on his face. “Oh, and
you’ll love this; Lady Anna says that Lillith is unattainable.”
Unattainable? Ironically, the news fascinated him even more.
A woman as beautiful as Lillith, and a wealthy, titled widow
at that, should have men beating down her door. Chances were
she wasn’t interested. Little wonder given what he now knew
of her husband.
Every time he approached Lillith she looked ready to bolt—
until last night. Last night he had sensed a change in her
when they danced. She had laughed and smiled the entire
time. He did take into account that said happiness could
have been more about the fact that her niece had become
engaged and less about her dancing partner, but he’d felt
elated nonetheless.
“Oh my God, you really like her.” Rory sat up straight now.
“I’ll wager you one hundred pounds that you can’t get her
into bed.”
A part of Victor rebelled at making such a wager, yet the
rake in him couldn’t resist the challenge. He and Rory had
always had a strange rivalry, and it’s not like this would
be the first time they’d bet on getting a woman into bed.
“Make it your gold pocket watch and we have a deal.”
Rory frowned. “The one Grandfather gave me?”
“Yes, the very one, which you never wear.” Victor had
secretly coveted the piece for years. When Rory had received
the treasured antique after their grandfather’s passing, he
had been crushed. He shouldn’t have been so surprised since
Rory had always been their grandfather’s golden boy.
Rory’s eyes narrowed as he contemplated the wager, and
Victor had a sneaking suspicion he would not go for it, when
finally Rory released an exasperated sigh, stood, and
extended his hand. “Very well, you shall have the pocket
watch, but only if you seduce Lady Nordland. And you will
not just bed her and be done with it, but rather captivate
her completely and make her your mistress.”
Victor wasn’t sure about his ability to “captivate her
completely” and make her his mistress, but bedding her he
could do, despite the fact her flawless reputation suggested
otherwise.
He shook Rory’s hand. “Done,” he said with more confidence
than he felt.
Lillith lifted her face to the sun. It was a glorious day,
and she felt extremely gratified as she watched her niece
Katelyn and her fiancé Sinjin walk hand in hand along the
grounds under the watchful eye of Sinjin’s proud mother,
Lady Rochester.
Any misgivings the countess might have had about her eldest
son marrying Katelyn had apparently been put aside, for she
positively beamed as she took tea with her friends.
If only Marilyn had found love with one of the Rayborne
brothers or one of their male guests, then the party would
have been an even greater success. For a short while Lillith
thought her niece had fallen in love with Victor, especially
when she had happened upon them kissing in the labyrinth.
However, Marilyn had assured her that Victor was nothing
more than a friend. Lillith didn’t push for more answers, as
a part of her honestly didn’t want to know the truth.
Admittedly, she’d been more than a little jealous when she’d
witnessed the kiss, and worried that both she and her niece
had feelings for the renowned rakehell.
Victor was a decade younger than Lillith, in his prime, and
he made her feel small and feminine, and yes, even desired—
something she had not felt for many, many years. True, she
had been pursued by older gentlemen intent on taking a well-
respected widow as their wife, but none of those men
thrilled her the way Victor Rayborne did.
Victor brought out something in her that made her feel like
a girl again. Indeed, he made her wonder what it would be
like to behave badly; a new concept given she had spent the
past two decades playing the elegant, loyal, ever virtuous
wife to a detestable man who paraded his many male lovers
before her.
She had hoped to have children of her own, but her fifteen-
year marriage had yielded no such blessing. Little wonder
given her husband had rarely visited her bed. The night of
her wedding had been the stuff of nightmares, and she had
come to hate Winfred’s drunken visits. What a fantastic
actor he had been during their courtship. If she could have
only guessed that behind the sheep’s clothing lay a
malicious wolf, she would have run for her life.
But there was no use in crying over what had happened. Those
days were long behind her. She could only move on to what
could be.
“Lady Nordland,” a deep voice said from behind her, and she
turned slowly.
Victor’s brilliant blue eyes slid down her body and up
again. His dark, wavy hair fell to his broad shoulders in
wild disarray, and he had the most arresting features:
square jaw, jutting cheekbones, and lovely full lips. He was
dressed in black from his shirt and snug trousers that
hugged muscular thighs to the slightly worn Hessians. The
dark attire made his light eyes even more vivid, she realized.
“Lord Graston, good afternoon.” She managed to keep her tone
casual; a difficult feat when exhilaration rushed through
her veins, making her heart pound as if she’d run a race.
“May I?” he asked, motioning to the chair beside her.
She nodded, “Of course.”
He sat in the chair, his long legs stretching out before
him. He made her thoughts turn positively scandalous, and
she wondered if the rumors she had heard this past week were
true: Lord Graston was a gracious, extremely well-endowed
lover with incredible stamina and skill. A flash of what he
must look like naked came to mind and Lillith shifted in her
seat. Truth be told, she had never been so attracted to a
man in all her thirty- eight years.
Nearby, someone laughed aloud and Lillith straightened her
spine. She glanced at a nearby table to see a young woman
and her chaperone watching her closely and talking behind
their fans. The chaperone lifted a brow as though to say,
“Who do you think you are, you old maid?” Indeed, were they
laughing at her because Victor was showing interest, or that
she was so obviously taken with him?
“Lily, Lily, Lily, when will you stop worrying about what
others are thinking or saying?” Victor whispered, his voice
far too intimate.
“I am a chaperone, Lord Graston. And people talk if said
chaperone, and a widow at that, spends too much time in the
company of a single, young man.”
He sighed heavily. “Who cares what they say? Let them
speculate.”