Courting Temptation
The House of Devon
Amanda Mariel
Contents
Books by Amanda Mariel
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Excerpt
Chapter 1
About Amanda Mariel
Afterword
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Copyright © 2020 Amanda Mariel
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the express written permission of the publisher.
Published by Brook Ridge Press
Books by Amanda Mariel
Ladies and Scoundrels series
Scandalous Endeavors
Scandalous Intentions
Scandalous Redemption
Scandalous Wallflower
Scandalous Liaison
Fabled Love Series
Enchanted by the Earl
Captivated by the Captain
Enticed by Lady Elianna
Delighted by the Duke
Lady Archer’s Creed series
**Amanda Mariel writing with Christina McKnight**
Theodora
Georgina
Adeline
Josephine
Scandal Meets Love series
Love Only Me
Find Me Love
If it’s Love
Odd’s of Love
Believe in Love
Chance of Love
Love and Holly
Love and Mistletoe
A Rogue’s Kiss Series
Her Perfect Rogue
His Perfect Hellion
Coming next to the A Rogue’s Kiss series
Her Perfect Scoundrel
Standalone titles
One Moonlit Tryst
One Enchanting Kiss
Christmas in the Duke’s Embrace
One Wicked Christmas
Dancing with Serendipity
A Lyon in Her Bed (The Lyon’s Den connected world)
Courting Temptation (House of Devon connected world)
Mists of Babylon series
Love’s Legacy
One Wanton Wager
Forever in Your Arms
Wicked Earls’ Club
**Titles by Amanda Mariel**
Earl of Grayson
Earl of Edgemore
Coming next to the Wicked Earls’ Club series
Earl of Persuasion
Fated for a Rogue
A Wallflower’s Folly
Coming next to the Fated for a Rogue series
One Fateful May Day
Fate Gave Me a Duke
Connected by a Kiss
**These are designed so they can standalone**
How to Kiss a Rogue (Amanda Mariel)
A Kiss at Christmastide (Christina McKnight)
A Wallflower’s Christmas Kiss (Dawn Brower)
Stealing a Rogue’s Kiss (Amanda Mariel)
A Gypsy’s Christmas kiss (Dawn Brower)
A Duke’s Christmas Kiss (Tammy Andresen)
Box sets and anthologies
Visit www.amandamariel.com to see Amanda’s current offerings.
Chapter 1
Yorkshire England, 1818
The hot summer sun beat down on Miss Tabetha Barkley as she made her way down the Duke of Devon’s crushed stone drive. The sun had just crested the horizon when she had set out on her errand. It now hung high above. She used the corner of her thin shawl to wipe the sweat away from her brow. The combination of heat and nerves was stifling.
She slowed her pace as she approached the circle in the drive that surrounded a grand fountain so large it was more like a pond. Her gaze moved to the house’s facade. Four stories of embellished stone and turrets rose up before her. Large windows trimmed with sculpted stone hung proudly across each floor on the front of the home.
Tabby inhaled a slow breath. It was all so elegant… so stately. But then, what had she expected? Hartland Abbey was home to a duke, after all. Of course, it would be stately and all together imposing. Certainly in the eyes of a village miss, which Tabby was.
She did not belong here. What if the duchess saw her boldness as an insult and refused to see her? What if the butler didn’t even allow her through the front door? Tabby would starve, or worse. She shook her head. Now was not the time to think about the worse. She needed to be positive and present her best self.
God willing, it would be enough.
Tabetha paused at the porch, her heart racing. Two stone staircases led up to the landing, one jutting off in each direction to meet the drive. Large stone urns of flowers decorated the balustrades. The place was fit for royalty, to be sure. Tabby sighed.
Heaven knew she did not belong here. Perhaps she should turn back now, before it was too late. Before she made a complete cake of herself.
When you take away the money and titles, we are all the same. Remember your place, but never think of yourself as less. Mother’s words floated through her mind, and Tabby lifted her chin. She could do this.
She must, for she had no other choice.
Tabby took a hesitant step, then another, and another until she reached the porch landing. Drawing in one last breath, she reached for the ornate brass door knocker. When the oak door opened, she exhaled.
A footman dressed in golden colored breeches and a navy tailcoat appraised her, then stepped aside, allowing her entrance.
Tabby curtsied, then turned her attention from the arresting footman to the sever looking butler. An older man with warm hazel eyes that betrayed his serious expression.
Tabby swallowed past the nervous lump in her throat. “I have come to call on the Duchess of Devon.” She averted her gaze to the double doors at the far end of the entrance hall. A mistake, for the imposing sight of them, set her nerves on edge all over again.
“Your name, if you please.” The butler narrowed his eyes, studying Tabby.
“Miss Tabetha Barkley.” Her heart raced as the seconds ticked by. If he refused her, she would have nowhere else to turn.
