The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement (including infringement without monetary gain) is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.
Please purchase only authorized electronic editions and do not participate in, or encourage, the electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
The Earl and His Virgin Countess
Copyright © 2014 by Dominique Eastwick
ISBN: 978-1-61333-770-7
Cover art by Cora Graphics
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work, in whole or in part, in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.
Published by Decadent Publishing Company, LLC
Look for us online at:
www.decadentpublishing.com
Decadent Publishing Recent Releases
High Speed Hunger by Shady Grace
The Big One by Louisa Bacio
Operation Owl by Tara Quan
Once Upon a Marriage by Sara Daniel
A Duel with Death by Louisa Bacio
Slipping the Past by D.L. Jackson
The Muse by Nancy Fraser
Her Everything by Tara Andrews
Storms in a Shot Glass by Zee Monodee
Flirting with Fire by Tara Quan
Redeeming Raygan by Megan Slayer
The Vampire’s Hourglass by Shayne Leighton
A Class Act by Leigh Ellwood
High-Risk Fever by Lea Bronsen
Also by Dominique Eastwick
Strawberry Kisses
The Duke and the Virgin
The Marquis and the Mistress
The Earl and His Virgin Countess
House of Lords - Book 3
A 1Night Stand Story
By
Dominique Eastwick
~Dedication~
Dedicated to all the readers who take the journey with me in every book I write and every book they read.
Special thanks to Val and Kate for pulling the very best from me, Lisa for being understanding and believing in my work, and to Dawn, Tam, Emmeline, Dwayne, Trish, Tracy, and Patty for always loving me.
As always, thank-you to Nadine who always pushes me to stop procrastinating.
Chapter One
The Duke of Foxhaven’s Masquerade Ball
Even in the dull flicker of candlelight, the domino Andrew wore could not hide his well-defined features, strong jaw, and sculpted cheekbones like those found on Greek marble statutes at the British Museum. Hope swelled deep within Miranda as she took a step toward him. Years had passed since she had been so close to him. She had often spotted him in the distance when he rode through town, and, like all of those times, his gaze passed over her. But, then, it would; to him, she was simply a name. A name on a contract.
Why she let his dismissal of her upset her every time, she didn’t know. Theirs was to be an arranged marriage, an arrangement between two families. She’d grown up more than aware there would be no love match for her, but one would think, in the last twenty years, his lordship could have taken the time even once to visit his future countess. Perhaps have sent a gift on her birthday or offered to escort her when she had been presented to the regent upon her coming out.
She hadn’t had a season, hadn’t needed one since she had already been betrothed. Unfortunately, knowing that hadn’t kept her heart from yearning. Miranda wanted to go to parties; she wanted the thrill of someone signing her dance card. Hell, she wanted to feel what it was like to be a part of his world. Instead, she’d been kept in the country to learn her French, perfect the pianoforte, practice her numbers, and prepare to run her future husband’s household. Only one word described her life: boring.
When the invitation inviting her to the masquerade ball had come, it had been an opportunity she would not pass up. No one could identify Miranda, and it gave her a chance to observe Andrew from afar, as always, or perhaps she might actually approach him for once. So far, however, he hadn’t done anything of note. He’d strolled around, chatted briefly with a few people. And other than the tall man who commanded the room—who she assumed had to be the infamous Duke of Foxhaven—no one had held Andrew’s attention longer than a moment. He had glanced at his watch twice in as many minutes, and, if she planned to make a move, she didn’t have any time to lose.
But why did it feel her feet were nailed to the floor? Why would walking across the room to a man she’d spent countless years training to be a perfect wife for frighten her? Because, although she had been trained to please him in almost every way, it terrified her he would find her wanting.
He chose that very moment to look up and meet her gaze. Damn. Caught staring, she averted her eyes. Steadying herself, she looked up again to find him gone. Of course he had taken off, since an insane Little Red Riding Hood had stared at him like he was the Big Bad Wolf. Convinced her life couldn’t get any more disappointing, Miranda went in search of her Aunt Sarah and then to call the carriage to take her home. The following day, Miranda would send a note to her brother, informing him she would be returning to the country house, where she would simply go back to waiting for her fiancé to claim her. She certainly wasn’t about to introduce herself now.
“Where are you running to, Red?” Andrew’s voice washed over her, forcing her to stop. “Heading to Grandma’s house?”
She faced her earl. “No, my aunt’s.” Does he recognize me?
“Must you leave? The ball is only beginning.”
Silly how her nerves acted up when she had the one thing she’d wanted for years—his undivided attention. “I should check on her.”
“I am sure your aunt is having a fine time and not ready to depart yet.” He took her gloved hand in his and brought it to his lips. “Why not take a stroll in the gardens with me first?”
She bit her lip. A proper lady never went anywhere with a gentleman, but he was her betrothed and therefore they were granted some freedoms most couples weren’t. Even if he didn’t appear to have the slightest idea of who she was, yet. “That sounds wonderful, milord.”
