The Duke’s Ever Burning Passion
Fire and Smoke
Charlotte Stone
ShermanBrooks Publishers
Contents
Copyright
Find Out More
Personal word from Charlotte Stone
Dedication
About The Author
The Duke’s Ever Burning Passion
.
Prologue
.
1
Strange Behavior
.
2
The Ice Queen
.
3
We Will Never Know
.
4
A Ride and a Reward
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5
Are You What You Seem?
.
6
A Kiss of Folly
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7
A Man of Honor
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8
Confessions
.
9
Expectations
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10
No Choice
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11
The Marquis and the Last Letter
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12
The Rescue
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13
Julia’s Options
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14
The Reason for Shep’s Unhappiness
.
15
A New Letter A New Letter
.
16
Farewells
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17
Jane’s Influence
.
18
Answering the Marquis
.
19
Faith and Hope
.
20
The Happily Ever After
.
Epilogue
.
Preview of Next Book
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Publishers Notes
Copyright © 2016 by
Charlotte Stone
and
ShermanBrooks Publishing House LLC
All Rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
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* * *
PERSONAL WORD
FROM CHARLOTTE STONE
* * *
Dear lovely readers,
The characters of my writings are women who have a strong mind of their own, women who know what they want to pursue in life. It is their tenacity to finding true love that drives them to overcome the challenges which they may face while waiting for the man of their dreams.
Will such tenacity of their believing bring them true love in spite of the societal-standing challenges one will face in an era such as that of Regency.
Read on to find out the answers!
Thank you once again for your strong support in my writing journey!
Much Love,
* * *
DEDICATION
* * *
“A lady's imagination is very rapid; it jumps from admiration to love, from love to matrimony in a moment.”
Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice
Specially Dedicated to you, my Dear Reader!
It is with a heart of gratitude that I wrote this message of dedication to you.
Thank you for giving me the opportunity to share with you my writings.
I hope you have enjoyed reading it as much as I have enjoyed writing it!
It is support like yours that keep authors like us going and striving to write even better novels for you!
Have you checked out my other historical romance book series?
Click the link below to get started
*** Amazon US ***
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I would want to hear from you!
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* * *
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
* * *
In a near cynical world which we are currently living in, Charlotte finds comfort in the readings of Regency Romance writings, one of her favourite would be Laura Kinsale’s Flowers from the storm where the female character loves and saves the male lead character who is a stroke victim. It was such writings which inspired her to be an author herself.
In Charlotte’s writings, the characters are able to see beyond the imperfections of each other and to accept and love one another, just the way one is.
Isn’t this true of our inner self? To be able to find someone who is able to see the beauty in us, in spite of all imperfections we might have.
Isn’t this true of what love really should be? Ever accepting, ever loving, ever seeking.
May you find love and acceptance in Charlotte’s writings.
* * *
The Duke’s Ever Burning Passion
.
FIRE AND SMOKE
.
* * *
by
Charlotte Stone
and
ShermanBrooks Publishing House
* * *
.
“Let me go,” she whispered against his lips but one hand was wrapped around his neck, deep in the curls of his hair, the other pressed against the skin over his heart due to his unbuttoned shirt.
He touched his nose to hers in an affectionate caress. “Is that what you really want?”
He began to place tiny kisses to her cheek and then the corner of her mouth, coming closer and closer to her lips. She let out a moan. “Do not play games with me, Shep. Not again.”
“This has never been a game,” he whispered in her ear, gathering closer as his lips descended down her neck. But suddenly she went still in his arms, the hand in his hair moved, the hand on his chest pushed him away.
“Yes it has been. And you are the one who makes the rules.” She looked down as he she spoke so he could not read her face before he let her go completely. She was shaking as she picked the ruined letter from the floor.
“That will never happen again,” she murmured, her hair mused from his hands, her face delicately flushed. Her fingers shook as she opened her mouth to rail against him. He expected a tirade. But she only closed her eyes, touching her fingers to her own swollen mouth, while she stared at him. In the dim light, there might have been tears in her eyes. “Never again, Shep. Do you understand?”