At last, the butler turned back to the footman. “Show Miss Barkley to the drawing-room while I see if the duchess is home to callers.”
The footman nodded, then turned to Tabby. “This way, Miss.”
Her heart fluttered in the oddest way when their gazes met. The man was strikingly handsome with sandy brown hair and deep green eyes. She could not help but notice his height and muscular build as she followed him across the marble floor of the entrance hall.
She’d wager he caused quite a stir among the women of the house. How could he not, being as handsome as he was?
The doors opened, and she followed him through into the main house. More opulence greeted her as they traversed a carpeted hall. The walls were the same dark blue of the footman’s tailcoat and white and gold gilded trim, and moldings added an elegant feel.
She glanced out one of the many large windows they passed to the expanse of green lawn surrounding the mansion. Tabby could not help but think how marvelous it must be to live in such a grand house.
The cottage she had shared with her mother would not even fill the entrance hall, and their shabby furniture could never compare to the padded high-back gold and blue velve
t chairs she now strolled past.
The footman stopped at the door, opened it, and stepped aside. “Make yourself comfortable, Miss Barkley.”
Tabby strolled past him, entering the room, then pivoted back. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure.” He smiled.
She smiled back, her heart somersaulting. The man was too good looking by far. Before she could say anything else, he closed the door, leaving her alone. Tabby turned, her breath catching at the opulence surrounding her.
There was no doubt in Tabby’s mind that she did not belong here. Still, she had no choice other than to stay her course. She inhaled a slow breath, then blew it out slowly as she willed her nerves to calm.
Gaining entrance had been her first hurdle. She had doubted her ability to do so, and yet, here she stood. The duchess would receive her. Her Grace would help her. Tabby had to believe the duchess would. Mother had assured her the Devon’s were the caring sort.
She trailed her gaze around the room, looking for a good place to wait. A pale green fainting couch near a tall window framed in white and pale green velvet caught her attention. Tabby strolled across the plush white carpeting, then sat on the brocade couch.
As she waited for the duchess, she took in the rest of the room from the marble fireplace to the vases of fragrant flowers strewn about on the mahogany tables, white columns, and mantle. If not for her station in life, Tabby would be comfortable in such a room.
Perhaps she was too comfortable now. Maybe she should not be sitting on the duchess’s beautiful furniture. Her walk had left her dress dusty, and Tabby would hate to offend the duchess or cause more work for her maids.
She stood and smoothed her skirts, then turned to the sofa to dust the cushion she’d been sitting on. No dirt clung to it, but Tabby still felt the need to brush her hand across the cream and pale green fabric.
Satisfied with the results, she straightened, then turned toward the door just as it swung open. Her heartbeat ticked up as she dropped into a deep curtsey. The duchess was regal beyond Tabby’s imaginings.
She seemed to glide into the drawing-room, her footfalls silent and the yellow silk skirt she wore trailing behind her. Her shiny black hair was elegantly styled, and her blue eyes striking in their curious assessment of Tabby.
The duchess could pass for royalty, and here Tabby was looking every bit the village girl she was. It was a wonder the duchess did not dismiss her straight away. Instead, she motioned for Tabby to join her.
“Do sit.” The duchess moved to a gold brocade armchair, then indicated the chair across from her.
Tabby gave a small smile. “Thank you.” She moved to take the chair, her insides churning with doubt.
“Am I correct in saying that you are Miss Barkley, my midwife’s daughter?” The duchess asked, one brow arched curiously.
“Yes.” Tabby wriggled under the regal woman’s scrutiny. “My mother told me you are a kind woman.”
“I am fond of her, as well.” Her Grace smiled. “Though I confess to being rather surprised at your visit.” She angled her head slightly, studying, apprising. “Why have you come?”
Tabby swallowed hard. “Forgive my insolence in calling on you. I am well aware of our difference in station.”
Her Grace waved a dismissive hand. “Rubbish.”
Tabby gave a faint smile, her anxiety dissipating in small measures. “I never would have come if it were not of the utmost importance.”
The duchess pressed her lips into a tight line, her eyes narrowing.
Tabby rushed to continue. “My mother passed away six months ago.”
“Oh, dear.” Her Grace reached for Tabby’s hand and gave a small squeeze. “I am terribly sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you,” Tabby said. She bit her lower lip as she considered how to proceed. The last thing she wished to do was blurt out her troubles, but she scarcely saw any other way. “There is more.”
The duchess’s blue gaze held warmth as she nodded. “Out with it then,” she said, her tone encouraging and soft.
“I cannot follow in Mother’s footfalls. She tried to teach me her trade, but in the end, I gave up. I do not have the stomach for midwifery. Neither was mother able to leave me with much in the way of funds.” Tabby closed her eyes to gather courage. “I need employment.”
