The Gentleman’s Seduction

Chapter 1

1

London, December 10, 1825

Martin Banks despised Christmas. He sat in his armchair at his club, Brooks’s, and listened to the men around him discussing the balls and winter festivities to be held over the next few weeks leading up to the holiday. He unfolded his copy of the Morning Post, trying to focus on the articles and block out the stories of the men around him as they shared memories of snow forts, figgy puddings, and quests for a Yule log.

Nonsense. Foolish, sentimental nonsense.

At the age of twenty-eight, he was past his reckless youth but not old enough to look back fondly upon it either. Men his age were celebrating the holiday with new brides or new children. But not Martin. He had taken careful steps to avoid marriage, which had been easy in his early twenties. After his mother died, his father had lost his will to live, and their lives had fallen into shambles.

By age twenty, he and his twin sister, Helen, were orphans and had moved to Bath to seek employment, him as a clerk and she as a governess. They’d both failed to achieve those respective goals. Fortunately, Helen had married, and her husband had given Martin financial support while he’d worked his way into the world of investments. Without much money at hand earlier on, the young ladies of Bath had ignored him despite his fair looks. Not that he cared. It hadn’t been until a few years later when he’d earned his fortune that women looked upon him with eyes toward marriage, and by then he’d lost his desire to marry.

I won’t make the same mistakes my father did. A man who doesn’t love anything can’t lose anything.

For the past eight years, he’d worked toward establishing himself as a smart investor. Unlike his father, he had far more luck and had amassed quite the fortune. Now ladies looked at him with open interest, which he happily ignored. He didn’t need a wife, but if he was honest with himself, he needed a new mistress. His bachelor residence was a bit lonely at times. He knew many men wouldn’t set their mistresses up in their own residences and would simply visit them. Martin had preferred the closeness of his companions much more than he cared for society’s rules. Since he did little entertaining it didn’t matter overmuch that his mistresses usually lived in his town house.

It had been a while since he’d had a mistress under his roof. Martin didn’t like that he was having fits of the blue devils more frequently. At times, the only cure was to visit his twin sister, Helen. Her two young children, his niece and nephew, gave him no end of joy.

“Banks, you devil, where have you been hiding these days?” A familiar jovial voice broke through Martin’s grim thoughts. A ruddy-cheeked man with a ready smile stared down at him over the top of his newspaper.

“Rodney!” Martin grinned and folded the paper and set it aside. “Join me, would you?” There were plenty of men Martin could claim as friends, but Rodney was closer to a brother.

“Just for a bit. I have to escort my wife to Bond Street. The children need presents, you know.” Rodney’s delight was evident by the warmth with which he said this and the way his eyes glinted with fatherly pride. A twinge of pain in Martin’s chest surprised him, but he buried the pain with another smile.

“I haven’t seen you in months,” Martin said. “Did you take the course of action I suggested on the annuities?”

Rodney nodded and took a seat close to Martin, glancing around the room at the other men.

“I certainly did. Paid off handsomely. Still is, in fact.” Rodney slapped his thigh and leaned back in his chair.

“Good. Glad to hear it.” Martin had known Rodney for eight years. When they’d first met, the man had been a bit of a gambler, but he’d outgrown the habit and settled down, prosperously.

“And you? Tell me, are you still seeing that opera singer? She was most enchanting.”

Martin chuckled. “Stella and I parted ways four months ago. I didn’t mind her upkeep, but we had both tired of each other. Once the spark is gone, it’s gone,” Martin said with a sigh. “Still, she is doing well in Paris, I hear.”

“Why don’t you come out with me tonight? I’ve got an invitation to meet with some gentlemen at the Argyll Rooms. They’re having a ball of sorts, and a few tables of faro and whist will be set up, I imagine.”

“I don’t know. Who are you meeting with?”

“Lord Pentwith, Mr. Smythebrooke, and a few others. Come, Martin, have a little fun this evening.”

Martin stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Perhaps I shall.” He could always leave early if the evening bored him.

“Splendid. Meet you at the Argyll Rooms at nine tonight.” Rodney rose from his chair and gave Martin a congenial thump on the back as he departed.

Folding his paper, Martin decided it was time to go. He waved at one of the reading room attendants, and the boy fetched his hat and coat. As he left the club, he inhaled the crisp, cold winter air and looked skyward at the purple skies and the setting sun, which softened the harshness of the city at twilight. In a few hours he would be at the Argyll Rooms, and he would likely have a chance to make the acquaintance of a few lovely ladies looking to secure a protector and benefactor. It was a role he would be happy to fill for an enterprising young beauty who might catch his eye.

By the time he reached his residence on Park Lane, he was eagerly looking forward to meeting up with Rodney again. The townhouse had cost him thirty-three thousand pounds, but he had embellished it with renovations and furnishings for another hundred thousand pounds, so now it was quite an attractive home. Any woman he met tonight would be quite enthusiastic to share it with him for a time. The front door opened as he carefully wiped his boots on the boot scraper to rid them of the ice from the pavements.

“Welcome home, sir.” Mr. Harris, his butler, collected his hat and coat, passing them to the first footman.

“Evening, Harris. Please notify Mrs. Wilson I shall be out tonight and won’t need supper.”

“Of course, sir. Should I have your coach ready at a certain time?”

“Half past eight would be sufficient.” He glanced about the Palladian-style home with its grand white marble staircase, envisioning a beautiful young lady ascending the stairs, ready to be taken to his bed.

Damn, it had been too bloody long since he had a woman around his home. It would be good to have a new mistress, someone to warm his bed and keep him company in the evenings over a glass of sherry. He had missed that, certainly. Martin climbed the stairs to the primary floor and entered his chambers. His valet, Will Byrd, was tending to the collection of snuffboxes in a glass case. Martin never used snuff, but he liked to collect the beautifully painted boxes. There was something about the tiny painted porcelain scenes that fascinated and amazed him.

“Evening, Byrd,” he greeted. His valet nodded and murmured a polite reply.

“I’ll be going out tonight. Draw me a bath and set out evening clothes suitable for the Argyll Rooms.”

“Yes, sir. Oh, a letter came for you earlier this evening, sir.” Byrd passed him a letter, which he took. He plucked a silver letter opener from his escritoire and sliced the wax seal open. He recognized his sister’s handwriting at once.

Martin,

I hope this letter finds you well. The children have been begging for news about when you will visit again. Four months is far too long to go without seeing you. Gareth and I thought it would be lovely if you came to visit over Christmas. I know you don’t like the holidays, but it would delight the children and me too if you came to stay with us. Please say you’ll consider it.

Yours,

Helen

“Oh, Helen.” He folded the letter and set it down on his desk. Despite his vow to never love anyone or anything, Helen was the one exception. She was his twin, someone he’d shared their mother’s womb with. That was an unbreakable bond. He had his friends, like Rodney, and acquaintances. But if those friendships were stolen tomorrow, it would not break him, not like losing someone he loved like Helen, Gareth or the children.

“Very well. You want me home for Christmas, then I will come home.” No doubt she had plans to introduce him to more simpering young ladies from Bath, but he didn’t want his sister to play matchmaker. He would not let the holidays melt the ice around his heart.

Nothing could do that.