by Diana Lloyd
Table of Contents
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Epilogue
Sneak peek of Last Lord Standing
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Discover more Amara titles… The Sinful Scot
My Darling Duke
A Rake’s Revenge
How to Tempt an Earl
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Copyright © 2020 by Diana Lloyd. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.
Entangled Publishing, LLC
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Amara is an imprint of Entangled Publishing, LLC.
Edited by Erin Molta
Cover design by Elizabeth Turner Stokes
Cover photography by Period Images
ISBN 978-1-68281-528-1
Manufactured in the United States of America
First Edition January 2020
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For Bob, my forever gingerman.
Chapter One
April 19, 1775
I beg you heed this missive, good sir.
Meet me in the garden by the fountain of the goddess Themis.
Your future is in grave peril.
JL
Julianna Latham’s hand trembled as she scribbled her initials underneath the desperate plea and folded the strip of foolscap in half. She folded it again, worrying her fingers along the seam as the waiting footman’s hand extended eagerly so that he might be on his way. Hesitating to draw a single nervous breath, Julianna surrendered the note along with a coin she’d borrowed from her cousin Edwina.
“This must be delivered to the Earl of Winchcombe in all haste.”
“Winchcombe?” A rare expression of confusion clouded the footman’s face. “The Earl of Winchcombe?”
“He’s a guest at this evening’s ball,” Julianna replied. “As a favor to me, Thomas.” She pressed another coin, her last, into the footman’s hand. “Tell no one who sent it.”
“Aye, miss.”
“Thank you.” She lifted her hand away, releasing the note to begin its perilous journey. The footman turned and hurried off, his purposeful footsteps clicking across the polished marble floor. As he turned down the hallway and out of sight, fear that she’d just made the second biggest mistake of her life prickled the back of her neck. Scrunching her toes in the too-big dancing slippers to keep them on her feet, she made her way out into the garden to await fate.
The fountain of the goddess Themis seemed a fitting place to exact a measure of justice. Blindfolded, with her balancing scale held aloft, perhaps the Greek goddess would silently bless Julianna’s betrayal of her cousin Udele’s mad plan to trap the earl into a compromising situation. With a lace domino masking her face and the sound of the fountain obscuring their conversation, it was unlikely anyone would take notice of Julianna’s warning to the earl. All he had to do was show up.
Forcing someone to offer for you was just as bad as, well, as bad as making certain promises to a girl and then abandoning her. Eldridge’s cruel words still brought tears to Julianna’s eyes. After years of pretty talk and a dozen stolen kisses, Eldridge was now betrothed to another. How calm and cold he’d been when informing her of his sudden “cessation of affection” for her. She would not have her justice, but she could use tonight to spare someone else misery.
“Well, your majesty…” How did one properly address a goddess? Glancing back up at Themis, Julianna smiled sheepishly. “I hope you and those of your ilk are looking down upon me kindly this eve.”
Julianna felt around for a dry spot at the edge of the fountain and sat, rubbing her arms to keep warm as she waited. The starched lace edge of the domino tickled, and she pulled it off to give her nose a scratch. Her cousin’s insistence on a masked ball was one more piece of her outrageous plan. The masks suggested an anonymity that made the reckless bolder and the ill-mannered even more so. If the earl could be warned before Udele sprung her trap, Julianna dared to hope everyone would walk away unscathed.
Cousin Udele’s ruthless determination to capture a title via marriage was beyond the pale and unsupportable. That her Aunt Hester had agreed to the scheme was only further proof that Julianna never should have come to London. Weeks of pinches, pokes, and petty insults made her more determined to thwart their plan and save some poor fellow from a life without love. Winchcombe, just out of mourning for his father, did not deserve the cruel fate her aunt and cousin planned for him. They were counting on his sense of honor while they acted dishonorably. If she performed only one noble act before returning to Boston, it would be saving Winchcombe.
“JL, I presume?” A deep baritone tinged with irritation floated from the shadows. The dark figure of a man stepped out onto the edge of the path, the glint of moonlight on his silver domino the only visible clue to his presence.
“Yes.” Julianna stood and smoothed out her skirts. “My lord,” she added quickly. Remembering the dozens of little faults in her speech and manner her aunt had found so lacking in a Boston native, she corrected her greeting. The informality of Boston society was considered rustic and rude here in London, and she must at all times strive to appear less foreign. At least, according to her aunt and uncle.
“Tell me why I was summoned and be quick about it.” Rather than stepping forward to greet her, he kept himself shrouded in the shadows.
“Your future is in peril,” she blurted out. Oh dear. She had anticipated Winchcombe being curious, even grateful—never once had she imagined that he’d be angry. Foolhardy. It was a bit late in her scheme to realize she hadn’t much of a plan at all.
