by Lucy Langton
A Bewitching Lord of Her Own
A REGENCY ROMANCE NOVEL
LUCY LANGTON
Copyright © 2020 by Lucy Langton
All Rights Reserved.
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Table of Contents
A Bewitching Lord of Her Own
Table of Contents
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A Bewitching Lord of Her Own
Introduction
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
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Epilogue
To Tempt a Dashing Lord
Introduction
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
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A Bewitching Lord of Her Own
Introduction
Ada Taylor has learned the hard way how to take care of herself. She was dreaming of marrying for love, but her father passed away before she found her perfect match, and she was left penniless. Ada had to make her own way, and became a lady’s companion to Mrs. Statham and Mrs. White. But little did she know that she would meet a very scandalous man who would set her heart on fire. Will the passionate Ada manage to find the love of her dreams after all?
Lord Flynt Statham’s mother and aunt have had enough of his bad reputation. His behaviour has been detestable ever since his return home from the Napoleonic Wars. In order to keep his inheritance, they force him to marry a lady’s companion, hoping that her pure heart will make him a better man. Even though he has no interest in finding a wife, when he sees Ada he knows what he must do. Will this wicked man be tamed by the fiery Ada, or will their torrid personalities clash?
Just when Flynt starts to truly care about his captivating wife, his troubled past comes looking for him, in the form of his “first” wife. But what will happen when he cannot recall ever marrying this woman? Even though Flynt says that she is an impostor, Ada feels devastated and betrayed by his lies. Will he ever convince her that he is a changed man, or will their delirious lust be vanished forever?
Chapter 1
“You will not believe the letter I have just received,” Dowager White said as she padded across the carpeted floor of the drawing room. Dowager Statham looked up from her needlepoint as her sister came walking into the room in a hurry. She saw that Bertie was flushed in the face and breathing rather hard as though she had just run from her bedchamber to tell her whatever news she had received.
“Do tell, my dear,” Dowager Statham said as she pulled the thread through the sewing hoop, focusing her eyes on her work instead of the frequent hysterics that her sister often brought to the household.
“It’s a letter from Lord Locke,” Dowager White said as she sat next to her sister on the settee that had been designed with dark mahogany wood and a bright yellow floral design. Much of the furniture in the room had been created in the same fashion, filling the room with bright colours regardless of the time of day or night.
“And what does the Earl want?” Dowager Statham asked as she pushed her bin back down through the fabric. She didn’t want to encourage her sister but figured she could entertain her for a short while.
“He writes of Flynt, addressing him as my dear nephew. He explains that Flynt has lost a healthy sum at the card tables and has even entered into fisting fighting,” Dowager White explained with a quivering voice. “He’s threatening to turn Flynt into the debtor’s prison if he doesn’t refrain from fighting in his gentlemen’s club.”
At the mention of her son, Dowager Statham set her needlework aside and fetched the letter from her sister’s hands. She skimmed over the words, reading the letter as fast as she could. When she saw the sum that Flynt supposedly owed to Lord Locke, her heart constricted in her chest. It was almost a year’s worth of profits from the tenants of the Statham lands.
“Have you told anyone else?” Dowager Statham asked, looking up at her sister as she folded the letter and handed it back to Bertie.
“No. I came straight to you when I had finished reading it in my room,” Dowager White said as she shook her head.
“What about the staff. Could your lady’s maid have heard you?” Dowager Statham pressed.
“No, Lavinia. I made sure to come right downstairs and into the drawing room with you,” Dowager White exclaimed.
“I wonder why Lord Locke didn’t write me directly?” Dowager Statham asked as she stood from the settee, determined to make her son see reason now that she had been made aware of his troubles.
“I do not now, Sister. Perhaps the Earl was afraid that Flynt would find the letter and destroy it?” Dowager White said as she stood to her feet as well, placing the letter firmly in her hands as though appearing to be guarding it with her life.
“That is a good point. And with us having been living together since our husbands passed away many years ago, it isn’t hard to address either one of us a letter. It’s been so long since we’ve been to the Vayle Manor that all our good friends know we remain in Town.” Dowager Statham pulled on her gown, raising the hem of her day dress just enough so that she could walk quickly from the drawing room and through the house.
