An Earl’s Bet (Rent A Rake #2)

Chapter 1

Regret combined with too much wine turned Earnest into a goddamn fool.

As soon as dinner was finished, he stepped outside for some fresh air because the last place he wanted to be was at Lord Horden’s estate near Doncaster.

Several months ago, Horden had fucked Earnest’s mouth in the most beautiful fashion, then thrown him out of his London townhouse, so the last place Earnest wanted to be was at his bloody house.

But Earnest was here to support his friend Sebastian, who had just won a glorious wager against Prinny, for Christ’s sake.

Part of the problem was that Earnest didn’t appreciate the different parts of his life colliding like this.

He’d much rather keep his childhood friends away from the foibles of the peerage, who were only good for two things; mocking and fucking.

Lewd Lord Lloyd Lawd could only get hard

When a Lady blew wind on his lard

He needed the breeze before he could tup

And plenty were willing to provide that sup

Earnest had been paid well for that piece of satire, written under a pen name; Dickson Hurquim.

Satire made more money than serious poetry, and it was sensible to keep it separate from the literary poetry that he’d been knighted for nearly a decade ago.

It was pitiful how it took one book of poetry dedicated to England’s great explorers to gain a knighthood.

Royal egos were easy to stroke, and manly men were easy to write swathes of glorification and adoration about.

Almost no one had noticed the subtext he’d thrown in around how often those men were committed bachelors.

“What are you doing here?” Speaking of the peerage ... Lord Horden sneered at Earnest without a hint of warmth in his dark brown eyes; just like last time they’d been in the same room.

“Doncaster, or dinner at your house?” Earnest was deliberately being obtuse to see if Horden would react.

He didn’t. Sitting through an entire dinner with Lord Horden looking so commanding and deliciously uptight with his navy-blue dinner jacket perfectly complementing Horden’s dark skin meant that all Earnest could remember was how incredible it had been to see Lord Horden undone.

The way his mouth softened and stopped being so severe when he came, and how those little curls at his temple tightened as they became damp with sweat.

The taste of his full lips as they’d kissed, and even better, the way Horden’s cock filled Earnest’s mouth.

God, the memories. But Lord Horden hadn’t chosen him, leaving Earnest with no option tonight but to get stupidly drunk and make outrageous comments.

“Both. Either. Explain your presence.”

“I am friends with Mr Wildgoose and he invited me to dinner to celebrate his triumph.”

“Who?”

“He drove the zebras at the St Leger meeting today.” Earnest’s friend had done a wonderful job, taking a ridiculous wager and making it look easy.

“You know the Duke of Edenwick’s stable master? How?”

Earnest rolled his eyes. “We knew each other as children.”

“But how?”

“Bloody hell, Horden. Take the hint it’s none of your business. You made my life none of your business when you threw me out.”

“You were the one who decided to be dramatic and camp on my front lawn. Couldn’t you see how embarrassing that was for me?”

“For you? You fucked me then threw me out. I thought you ... liked me.” Fuck. He was too drunk for this conversation if he was admitting stuff like that out loud. He swept his hand through his hair, enjoying the way Horden’s dark eyes narrowed and fixed on the motion of his hands.

“I do like you. Everyone likes you.” Only Lord Horden could make that sound like an insult.

“And yet, here we are. Having a whispered argument on a soddy balcony, while my friend’s achievements are being celebrated at dinner. I should be with him.”

“I don’t understand how you knew each other as children.”

Earnest flapped his hands. “I’m not going to tell you the whole sordid tale.”

“Why not?” It was just like an Earl to demand to know all the sorry details of Earnest’s pathetic life.

“You wouldn’t understand, my Lord.” He infused the title with a sneer. “You grew up with a silver spoon in your life. Everyone in your life exists to benefit you.”

Lord Horden shrank away and his whisper became even quieter. “That wasn’t always true.”

“Bollocks. You were born as a Lord with several large estates.” Earnest ignored the flutter of empathy in his gut at Lord Horden’s hurt whisper.

Instead, he dropped his gaze to Lord Horden’s groin for a second—a deliberate tease—and heat rushed through him at the memory of sucking Lord Horden’s impressive cock.

