“Are you listening, my lord? Madeline is a disgraceful harlot. A garish, red-haired whore of Babylon unfit to carry the surname Upcott. The sooner her cursed name is but a bad memory in the family bible, the better.”

Lord Ethan Dare absently rubbed his temple in an attempt to quell the headache threatening to explode. Purgatory was not hellfire and brimstone, it was being trapped in a carriage with two poisonous silver-haired bats who refused to take a breath, and the lemon-faced vicar they had brought along to help ensure Lady Upcott repented and remarried. Sir Josiah’s much younger widow had his full admiration. Anyone who had spent time with his two female travelling companions without hurling them both off a cliff must have a spine of pure steel.

“Of course I am listening, cousin Faith. Harlot. Babylon. Unfit,” he murmured. It was easy to parrot back the complaints. By the gods, she had repeated herself enough while the vicar nodded and said, ‘indeed yes.’

Cousin Winifred smiled smugly. “We knew you would understand, Dare. You might be just three and twenty, but it is obvious you are a clever man. The family is most fortunate that you shall carry the viscountcy forward.”

“Quite,” Ethan replied, firmly suppressing the urge to roll his eyes.

Actually, his inheritance was something he still hadn’t managed to fully wrap his mind around. After graduating from Cambridge with a first in ancient history, he had immediately gone to Egypt and immersed himself in a life of desert sands, travel by camel, and papyrus scrolls. No culture had ever held his fascination like that of the Ancient Egyptians, the sacred rituals, vicious battles and power struggles, not to mention the remarkable ingenuity in the field of healing and medicine. Heady indeed for a devoted scholar. But just as he’d been about to move on to the temples and monuments of Greece, he’d received word his estranged father had passed of a fever. The return to England had been a slap to the face—not the cold and damp, but learning the truth of his financial situation, which could be summed up in one word: dire.

Rather than investing in modern equipment, treating his tenants fairly, and listening to sound advice on crops, dear Papa had bled every estate dry to pay for his horses, lavish house parties, and expensive mistresses. And the family considered him some kind of saint that could only be spoken of in reverent and hushed terms. The only thing more ridiculous was these same numbskulls pressing Ethan to find a pious, well-bred virgin so he might sire sons and ensure the line.

Naturally ladies everywhere would leap at the chance to marry a near-bankrupt viscount who detested London and its trappings…oh yes, and hadn’t quite got around to losing his own virginity. Surely at least one in the marriage needed to know what they were doing, and his vast knowledge of sexual acts was entirely theoretical and based on the rather colorful practices of the ancient world. So he’d finally put his pride in his pocket and approached Sally Yardley, a kind, happily married baroness who together with her husband not only played matchmaker but arranged discreet initiations for young lords like himself. Of course, the day the momentous occasion arrived, he’d had to cancel to come to damned bloody Guildford instead.

“Do you think,” said the vicar suddenly, his beady eyes brightening, “that Lady Upcott should be beaten, and restricted to a diet of bread and water? From what Miss Faith and Miss Winifred told me, the lady requires purging of her sinful ways so she may again walk a virtuous path.”

Ethan held onto his temper by the barest of threads. He was tired, hungry, had a headache only getting worse, and was many miles from the warm, willing, experienced woman he’d planned to spend the night with. “As head of the family, I alone will assess such matters. Should anyone take it upon themselves to act independently, there will be grave consequences.”

The vicar shrank back in his seat. “Of course, my lord.”

Faith frowned. “I believe—”

“Ah look, Lady Upcott’s home,” said Ethan. “Once you’ve greeted our hostess, no doubt you’ll want to rest and refresh yourselves before supper.”

“And what will you be doing?” asked Winifred with a suspicious sniff.

“I will be starting my, er…interrogation.”

All three smiled, and Ethan’s jaw tightened. Spite did not sit well on prune-faces.

Fortunately the traveling carriage came to an abrupt halt outside the three-story building. The red brick exterior and small diamond-paned windows with dark wooden shutters suggested Tudor. This usually meant beautiful but poorly lit, and with door frames low enough to ensure he would leave with goose eggs decorating his forehead. Sometimes being over six feet in height was not a blessing.

