Seductive Scoundrels Series Books 1-3: A Regency Romance

by Collette Cameron

  How she’d wanted to slap Mr. Leadford’s smug face as he leaned against the squabs, all self-satisfied arrogance. She’d bet her boot buttons he’d orchestrated this, but how, in such a short time?

  Another wave of frustration engulfed her.

  How could Papa be so callous? So hard-hearted?

  How could he completely disregard her feelings and wishes? What possible reason could there be for rushing the nuptials? She scarce knew Mr. Leadford.

  She might argue the same about Victor, but that was much different. She enjoyed his company and anticipated seeing him. When she wasn’t with Victor, her thoughts continually drifted toward him. Upon first awakening, he infiltrated her mind, and as she drifted off to sleep, he hovered on the perimeters of her consciousness.

  Now she understood why Althea had fled with Antione Nasan, a French artist who’d been sketching likenesses with a traveling troupe. He’d approached Papa and asked for her hand in marriage. Papa had all but thrown him out of the house, and he had locked Althea in her room. Two nights later, she’d picked the lock and fled with her lover.

  Jessica and Theadosia had kept watch to make sure Papa didn’t catch her. He had no idea they’d conspired together. Theadosia suspected Mama knew the truth, but she’d never hinted at any such thing.

  Theadosia inhaled deeply again, savoring the earthy aroma beneath the gnarled trees where a few wax cap mushrooms had sprung up. Mere weeks ago, these same trees had dripped with fragrant pinkish-white blossoms, promising an abundance of fruit this autumn. Unless Papa changed his mind about her marrying Mr. Leadford, she wouldn’t be here for the harvest.

  If she must, she’d run away.

  To Althea in France.

  Just this morning, in a hushed whisper, her mother had confessed she’d secretly been writing to Althea and receiving letters in return. Althea had two little boys, and her husband had become a successful portrait painter. For months, she’d been begging Mama to visit and bring Jessica and Theadosia.

  Her mother hadn’t dared.

  Risking Papa’s fury, James had helped Mama and Althea correspond.

  He’d help Theadosia escape too. She didn’t doubt it.

  But to never see her mother or Jessica again? That risk was very real. A probability, unless Papa died.

  Pain stabbed Theadosia to her core, and she slapped a hand to her middle, gasping at the agony of that awful truth.

  There must be another way.

  How could Althea bear it?

  Because she had a man who loved her and whom she loved in return.

  Tears threatened again, but Theadosia swiped them away.

  As she climbed the gentle slope toward the lane leading to the Fielding’s house, she caught a movement from the corner of her eye.

  Alarm skittered across her shoulders, and she whirled to face her stalker.

  “Why are you following me, Mr. Leadford?”

  He emerged from behind one of the gnarled old apple trees and offered a repentant smile.

  “I was looking for an opportunity to speak with you but feared I’d startle you.” He thrust a handful of blossoms toward her. “Here, I picked you flowers.”

  Likely filched from the Church’s gardens.

  Sliding the basket onto her other arm, she made a pretense of adjusting the cloth covering the food and grasped the bottle of lemonade. She’d not hesitate to crack him over the nog with it if he attempted to accost her.

  “So, you skulk about like a thief? Couldn’t you have waited until I returned home?”

  Skewing a brow, she leveled him a dubious look, but made no effort to take the fast-wilting blooms.

  She didn’t like being alone with him one jot, and the Fielding’s house was still a quarter of a mile away. He’d already proved he was no gentleman.

  If only she had told Mama about his harassment. She would’ve sent Jessica too. Except Theadosia had really wanted to be alone to sort out her thoughts.

  Angling away, she dismissed him. “I must go. The Fieldings expected me some time ago, and my mother awaits my return. We’ve preserves to make.”

  Not exactly the truth, but he needn’t know that.

  “Permit me to accompany you.” He hurried to reach her side, his gaze straying to her breasts.

  He tried to lay the flowers in the basket, frowning when she drew it away.

  “I don’t like my betrothed walking about unescorted.”