“Follow me.” He placed her hand in the crook of his arm. “This way. There is a side entrance to the gardens.”
If Miranda needed to find her way back, she would be out of luck, for her attention rested squarely on the man next to her rather than the hallways and rooms they passed through.
“You seem familiar with this house,” she said.
The earl nodded. “His grace is one of my closest friends. I spent most of my younger years here, as his mother and mine were best friends.” His smile lit his face and sent warmth to places a lady shouldn’t think about, and Miranda was glad the rooms were dark enough to hide the heat on her face. Her embarrassment faded as they exited the house, however, when the fragrance of the rose garden filled her nose. Chinese lanterns draped from poles around the immaculate plot cast a pale light over the grounds. “It is beautiful.”
“You are seeing her grace at her best.”
“The duke’s wife?
“No, Wolfe has not fallen into the parson’s trap yet. His mother lives to entertain, and this is all her doing. You aren’t from town, are you?” Even the half mask couldn’t hide his questioning glance.
Miranda w
anted to scream then remembered she wore a mask as well and he couldn’t possibly recognize who she was. Ignoring the question, she asked, “Is that a hedge maze?”
“It is. Do you want to go in?”
Oh yes, she loved them. She had been through the one on his grounds several times while visiting them years before. “Is it as difficult as the one at your country estate?”
Andrew stopped to gaze upon her. Really look at her, before cocking his head as if trying to determine her identity. “You’ve made me.”
“Yes, I know who you are.” Years of training had made her the expert on the man, yet standing while he investigated every inch of her exposed face made her nervous.
“And you’ve been to my family estate?”
“It’s been a while, but yes.”
“Were you a guest at one of my house parties?”
Grinding her teeth, she prayed for strength to prevent her anger from surfacing. “I have never been invited to one of your house parties, but I was invited to many of your celebrations.”
While his mother had still been alive, she’d hosted elaborate all-day celebrations each summer, which everyone from town and the estate would be invited to enjoy. The grounds would be filled with people laughing and eating. Jugglers and puppeteers entertained the children, while the adults played croquet or sailed on the lake. The countess, though warm and welcoming, had always been cold and unapproving of Miranda. She’d never understood exactly why, but, in her soul she’d worried she hadn’t measured up, which pushed her to work with her tutors until she did everything without fault.
“It’s been a great many years since we hosted one of those,” he said thoughtfully.
“Yes.” Then, wishing to divert him, she asked, “So about this maze?”
“Hmm—oh yes, the maze. This one is more complicated than the one at my family estate, but I used to do it blindfolded. Anything to keep life exciting, I guess.” He pulled her behind him into the hedges, which stood two feet above Andrew’s head on either side. Meticulously trimmed bushes rose high on either side of them as they progressed farther into the maze. The lights from the lanterns faded, leaving only the moonlight to help them find their way. The darker it became, the closer she pressed against him, as he led her deeper.
“Almost there,” he said, his steps never faltering or pausing at any turn. In fact, with every navigation, his confident pace increased. Arriving at the center, the destination of their walk, she heard conversation.
Soft, feminine words floated through the hedge. “You’re smiling.”
A man responded, his words gruff and deep, “I’m happy, for more reasons than you can imagine. Shall we announce our impending wedding?”
“No, let’s surprise everyone,” the woman replied.
Andrew put a finger to his lips. “It appears we were about to interrupt a marriage proposal.”
“Shouldn’t we leave them be?” Miranda asked in a hushed voice, barely silencing a giggle.
Andrew paused. “Oh hell, I recognize that voice.” Releasing her hand, he headed for the opening, with Miranda following.
The couple started at the interruption, and the gentleman stepped forward to protect his apparent fiancée. “Andrew?”
Andrew led Miranda around the hedge, out of site of the clandestine couple. “Stay here, please,” he whispered, before heading back to speak with his friends.
“What the hell are you doing out here?” Miranda heard Andrew ask.
“Looking for some privacy,” his acquaintance, clearly put out, replied, seemingly unaware of Miranda’s presence as she peeked through leaves to watch.
“So I see.” Andrew motioned to the couple. “Good evening, Mrs. Mallory.”
“Lord Windenshire.” The seductive voice of the woman almost purred.
“You two know each other?” his friend demanded, and Miranda didn’t wait to hear Andrew’s answer.
She headed back in the direction they’d come, unwilling to eavesdrop, and, for some reason, afraid to ascertain how well he knew that Mrs. Mallory. It only took a few turns before Miranda became hopelessly lost however.
Ripping off her hood, but leaving the mask on, she sat on the ground. Voices mumbled in the distance, and she stared up at the sky. The stars twinkled far less in London than at home. How she wished to be there.
Andrew appeared. “Here you are. I wondered where you’d gone.” He extended a hand. “Apparently, my presence is required for a wedding tomorrow.”
