Happy Wednesday folks.
This week has rushed by so far, so it's nice to slow down and think ooh, now how shall I tease you all today?
I thought I'd go back to Regency times, and show the (unedited) beginning of Seducing the Regency Dom, due to be published later this month by Evernight Publishing.
Tony needs a wife and despairs of finding someone who will suit him...
London, England 1818
"'Tis all well and good for you Stephen." Anthony Provost, The Earl of Sentern grumbled to his long time friend and confidant as they sat side by side in Whites. "You have a wife, who adores you."
Stephen Brasher nodded. "And I adore Jane," Stephen said. His eyes took on a glazed look. Tony sighed.
The only other occupant of the room apart from them—an elderly baron—snoozed under a copy of The Times and his snores ruffled the sheets. Tony raised one eyebrow, and grimaced. He could see himself like Stallinborough if he didn't get his life sorted out.
"Stop interrupting," Tony said in a mock severe way to Stephen. "And take the sappy look from your face. It's a disgrace. You two lovebirds are an anomaly. Now, to continue. You have your wife, your heir and your spare. What do I have? Nothing. Except a need to wed, and do all the necessary to keep Sentern Court out of the hands of my ignoramus of a cousin. Mama is parading a series of insipid so-called beauties in front of me at every opportunity. Lord, Steve, if they saw a man without his waistcoat, they'd run and hide. A cock? Doesn't bear thinking about. My playroom? Well." He shrugged. "Not a cat in hells chance I'd say. Or a deb in chains."
Stephen patted him on the shoulder and stood up. "Sadly I think I must agree. Jane and I grew up together, and explored what we like together. It's not something you can bring up in polite conversation easily, is it? By the way, my dear, I have a penchant for bondage and wax play. Oh and do you know just how creative I can be with a flogger?"
That was the problem, Tony thought glumly, as Stephen departed to return to his wife and left Tony to listen to the snores and snorts of Stallinborough by himself. If—when—he married he wanted to be faithful. It didn't matter that a mistress was de rigeuer and expected of men of the Ton. He intended to be like Stephen and buck the trend. Even if, god forbid, he had to temper his dominant tendencies. If he could.
With a sigh loud enough to wake the devil—but not it seemed Stallinborough who slumbered on—Tony left the club and walked briskly along Piccadilly. His mind was busy, as he thought of the numerous young ladies his mama had found necessary to introduce him too over the past few weeks. It seemed she thought that at three and thirty he needed to curb his excesses and settle down. Even though she had delicately mentioned that she understood the needs of gentlemen lay outside of the marital bed, and any good wife would understand the same.
I don't want a good wife, or a compliant one. I want a bad wife, and a submissive one. The thought
made him grin.
I hope this has whetted your interest.
Love R x
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