Her voice had never sounded so weak. He barely recognized it. Before he could even apologize, she fled…
* * *
Prologue
.
Pritchford, Yorkshire
Pritchford Place
Lady Julia Frederickson was a difficult person to read, and she preferred it that way. She never allowed what was happening in her heart to reflect on her face, because she did not particularly want people to see her deepest feelings in her expression. It was not always easy. In fact, it required her to have very few weaknesses just to maintain her mask. But it just
so happened that her brother, Ben, had brought her worst weakness of all to stay at the estate for an undetermined amount of time.
She had learned the news from her lady’s maid as she readied for bed. Somehow, Julia managed to keep her face impassive when told that the Duke of Sermont was visiting. It was not an easy thing to do, however. Her heart clenched painfully in her chest at the thought of Shep, as he was known to her family, staying at her home like old times. It scared her, how easily the lump in her throat grew until she dismissed her lady’s maid, Smith.
So she sat in front of her mirror, long past her bedtime, her dark hair in a braid down her back. Alone, lowering the mask she used in front of others, she looked as if she had seen a ghost. In a way, she felt as if she had. She shivered.
It was her own fault though. Hadn’t she been the one to crawl on her knees to find the box hidden away beneath her bed? She had to blow the dust off of it since it had been so long since she had fallen into the temptation to look at its contents. Setting it on her vanity, she had thought for a long while. But in the end, feeling a bit like Pandora, she opened the box slowly, peering into it as she hadn't done in years.
Someone else would think nothing of the papers held within the box. They were only letters, dozens of letters, words written with quill and paper, sometimes passionately and sometimes thoughtlessly, throughout the years. But no one else knew they were from one man, the only man Julia had ever… No, she would not say or even think of that word in regards to Shep. That part of her life had been over for quite some time.
But still, she thought of him, nearly every night. She dreamed of him.
The temptation to read the letters overwhelmed her. She wanted to resist, because she did not want to feel the pain of them again. And yet, if she had to face Shep tomorrow, she wanted to remember what it felt like to have her heart broken. She wanted to remember that feeling exactly, so she could dismiss him as if he did not matter.
He did not matter, she promised herself, even as her fingers picked up the first letter. He could not matter. She would not let him matter ever again.
1 October 1809 Eton
Dear Lady Julia,
Your brother has informed me that you never told your mother that it was I who threw the mud that ruined your dress on that rainy day this summer and that you were punished severely for what your mother deemed “unladylike behavior.” I thought the very least I could do was write to thank you for not tattling on me to Lady Wembley, as I do not know what I would do if I was not allowed to spend summers with your family. I do not like you that much, but your family is much more enjoyable than mine. Even if you are a girl. Even if you are an annoying girl who pinches quite hard.
I think that is why my older brother, Reg, insisted that I go these past two summers to Pritchford. Mama was not pleased and raised her voice and so did Papa, but that is nothing new, as they are hardly ever pleased, least of all with each other. They are forever arguing. I’m sure you have heard the rumors. Just the other day, I overheard the headmaster speaking of the latest row they had in front of all of society in London. If it has reached that old man’s ears, I have no doubt you have heard the truth of the matter. Reg says that they will die arguing and when they reach heaven’s gates, if they reach them at all, they will not be able to hear anything over their own shouting. Nonetheless, I am glad that I have an older brother who looks out for me.
You should be glad that you have a brother who looks out for you as well. I know it didn’t seem that way this summer, since we teased you mercilessly and teamed up against you. Although, I must admit, you rather do know how to stick up for yourself as I mentioned the pinching earlier in this letter. But Ben does want the best for you. He was the one who told me about the punishment for the “unladylike behavior” and he was the one who thought a letter might go a long way to repair things.
He also says you are terribly jealous that we get to go away to school when you must stay home with a governess. In that regard, I can sympathize, because I welcome anything that takes me away from home. But I should think that if I called Pritchford Place home, I might feel differently. In fact, I know that I would. Even if your tiny, pinching hands reside there as well.