Ethan climbed out of the carriage and offered a hand to the two ladies, while his footmen attended to the small mountain of rosewood trunks roped to the back and roof. Well used to minimal packing, he had two large satchels with all he needed. His companions clearly didn’t know the meaning of travelling lightly.

“Lord Dare?”

He froze. Only two words, and yet the sensual, husky voice behind him practically caressed the air. Politeness insisted he respond, but then the unknown woman would see exactly how form-fitting his buff trousers were. Swiftly, he removed his hat to cover his hardening erection and turned.

As if Atlas had abruptly failed, the world tilted wildly.

Faith had called Lady Upcott a garish, red-headed whore of Babylon. In reality she appeared Aphrodite reborn, with titian curls piled high on her head to expose an elegant neck made to be kissed, gray eyes like a stormy sea, and such ample breasts and hips that not even a plain blue gown could disguise them. The one thing missing was an enchanted girdle.

Hell.

He could only imagine that sultry mouth swallowing his cock as he tangled his fingers in her fiery curls and thrust deep. Or how she might look in bed, large nipples jutting proudly, thighs spread wide, like the women he’d seen in so many erotic drawings and etchings.

Damnation.

Sir Josiah’s sisters thought he’d come here to demand Lady Upcott remarry in order to preserve their so-called good name. In truth he had to confess that because of his father’s profligate wastage together with some indifferent stewardship, she must cut expenditure at once. But right now his only thoughts were of bedding his second cousin’s beautiful widow until they both couldn’t move.

Fuck.

* * *

“Good afternoon, Lady Upcott. I am indeed Dare.”

Somehow Madeline managed to curtsy, a truly amazing feat while her mind reeled.

Why had no one told her the truth about the viscount? She had assumed the head of the family would be a contemporary of Sir Josiah’s, perhaps a little younger. Not a gentleman barely past his majority. And certainly not an extraordinarily attractive gentleman: tall and broad-shouldered, with chocolate-brown hair, exotic, amber-colored eyes, and the bronzed skin of someone who had spent a great deal of time under a sun far harsher than England’s.

Oh God. He could be tanned all over. One of those exhibitionists who regularly discarded clothing and frolicked in streams, before draping himself over boulders to dry and taking his thick cock in hand, idly stroking himself to orgasm…

“Lady Upcott?”

Her cheeks flushed at the realization she hadn’t answered him, instead just staring like he was a six-course banquet and she a starving woman. What the hell was wrong with her? “Do forgive me, my lord. You are…not what I expected.”

Lord Dare smiled crookedly, the expression revealing faint lines around his eyes and a dimple in his chin. Damn him twice! “My inheritance is fairly recent; it has been just over two months since my father passed. Were you not informed?”

Madeline glanced at Faith and Winifred’s smirking faces. “No, I wasn’t.”

“Come now, Lady Upcott,” said an unknown elderly man wearing a vicar’s collar. “A woman like you would hardly be invited to such a solemn and proper occasion as the funeral of a great man of the ton.”

The barb stung. Surprisingly, while the witches tittered, Lord Dare didn’t appear amused. “Why don’t you three go on inside. I’m sure Lady Upcott’s servants will direct you to your rooms.”

Even more surprisingly, the three obeyed without argument, leaving her and the viscount standing alone on the steps.

The silence lengthened, until finally, she said lamely, “How was your journey?”

“Adequate,” he replied, rolling his massive shoulders in an obvious effort to ease muscle discomfort. “And by adequate, I mean purgatory. Those three do not comprehend the virtue of silence.”

A startled laugh escaped. “Faith and Winifred view silence as a lady’s failure to guide conversation. The vicar I cannot comment on, as I have not yet had the pleasure of conversing with him.”

“Avoid it as long as you possibly can. He adheres to my cousins’ opinion that you are a harlot and a garish red-headed whore of Babylon.”

All the air whooshed from Madeline’s lungs, and she choked. “Uh…”

Lord Dare winced and rubbed his forehead. “Forgive me. I am inept when it comes to social niceties. Far too much time spent in dusty libraries and desert digs, not nearly enough conversing with ladies in ballrooms or parlors. I must remember to think before I speak.”

