Deliciously Debauched by the Rake. Ann Lethbridge

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      A sense of purpose filled him. Dammit. He’d show Elizabeth he hadn’t lost his spark. By thunder, he would.

      With the Season barely begun, the opera house audience was sparse. Most of the ton remained at their country estates after holidays, until Parliament resumed. It was a good thing. The absence of Society’s high sticklers would allow Elizabeth to become accustomed to her new state of affairs.

      Widow. A woman alone.

      She didn’t need another protector. John had been more than generous over the years. But since she’d told him she was looking for excitement, she could hardly sit at home mourning for what could not be.

      Living with John all of these years had put her beyond the pale of good Society, so here she sat in her rented box at the opera, another gift from John, looking as if she was selling her wares. And when the time came, she would enjoy watching John choose his bride and begin his family.

      Without her.

      It was the right thing to do. For him. The thought of seeing him was like a knife in her heart. She’d been angry after her husband died, longing for freedom. But she’d also been poor and desperate.

      John had rescued her from the prospect of utter destitution. At the time, she hadn’t realized he was younger than she was. Inheriting his title so early had matured him far beyond his years. She owed him her gratitude. This was one way she could repay that debt. Cut him loose. Make it impossible for him to come back by taking another man.

      The thought made her sick to her stomach.

      “Are you all right, my dear?” Miss Barnhurst asked. Dear old Barny had welcomed her with open arms. She’d been Elizabeth’s governess in happier times, before she’d married her old rich husband. A mean old skinflint who, because she had not produced the expected heir, had left her penniless.

      Elizabeth’s brother had offered to find another husband. Another man like her first. And when she’d refused, he, too, had cast her off. Barny had taken her in, despite her own dire circumstances. So Elizabeth had shared her good fortune with the woman she now considered her friend.

      “Well enough,” Elizabeth said with a smile she was proud of as she let her gaze wander the slowly filling pit. Several gentlemen caught her eye and bowed low. She acknowledged their homage with the merest inclination of her head. It would not do to appear too eager. Men want what they think they cannot have another courtesan had told her once.

      But it hadn’t been like that between her and John. The artifice. The skill of the hunt and the capture. The moment he had walked into her box, this very box, she had known he was the one.

      She scanned the boxes opposite. A few contained parties of ladies and gentlemen. Some were empty. But it was early yet. Young gentlemen on the town rarely arrived for the opening curtain.

      Her hand convulsed around the handle of her fan. They would ogle her. Send flowers and messages, and she would greet a few of them discretely in the shadowy recesses of her box. The presence of Miss Barnhurst and the burly footman she’d hired for the purpose would prevent any unwelcome advances from young men in their cups.

      She just hoped John would see where his duty lay quickly so she could retire to the cottage in the country she was in the process of purchasing for her and Barny.

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