The Marquess Who Kissed Me: (The Valiant Love Regency Romance) (A Historical Romance Book)

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The Marquess Who Kissed Me: (The Valiant Love Regency Romance) (A Historical Romance Book) Page 1

by Deborah Wilson




  The Marquess Who Kissed Me

  THE VALIANT LOVE

  REGENCY ROMANCE

  a historical romance book

  deborah wilson

  Copyright and About the Author

  Copyright © 2019 by Deborah Wilson

  All Rights reserved.

  In no way is it legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this book in any form or by any electronic means without written permission from the author. Recording of this book is strictly prohibited. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

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  Table of Contents

  Copyright and About the Author

  Join Deborah’s Reader Club

  Prologue

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  Copyright and Disclaimer

  prologue

  * * *

  ABOUT THE BOOK

  The mysterious Venmont Hill is based loosely on Bidston Hill, which is known for its ancient carvings from the time of the Vikings. An hour’s walk west, one can place their feet in the Atlantic. There is still forest in the area but much of it is city now. However, for the sake of your pleasure—and mine—I like to imagine that two hundred years ago, the land was mostly green.

  Caves are another beautiful natural phenomenon in England. The UK’s largest cave, Gough’s Cave, is four hundred feet deep and three miles long. And with more than a dozen spread out over this enchanting island of Great Britain, I added one at Venmont Hill.

  So, prepare to get lost in the lush hills and fall in love with the broody assassin, the Marquess of Venmont.

  * * *

  1819

  England, on the shore of the Atlantic Ocean

  Lady Cebele Lawrence wrapped her shawl tighter around her arms as the wind fought to take it away. She stood with her boots planted in the sand and watched in wonder and fear as Oliver Childs climbed out of the ocean.

  And he kept coming, rising up like a true Poseidon. His toned body seemed endless. Few men were built in such a way. Only inches away from seven feet, he was pure power.

  Sand and water clung to his white shirt and dark breeches. His large bare feet left prints on the shore.

  The air blew around him, tussling his red locks, which had darkened in the water. In a month, he’d grown out his hair and beard. The expression in his blue eyes was menacing.

  He stopped before her, and Belle was forced to wrench her head back to meet his eyes.

  He dripped on her, soaking her chest quickly, but she didn’t move away, not even when water from his head fell to her cheek.

  The Marquess of Venmont’s property often looked ready for rain. With the water rushing up wildly against the rocks and the sky one continuous gray cloud, she’d spent nearly thirty days waiting for a storm.

  And here it was.

  There was no thunder or chilling rain. Only him.

  Oliver’s anger was like lightning, making his eyes nearly glow.

  She’d followed him here. When he’d left the estate, she trailed him through the trees, pressing forward through her tears, even as her muscles ached and her feet begged for rest.

  Then she’d watched him walk into the sea, and there he’d remained for at least the last hour.

  Every time his head disappeared under the dark water, she’d feared he’d not come back up.

  She’d walked closer and closer to the edge of the sea and prayed for his safety and that she’d not pushed him too far.

  “I can kill him,” Oliver said.

  She shifted anxiously. “Who?”

  “Van Dero.”

  Belle’s eyes widened. “That’s impossible.”

  “Nothing is impossible,” he murmured.

  “You can’t kill Gregory and even if you could, you shouldn’t. He has terrible things set in place should he die from anything but natural causes. People, innocent people, will suffer if Gregory is murdered.” She’d known the Duke of Van Dero for years and though the old man was weak, his mind was strong and full of wickedness.

  Her eyes filled with tears, and her voice shook. “Do you not think that I’ve wished for that very thing every day for the past thirteen years of my life? I’m twenty-five. I never wanted any of this.”

  “I’ll speak to him.”

  “No.” She shook her head and reached out. “Don’t.”

  He avoided her touch and walked around her. “It’s too late. I’ve made my decision.”

  “What do you mean?” She followed him back toward the forest. “Oliver, you can’t kill him.”

  He stopped and turned to her. “I won’t, but I must speak to him.”

  “What about?” She feared she knew.

  “I’ll do what he wants but only if he lets you go.”

  “No.” She grabbed him even though she knew he didn’t want her to. Her blood ran cold at the thought. “Never get involved with the duke. He’ll find some way to control you. He’ll own you as easily as he owns so many other lords.”

  “But you’ll be free.” His brows remained furrowed. “I’ll kill his enemies.”

  She frowned. “How could you say that? Have you killed before?”

  He lifted a brow. “Why do you think he sent you to get me?”