“Then you have come to apply for a position?” The duchess asked.
Tabby nodded. “Yes. I have no formal skills to recommend me and no prior work history. But I assure you I am adept in housework and laundry.”
The duchess smiled and gave a small nod. “I am certain you are.”
“Forgive me.” Tabby sighed. “I do not know where else to go. I have applied to every noble house running adverts, but each has turned me away because of my lack of experience. I am days from starvation and have no coal—”
“Say no more.” The duchess sliced her hand through the space between them, ending the conversation. She stood and strode toward the parlor door.
Tabby’s heart sunk as she watched the duchess traverse the room. She would not help Tabby.
Her heart pounded as panic welled inside her. What was she to do now?
Chapter 2
“Thomas,” the duchess called out as she pushed the door open.
Tabby’s eyes rounded as the handsome footman entered the parlor. Was the duchess about to have her thrown out? Panic gripped her, sending her pulse into a wild rhythm as she stood. “I’ll take my leave,” she said, her voice shaking in betrayal of her nerves. “There is no need to have me removed.”
“What? Removed?” Her Grace pivoted back to face Tabby, “Why ever would you think that? I am not having you tossed out.”
“You’re not?” Tabby asked, her voice low.
“Of course not.” The duchess shook her head. “I am giving you a position.”
“You are?” Tabby’s heart thrilled, a small smile pulling at her lips. “I mean,” she dipped into a curtsy, “Thank you, Your Grace.”
The duchess nodded, then pivoted back to the footman. “Thomas, take Miss Barkley to Mrs. Miller. Instruct her to give Miss Barkley a position in the household.”
“Yes, Your Grace,” the footman replied, then turned his gaze to Tabby. “Right this way.”
An odd warmth spread through Tabby when he turned his gaze on her. She forced her feet to move, and in another heartbeat, she followed the footman, Thomas, from the parlor. When they were out of the duchess’s hearing, the footman stilled, allowing Tabby to catch up to him.
He started walking again with her at his side. “You will find Hartland Abbey a pleasant place to work,” he said.
“I am certain of it, Mr.?” Tabby arched a questioning brow.
“Call me, Thomas, everyone does.” He grinned.
Tabby returned the smile. “Very well, Thomas.” Tabby’s cheeks warmed as they continued down the corridor to the stairs. “And you may call me Tabby.”
“Is that short for something? A nickname?”
She nodded. “Tabetha.”
He slid his gaze toward her. “You look like a Tabetha.”
She averted her gaze as she wondered at his comment. What did a Tabetha look like in his mind? Was it a compliment, or did he find the name distasteful? Her stomach fluttered as she turned her gaze back to him. Why was her body behaving so strongly, and why did she care what he thought of her?
Curiosity, she supposed. After all, she was new here and didn’t know a single person employed by the Devon’s. Naturally, she would wonder about them—about him.
It was the same with every servant they passed. Each eyed her with curiosity as they made their way below stairs. The attention unsettled her, but she supposed it was natural. She was a new face in the residence, after all.
Hopefully, in time, they would come to accept her. Perhaps she would even make friends here. Tabby would very much like to fit in. Regardless, she would work hard and always be grateful to the duchess for giving her a chance.
“You wi
ll find Mrs. Miller to be a likable sort,” Thomas said. He led her through the bustling kitchen and down a poorly lit hallway. “She is the housekeeper and in charge of the female servants.”
“I look forward to making her acquaintance,” Tabby said, mustering more courage than she felt. Inside, she was quaking. The housekeeper might dislike her. She may punish her for having the audacity to call on the duchess for a position rather than waiting for one to come available and applying for it as she should.
Tabby had usurped the housekeeper’s authority and would not blame Mrs. Miller if she didn’t look kindly on her as a result. She had considered such a situation from the start, but she’d had no other choice. The Duke of Devon wasn’t advertising for servants, but Tabby needed an income now. She could not wait for an appropriate time.
Even if she could, the housekeeper would likely turn her away as all the previous ones had. It was a chance Tabby could not afford to take. She’d not beat herself up for it now. Turning to the duchess for help had been her choice, and she would stand by it, come what may.
Thomas smiled as he stopped in front of a scarred oak door. “Here we are.”
Tabby pulled in a deep breath as Thomas rapped on the door.
“Not now,” Came a voice from within.
“I have orders from Her Grace,” Thomas called back.
Tabby’s chest tightened. This was no way to start a new relationship.
Thomas gave her a reassuring look. Don’t fret. I promise that Mrs. Miller will welcome you.
The door creaked open, and a young woman with light brown hair and blue eyes ushered them inside. “What’s this?” She asked as she appraised Tabby.
Not quite sure what to do, Tabby gave a small smile, then glanced at Thomas.
Courting Temptation: The House of Devon Page 1