Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
INDECENT
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
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About The Author
Other books by Carole Mortimer
PRINCE OF SCANDAL
Dedications
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Epilogue
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About The Author
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A REGENCY DUO
By
Carole Mortimer
&
Angelique Armae
Bestselling Authors
COPYRIGHT
INDECENT Copyright © 2018 Carole Mortimer
PRINCE OF SCANDAL Copyright © 2018 Josephine Piraneo
Cover Design Copyright © Josephine Piraneo
Formatter: Matthew Mortimer
ISBN: 978-1-942346-39-5
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
All Rights Reserved.
INDECENT (Regency Lovers 1)
By
Carole Mortimer
USA Today Bestselling Author
Chapter 1
April, 1817
Wainwright Masked Ball,
Wainwright House, London
“I absolutely refuse to marry a man as—as cruel and debauched as the Duke of Hawkwood, Papa.” Emma had brushed past her father when she rushed from the ballroom a few minutes ago, and she had no doubt it was now he who had followed her to where she had gone to seek refuge in the Wainwrights’ library. The soft closing of the door behind him had now shut out the noise of the revelry and music coming from the ballroom.
She could not bring herself to turn and look at her only parent quite yet, but continued to stare sightlessly out the window in front of her. Partly because she could not bear to see her father’s disappointment following her fierce rejection of marriage to the wealthy and influential duke, but also because she didn’t wish her father to see her tears of humiliation, which she knew would be visible through the eyelets of the jeweled mask she wore.
“I know how much you wished me to accept the duke’s proposal,” Emma continued in a shaky voice. “But the man is beyond detestable to have visited you this afternoon to request my hand in marriage, and then this evening to flaunt his affair with Juanita Millbrook to all in Society. It is not only unacceptable, it is positively indecent.” Emma’s whole body was now shaking with the depth of the devastation she had suffered as she and everyone else present had witnessed Hawkwood and Juanita Millbrook’s intimate behavior together.
Well, perhaps they had not all witnessed quite the intimacy that Emma had.
The duke and Lady Millbrook had first danced together before then secreting themselves away in one of the private alcoves that edged the ballroom. Except Emma had been standing close by, and the privacy curtain had not been completely pulled, allowing her to witness Juanita Millbrook dropping down to her knees and unfastening Hawkwood’s pantaloons to release his long and fully erect and engorged member.
To witness such a display was shocking enough, but Lady Millbrook had then taken Hawkwood’s cock in her mouth, and he had proceeded to thrust it in and out between her obviously greedy lips. So much of that length had disappeared into and down that lady’s throat, it must surely have choked her.
And to think Emma had been flattered and excited when her father told her earlier today of the duke’s proposal. She had naively believed, hard as it might seem, that the duke must have fallen madly in love with her when they danced together at the Chisholms’ ball the previous week.
It was obvious to her now—as it must be to the whole of the ton—that any marriage announcement between herself and the duke would be nothing more than a sham. A mask, much like the ones all the guests were wearing this evening, in order for Hawkwood’s bride to hide his continuing affair with the married Lady Millbrook, and whatever women came after her.
The straitened circumstances of Emma’s family finances had ensured, at the age of twenty, she had not received a single offer of marriage she could ever have contemplated accepting. Privately, she had received many other, less respectable offers. But any proposals of marriage were invariably from elderly gentlemen who had no interest in whether or not Emma had a fortune, because they wished her to take on the role of nursemaid rather than their wife, with perhaps the occasional servicing of her husband’s baser needs.
It was because of this lack of a dowry that Emma had been so certain the offer from the wealthy duke must be because he had fallen in love with her. Or in lust, at the very least.
Her stomach now churned at the unforgettable sight of her possible future husband’s thick and rampant cock being thrust in and out of another woman’s mouth.
“If, as you say, I had behaved in such a manner, then I would indeed deserve your accusation of having behaved cruelly, debauched, and indecently.”
Emma turned with a gasp at the first sound of that deep and drawling voice. A voice she instantly recognized as belonging to Adam Stirling, the Duke of Hawkwood himself.
As she now recognized him.
He stood with his arms behind his back, looking every inch the haughty and arrogant duke he undoubtedly was. He no longer wore the plain black mask of earlier, fully revealing the expression of harsh disapproval on his aristocratically handsome face: winged brows above glowering silver eyes, a long and aquiline nose between high cheekbones, sculpted lips, and a strong and arrogant jaw. His hair was as black as a raven’s wing, and a little overlong to be completely fashionable. But his black evening clothes and snowy-white linen were perfectly tailored to his tall and muscular body, wide shoulders and chest, tapered waist, and powerful thighs and long legs.