  A terrible shiver ripped through her.

  He shrugged. “I’ll kill anyone he wants if it means he and his friends never get to touch you again.”

/>   She swallowed. “He’ll never agree to that. He’ll never let me go.” She couldn’t even imagine such a life. “Don’t you see? You’re walking into a trap. I didn’t tell you the truth so that you’d do exactly what he wanted.”

  He gripped her chin. “Yet, he knew I’d do it. For you.”

  “No,” she begged. “I can’t let you do this for me.” How could he wish to set her free when their time together had been a lie? She’d been planted by the duke. She’d come to the marquess injured and claiming a group of strange men had hurt her.

  But the men weren’t strange. They were the duke’s enemies, and it hadn’t even been them who’d beaten her. Gregory had had his footmen do the honors. It was all done in the hopes to tempt the Marquess of Venmont down his mountain and into the ugly games that were played in the darkest parts of London.

  It seemed every lord was picking a side, and Gregory’s side grew stronger even as his body diminished.

  She’d had thirty days to convince Venmont to avenge her, yet she’d spent that time doing something else.

  Falling in love.

  “Don’t give him what he wants.” Her tears fell freely. “Don’t do this for me, please. I’m already ruined.”

  He was quiet and then he brushed her tears and said, “So am I.” And with that, he started toward the house again.

  * * *

  Lord Van Dero pulled out a paper and slid it across to Oliver. Gregory’s pale hands shook as he moved it across the desk. Though he looked at death’s door, his eyes burned with excitement.

  They had been since the moment Oliver walked in.

  There were four other men in the room. Soldiers with guns. They’d shoot Oliver if he made the wrong move. This meeting would end with peace or death.

  It took every memory of Belle’s broken and bruised body to keep him calm. If he wanted, he could take two of the guards and Lord Van Dero out with the daggers strapped to his front, but he wasn’t sure he could kill the two behind him before they shot him.

  “As you can see,” the duke went on. “I own Lady Cebele Lawrence for the next seven years. After that, she is free to go.”

  Oliver's stomach turned as he looked over the documented proof of Belle’s enslavement. She hadn’t been lying. The contract was old and had been signed between the Duke of Van Dero and Belle’s father.

  She was in debt bondage.

  It was 1819. How could this be? “Is this legal?” He couldn’t believe a father could sell his child. His own father had done unthinkable things to him and his brothers but never anything like this.

  “Legal enough,” Gregory said. “But keep in mind, you and I work on a different system. I’m contracting you to kill three lords and after that, anyone else I point a finger at. In exchange, you get Cebele’s body.”

  “Her body?”

  “I will keep her mind,” Gregory said. “She’s pretty, but there is more to her than meets the eye. She’s learned a great deal from me since she came to serve me. I have grown to depend on her thoughts.” He smiled. “She’s a clever woman. She shall remain in my service, but I vow that no one but you may have her for sexual purposes.”

  He fought for his breath when he realized what he was being told.

  He’d seen so much in his life and had suffered so much.

  Nothing was worse than this.

  Belle had told him that Gregory had put her up to the ruse. She was to lure him here. She’d had no choice.

  He hadn’t known just how deep her pain ran though, only that she feared the duke.

  He looked over the contract again and looked for a start and end date.

  His mouth fell open and before he could think. he unhooked a blade and stabbed Gregory though the hand that still rested on the desk.

  Gregory paled.

  “She was twelve!” Oliver roared.

  “No!” Gregory shouted to the men who stood around him. The old man was breathing through his pain. His dark eyes were wide. To Oliver, he hissed, “You’ll regret that.”

  “I should kill you now,” Oliver said.

  “Her father offered her to me,” Gregory said in his own defense. The fear had left his eyes. “I didn’t ask for her.”

  “You could have refused.”

  Gregory took another deep breath. “That is the past. We are here to discuss her future.” He looked at the blade. “Take it out and sit back down, Lord Venmont.”

  Oliver did neither. “I’m taking her away.”

  Gregory smiled. His smile was no longer that of a man in pain. “Do it but know that you kill a hundred innocent people when you do.”

  Oliver stilled. “What do you mean?”

  “My walls have ears. There are men waiting for my command. Should I die today or end this meeting without a new contract, they will kill men, women, and children. Babies, too.” He laughed. “Maybe even a few young men like your brothers. Do you even know where Leonard is?”

  Leonard had never been one to stay in one place for long. Most of the time, Oliver didn’t know his location unless he sent a message.

