Page 3 of In a Rake’s Embrace (Sins & Sensibilities #3)

CHAPTER 3

T homas Pennington, the Earl of Radbourne, stilled, the glass of brandy he had been refilling, momentarily forgotten. The liquid splashed onto the polished walnut table, and he set the decanter down with an irritated hiss. Reclining against the sofa, he regarded Madam Rebecca with curiosity and disbelief scything through him. It was as though she were some strange, unfamiliar creature.

“You want me to teach a lady the art of seduction ... without seducing her?” he repeated, his tone dry. “What nonsense is this?”

Madam Rebecca crossed her legs at the knee and smiled serenely. “I thought you were the best person to help with her needs.”

He arched a brow. “Is that so?”

“Absolutely,” she replied, taking a delicate sip of her champagne. “You’re a rake through and through, with a fondness for women in all their forms. But unlike most, you aren’t led solely by your cock. You can be discerning, and you have restraint. This lady will be auctioning her virginity and ... expertise in six weeks.”

Thomas chuckled, his interest mildly piqued. “A virgin with expertise? Now, that is something I’ve never heard of. Or perhaps I have. Two of your ladies boasted the same a few months ago. Wasn’t there a fight in the card rooms about who truly took Lady Hettie’s chastity?”

“I daresay, it’s little scuffles like that which convince me this auction will be brilliant—and talked about for months.” Madam Rebecca cleared her throat lightly. “Miss Woodville is a beauty, and she’s educated—but not enough to hold her own in a conversation with the fine gentlemen of the ton . She’ll walk among them on the floors, and they will want her, knowing the auction is imminent. She will be the prize.”

“So, you want me to teach her the art of what? Flirtation? Seduction?”

“Yes ... without touching her,” she replied with a pointed look.

Thomas smiled, amusement rushing through him. “There will be touching. It would be impossible otherwise.”

“Must you touch her?”

“Of course, when have I ever said I was some selfless gent?”

“Yes, but you must not ravish her,” she warned.

He smiled slightly. “I am suitably bored to be intrigued. What’s in it for me?”

“Relieving your boredom, of course,” she said sweetly, her brown eyes gleaming with calculation. “Do you think I have not noticed? You visit our halls less since Lord Ambrose and His Grace Basil married. You visit the card rooms and gamble but have not taken a woman in almost three months.”

“How interesting that you keep a record of my cockstands. Have you never thought I might be finding my pleasure elsewhere?”

“No.” She waved a hand. “There is no reason to stare at me with such coldness, Radbourne. My business is knowing when I am on the cusp of losing a most valued client. I want to keep you happy, my lord. I have already lost Basil and Ambrose. I think you will be suitably ... challenged with tutoring Miss Woodville. There will be some pleasure for you because she will need to practice some things. I trust that you would never ravish her.”

It was mildly interesting Madam Rebecca knew some of his character. “And what is in this for you?”

“Fifty percent of whatever Miss Woodville earns from the highest bidder. I’ll provide her with private quarters on the fourth floor, setting her apart from the other ladies. That she will have her boudoir on my floor will be the first signal that she is different. She’ll have a handsome apartment with a bedchamber, sitting room, and music room. Meals will be provided whenever she wants, and a burly footman will be assigned to protect her from unwanted advances. Twice a month, we host musicales or our version of it. Her debut will be a performance to whet their appetites—she’ll sing and dance. She has a lovely voice, though I was surprised to learn she doesn’t play any instrument, as many young ladies do. She suggested learning to dance to add something unique to her performance.”

“The waltz?” he asked, lifting a brow. “Never say I am to be her partner in this.”

Her mouth quirked. “That, and another—one that will shock and entice.”

“What sort of dance?” Thomas asked, skeptical. He’d never been one to believe that dancing could hold much power beyond a tiresome prelude to courtship.

“A dance that requires someone to play the flute,” she replied, her lips curling into another knowing smile.

“Of course. And you know I play the flute,” he said drily.

“Yes,” she said, her smile deepening.

“Is this your plan?” he asked, narrowing his eyes.

“Miss Woodville approached me,” Rebecca replied, a bemused look entering her expression. “We met under ... less-than-ideal circumstances last year, and I was surprised to see her again. She laid out her business proposal, and I listened. I’m a woman of vision, and she is determined. I believe she can succeed.”

“You still haven’t told me what dance she’s learning that can entice men more than the waltz.”

Madam Rebecca’s eyes gleamed mischievously. “An eastern dance I learned some years ago.”