‘I’ve never sucked one so big,’ he’d said like a fool because he never knew when to keep his damned mouth shut.

He may have composed several terrible poems dedicated to Horden’s length and breadth inspired by the way Lord Horden had blushed so prettily after Earnest’s blurted comment that made Earnest lose his mind a little more.

“Aren’t you a Baron, Sir Earnest Pashley? We aren’t that different.”

“No. I am not. I earned my knighthood all on my own.”

“You did?”

Earnest was hardly going to admit to Lord bloody Horden that he’d grown up in the Duke Street Orphanage with Sebastian, and that Sebastian, Adam and Nobbie had taken him under their wings and become his friends, his family, when no one else wanted him.

As if a Lord with everything could possibly understand that.

With that in mind, there was only one logical choice.

He ran away from Lord Horden before he could make the situation worse by talking too much.

It was, surely, better to bolt than suffer Horden’s pity.

At least a quarter hour later, although it could easily have been shorter or longer as time was immaterial when he was running away from hurt, he cursed his instinct for self-preservation because now he was wandering the hallways of this, frankly, stupidly large house wondering if he shouldn’t have been more honest with Lord Horden.

Self-preservation? Hardly. Earnest may as well admit it to himself.

He was lost. He couldn’t talk to anyone even if he’d wanted to, and what good had talking done last time anyway?

His mouth got him into more trouble than it ever helped him avoid.

He threw open a random door, unsure of what to expect, but hopefully he’d find somewhere comfortable to curl up and sleep off the evening’s excess.

He could get un-lost tomorrow. The room had a sumptuous bed but was otherwise sparsely furnished.

It must be a spare room, since there were no personal items anywhere on display, so he threw off his clothes and climbed under the covers.

He let out a moan as he lay down. The linen sheets were so soft and decadent, making the bed the most comfortable and luxurious one he’d ever lain in. He tucked the covers around him, hugged the pillow, and drifted off into a drunken stupor.

A little touch on his cheek surprised him, and he woke enough to glance around. The room was dark bar one feeble candle sending hopelessly pathetic shards of light around it. Earnest was a little woozy; it must be the drink still working its way through his system. Maybe he’d imagined the caress.

“Why can’t I resist you?” Now Earnest knew he was dreaming, because in the real world, Lord Horden would never say such a thing.

He kept his eyes closed and pretended he didn’t hear it, wishing it were true, but knowing that it must be his own brain being unhelpful.

Besides, he couldn’t deal with Horden throwing him out again.

People didn’t throw him out. Not anymore.

He was always the one who left first, often with a dramatic flounce to make his point, even when he didn’t have a point.

“What are you doing in my bed?” Lord Horden asked. No such luck. Apparently he wasn’t dreaming.

“Your bed?” Earnest gulped. Didn’t every bed in this house technically belong to Horden?

“Yes. I went back to dinner to be a good host and when I came to bed, you were fast asleep in here. Did you do it on purpose?”

Earnest scrunched up his face. “This is your bed? As in the actual one you sleep in when you are here?” Bollocks and damnation.

Of all the beds in this monstrosity of a house, and he’d accidentally fall asleep in Horden’s bed?

There had been nothing in the room to indicate it was Horden’s room, like a big sign.

‘Warning. Danger ahead.’ What were the odds?

Nobbie would know. He understood maths in the same way Earnest liked to play with words.

“Yes. We have established that.”

“I didn’t know.” He didn’t want to admit that he’d been lost. “I drank too much at dinner and I thought it was my bed. All the rooms in this house look the same to me.” Better to be thought charmingly annoying than useless.

“Oh Earnest. What am I to do with you?”

“Fuck me and kick me out again?” He was pathetic because he actually wanted that; well the fucking part at least. Being kicked out was never good which is why he went to such lengths to avoid it.

Life had taught him that people used him for fun but didn’t want to keep him.

It was always better to focus on this moment—the enjoyable part—then leave before anyone had the chance to dismiss him.

He may as well ask for what he really wanted and enjoy the opportunity that his own disastrous inability to know where he was had provided. “Impale me with that giant cock of yours like the greedy whore that I am.”

Lord Horden’s eyes widened, and he glanced around the room. “How can you say such things?”