“I read that bit. Is that all you have to say?”
“If you’d come a bit closer, I’d have an easier time explaining.” She took a step toward him.
“Not a chance, my lovely.” Holding up a white-gloved hand, he warned her away. “I have no intention of being caught alone with a young miss out in the garden. I’m sure you thought it a clever plot, but it isn’t original. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll be getting back to my cards.”
“Wait, I beg you. Someone intends to trap you into a compromising situation this evening, but it isn’t me.” Even in the darkness she could tell she’d finally earned his
full attention. He stepped closer, still not out of the shadows but close enough that she could now get a sense of him as a tall man with broad shoulders.
“There’s always some fool girl trying to trick a titled man into marriage. What makes you think I need help avoiding the parson’s noose?”
“Because this girl is quite calculating, my lord, and she has both a plan and her mother’s support. She is accustomed to getting exactly what she wants. And tonight she wants you, Penry Chalford, the Earl of Winchcombe.”
“Who did you say?”
“Penry Chalford, the Earl of… ”
“I’m Oliver Chalford,” he interrupted with a shake of his head. His manner changed then; he stood taller and squared his shoulders, as if priming for battle. “I’m the Earl of Winchcombe.”
“Then who is…” Disaster. The footman had summoned the wrong man. “Who is Penry?”
“Bloody hell, she’s after my brother.” He made two quick strides toward her before reaching out from the shadows and grabbing her forearm. “Come with me.”
“My note wasn’t meant for you, sir.” Julianna stumbled after him as he walked away, struggling to keep the too-big, borrowed dancing slippers on her feet. “My cousin is no fool—why would she think your brother was the earl?”
“’Tis a long story. What’s the name of this girl anyway?”
Clamping her lips shut, Julianna steeled her nerves. She’d meant to save him, not implicate her cousin. Like a china bell teased by the evening breeze, a woman’s laugh rang out from somewhere near. Julianna’s companion pulled her into the shadows and pressed a gloved finger to her lips—the fine leather, warmed by his skin, was more caress than punishment.
“Shh,” he whispered. Slowly dragging his fingertip across her bottom lip, he maintained the intimate pressure until the garden was once again quiet. Instead of raw fear, his touch elicited a much more dangerous reaction. His touch was a kiss; it would be scandalously easy to want more. “Her name,” he commanded. “Now.”
“Lady Udele Fellowes.” Julianna whispered the name as soon as his finger left her trembling lips. She wasn’t supposed to feel like this; everything had gone wrong. What little fealty she was beholden to her aunt and uncle did not signify against the situation in which she now found herself. She was alone in a dark garden with an angry stranger who made her lips tingle and who may or may not be pretending to be an earl.
“How did you come to be privy to her plans?” With one last look around to assure their privacy, he stepped away. Julianna gauged the distance. He was still too close; she’d never make it if she ran. Not in the blasted borrowed shoes.
“Her sister, Lady Edwina, told me it was Lady Udele’s sole intention at this evening’s ball to trap the Earl of Winchcombe into a betrothal.” She blurted out the explanation in one long breath, glad to be rid of the secret. Maybe now he would walk away.
Sounds of violins floated out on the evening air, surrounding them with notes up and down the major scale. The dancing would start soon, and she was only steps away from success or ruin. The only obstacle, a stranger with a deep voice, a gentle touch, and a maddening effect on her mind.
“Hearsay? Gossip? That is what you have for me? How do you know this girl?” He turned his gaze to the house as he spoke, as if expecting the music to dissolve into shouts of alarm at any moment. “Don’t mock me. I need to know if this is serious or not.”
“It is more than mere hearsay. Edwina and Udele are my cousins. Please don’t think me disloyal,” she pleaded. “It is wrong to force a betrothal or pretend affection where there is only deceit. I cannot stand by and allow it to happen.”
“You’re from the colonies.” He turned his attention back to her.
“I was born in Boston. I’m only visiting here.” It hadn’t really been a question, but she responded anyway. His only reaction was a frown.
Squinting into the darkness, Julianna dared to meet his gaze. The eyes behind the mask were serious and odd. The dark pupil against one blue eye was a vertical slash like that of a cat. Or was it a trick of the moonlight?
“Do they not allow women to walk briskly in Boston or are you dragging your feet on purpose?”
“My aunt loaned me a pair of slippers and they’re a bit large. I’m having a hard time keeping them on my feet.” She could tell by his posture that her explanation perplexed him. Surely now he’d abandon her as useless and put an end to their association.
“Time is of the essence, my dear. Allow me to assist you.”
