The Decadent Duke by Virginia Henley Page A

dolly-knockers, old man.”
    Old man! That’s what Georgina called me. John got to his feet abruptly. “I think I’ll call it a day. Good night, Francis.”
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As John Russell disrobed, he was gripped by a cold anger. Because they had lost both their parents by the time John was three, the brothers had formed a special bond of unusual strength.
    Francis led the promiscuous life of a bachelor, and John had never condemned him for the numerous mistresses he kept. Each one seemed to fulfill a different need in his brother, and John had always excused him for his sexual excesses.
    When Francis returned from his grand tour, he’d traveled from Paris with Lord and Lady Maynard and lived in a ménage a trois with the couple for many years. The older woman had a notorious past, although she was well educated.
    Nancy Maynard’s appeal was more than physical. She taught him to appreciate literature and poetry, and as a result Francis can recite Ovid by heart. The thought of his brother reciting Ovid to Georgina Gordon only fueled John’s anger.
    Naked, he paced across to the window and gazed with unseeing eyes into the dark night. Why the devil does Francis’s prurient interest in Georgina Gordon infuriate me? The young woman means absolutely nothing to me. In spite of what he told himself, the fact remained that he was incensed over his brother’s attempted wager to bed the lady. I would be offended no matter who the female was, if she were young and innocent. An inner voice nagged: Are you sure, old man?
    Francis acknowledges his bastards without qualm. As well as one with Lizzie Melbourne, he has two with Mrs. Marianna Palmer, his current mistress, who entertains him when he is in London.
    Illegitimate children are commonplace with the beau monde , from the Prince of Wales down to those of the lowest noble rank. It’s almost considered fashionable, for Christ’s sake. I have always turned a blind eye to my brother’s peccadilloes. Why do I suddenly find it bloody reprehensible?
    John knew the answer. Lady Georgina Gordon. The little beauty might be high-spirited and saucy in the extreme, but she was a young innocent girl who deserved to be protected from the debauchery of an older man who was a premier duke of the realm. There was nothing noble about his brother’s intentions, and tomorrow he would tell him so.
    A movement outside caught John’s attention. A nerve ticked in his jaw as he watched Francis leave the house and follow a path that would take him to the cottage of Molly Hill. His vivid imagination pictured Francis, complete with riding crop, enjoying a lusty sexual gallop with his horse-faced harridan. Tallyho!
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That night, John’s sleep was fitful to say the least, but finally after tossing and turning for hours, he drifted into a dream. He was alone, riding through the forest on a warm summer day. He felt free and alive and amazingly tranquil. Then, suddenly, he heard a cry of distress and, thinking it was an animal caught in a trap, he began a search to track it down. The hunt took him deeper into the forest, where the trees grew closer together, making it difficult for his horse. He was relieved when a clearing opened up before him, but his relief was short-lived.
    The cries of distress were not from an animal; they were from a young girl who was being ravished by a man. She was fighting him wildly, but was no match for the powerful male. In a flash, John dismounted, grabbed the man, and smashed him in the jaw. To his horror he saw that the raptor was his brother, Francis, and in cold anger, he gave him a brutal thrashing.
    When his brother fled, he turned to the young girl, and his heart constricted as he recognized Lady Georgina Gordon. He quickly stripped off his shirt and covered the naked beauty.
    Georgina flung the shirt away. “Go to the devil, old man!’’
    John stared, mesmerized by her slim legs, tiny waist, and lush breasts.