  “As to that, we are not officially betrothed, and I intend to do everything in my power to see that we never are.” She tightened her grip on the bottle. Though not nearly as large as the duke, Mr. Leadford wasn’t a simpering fop either. He could easily overpower her. “I’d prefer to walk alone, if you don’t mind” And even if you do. “I’ve done so dozens of times without fear of harm.”

  “But I do mind.” He grasped her elbow, none too gently, and yanked her to his chest. Triumph glittered in his frosty blue eyes.

  His reptilian smile sent a ripple of stark fear through her.

  “You will marry me, Theadosia. I have the means to force you to.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  They whirled to see a hatless and gloveless Duke of Sutcliffe sauntering up the hill.

  Despite his leisurely approach, his chest rose and fell quickly as if he’d been hurrying. Everything about him shouted masculine animal grace, but primal danger exuded from him too. His gaze took in the hand gripping Theadosia’s arm, and the murderous look he leveled Mr. Leadford caused another hair-raising shiver to scuttle across her shoulders.

  He wasn’t a man to cross, and she was glad his ire was directed at Mr. Leadford.

  “Release her, Leadford.”

  In three more long-legged strides Victor was upon them.

  Mr. Leadford drew himself up, retaining his harsh grip upon her arm.

  He shook the flowers at Victor. “I’m her betrothed, and it’s my right—”

  “I told you to release her.”

  Victor stepped nearer, and Mr. Leadford’s bravado slipped a jot. He didn’t back away or relinquish his hold, but his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down like a frightened mouse caught on a shelf, and his shifty gaze skittered about as if determining the quickest escape route.

  In a deadly calm but unyielding voice, Victor said, “You are not formally betrothed, and as she objects to your touch, you are accosting her.” He glanced at Theadosia for confirmation, and she gave a vehement nod. “Perhaps the magistrate should be informed. Doubtful you’d retain your position afterward.”

  That did it.

  Mr. Leadford retreated a step but wasn’t ready to quit the field just yet, it seemed.

  “I do not appreciate your interference, Sutcliffe. We are betrothed. Her father verbally contracted with me, and the rest is just formalities.” Again, he waggled the poor abused blossoms.

  Theadosia released her vice-like grip on the bottle while edging closer to Victor.

  He promptly tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow and held it to his side. Something a long-time married couple might do.

  At once, her fear dissipated, to be replaced by the familiar sensation of coming home she experienced each time he touched her.

  “It’s Your Grace to you, and I don’t appreciate you waylaying Miss Brentwood with your unwanted attention.”

  His glare murderous, Leadford jerked his chin up, an unfortunate decision, since it drew attention to the impossibly large boil there.

  “That’s because you want her for yourself.” Again, Theadosia longed to slap the smug half-smile from his face. “I heard you offer for her, but Brentwood turned you down flat.”

  Something hot and gratifying blazed behind her breastbone. Theadosia searched Victor’s striking features, afraid to believe what she’d just heard.

  “Listening at the keyhole, were you?” He flicked Leadford a contemptuous glance. “Why am I not surprised?”

  “You truly asked for my hand?” That dream had finally become a reality, if for all the wrong re
asons, and her father had squelched it without regard to her desires.

  Victor spared her a brief glance and a fond smile. “Yes, I did.”

  That was how he’d intended to help her?

  Leadford’s gloating laugh disturbed the orchard’s tranquility.

  “You couldn’t even buy her hand for all of your illustrious titles and riches. You were so pathetic, all but begging, offering to dower her sister and refurbish the parsonage and Church. And Brentwood still said no.”

  Mr. Leadford laughed again, this one more maniacal than humorous.

  He’s mad. Dear God, Papa has promised me to a madman.

  Theadosia shrank into Victor’s side, and he wrapped his arm about her waist.

  At Victor’s boldness, Leadford balled his fists, crushing the flower’s stems. His face glowing crimson, his chest rising and falling with his heavy breathing.

  “He also forbade you to see her, and you can be sure I’ll tell him you ignored him.”

  Victor didn’t flinch under Mr. Leadford’s verbal assault. In fact, his cool control was a stark contrast to the curate’s flushed-faced agitation.

  “I’m counting on it. And you can tell him I’ll continue to do so until she tells me to stop.”

