My Notorious Rogue, Dalliance and Dukes, Book 2 (Ebook)

Hunter Burrell rubbed a hand over his jaw, forcing his eyes to remain open as he made his way across Hyde Park in the early hours of the morning.
The cloying fragrance of his mistress's rose perfume clung to his clothing, and he scrunched up his nose at the reminder of his previous night. It had been less than entertaining. In fact, it had been downright awkward.
Mayhap it was time that he let Hester find a new benefactor who enjoyed her company in bed; he'd undoubtedly taken his fill.
The sight of a magnificent black gelding galloping through the park in the early morning hour pulled him out of his musings, and for several heartbeats, he watched, enthralled by the sight of the rider.
The lad knew how to ride well, and as for the horse—what a magnificent beast.
Intrigued, Hunter kicked his mount into a canter and went after the fellow, determined to find out who it was, if only to save him from his bored thoughts. It took him several minutes to catch up to the rider, who did not seem inclined to slow his progress.
Even if riding any quicker than a trot in the park was frowned upon, did the lad not know the rules?
At length, the unknown rider pulled his horse to a stop, turning it about as if to do it all again. The smile on the lad's face made Hunter catch his breath, and he frowned, knowing he did not navigate the windward passage like other gentlemen of his acquaintance.
"You there, if you please. I wish to have a word," he called as he approached.
The young man's eyes met his, and Hunter fought to control the simmering heat that knotted in his stomach, pulling his horse to a stop before the young man.
What the hell was wrong with him?
"Good morning," he said, tipping his hat. "I saw you riding and couldn't help but admire your horse. You would not be interested in selling? He would make a great asset to my stables."
The young man looked over his horse with more interest than he possibly warranted since he was a rental from the mews behind his mistress's townhouse in Cheapside.
"Lord Howard, good morning," a light but very forward feminine voice stated, matter-of-factly. The rider patted the horse's neck, and for the first time, Hunter noted what the rider was wearing.
Breeches, a shirt, and coat, male clothing… And yet, the rider's voice was most certainly not male. The supposed lad's hair was swept up into a riding cap, pulled low over the eyes to give a covert appearance, but up close, he could see a few long strands had escaped and sat against her shoulders.
Hunter shut his mouth with a snap. What the blazes was going on here?
"I'm afraid that if you wish to purchase Magic, you'll have to speak to Beauford. He's the rightful owner, which reminds me, I should be on my way to return his prized mount to the stables."
"Miss Wright?" he fumbled, not believing the Spinster of Society, as people termed her, was before him, looking far too delectable than she ever had in a ballroom. "Beauford doesn't know you have his horse out at this hour?" Hunter asked, wanting to prolong the conversation, if only to enjoy ogling her figure for several more minutes.
Jesus, her breasts in that shirt!
Miss Dorothy Wright was a woman men steered clear of due to her no-nonsense outlook on life and determination to remain single for the remainder of it.
"No, he does not," she said, tipping her chin up defiantly. "Are you going to tell him, my lord? Run off and whisper to the duke all the bad things I'm doing by riding his horse without his knowledge." She wagged her whip near his face, and he swiped it away. Unfortunately, the action knocked the whip out of her hand and it tumbled to the ground, landing at the horse's feet.
"Blast," she swore, jumping down from the saddle before he could offer to pick it up himself.
The moment she bent over—her sweet, pert ass his to view through her buckskin breeches—Hunter lost all coherent thought. He ought to look away, force his gaze elsewhere, but he could not. He'd never seen a woman in men's clothing before, and there was something uniquely erotic about it he liked.
Very much…
She was all womanly curves and long legs, but her shirt and jacket accentuated her breasts, which, having viewed her in empire gowns at previous events, he knew would be a lovely handful.
She turned and caught him ogling her ass, and the sting of the whip on his knee made him yelp. "Hey, I believe that was uncalled for, Miss Wright."
"And your attention focused on my bottom was also." She climbed back up on her horse without the use of a step and gave Hunter another good view of her derrière.
His hands flexed on the reins, and he wondered why the spinster was much more alluring today than she had ever been before. Perhaps it was the fact she was wearing very little to hide her figure and left nothing for his wild and wanton imagination.
"Why are you out so early?" he inquired, watching as her mouth pursed into a displeased line at his question.
"Why are you out so early, my lord… Oh, wait, I know why you are out and about so early, much like the other gentleman in the park."
"And why is that?" he asked, unsure he truly wanted to hear her answer.
She waved that damn whip about again, pointing out all the gentleman scuttling back through the park to their Mayfair homes. "Because you've been out whoring. Do you not have a lover named Miss Hester?" she taunted, a knowing smirk on her face he had the urge to kiss away. "Just to clarify, I have not been whoring all night. I merely wanted an early ride in the park. Alone."
"No, I suppose you would not have been whoring your wares," he agreed, watching her. "I heard Lord Ponsonby is to marry Lady Myers," he said, wanting to strike at her in any way he could since she was too aware of his life and reputation for his liking. "Are you in the park this morning because you heard the news and wished to clear your mind and heal your heart?"
"Lord Ponsonby is to marry?"
Miss Wright's words quieted in shock, and Hunter knew that until this moment, she had been unaware, and he had said too much.
"My apologies, Miss Wright. With Lord Ponsonby being your friend, I thought you would have heard already. It is all everyone was talking about at White’s last evening."
Shamefully because he had been amused that Miss Wright, a woman who despised most men, seemed to have enjoyed Ponsonby's company. Why, Hunter could never make out. The little prancing dandy was not to his liking in any respect, and something about the man made him think that had he offered to Miss Wright, she would have broken him within the first week.
She needed a man in her bed, not a boy.