Thomas arched a brow. There had been a long-standing rumor that Rebecca had spent five years in the harem of a pasha, learning sensual dances involving sinuous movements of the hips and belly. Most believed it was merely a story to enhance her allure—no one had ever seen this dance.

“I’ll need to see her,” Thomas said, curiosity now fully piqued.

Rebecca gave a nod, rose gracefully from her chair, and opened the door. It seemed Miss Woodville had been waiting just outside.

“Agatha, please come in and meet Lord Radbourne.”

The young lady entered, and for a moment, it felt like the air had been snatched from Thomas’s lungs. An unexpected pulse of heat settled on the base of his cock, and he ruthlessly pushed aside the sensation. He slowly rose to his feet, his eyes never leaving her. She met his gaze, her chin lifting defiantly, but he didn’t miss the wild flutter of her pulse at her slender throat. Despite her attempt at poise, there was an unmistakable tension in her stance—nervousness she was trying to conceal. He studied her closely, noting her attempt to project confidence and the vulnerability in her eyes.

She lowered into a curtsy. “Lord Radbourne. A delight to make your acquaintance.”

Her accent wasn’t refined, betraying her unfamiliarity with the polished circles of the ton , and even in the way she held herself, there was a sense of someone unaccustomed to the world she was about to enter. It struck him that she was like a lamb surrounded by wolves, unaware of the dangers that lurked, waiting to devour her.

What madness has driven her to do this? The thought came unbidden, but he pushed it away swiftly. He didn’t allow himself to get involved with women anymore—not beyond the mutual satisfaction they shared. Emotional entanglements were a complication Thomas no longer tolerated; in his mind, curiosity was the gateway to such entanglements. He had no intention of delving beneath the surface.

If he accepted this, it would remain purely transactional. Nothing more. Or perhaps it simply flattered his vanity and self-conceit to tutor such a ravishing beauty. “I will meet with Miss Woodville alone.”

“Of course,” Rebecca replied with a knowing smile, dipping her head before leaving them. The door closed softly behind her.

Silence settled between them as they took each other’s measure. She was dressed in a light blue, diaphanous silk gown that flowed over her form, modest in its coverage yet undeniably seductive. The neckline dipped just enough to reveal the delicate curve of her throat and a tantalizing hint of cleavage. Her bare toes curled into the rich carpet, a small, telling gesture of discomfort.

By God, she was one of the most stunning women he had ever seen. And he had seen plenty. Her beauty wasn’t just in her flawless features but in the dichotomy between her boldness and the vulnerability she couldn’t fully hide. Her green eyes—wide with defiance and uncertainty, held his.

“Take down your hair,” he commanded softly, his voice betraying none of the effect her presence had on him.

Her eyes slightly narrowed, but she obeyed, lifting her hands to remove the few pins holding her hair in place. The heavy tresses tumbled free, cascading over her shoulders in dark, silken waves that spilled down her back, reaching her waist. The sight only heightened her allure, making her look untamed and impossibly more beautiful. Her skin was delicate and creamy pale, her lips lush and sweetly curved, and her slender figure graced with just the right amount of fullness in all the places that would make a man pause. That gaze was apprehensive and impossibly innocent—this woman did not belong here.

“You’re truly a virgin,” he stated, his tone flat though his pulse quickened.

Somehow, he had thought it a ruse, the allure she would use to tempt clients. Many ladies at Aphrodite pretended to be many things they were not, and the illusions often made their clients happy. Thomas knew of five different men who all claimed to deflower Lady Hettie.

He arched a brow. “Do you speak?”

Miss Woodville’s cheeks flushed, a soft pink rising on her face as her green eyes glittered beneath her lashes like emerald flames. “Yes.”

“You are the one who asked for someone to teach you?”

“Yes,” she replied, her voice steady despite the deepening flush on her skin.

“This entire business arrangement with Madam Rebecca was your idea?”

“Yes.”

He raked his fingers through his hair, expelling a sharp breath. “If you are being forced, now is the best time to tell me when we are alone. I will help—”

“No one is forcing me. I approached Madam Rebecca, my lord.”

Thomas walked to the mantel and poured himself a glass of whisky. He lifted the glass toward her. “Would you care for a drink?”

Miss Woodville winced, and she shook her head. “No, thank you, my lord. I do not drink.”

He took a healthy swallow of his whisky. “Madam Rebecca has a wealth of carnal knowledge. Why are you not relying on her expertise?”