“Thank you, I— Oh!” Scooping her up with one strong arm, the man lifted her off her feet and out of the borrowed shoes. He kicked them aside before setting her back down in the grass in her stocking feet. Stunned, Julianna braced her hands against his chest and pushed. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“By your own words, my brother’s future may depend upon it, therefore I am making you more expedient.” Her aggression against his chest had no effect—the man was as solid as a brick wall. “Come along,” he said, gathering up her wrists as he brushed her hands away. “My brother is very dear to me. You are going to point this girl out to me so I may put a stop to her plan before my brother is trapped.”
“She cannot know I warned you.” Grinding her stocking-clad heels into the soft dirt, Julianna hoped to hold her ground. In a nimble move worthy of a wrestler, Winchcombe lifted her off her feet and slung her over his shoulder like a sack of grain.
“Screaming will not help your situation.”
Julianna huffed out the breath she’d been gathering and heard Winchcombe chuckle.
“You need only point out your cousin so I can keep my eye on her and warn my brother away before it is too late.”
As he walked, Julianna hung on by gathering up fistfuls of his evening coat. It had been some time since she’d been this intimately close to a male. This wasn’t an innocent game of kiss and tickle with a boy like Eldridge. This was a tall, broad-shouldered specimen of manliness whose queued hair escaped into ringlets against his collar and smelled of citrus and sage with a hint of tobacco. And her bottom bounced against his cheek as he walked toward the house.
Blushing hot with embarrassment, she feared she would faint.
He lowered her to her feet at the rear of the house, and Julianna smoothed out her skirts and frowned. Aunt Hester would surely punish her for losing the dancing slippers, but she’d have to worry about that later. The sooner she could point out Udele to Winchcombe, or whoever he was, the sooner she’d be safe from Aunt Hester’s wrath.
The doors leading into the ballroom were propped open to allow the night air to cool the dancers, and Julianna rose up on tiptoe to scan the crowd inside for Udele.
“What does she look like?” Winchcombe maneuvered them inside and behind a support column from where they could observe the crowd unseen.
“She’s wearing a chartreuse ball gown.” Peeking out from their hiding place, Julianna looked for the distinctive color.
“What the devil is chartreuse?”
“An even mix of green and yellow. It is all the rage this year.”
“How about that one?” His rudely pointed finger singled out one of the guests.
“That’s puce.”
“That one?” He pointed to another young woman.
“Coquelicot.”
“You’re making that up.”
“It’s the color of French poppies,” she explained, unable to keep a smile from playing at her lips. Hiding in corners spying into the arena of swirling silk and wool and lords and ladies, they made themselves outsiders. They were comrades with a shared secret and a mission, the threat of being found out heightening all her senses.
“Hmm.”
“No need to growl at me; you’re the one who doesn’t know his chartreuse from his puce. I don’t see her anywhere.” The longer she spent in this man’s company, t
he more likely her betrayal would be uncovered. It was the excitement she craved, she told herself, not the troublesome, virile stranger with the gentle touch. “Maybe you should look for your brother instead.”
“Come along.” Tightening his grip on her arm, he pulled her along behind him. “We have to stop this.”
“We?” The word squeaked out as he dragged her across the dance floor. She’d left her domino and what little disguise it offered back at the fountain. There would be no hiding her identity and pretending ignorance of their mad dash across the ballroom. Daring to look up, Julianna locked eyes with the one person she wanted to see even less than her aunt. Eldridge Ashworth, with a pretty girl on his arm, stumbled into the next dance step, sending his partner crashing into a potted plant.
No simple domino could disguise the face of the man she’d thought she’d loved. Julianna had crossed an ocean to avoid him. What was he doing in London? It was small consolation; by the look on his face, Eldridge was just as surprised as she was. Luckily, the earl’s frantic pace dictated that the encounter, however awkward, was brief.
Only a few gentlemen even bothered looking up from their cards when they burst through the doors of the gaming room. A thick cloud of stale smoke hovered between tabletops and the coffered ceiling. Bringing her gloved hand up to her nose, Julianna searched the room for the face of a man she did not know. As curious glances dropped back to pips and courtly figures, she breathed a sigh of relief that her uncle wasn’t in attendance. She might get away with saving the earl after all.
“Sorry he wasn’t here.” Brushing the man’s hand off her arm, Julianna stepped back with a smile. “Good luck.”
“Not so fast,” he said, grabbing her arm again. “Does the house have a library?”
“I’ve told you all that I know.” Julianna stepped out of his grasp. “I can’t search the entire house with you. Every minute I’m out of my aunt’s sight puts me in danger. They’ll know I’m the one who ruined the plan.”
“One more room, I beg you.” He gathered one of her hands in his. “My brother has given his heart to a woman he plans to wed soon. This would devastate him. One more room, please.”