Can a daring deception led to love?
Simon, the Duke of Bellingham dreads his sister’s house party, especially as her matchmaking hat is firmly in place. Attempting to atone for a misspent youth, Simon has become a sober, respected member of Parliament—and a hunted bachelor. His plan to avoid the minefield of ambitious mamas and their too-innocent daughters is cast aside when he happens across a lady whose beauty is only enhanced by her wicked, teasing tongue.
Lady Jessica Tremaine never forgot the kindness the duke displayed during a dark day when she was a young girl. Unexpectedly crossing paths once again, he assumes she is a lady’s maid and not the lady from a troubled house and family. It’s clear he doesn’t remember her, and for a time, she allows herself to dream of a future away from her despicable step-father.
When Simon learns of her lie, he retreats to London to nurse what he suspects is a broken heart. Yet, when Jessica finds herself in danger, there is no one else she can turn to for help. She is a pawn in a game Simon is determined to win through fair means or foul.
Warning: Contains a lady who need a knight-errant, a duke who needs a lady, and a deception that ignites a passion for the ages.
A Daring Deception
Laura Trentham
Contents
Blurb
Also by Laura Trentham
Author’s Note
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Epilogue
Also by Laura Trentham
About the Author
Also by Laura Trentham
Historical Romance
Spies and Lovers
An Indecent Invitation Book 1
A Brazen Bargain, Book 2
A Reckless Redemption, Book 3
A Sinful Surrender, Book 4
A Wicked Wedding, Book 5
A Daring Deception, Book 6
A Scandalous Secret, Book 7
Spies and Lovers Boxset
Contemporary Romance
Sweet Home Alabama Novels
Slow and Steady Rush, Book 1
Caught Up in the Touch, Book 2
Melting Into You, Book 3
Christmas in the Cop Car, Novella 3.5
The Sweet Home Alabama Collection
Highland, Georgia Novels
A Highlander Walks Into a Bar, Book 1
A Highlander in a Pickup, Book 2
A Highlander is Coming to Town, Book 3
Heart of a Hero Novels
The Military Wife
An Everyday Hero
Cottonbloom Novels
Kiss Me That Way, Book 1
Then He Kissed Me, Book 2
Till I Kissed You, Book 3
Christmas in the Cop Car, Novella 3.5
Light Up the Night, Novella 3.75
Leave the Night On, Book 4
When the Stars Come Out, Book 5
Set the Night on Fire, Book 6
Fieldstones Adventure Novellas by Leah Trent
An Impetuous Interlude, Fieldstones Adventure Book 1
A Naughty Notion, Fieldstones Adventure Book 2
A Mysterious Masquerade, Fieldstones Adventure Book 3
A Dangerous Desire, Fieldstones Adventure Book 4
The Fieldstones Adventures Boxset
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Author’s Note
When I started writing the Spies and Lovers series, I had no plan for how many books or who the main characters of each would be. This was my first foray into writing and I jumped in blind with two characters, Lily and Gray, and soon after Rafe and Minerva.
My plan was for the third book to be Simon and Jessica’s book, and I would have a completed trilogy. But then Maxwell stepped onto the page in A Brazen Bargain, and I became obsessed with the surly Scot. And then Marcus and Delilah came as a couple, and I began to wonder how they got together in the first place. And then… Well, you get the picture.
I’ve ended up with a series that jumps around in time because of the poor timing of my characters and when they walk into my head. Lol!
Next up will be a spin-off series from Spies and Lovers called Laws of Attraction, and you will meet the first hero Damien Northcutt in A Daring Deception!
Every book in the series is a standalone story, but here’s a list to help keep the timeline straight.
An Indecent Invitation, Gray and Lily, Spring 1812
A Brazen Bargain, Minerva and Rafe, Fall 1812
A Reckless Redemption, Maxwell and Bryn, Winter 1813
A Sinful Surrender, Marcus and Delilah, Spring 1812
A Wicked Wedding, Cole and Diana, Winter 1813
A Daring Deception, Simon and Jessica, Summer 1820
A Scandalous Secret, Garrick and Victoria, Winter 1814
Prologue
England, Winter 1813
It was an uncomfortable, frigid day for travel. The steel-gray clouds closing in on them had precipitated an early stop for the evening. At first glance, their hired carriage appeared well-heeled with its red velvet interior and glossy black paint. It had certainly cost an eye-popping amount of coins to hire, but the springs were shot, the wheels were deformed, and the interior smelled musty with the overtones of rotten vegetables.
The mention of the inadequacies had inflamed her stepfather’s ire and earned Jessica a hard pinch. Although she’d done her best not to give Goforth the satisfaction of seeing her pain, a small cry had escaped and made him smile. Any suggestion he was not the cleverest, bravest, and best would lead to less-than-pleasant consequences.