Aged almost five and thirty, the Duke of Hawkwood was, without a doubt, one of the handsomest gentlemen in English Society. Indeed, Emma knew for a fact she, and all the other debutants, had sighed over this gentleman’s good looks since her own Coming Out three years ago.
To no avail, of course, Hawkwood having steadfastly refused to acknowledge with so much as a glance any of those eager young ladies yearning for his attention.
Emma had now witnessed exactly the reason why he had no interest in such innocents as they all were. “I saw you just now.” She raised her chin in challenge, refusing to be cowed by the dangerous glitter in Hawkwood’s icy-gray eyes. She had seen him, damn it. “In one of the private alcoves.” Indeed, the duke should look more debauched than he did after such licentious behavior, but instead, he stood there with not an ebony hair out of place.
“What was I doing there?” Hawkwood prompted mildly as he stepped farther into the library, his height and presence instantly dominating and seeming to suck all the air from the room.
Emma felt the bloom of embarrassed color heat her cheeks. “You know you were with Lady Millbrook
.”
Dark brows rose to his hairline. “Doing what exactly?”
“I—” Emma moistened the dryness of her lips. “You were— She was—”
“Come now, Emma,” the duke taunted. “Having leveled the accusation of indecent behavior toward me, you should at least be prepared to back it up with facts.”
How had she thought, even for a single moment, that this arrogant and confident gentleman could have fallen in love with her? How!
It was also more than a little forward to have Hawkwood address her in so familiar a manner, as if he already had every right to call her by her given name.
Which, now she had witnessed his disgusting behavior with another woman, he never would. No matter how prestigious or advantageous such a match might be for her family. Even accepting one of those offers from an elderly gentlemen in need of a companion or nursemaid would be preferable to being used as a shield to her sexually robust husband’s affairs with other women.
“You had your—your member thrust down the lady’s throat,” she accused. “This is a not subject for amusement, Your Grace,” she snapped her indignation at seeing the wry quirk that now tilted the duke’s lips.
“I assure you I am not in the least amused, Emma,” he continued in that deceptively mild tone. “Tell me, what was the color of the mask I was wearing?”
“You know it is black.”
“And where is that mask now?”
“Probably still in the alcove where you left it following your intimacy with Lady Millbrook,” she came back with accusation.
“Except,” the duke bit out, “I arrived at the Wainwrights’ only a few minutes ago, and the mask I brought with me to wear this evening is a perfect match for your own.” He produced that mask from behind his back, much like a conjuror performing a trick.
Emma could only stare at the mask, which was an exact match to her own. “No…”
“Yes.” He nodded tersely. “Your father informed me this afternoon that this was your choice of mask. I thought, in the circumstances, it might be appropriate for me to wear one similar.”
“But I saw you,” Emma insisted. Heaven knows this man’s height and muscular grace of body and movement were distinctive enough to set him apart from all other gentlemen.
“My brother, Alexander, is also attending the Wainwrights’ masked ball this evening,” Hawkwood continued in that soft and merciless tone. “I seem to recall he was wearing a black mask when he left Hawkwood House earlier.”
All other gentlemen, Emma realized with a sickening jolt to her stomach, with the exception of Lord Alexander Stirling, the duke’s younger brother!
Three years in age separated the two men, but they might almost have been twins in their appearance, both very tall, their dark hair worn overlong, and possessing wide and muscular shoulders. Their swarthy features were also similar, except the younger brother had green eyes where the duke’s glittered that pale and piercing gray.
As they did now, Emma acknowledged with another inward quake of alarm.
If Hawkwood had been serious in his marriage proposal, then he was perfectly within his rights to withdraw it after Emma had treated him with such suspicion and accusations.
Erroneous accusations, it appeared.
Chapter 2
Miss Emma Harris, Adam decided grimly, had earned herself suitable punishment for daring to accuse him of engaging in oral sex with another woman in the middle of a Society ball.
Adam had no doubt that the guilty gentleman was indeed his brother, knowing Alexander had, for some months, been involved in a clandestine affair with Lady Juanita Millbrook.
Obviously not clandestine enough if the two of them had been observed behaving in so intimate a manner in public together. If Alexander was not careful, he would find himself engaged in an illegal duel with that lady’s husband, causing a scandal of such enormity, Alexander risked being banned from Society completely by the Prince Regent for having disobeyed that gentleman’s dictate regarding the ceasing of all duels.
Something Adam intended to discuss with his brother over breakfast tomorrow morning.
As he now intended to deal with Emma’s unwarranted suspicion regarding his own behavior. Adam rarely bothered to attend Society events, let alone behave in such a scandalous manner as she had described, when he did. He had decided to attend this evening only because he had believed, having visited Emma’s father this afternoon and asked for her hand in marriage, that she would appreciate his presence. He deeply regretted having been so foolish, some might say romantic, as to purchase and wear the same mask as her this evening.