“Some might consider your inclination toward honesty rather than guile refreshing, my lord.”

“Might they?” he said softly, those amber eyes fixing on her in a way that made her nipples tauten painfully against her stays.

Madeline swallowed hard. What was it about this young lord that made her body react like this? He wasn’t indulging in flirtation. He wasn’t even touching her. And yet she wanted to run her fingers through his slightly rumpled hair. Kiss that dimple. Slap the hat from his hands and see if his trouser bulge fulfilled the promise that his stature suggested. “Indeed.”

“That is good to know. My mother considers me a lost cause.”

“Then we have something in common.”

Lord Dare rolled his shoulders again, and she had to curl her fingers into fists to stop herself from touching him. Perhaps offering an oil massage. While naked.

Good grief. She had quite lost her mind. Especially unhelpful in the current situation, with a houseful of guests who would watch her like a hawk and do everything they could to make her life dismal. She had to be on guard, not indulging in explicit daydreams.

Madeline cleared her throat. “It is a little chilly out here. Won’t you come inside? I’ll show you to your chamber.”

“That would be most kind,” he replied, his gaze quizzical.

Damn him thrice. Why did he have to look disappointed, as though he didn’t want the private conversation to end?

“Do come this way,” she said in her best impersonal lady of the manor voice as they crossed the small entrance hall and made their way to the stairs. “As head of the family, I have placed you in Sir Josiah’s old chamber. I hope you’ll find it comfortable. Would you like a bath before supper? It is no trouble to have the copper tub sent up. Oh, by the by, is your valet travelling separately?”

Lord Dare shook his head. “I don’t have one. Another rebellion against English propriety, foolish I know. But I got used to attending to my own needs while travelling, and rather like the privacy and independence.”

Again, Madeline imagined him entirely naked and attending to his own needs, and she stumbled, only halted from kissing the wooden stairs by a large hand curling around her upper arm. Even through the sleeve of her gown she could feel the heat and strength, and she barely suppressed a moan at the thought of those long, nimble fingers on her bare skin. Pinching her nipples until they were so sensitive she could scarcely bear the pressure. Circling her swollen clitoris. Twisting and teasing deep inside her pussy as he found that special spot that launched her to the heavens.

“Lady Upcott? Are you well?”

Heat scorched across her cheekbones. No, she most certainly wasn’t well. Well women did not entertain wild, erotic fantasies of bedding their late husband’s second cousin. Especially not one barely graduated from university.

Even wicked widows had to observe some proprieties.

“Oh yes,” Madeline said with a false, bright smile.

She would just have to grit her teeth and keep him at arm’s length.

No matter how much she wanted otherwise.

* * *

Setting down his leather-bound journal with a thump, Ethan groaned.

He’d thought to go over some old notes and sketches from Egypt until he was tired enough to sleep in this rather cell-like bedchamber, but all he’d found were detailed paragraphs about pleasure toys. The legend of Cleopatra and her live bee-filled gourd. The preference of leather dildos to stone or wood. And now he was as hard as oak himself as his mind wandered to his beautiful hostess.

How wicked was Lady Upcott, really?

Given Faith and Winifred’s belief that showing even a square inch of bare skin made a woman a harlot, he refused to take their opinion with anything other than a grain of salt. But the notion that the sensual and voluptuous lady of the house might be adventurous and uninhibited when it came to fucking, perhaps enthusiastically embrace toys, oral acts, even ass play…

Ethan groaned again as his cock strained against his trousers. He definitely needed different reading matter, something bland and dull that would send him straight to sleep. Maybe there might be something in the small library down the hallway. Lady Upcott had pointed it out earlier, and generously offered him full use of it.

Hauling himself out of an uncomfortable high-backed wooden chair, he padded out of his borrowed chamber and down the narrow candlelit hallway to the library. Knowing Sir Josiah, there would be slumber-inducing tomes aplenty.

“Oh! Good evening, my lord.”

He froze, almost speechless at the sight of Lady Upcott curled in an overstuffed armchair in front of a well-stoked fire, with an open book. Mainly because she wore a jade-green satin dressing gown tightly belted at the waist, which only emphasized her lush breasts and hips. “Good evening,” he replied, a trifle hoarsely. “Didn’t mean to disturb. I just wanted something unreadable to send me to sleep.”