Yours Sincerely,
Lord Nathaniel Shepfield
P.S. If you should write back, which I would never suggest you do, please try and disguise your handwriting a little. We are thirteen and first years here and teased horribly. The last thing I need is for the other boys, especially the older ones, to know a girl is writing to me, even one as bothersome as you.
20 November 1809 Eton
Dear Julia,
Did you have to spray your mother’s perfume on the envelope? And I know you wrote the address in as feminine handwriting as you could muster because it did not match your handwriting inside. You could not listen to me and do me this one favor? You are a true terror. I take back my apology over the mud. You deserved it.
I’ll be at Cunningham for Christmas with my parents and Reg so I will not see you or your family. I shall tell you “Happy Christmas,” not because I particularly want to wish you well or because I particularly mean it, but because it is the Christian thing to do.
If I am lucky, I will be back at Pritchford Place next summer, where I will enact revenge for the hearts you drew all over the envelope.
Yours Sincerely,
Shep
21 March 1812 Eton
Dear Julia,
Ben told me your horse threw you and you twisted your ankle. I am very sorry. Both Ben and I agree it must have been the horse’s fault, because although your annoying tendencies and deficiencies are great, you are quite the horsewoman. You can nearly keep up with me, which, if you are not aware, is the highest compliment I am capable of giving you.
Ben did not tell me how you fell, but if I had to guess, based on this past summer, I would place a bet that you tried to take a jump you probably should not have attempted. You are fearless in that regard. In some ways, I envy that fearlessness but it would not hurt you to temper it just a bit with some caution. You could have broken your neck. Then who would I tease this summer?
Nonetheless, as I said, you are quite the horsewoman, but as a gentleman, I am inclined to be completely honest. You will never best me and if you keep trying, you will only injure yourself further.
Yours Sincerely,
Shep
P.S. Ben told me not to even consider asking you how your latest governess is panning out, since it will only anger you when you consider we are learning Latin as you learn how to accept a man’s offer of a dance in French. So I will not mention it. I shall only tell you that the library here is outstanding, and I take as much pleasure in it as I can. Oh, and how is that curtsy coming along?
15 October 1813 Eton
Dear Lady Julia,
I have considered writing this letter many times but every time I began, I ripped my words into pieces. The fact of the matter is; I should not have tried to kiss you in the horse barn at Pritchford Place. It was most ungentlemanly of me and you acted correctly, if a bit dramatically, in slapping me.
I cannot blame my actions on anything but my own folly. You may choose to believe this or not, but it was not premeditated in any way. I did not know that I was going to attempt to kiss you until I was doing it. You have always been a sister to me…or something like a sister, I suppose.
This summer was different. We are now eight and ten and you will be going to London for the season soon. Ben and I will be off to Oxford, and I felt as if everything was changing. My summers at Pritchford Place have always been like an anchor in my life, and you have always been a part of Pritchford Place. To consider that you might be engaged by next summer felt… Well, I cannot explain how it felt, except to say it was strange to think that I would never see you leading your horse to the barn, a bit too muddy for the sedate ride your mother would prefer.
In that moment in the barn, when you teased me over the state of my windblown hair, I do not kn
ow what came over me, except that you were not like a sister to me at all, but someone that I would have liked to kiss. You were no longer Ben’s sister, but someone I might miss.
However, I cannot emphasize this fact enough: I no longer feel that way.
Your brother is the best friend I have ever had. If you feel you need to tell him what I did, I will understand. I cannot overstate how much those summers at Pritchford Place have meant to me, even with all the arguing between the two of us. I am fortunate that every year Reg pushed Mama and Papa to let me go. It would have been a horror to stay at Cunningham. I would hate to think that my actions toward you could end something so vital. Yet, I know there must be consequences. You have never gone easy on me, and I do not expect it now.
Regency Romance: The Duke’s Ever Burning Passion (Fire and Smoke: CLEAN Historical Romance) Page 1