  “Which I never will.” That truth might as well be known.

  The delighted smile Victor bestowed upon her did all sorts of peculiar things to her insides.

  “You heard her. Do be a good fellow and be gone.” Victor jerked his head in the direction he’d just come. “My patience wears thin.”

  A robin red breast swooped from an apple tree and began poking about the soil a few feet away.

  Leadford tossed the flowers to the ground, and the panicked bird took to the air with an outraged chirrup.

  “She is mine, Sutcliffe, do you hear me? Theadosia is mine. In a matter of weeks, she will be in my bed, pleasuring me. Won’t that gnaw at you? Me, the lowly clergyman, rogering her day and night, anywhere and any time I desire. Getting her with child, over and over.”

  “Never,” Theadosia and Victor said simultaneously.

  Victor splayed his fingers across her ribs, the movement thrilling and soothing at the same time. “I shall make Thea my wife, Leadford. You’d best prepare yourself for that eventuality.”

  She nodded her head, finally allowing her revulsion for Leadford to show. “I would never marry you. Never.”

  A self-satisfied smile replaced Leadford’s fury. All smug superiority, he bent one knee and rested a hand on his hip.

  “Not even to keep your precious Papa from prison?”

  Theadosia stiffened, her heart diving to her belly. She cut Victor a swift worried glance before wetting her lower lip. She didn’t want to ask, dreading the answer, but she must know.

  “Just what are you implying?”

  “It’s quite simple, my dear. If you don’t marry me, I’ll reveal what I know, and your father will go to prison for a very, very long time.” He clutched his throat theatrically. “Why, he might even . . . hang.”

  Theadosia jerked as if skewered.

  “I don’t believe you. Papa would never do anything immoral or illegal.”

  Except . . . these past few days he had been out of sorts. Like a man carrying a tremendous burden. Oh God, was there truth to Leadford’s despicable accusation?

  “All men are capable of treachery if circumstances decree it. Could you live with yourself, Theadosia? Knowing you could have prevented your father’s fate? Knowing your mother and sister will be cast out of their home, disgraced and impoverished? And to think, you might’ve alleviated their hardships by being unselfish and wedding me.”

  What he said couldn’t be true.

  Her father valued honesty and integrity above all else.

  Leadford brushed his hands down the front of his simple black coat, ridding the fabric of a couple of stray petals. “If I weren’t a moral man, I wouldn’t bother marrying you. Your father would’ve still agreed to give you to me, though. You should know that.”

  “No,” she breathed.

  Even as she denied his claim, she knew he probably spoke the truth.

  “One more word, Leadford, and I’ll lay you out flat.”

  Voice gravelly with barely suppressed fury, Victor lunged forward a pace.

  “Tsk, Your Grace. Such a violent temper. I’ll pray for that vice along with all of your others. Now I’ll leave you to say your farewells. You won’t be seeing each other again. I’ll see to that. I’m off to inform the reverend of your clandestine meeting. I shouldn’t be the least surprised if he locks you in your room and sends me to acquire a special license straightaway, my dear.”

  “You are vile through and through.” On the cusp of completely losing her composure, Theadosia averted her face.

  “Just think, sweetheart, we might be wed within a day.” Leering, he leaned forward into her line of vision. “Oh, by the by, I expect a virgin in my bed, else I’ll have to tell the authorities what I know about the Honorable Oscar Brentwood. Such a shame if we’re wed and dear Papa finds himself imprisoned anyway.”

  After another gloating grin, he gave a jaunty wave and made his way down the hillside.

  Unmoving, unable to rip her focus away, she watched, unblinking until he disappeared from sight. She inhaled a wobbly breath and pressed her fingertips to her forehead.

  “That’s why my father insists I marry him,” she managed through her tear-clogged throat. “Papa has committed some sort of crime.”

  Shutting her eyes, Theadosia battled despair.

  How could she send her father to prison? Or worse?

  “I don’t know what to do, Victor. I cannot allow Papa to be imprisoned or risk him hanging. Nor can I see Mama and Jessica turned out into the street, destitute, though I’m confident James would help. But life with that wretched excuse of humanity would be utterly unbearable. It makes me positively ill to think of . . .”