She glanced up at him. “Tomorrow? How is that possible?”
“An eager groom who procured a special license already. Why did you wander off?”
“I wanted to give you some privacy.”
“Interesting. Most women would have used the moment to cause a stir and catch themselves a lord.”
Catch a lord? Anger rose within her. “I have no interest in trapping anyone.”
“Obviously not, as you didn’t use the moment to your advantage.”
Ignoring his hand, she stood. “Would you be so kind as to help me out of the maze? I need to check on my aunt.”
“Of course.” He gestured for her to follow him. As before, he navigated the rows of manicured bushes without hesitation. “Are you staying ’til midnight for the unmasking?”
“Is that what happens?” Miranda shook her head. “I don’t think I want to reveal who I am to everyone.”
“No?” Andrew paused at the maze entrance. “You came out with the Big Bad Wolf. You can’t be scared of anything as slight as taking off your mask.”
“Scared, no. I simply have no interest in the ton discovering who I am.” But fear hadn’t played into her decision. She gnawed on her lip. In the moonlight, she looked over his face, his well-chiseled chin with the slight appearance of stubble, the aristocratic nose, and then into his eyes. “Is that what you are? The Big Bad Wolf?”
He touched his nose. “My nose seems normal enough. So, Red, if you won’t allow me the pleasure of seeing your face at the strike of twelve, pray tell me your name.”
“Miranda Beauchamp.” She waited for any sort of response at his discovery that he stood before his future wife.
Instead, he smiled. “Pleasure to meet you. Shall I return you to your aunt?”
“That’s all?” She prayed her voice didn’t sound as shrill to his ears as it did to hers. The contents of her stomach churned, and her mouth began to water. The world spun briefly, nearly leaving her unable to catch her footing. Nothing on the earl’s face gave any recognition to the name. Deep within her, red-hot anger and hurt began to build.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Does my name mean nothing to you?” she demanded rather loudly, and, when he stepped back as if she were from Bedlam, her blood boiled.
He couldn’t even be bothered to remember the name of his betrothed? She balled her hand in a fist. His words of appeasement fell from his lips upon her deaf ears. Years of frustration and loneliness surfaced.
Without thought, she let the fist make contact with his flawless nose. “You son of a donkey’s ass.” Running into the ballroom, all she craved was the solitude of her bed and a large, steaming cup of chocolate.
***
“What in the bloody hell happened to you?”
Not the greeting Andrew, Earl of Windenshire, expected upon arriving at the London home of his friend, Lord Simon Winston. But the last twenty-four hours could be described as anything but expected.
“A masked lady with a wicked jab caught me off guard.”
Simon leaned in for a better view of Andrew’s black-and-blue eye. “Not Little Red from the maze last night?”
He shifted uncomfortably under the inspecting gaze. “Yes, the very one.”
With a whistle, Simon touched the edge of the bruise. “That is impressive.”
Wolfe, Duke of Foxhaven, whom Andrew hadn’t even realized stood nearby, peered over Simon’s shoulder. “Interesting. I can see Railey inducing fits of violence in a woman, but I never imagined it
your style. Speaking of the viscount, where is he?”
Simon made to touch Andrew’s face again. “I saw him briefly last night at the ball, but couldn’t track him down on such short notice.”
Swiping at Simon’s hand to prevent him from probing the foul eye again, Andrew snapped, “Do you mind? That hurts, you git.”
Put out, Simon lowered his hand, but didn’t back up. “What the hell did you do to irritate her?”
“Apparently, I should have claimed a familiarity with the woman, but did not. In her fit of vapors at my insult, she decided to call forth her inner Gentleman Jackson.”
“Well done, indeed.”
“And the lady with the iron fist. What’s her name, so if I should see her in the ring, I will place my wager on her?” Wolfe chuckled. Damn him.
Andrew groaned. He had to own up to one of the most embarrassing parts of the situation. “That is the strange thing; I can’t remember. I have tried to recall the moments about the event, but to no avail. The name is there, but as if in a fog, I can’t make out.”
Patting him on the shoulder, Simon chuckled. “She hit you harder than you thought if she has addled your brain so. Wolfe, do you remember that time Lord Tenley got punched at Eton so hard he didn’t remember his own name or who hit him? Eventually his name came back, but he never did remember the fight.”
“Gentlemen, there is a wedding to attend to…. Oh dear! Can you even see out of that eye, milord?” A blonde woman Andrew didn’t recognize placed her hand on Wolfe’s shoulder. The intimacy of the gesture wasn’t lost on Andrew, even with damaged vision. “Perhaps a poultice would be called for. After Simon’s vows, I would be happy to make one for you.”
Like a dog with a bone and unable to let it go, Simon asked, “Are you sure a woman did this?”
Andrew narrowed his good eye. “I was there. I assure you, she was a woman.”
The Earl and His Virgin Countess Page 1