He raised challenging brows. “I believe an apology to be in order.”
Her creamy throat moved as she swallowed, her face pale beneath the gold mask, her lace-gloved hands twisting awkwardly together in front of her. “I sincerely apologize for having wrongly accused you of— For having wrongly accused you, Your Grace.” Her cheeks blushed a fiery red.
“Your apology will not be made now, but at two o’clock tomorrow afternoon,” Adam bit out harshly. He’d made his decision as to what this young woman deserved as punishment for having wrongfully accused him. “At Hawkwood House.”
She stilled, her eyes wide. “You wish me to call upon you at your home tomorrow so that I might repeat my apology?”
“That is what I said, yes.”
“I do not see what more there is to say on the subject…”
“Oh, I will find plenty to say, have no fear,” Adam assured her grimly.
She continued to eye him warily. “I do not think… I am not sure my father will allow me to call upon the home of a single gentleman.”
Adam’s mouth twisted. As, only minutes ago, Harris had been the one to give Adam the directions to follow his daughter into the library, he very much doubted the other man would object to Adam’s request to spend time getting to know Emma better prior to their betrothal being announced.
Indeed, Adam was starting to believe he might have acted prematurely in offering her marriage at all.
Having escaped the parson’s mousetrap for almost five and thirty years, he should have known better than to think of marrying an innocent young woman almost fifteen years his junior.
Truth be told, Adam had taken little notice of Miss Emma Harris these past three years when he saw her out and about in Society, easily dismissing her as being one of the silly young debutants thrust upon Society every Season.
He had spoken with her at the Langdon ball the previous week only because his host, a close acquaintance, had asked if he would dance with one of his wife’s friends. The Harrises’ lack of funds ensured Emma Harris often played the wallflower at the dances and balls given each Season.
It had been to please Langdon, and Langdon’s wife, that Adam had agreed to step onto the dance floor with the far too youthful but admittedly beautiful Emma.
The moment Adam took her in his arms, he had at first been incredulous at the realization the insidious aroma of Emma Harris’s unique and earthy perfume was invading his senses, causing his cock to engorge and rise. To his added surprise, the longer they danced together, the harder his cock became, and the more he wanted Emma’s lush and bared body beneath his own as he laid claim to her.
God knows Adam had fought this unwanted desire, taking himself off to several houses of the demimonde during the week that followed. To no avail. None of those women possessed Emma’s soft golden hair, the creamy perfection of her skin, the shy beauty of her green eyes, and that deceptively voluptuous body. Nor was their perfume so deliciously fruity, it instantly made his cock hard.
He had even visited a previous mistress one evening, in the hope the two of them might rekindle some of their former desire for each other. To Adam’s chagrin, his cock had refused to rise to the occasion, or for that woman.
Making Emma his mistress was also impossible. Impoverished or otherwise, Miss Emma Harris was a young and virginal member of Society.
It seemed the only alternative
open to Adam, if he was determined to bed her, was to seriously consider making Emma his duchess.
He had balked against taking such a drastic step as that. Until he had attended the Faulkners’ picnic the previous weekend and been filled with a murderous rage at the sight of several young bucks buzzing around a blushing and beautiful Emma.
It was not conceit on Adam’s part but the way in which Society functioned for him to know that the Duke of Hawkwood having singled Emma out for a ball the previous weekend was now the reason for her newfound popularity. As Langdon and his wife had intended that it should be.
Except Adam had bristled in resentment at the attention Emma received that afternoon of the picnic. He’d been filled with a burning desire to hide Emma away from all male eyes but his own.
Possessive feelings he had never experienced before, toward any woman.
To have now had his conduct, his reputation as a gentleman, brought into question by that same young woman was an insult Adam could not allow to go unchecked.
He had always believed that the punishment should reflect the crime.
His cock engorged and lengthened at the thought of what form that punishment would take once he was alone with Emma tomorrow afternoon.
“You will leave your father to me,” Adam now told her with haughty dismissal. “But you may well believe there will be no objection forthcoming from him in regard to your visiting me at my home.” His mouth twisted derisively.
Emma knew there would not be. If anything, her father was more excited at the prospect of having Hawkwood as his son-in-law than Emma was at having him for a husband. Such an alliance would open doors, both socially and privately, that had not previously been available to the impoverished Lord Mark Harris.
The fact Hawkwood wished to speak with Emma again tomorrow surely meant the duke still considered a marriage between them to be a possibility.
But at what cost? She had no doubt that Hawkwood was angry at her still for having accused him unjustly. She could see that anger in his narrowed and hard eyes and the taut set of his jaw.
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