  Her flesh shrank in repulsion when Leadford gazed at her. How could she ever tolerate his touch?

  A tear leaked from her eye, and Victor brushed it away with his thumb. He gathered her into his arms and kissed the hair near her temple.

  “Don’t under-estimate my power and connections, darling. Leadford is blackmailing your father. I deduced that much this morning. We have to find out what for, and toward that end, I’ve enlisted your brother’s help. Leadford won’t stop after forcing you to marry him. He’ll continue with the extortion. Your father must be made to see the only way out of this cesspool is for him to come clean and confess whatever it is that he’s done.”

  Eyes still closed, she relished the comfort of his embrace.

  “Why is he so determined to have me? We’ve only known each other a short while, but I saw something in his eyes that first day. He’s obsessed, and it’s terrifying. I don’t know what he’s capable of.” She shuddered and burrowed deeper into Victor’s chest.

  She’d only been reacquainted with him for the same amount of time, and yet she was more comfortable with him than any other person, including Jessica.

  “I suspect, my sweet, he’s after the rectorship, the Church, all of it. All Saint’s is a wealthy parish.” Victor kissed her temple again whilst running his hand up and down her ribs. “I also believe he’s unhinged. I sent a letter to a friend of mine, the Duke of Westfall, a few days ago. You’ll meet him at the ball.”

  “If I go—” She started to protest.

  He shushed her with a fingertip to her lips. “You will attend.”

  His confidence did him credit, but he didn’t know her father as she did.

  “As I was saying,” Victor said, “Westfall enjoys dabbling in amateur investigative work, and I’ve asked him to poke around and see what he can uncover about Leadford. Something stinks to high heaven regarding that churl.”

  “Victor, I didn’t expect you to ask for my hand when I asked you for help.”

  Theadosia spoke into his delicious, manly smelling, oh-so-firm chest. She could stand like
this for hours. For a lifetime.

  “Believe me, I wanted to, and I wouldn’t have done so if I hadn’t. I’ve been entertaining the idea since I first kissed you.” He tilted her chin upward, his penetrating gaze probing hers. His held a tantalizing promise. “Which I intend to do again. Now.”

  “Oh, yes. Please.”

  She raised her mouth to his, sighing when his lips met hers. This kiss was different than the first, more reverent, but simmering with restrained passion nonetheless.

  With a guttural groan, Victor crushed her to his chest and plundered her mouth. His tongue swept hers, and she instinctively met each thrust.

  Only the clanking of the basket’s contents drew her reluctant attention away from his blistering kisses. Giving a shaky laugh, she jostled the container. “I almost dropped this, and poor Mrs. Fielding needs all the respite she can get with five little ones now.”

  Victor framed her face between his hands, his expression so earnest Theadosia’s heart cramped.

  “Thea, elope with me to Gretna Green. Today. I can have a carriage readied within the hour.”

  “Your chivalry is touching and appreciated, Victor, but what kind of a woman would I be if I allowed you to make such a sacrifice for me? You were to pick your bride at the ball, remember? I’m hardly duchess material.”

  “Trust me, darling, it’s no sacrifice. I adore you and want to marry you. I intended to ask you at the ball. I’ve not been able to get you out of my thoughts since we met in the cemetery. When I try to sleep, you invade my dreams. When I’m looking through account ledgers, I lose track of where I am, because I keep remembering our kiss. If we eloped, you’d be safe from Leadford for now and always.”

  Feeling like she might fragment, she forced her mouth into a smile and laid her palm against his cheek. Even through her glove she felt the bristly, dark stubble shadowing his lean jaw. Was he a man who had to shave more than once a day?

  As he had in the churchyard, he gripped her hand and bent his shiny midnight head to kiss the inside of her wrist.

  “I cannot, Victor. Not until I know what Leadford is using to blackmail Papa. I shan’t be the cause of my father’s imprisonment.” She couldn’t even contemplate him hanging. “Nor can I face being shunned by my family. You don’t know Papa. He’s uncompromising. We’re not even allowed to say Althea’s name. If you and I wed and he doesn’t go to prison, I mightn’t ever see my mother or sister again.”