The idea of teaching her himself was dangerous—too dangerous. Being so close to her, demonstrating how to kiss, how to arouse desire in a man, all while denying his own instincts, would be nothing short of torture. He understood his sexual limits, and this woman could push him well beyond them. It is bloody laughable . How could he be so certain when they had never touched? And that irritated Thomas.

“Staring at me does not provide an answer, Miss Woodville.”

She delicately cleared her throat. “Madam Rebecca is not from the ton . And neither am I, my lord. She explained all her clients here are men from high society. There is no lady from your society I could approach for lessons in such things.”

“What things are those?”

She tucked a wisp of hair behind her ear. “I ... how to speak better, walk gracefully, and clothe myself with elegance. Madam Rebecca explained that her clients seek women who seem … refined and exceptional. Women who speak and carry themselves like those in the ton but with a hint of allure far more provocative than ladies of quality. They don’t come here solely for … carnal indulgences. They come for the music, the conversation, and the company that feels both elevated and enticingly unrestrained. So, a gentleman from the ton would be far more appropriate to help me. I merely asked Rebecca to recommend someone skilled and honorable who wouldn’t exploit my inexperience. She believed you to be that man, sir.”

Her words were a challenge, almost daring him to refuse, but there was also a quiet plea in her gaze—one that unsettled Thomas. She knew what she was asking, yet she had no real idea of the world she was stepping into or the dangers she would face. He felt a pang of something unexpected—concern. It was fleeting, but there. She was far too innocent for what she sought, yet her determination was undeniable.

What had driven her to such desperation?

The question lingered, but he shoved it aside. He wasn’t here to understand her motives.

“Will you help me, my lord?” she asked softly.

“I am considering it.”

Her toes curled deeper into the carpet. “Do you ... do you need payment? I am happy to share the monies—”

“Do not insult me.”

Those lovely green eyes widened. “That was not my intention.”

Thomas frowned into his drink, feeling the duality of wariness and interest stirring inside him. He was never indecisive—his decisions were typically pragmatic, logical and unapologetic. Yet now, he questioned himself. Why the hesitation? He could teach herbutmust maintain a careful distance emotionally and physically.

Thomas stilled as the realization struck. Ah, there it is .

His initial reaction to her had been an unbidden surge of hunger before he suppressed it. Thomas had always enjoyed women, enough so that his friends teased him about being a connoisseur of female beauty, a rake and debaucher. But despite his appreciation for pleasure, he never allowed himself to be consumed by it. Once, he had been foolish enough to believe he loved a woman—a belief shattered when she betrayed him and hurt someone he held dear. It had been a brutal lesson that led him to maintain a particular distance from women ever since, no matter how indulgent his pursuits.

But this woman ... this powerful attraction ... even the woman he thought he had loved hadn’t stirred him so on a physical level. He slashed a glance toward Miss Woodville, and she instinctively stepped back, lifting a trembling hand to her throat. That small gesture made her seem delicate, more vulnerable even, and suddenly he felt like a damn beast. She didn’t deserve his coldness. Her beauty wasn’t her fault, nor was his reaction to it. A low sound of irritation escaped him as he downed the whisky in one long swallow, savoring the burn as it unraveled the cold knot of rage that always tightened within him when thoughts of Lady Eva and her betrayal resurfaced.

Thomas opened his mouth to dismiss Miss Woodville, but before he could speak, she rushed forward, her hand lifted in a silent plea as if sensing his intention.

“Please, sir ... please ,” she whispered, her voice strained, and her hands clenched at her sides.

He could almost smell the desperation on her, and his lips curled, hating how his heart wrenched at her distress. Thomas raked a hand through his hair. Could she truly understand what she was walking into? Or had her na?vety led her to deceive herself?

Agatha wished Madam Rebecca had better prepared her for the sheer presence of the Earl of Radbourne. He wasn’t at all what she had expected—in truth, she hadn’t even allowed herself to imagine him. To her, he had been a means to an end, a necessary guide on this path she had chosen. The earl seemed impeccably refined in his appearance, from the perfectly tailored jacket accentuating his broad shoulders and burgundy waistcoat to the gleaming polished boots. Yet beneath that elegance, there was something almost savagely carnal about him, a raw energy lurking behind his slanting cheekbones and sharp, direct stare. He was so large, masculine and beautiful.

His green eyes, cold and piercing, unsettled her. They seemed to strip her bare as though he could see straight through her, uncovering every secret and insecurity. Worse, that gaze stirred a sensation low in her belly, a flutter she didn’t understand—one that unnerved her.