As she came to the stairs, her sister close on her heels, she placed a hand on the wooden railing to support her as she climbed the stairs with haste. With the afternoon hour fast approaching, Flynt should have risen by now. But with his obsessive need to frequent the clubs and drink himself into a stupor, the boy hadn’t been waking at an appropriate hour ever since his return from the Napoleonic War.
As Dowager Statham made it down the hallway towards the bedchambers, she didn’t even bother with knocking on Flynt’s door. She turned the handle and pushed open the double doors, seeing that the room was encased in darkness from the thick burgundy curtains having been pulled over the windowpanes. The mother smirked as she crossed the room and pulled the curtains open, sending her son sprawling across the bed in a panic to escape the bright sun.
~*~
“What in tarnation is going on?” Flynt yelled into his pillow, trying to shield his eyes from the sudden sun. He let out a string of obscenities that he had learned while sailing with the Navy.
“What did you say, dear?” cam
e his mother’s cool and collective voice that almost sounded comforting. Flynt continued to rant, making sure to keep the pillow over his face or his mother would have certainly boxed his ears if she had heard the profanities.
“Why are you in my room, Mother?” Flynt asked as he tossed the pillow aside and squinted through the sunlight. When he noticed his Aunt Bertie, he quickly pulled on the blankets to cover his nakedness.
“Oh, my dear boy,” Aunt Bertie said with a chuckle. “It’s not like I haven’t seen you bare as a babe. I remember the time you ran away from your nurse before being dressed for the day, streaking across the manor laughing as though you had won a derby.”
“Auntie, I don’t want to be reminded of such things,” Flynt said with an audible sigh.
“Then how about I give you something else to remember,” Dowager Statham said as she rounded the bed. She stood with her hands on her hips, staring down at Flynt with narrowed eyes. She had the same blue eyes as Flynt, and sometimes he’d look deeply into her eyes, trying to figure out the solutions to his own problems.
“What would that be, Mother?” Flynt asked as he ran his fingers through his brown hair, supposedly inherited from his father. Though Flynt had been very young when his father suddenly passed away, his mother and aunt often talked about the man as though he was still alive.
“Your aunt has just received a letter from Lord Locke. He has detailed the extent of our debts, as well as the fact that you’ve been fist fighting,” Dowager Statham said, her voice rising in tone as though she was severely put off. “Now what do you have to say for yourself?”
“What would you like me to say?” Flynt said as he leaned over the bed and picked up a cup of water that he quickly drained. The sunlight was making his head pound, no doubt from the extensive consumption he’d partaken of the night before.
“How about you start with what really happened last night?” Dowager Statham said.
“Mother, please. I don’t really remember all of what happened last night. I have but a foggy memory of it all,” Flynt said as he lay back down in bed and tried to pull the covers up over his head. However, his mother was faster than him and tugged them off completely, causing him to whip around to shield himself with a pillow.
“This is unacceptable, Flynt. I didn’t send you off to be a part of the militia just for you to return home and begin your poor habits once more. Drinking. Gambling. And God knows what else.”
Flynt was starting to worry that if his mother continued to rant and rave like she was, especially with his bedchamber doors still opened, the staff would certainly become privy to their conversation. Furthermore, if his mother knew of the female companion he kept, even a particular young lady that was supposed to be courted by another, he was certain she would refrain from letting him out of the house ever again.
“Mother, you can’t accuse me of doing anything that other lords often partake of as well,” Flynt said as he managed to sit up and look at his mother directly, all sense of modesty now forgotten.
“Flynt, you are not like other lords. You have a full inheritance coming your way when I pass away. You need to learn to be more responsible now, or you’ll ruin us all. From now on, your aunt and I are not going to shield you from the consequences of your actions. You are responsible for the debt you owe, and you better find a way to repay it all,” Dowager Statham huffed before turning on her heels and marching out of the room. Dowager White stuck up her nose at Flynt as she followed after her sister.
Flynt sighed heavily as he slowly made his way out of bed and closed the doors to his bedchamber. He found his clothes from the night before on the floor and pulled on his long underwear before rummaging around in his wardrobe for something suitable to wear.