She stepped into the inn and rubbed her still-throbbing arm. Now that Goforth’s back was turned, the urge to stick her tongue out was almost too much to control. But she was attempting to act more ladylike. Although fourteen, she still preferred short skirts and playing catch me if you can with the children in their Pennsylvania village rather than taking tea and quietly embroidering pillows.
Her mother drew Blake, Jessica’s younger brother, closer while Jessica stepped farther into the inn. Burning peat filled the room with a soft veil of smoke. The scent was earthy and foreign but not unpleasant.
“Your two finest rooms, sir. If you have any that qualify as such.” Goforth’s booming voice scraped Jessica’s nerves.
A pall fell over the occupants of the common room as they turned their disapproving gazes toward her family. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment. Her mother kept Blake tucked to her front and while drawing an arm around Jessica’s waist and squeezing. Was her mother protecting or warning her?
Protection was all her mother had the strength to offer anymore. She no longer gave her children hope or optimism for the future. Goforth had ground both to dust.
Blake unexpectedly inheriting an
earldom through their dead father’s English ancestors had made Goforth alternately resentful and grasping. He too was an English immigrant, although with less illustrious bloodlines. Nevertheless, he thought he deserved the kind of luck that brought Blake, a mere child under his care, such wealth and power. While Goforth wasn’t the cleverest of men, he was cunning enough to seize an opportunity.
Goforth recognized Blake’s ascendancy could carry him to greater heights than an undisputed leader in their Pennsylvania village. Jessica worried their mother was not strong enough to protect Blake from her new husband’s ambition, which was more dangerous than his wrath.
The innkeeper was a soft-spoken man with a lined face and halo of thick white hair. He tried to assure Goforth he would have the best rooms possible, but Goforth made a dismissive sound. Red burnished the innkeeper’s cheeks, and his mouth narrowed. It was obvious Goforth was testing the man’s usually jolly disposition. A young boy was tasked with showing them to their rooms.
“Wait here while I assess the quality. I refuse to sleep with lice,” Goforth said to her mother, but loud enough for everyone in the common room to hear. He stomped up the steps, rattling a series of bucolic watercolors lining the staircase.
Jessica shrugged her mother’s arm off. “You should apologize to the innkeeper for his behavior, or we might find spittle in our dinner this evening.”
Her mother’s gaze darted up the stairs as she shook her head. “It’s best not to try your father’s patience.”
“Stepfather.”
“Please don’t, Jessica. It’s been a difficult journey, and you will only make things worse for yourself.” In a smaller voice, her mother added, “And for all of us.”
Goforth thumped his way back downstairs. “’Tis decent enough, I suppose. Quit hovering over the boy, Margaret.”
Goforth grabbed Blake’s arm and twisted him away from their mother. Blake made a sound of distress and reached out, but their mother lowered her face as if as long as she didn’t see the pain in Blake’s eyes, it didn’t exist.
Jessica stepped between Blake and Goforth. “Leave him alone, you bully.”
Goforth’s lip curled. She braced for one of his insults but got the back of his hand across her cheek instead. Her ears rang from the blow. The pain would come, but for now she welcomed the fury. Straightening, she blinked away the sting of tears and set her chin, daring him to hit her again.
The stillness in the inn was so complete she could hear the crackle of the peat burning in the hearth. Goforth’s shoulders tensed with readiness to deliver another slap.
“That’s no way to treat a young lady.” A man approached, drawing everyone’s attention.
Jessica might legally be an earl’s sister, but at heart she was merely a young woman from a small village in America. She had no experience with the class system that ruled Britain. Even so, she recognized a gentleman when she saw one.
The man moved with an arresting confidence. He wore power as well as he did the finely made greatcoat hanging from his broad shoulders. His hair was a burnished gold, his features even and handsome. He was older than she, but still young. Much younger and fitter than Goforth.
Her heart fluttered with something she’d thought had abandoned her forever. Hope.
“That’s a sharp-tongued shrew, sir. She’s no young lady.” Goforth turned to face the man.
“Shrew or not, in these parts, hitting young women is beyond the pale,” the man said with derision.
Jessica glanced at Goforth, gauging the likelihood of his turning his growing fury on the man.
But Goforth surprised her. His gaze took in the man’s well-tailored clothes and aristocratic accent. Instead of hurling punches or insults, Goforth lips turned up into an ingratiating smile. Would the gentleman be fooled by the sudden change in attitude?
“My name’s Edward Goforth, and we’re on our way to Lipton, seeking the Penhaven estate. Do you know of it?”
“I do. What’s your business there, may I ask?”
“Here’s the new Lord Penhaven, right here in your midst.”
“You?” The word came out on a bark of surprise.