“ He is a handsome gentleman with reputed sexual prowess ,” Madam Rebecca had said. “ I know him to be a man of honor who is also … very considerate of the fairer sex . That is crucial in the tutor who will help you. Do you agree, Miss Woodville? ”

“ Reputed? You are not certain he ... he ... is a good lover? ” Agatha had stammered, her blushes betraying her innocence.

The madam’s smile had been knowing and amused. “ Sadly, I have never had the pleasure .”

Their conversation had been brief and direct, leaving Agatha with little impression of the man before her. But now, standing in his presence, she was acutely aware of how disturbingly handsome he was. Even the jagged scar running from his brow down his cheek added to his allure, giving him an air of danger. It didn’t mar his beauty; it enhanced it, making him seem even more untouchable and, unfortunately, unapproachable.

“I want to understand what you want, Miss Woodville, so we have no misunderstanding. You want me to teach you how to seduce a lover? How to laugh and flirt with gentlemen. How to hide that you are not a lady of quality but could be whoever they wanted you to be in that moment.”

His voice was low, edged with a hint of skepticism.

“Yes.” Agatha swallowed, forcing herself to move a step closer. Her pulse raced, and she fought to steady her voice. “I want ... I want my lover to believe the nights spent with me were worth every penny he paid. Madam Rebecca cautioned me that while many men like the notion of taking a virgin to their bed, they do not want a lady to lay back stiffly and think of their duties. Apparently, this is a thing most men complain about their wives who ... were chaste. Rebecca agreed that the auction is a brilliant idea and will titillate many. However, I should balance my ... innocence with carnal skills. I agree wholeheartedly.”

His lips quirked slightly as if amused by her boldness. “And how much money do you want, hmm?”

Agatha inhaled deeply and lifted her chin. “Five thousand pounds.”

Lord Radbourne blinked, and then a slow, rich chuckle escaped him. He brought the glass of whisky to his lips, his gaze never leaving her. It was a long, insolent look—one that swept over her body as if appraising her like a possession. His stare was provoking, challenging, as though daring her to believe she could command such a sum.

For a moment, she felt exposed beneath his scrutiny, yet a fierce determination surged through her. Agatha would not be daunted by him or by her uncertainties. She had made her choice and now had to see it through.

“Let me see if I understand you perfectly, Miss Woodville,” he said, his voice low and almost mocking. “You want to auction your virgin pussy for a sum of five thousand pounds.”

Heat scorched Agatha’s cheeks. “Yes.” Rebecca had confirmed gentlemen of the ton gambled away higher sums in a single night.

He stared at her, still impassive. “I never knew there existed cunts so remarkable as to make a man pay such a price for a single night.”

“Ten nights,” she corrected quietly. “He can do whatever he wants, however he wants. Is that not a powerful inducement for such a reward?”

His brilliant green eyes darkened with disbelief. “Ah ... it is your sweet innocence that makes you offer something so foolish.”

“Ten nights is too long?” she asked, her voice faltering.

“For such a fortune, a man will feel entitled to do many unspeakablyobscene things to your body, things you cannot even begin to imagine in your innocence.” He paused, his gaze unwavering. “What are your boundaries?”

Her heart jerked in her chest. Boundaries? “I ... I don’t know what they are, my lord.”

His stare grew more intense, studying her like she was a puzzle he needed to solve. “Given your answer, I assume you have no experience with men?”

Agatha felt a sharp thump of panic. She swallowed, her throat tight. “No.”

“How little?” His voice was firm, but there was an edge to it now.

“I am a virgin, my lord.”

“One can be chaste but explore many other things.”

She hesitated before answering, “I’ve never even been kissed. My hand … a man held my hand once on a walk.”

He stilled. “ Fuck .”

The low, harsh curse sent another wave of heat across her face.

“Have you ever played with your pussy or touched it?”

Goodness . His gaze drifted below her belly, and understanding of what ‘pussy’ meant rushed through her. “Only to bathe.”

The earl turned sharply from her, striding toward the fireplace and leaning heavily on the mantel as he stared into the flames. Agatha bit her lip, the weight of the silence pressing down on her. She knew her success in this endeavor rested entirely on this man. Madam Rebecca had been certain that Lord Radbourne was the only gentleman who would respect her body and choices in a place like Aphrodite .

Desperation twisted in her gut, and for a moment, she wanted to plead with him to understand. But she could only wait, watching his tense, broad shoulders and hoping he wouldn’t send her away.