“Help yourself,” she said with an impish smile. “Sir Josiah ensured we have plenty of examples. Do take care not to choke on the dust, though.”

Ethan’s lips twitched. “My, my, Lady Upcott. Never say you read for inspiration and education rather than lethargy?”

“Prepare yourself, my lord…” she lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper, “…I do.”

He mock staggered. “I’m shocked. Shocked, I say.”

Lady Upcott beamed. “No, you aren’t. How delightful. I’ve been told on many occasions that a well-read lady is a blight on society and will bring about the fall of the empire. It is yet another of my crimes alongside harlot and garish red-headed whore of Babylon, one imagines.”

Oh, but he liked this woman. Stunningly beautiful with mouthwatering curves was one thing, but well-read and a sharp wit? What an intoxicating combination. “Indeed.”

“Lord Dare, you are staring.”

“I…was just trying to see the title, and the true extent of your depravity, madam.”

“You witness a lady beyond redemption, I’m afraid,” she said huskily, shifting in the chair, and causing her breasts to strain against the robe. “Last week it was the journals of Captain Cook’s first voyage, followed by the memoirs of a Paris courtesan. This is Aristophanes Lysistrata. It is so very amusing.”

By the gods. She read Ancient Greek plays? “Did you know he apparently devised one hundred and six ways of describing the male part?”

Lady Upcott blinked, and Ethan wanted to sink beneath the floorboards. Why the hell had he blurted that?

“Hmmm,” she said, twirling the end of her robe’s sash around one finger. “And a woman’s?”

“Excuse me?” he replied, his mind turning to mud at the thought of that sash loosening.

“How many descriptions of womanly parts?”

“Oh. Ah…ninety one, I believe.”

“You know the most fascinating tidbits, my lord,” she purred in a tone that wrapped around his cock and squeezed it.

“More so after a few bottles of brandy. Although I fear the topics move from risqué to downright disturbing. My field of study in Egypt was…rather unconventional. Sexual practices and rituals in the ancient world.”

Rather than dismay or distaste, Lady Upcott’s face brightened with what looked remarkably like genuine interest. “Now I’m thoroughly intrigued, Lord Dare. Although I’d wager you have intrigued women since…Cambridge?”

Ethan snorted. “You’d lose that bet. I was a lanky pile of bones with two left feet and little polite conversation. Then I sailed for Cairo, and there aren’t too many ladies trudging around the pyramids and whatnot. It’s no wonder I’m still a v…”

Oh fuck.

Horror at the unthinking lapse scorched a path of fire across his cheekbones, but any hopes that he’d trailed off before she understood were immediately dashed as her jaw dropped.

“You’ve never been with a woman?”

No.

“Of course I have,” he replied, scrambling for an answer that wouldn’t make him sound even more pathetic. “Just…er…not many.”

Lady Upcott rose from her chair and strolled toward him, her hips swaying and breasts bobbing gently. “I’m afraid your inclination toward honesty tells a different story, my lord.”

Not as much as his rock-hard cock. He needed to get out of here before he disgraced himself completely. Swiftly, Ethan snatched the first book he could reach from the library shelf. “Ah, that will do. Good evening—”

“Put that down.”

He stilled. “Beg pardon?”

“You don’t need a treatise on crop rotation,” she murmured, standing so close her visibly hard nipples nearly brushed his chest. “Not when there are much better ways to relax oneself.”

“Are you offering to help, Lady Upcott?” he rasped, his heart about to pound right out of his chest.

“Tell me if I’m incorrect…I think perhaps you’ve mastered the theory but not the practical. Me, on the other hand, well, the rumors are true. I greatly enjoy bedsport and make no apology for it. So, if you wish for some no-obligation instruction—”

“Yes. Hell yes.”

She licked her lips, her gray eyes glittering like stars. “Then, Lord Dare, why don’t you come to my chamber in ten minutes or so. I’ll unlock the connecting door, and we’ll take care of this troublesome virginity matter. No one need ever know.”

And just like that, his evening vastly improved.