Having never been accustomed to dressing his rank, he pulled on a normal pair of trousers and a white muslin shirt. At the water basin, he dunked his face in the water and then ran the water through his brown hair as he brought his head back up.
Spending the last three years either at sea or abroad with the militia had certainly changed Flynt from the person he used to be before his mother made him sign the papers to enlist. Before, the only thing he had really worried about was avoiding his mother’s attempt at marriage. The pressure had been unbearable, sending him to the gentlemen’s clubs to avoid her arranged dinner parties at the house.
At first, Flynt had considered serving his country as the perfect way to escape his mother. He’d serve his three years, return a hero, and never have to worry about his mother, and sometimes aunt, bothering him to do anything. But being in the militia had not been anything close to what Flynt had expected. He’d served with some great men during his time. However, he’d seen plenty of friends die in the action of battle as well.
Shaking his head to try to displace the memories that constantly seemed to swarm his mind, Flynt managed to find a pair of clean stockings to slip on before pulling on his boots. This morning routine had been similar to when he’d been sailing at sea or waking up in a small camp.
He knew these habits would be hard to break, especially when his mother expected him to utilize his valet for everything. Being almost thirty-years-old, he didn’t feel as though he should rely on others for his most basic needs.
Flynt left his room, heading down to the kitchen to find something to eat before he headed out for the day. A walk through the local park would surely do his head some good as it continued to pound. He smiled at Cook as he entered the kitchen and started picking at the block of cheese that sat on the counter.
“Now hear you this, Master Flynt. If you want me to prepare you a meal, I will. But I don’t like you picking at food like that. It needs to be cut properly,” the older woman said as she pointed her butcher’s knife at Flynt. His smile only deepened as he leaned against the counter and folded his arms. She was in the middle of butchering a pig, no doubt for another dinner party his mother had planned for him.
“Come now, Mrs Denton. I will do no harm,” he said with his signature smile, knowing how his lopsided grin caused women to become weak in the knees.
“Enough of that scandalous behaviour,” Mrs Denton said before chuckling loudly. “I am twice your age and no longer fall for the sweet smiles of males.”
“You can’t fault me for trying,” he said, as he picked another chunk of cheese out of the block. Cook sighed in defeat as she placed a small cheese knife on the counter and slid it towards him. He winked at her as he picked it up and sliced proper pieces of cheese from the block, eating them there as he stood in the kitchen instead of sitting down in the dining room and relying on others to serve him.
“Thank you, Cook. I can always rely on you,” Flynt said when he was done eating.
“Behave yourself, Master Flynt,” Mrs Denton called after him as he made his way out of the servants’ door on the side of the townhouse, intent on slipping away from the house for a few hours to allow his mother and aunt the opportunity to settle down from their tizzy.
Chapter 2
Miss Ada Taylor was in her bedchamber, brushing her dark brown hair while she sat in front of the looking glass when she heard Dowager Statham’s voice rise above that of her own light singing. She lowered her hands and turned towards her door, as though she could see through into the hallway. Instead, she could only listen as Dowager Statham chastised her son once more.
It had only been a month since Lord Statham had returned to his family’s townhouse from serving with the militia abroad. She didn’t know much of the man besides what his mother talked about him. And it seemed the man had many troubles. With the sound of Dowager Statham’s voice, Ada reasoned that the Earl was in trouble once more.
Already predicting her employer’s next move, Ada rose from the vanity and finished pressing her walking gown. She changed from her day gown to one more suitable for leaving the townhouse and appearing amongst society. When shopping, you just never knew who you might run into.
After coming to be Dowager Statham and White’s compa
nion while Lord Statham was away, she had become rather close to the two older ladies, as well as their patterns when they were upset. Dowager Statham liked to go out and shop while Dowager White preferred to work in the garden to settle her nerves. Therefore, Ada had plenty of things suitable for a lady of her station. And she had plenty of experience pruning roses so that they flourished each spring and late summer.
“Ada dear,” came the sound of Dowager Statham’s voice as she wracked her knuckles on her door. “We’re going out.”