  At the moment, Oliver didn’t know where Leo was, but he could tell from Gregory’s expression that he did.

  But he was certain Leo could handle himself. Their father had raised them all to be deadly.

  “And that grandmother,” Gregory went on. “She’s a thorn in my side, actually. I think I might get rid of her.”

  Oliver didn’t even bother to beg for his grandmother’s life. Instead, he sat down, reached forward, and took his blade back. He wiped it on a nearby chair before putting it away.

  Gregory gasped with renewed pain. He lifted his hand and a servant came over and began to clean and wrap it. Gregory bit his teeth through the woman’s ministrations as he spoke to Oliver. “Cebele was supposed to be mine for twenty years, but I know I won’t be around for the last seven. You can have her.”

  “I don’t own people. Just set her free.”

  “That’s not how this works,” Gregory said. “You must sign the contract and take her body.” He looked at another servant. A footman moved forward with a paper. Its ink seemed to have freshly dried.

  The duke had been sure Oliver would come.

  “Why can’t you just let her go?”

  “Where would my leverage be?” Gregory asked. “I want it made known that you will work for me. Seven years for her seven years. You’ll silence any man I ask you to, and I’ll keep my hands and the hands of every other man off her. That is the deal.”

  Oliver looked over the contract and fought to concentrate. Every part of him wanted Gregory dead, but he couldn’t risk the loss of so many lives.

  There were rumors about Gregory. The man held the secrets of men, they said. There was a legend about a book that held the sins of the wealthy and important. Oliver had been an unbeliever until this moment.

  When he finished, he looked at Gregory. “The people I kill, I’ll need their secrets first. I want to know their sins.”

  “That’s not part of the deal.”

  Oliver sighed. “Then I walk.” He would need them in order to ease his conscious. “And I’ll only kill people who I deem a danger to society. That is the agreement or I leave.”

  “And I kill hundreds. I’m sure Belle has told you of the contingencies I have in place should I die of anything but my ailment. London will be left in ruins. People will die. The year after my death will be worse than you can imagine. Think of it like the Black Plague. That is what you’d unleash on the world.”

  “Either you meet my terms or I kill your daughter Lady Irene.”

  All emotion left Gregory’s face. “How dare you?”

  “You invited me into your home,” Oliver said. “Perhaps, you should have known better.”

  Gregory’s lips twitched as though he fought a smile. “You can’t kill her if I kill you here and now.”

  “And the fact that you haven’t means you need me. You know what I’m capable of and since you know that, you know what my brothers a
re capable of and that we all are naturally suspicious. Think of it as a gift from our father.”

  Certain he had the duke’s attention, he went on, “I’ve left word that I planned to meet with you. Should I die or simply go missing for an unusual amount of time, they will hunt your daughter down.”

  Gregory swallowed but said nothing.

  Oliver leaned forward and drove home his point. “You think I didn’t do my research on you before I arrived? Your daughter is at a charity house as we speak. Such a sweet woman. Be a shame for her to go before her time, to not even have the chance to grow as old as you.”

  “New contract,” Gregory hissed. “I’ll give you the sins of my enemies, but you can never threaten my daughter again.”

  “Belle is free.”

  “Belle is yours in bed but mine for parties and other special events,” Gregory said. “Now, do we have a deal or not, Lord Venmont?”

  ∫ ∫ ∫

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  * * *

  London, England

  Five Years Later, September 1824

  The wind whistled through the dark canopy of trees, rustling the leaves against one another. The night seemed darker than usual, as though even God were aware of the terrible event that would take place come morning.

  A wedding. Two people would be joined together forever.

  A groom, a vile man few would miss if he went missing.

  And the bride… hard to describe, even to a man who’d known her for a very long time.

  Oliver Childs, the Marquess of Venmont, stopped at a line of trees and looked out toward the lake.

  Lady Belle stood in the moonlight. The silk robe and white night rail billowed around her feet. Her hair was down, the brown tresses seeming even darker against the robe.

  She started and turned her head, though not in his direction.

  Was she waiting for someone?

  She turned in a circle, her eyes searching the gardens. There was no fear in her movements. She could handle herself pretty well if danger came.

  Oliver would know. He’d taught her how to fight.

  And she’d taught him something in return.

  Never trust a woman.

  When she turned away, he began his approach. His boots made no sound in the grass. People were always surprised by his ability to sneak up without being noticed. Oliver was well over six feet and built like a lean beast. His ability to move fluidly like a predator had led to the downfall of many.

 

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