“No, not me. My son, Blake Goforth, is the new Lord Penhaven.” He gestured toward Blake, who had retreated back under their mother’s arm.
“Blake Tremaine, not Goforth.” Jessica’s correction gained her the gentleman’s attention. His eyes were the blue of a summer sky, and the warmth of the sun burst through her.
“Since I married their mother, I don’t see why they shouldn’t take my name.” Goforth addressed the gentleman, but he narrowed his eyes at Jessica, promising retribution.
“Because you’re not our father.” She wished Goforth would disappear from their lives forever through fair means or foul. It was a disturbing thought she couldn’t mold into something more palatable.
“You impertinent little twit.” Goforth raised his hand and stepped toward her.
She bobbed backward to avoid the blow, but nothing happened. The gentleman had grabbed Goforth’s wrist and wrenched it away.
“I think not, Mr. Goforth.” The man’s voice was as cold as the wind whistling through the cracks around the door.
“And what authority do you have to stop me, whelp?”
“I’m the Duke of Bellingham, you arse. You can address me as Your Grace or not at all. If you insist on acting the boor, we’ll call the local magistrate.” The gentleman seemed to grow two inches with his anger.
What made the situation even more unbelievable was that his anger was on her behalf. Not even her mother had found the strength to stand up to Goforth. Bracing his legs apart, the duke cracked his knuckles and stretched his neck as she’d seen the village boys do before a brawl.
While she wasn’t fluent in the aristocracy, even she knew a duke outranked an earl and dwarfed a mere mister. Apparently Goforth realized too and ceded the field.
“I’m terribly sorry, Your Grace. I suppose such things are better handled in private.” Halfway up the staircase, he barked over his shoulder, “Margaret, come. With the children.”
Her mother’s shoulders were hunched in fear or embarrassment, or likely both. She followed like a dog given a command, pulling Blake along with her. She had been beautiful once, but Jessica could barely remember when.
Jessica didn’t follow. She stared at the duke, trying to remember every line and angle of his face. He stepped closer, raised a hand slowly as if she might balk, and brushed a knuckle over her reddened cheek. “I’m sorry he hit you.”
“Honestly, I deserved it. I’m awfully impertinent.”
“No woman deserves to get hit. Don’t ever convince yourself otherwise please.” He glanced out the frosted window to see snowflakes floating down. “I’m only sorry I can’t do more. I hope I didn’t make things worse for you later. Unfortunately, I must ride on to attend to some business.”
“Don’t worry, Your Duke.”
He smiled in a way that made her feel gauche, and she found herself nattering on.
“I’m a survivor. At least that’s what my nana used to say. It was good to see someone other than me stand up to the lout. You’ve given me a bit of hope. Maybe things will be better here in England.”
“What’s your name?”
“Jessica Tremaine.”
“You’re American?”
“From Pennsylvania. What’s your name?”
He tilted his head as if surprised by her question, but he finally said, “Simon. My name is Simon.”
Simon took her small hand and bussed the back. “Well, Miss Jessica Tremaine from Pennsylvania, I wish you luck and good fortune here in England.”
“Thank you. I believe I’ll need all the luck I can get.” She held her fisted hand against her chest and flew up the stairs, stopping in the shadows at the top to watch him.
He was halfway out the door when he paused. Her stomach swooped, hoping he might seek her out once more. Instead, after a whispered conversation, he slipped the innkeeper a fe
w coins. With one last glance over his shoulder, he left with his greatcoat swirling around his black boots in a flurry of snowflakes.
Jessica leaned her head back against the wall and closed her eyes. Simon, the Duke of Bellingham. She would never forget his name or what he’d done for her this day. Never.
Chapter 1
Summer 1820
Simon, the Duke of Bellingham, crouched behind a clump of young trees and scrubs as he battled a list of sundry emotions. At the forefront was chagrin at what his colleagues in Parliament, who respected his sober intellectualism arguing for the plight of beleaguered Londoners, would think of his current predicament.
A predicament he should extricate himself from immediately. The consequences of being caught ranged from life altering to embarrassing. Yet he was frozen. Utterly befuddled and absolutely flabbergasted.
A nearly naked woman was in the pond. His pond. Well, the pond at Wintermarsh, which was his sister and brother-in-law’s estate, but he considered it his home as well. Even though he owned landholdings and a large town house in London, Wintermarsh was his refuge. Usually.
This particular morning had been trying. He had escaped to rail privately against the autumn house party his sister, Minerva, was planning. Simon had a terrible feeling she was planning the party for him. As in, he was the bait. He could already feel the noose tightening.
The guest list included a gaggle of eligible ladies in possession of bloodlines worthy of being a duchess. Minerva had denied the machinations with poorly faked innocence in her blue eyes. His sister was incorrigible and determined. A dangerous combination.
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