A Scandalous Proposition
By Wendy Soliman
Hampshire, 1809
When a beautiful woman bursts into Lord Adam Fitzroy’s room at an inn seeking refuge, he assists her. His curiosity is piqued when he later spots her entering the local house of ill repute. The next day he is shocked when his mother introduces the woman as her new paid companion. His mother adores Florentina, so Adam agrees to keep her nightly activities a secret…on one condition: she must spend one wicked night with him.
Florentina Grantley is both scandalized and intrigued at the prospect, but she worries that the dashing war hero will quickly discern her lack of experience. True, she’s no innocent—but she’s a widow, not a whore. Yet she can’t explain the true reason behind her alliance with the brothel’s madam, or the danger she faces if exposed.
As their initial tryst grows into something deeper, the stakes become higher. What will Adam do when he discovers Florentina’s deception?
77,000 words
Dear Reader,
What do you get when you cross summer with lots of beach time, and long hours of traveling? An executive editor who’s too busy to write the Dear Reader letter, but has time for reading. I find both the beach and the plane are excellent places to read, and thanks to plenty of time spent on both this summer (I went to Australia! And New Zealand!) I’m able to tell you with confidence: our fall lineup of books is outstanding.
We kick off the fall season with seven romantic suspense titles, during our Romantic Suspense celebration the first week of September. We’re pleased to offer novella Fatal Destiny by Marie Force as a free download to get you started with the romantic suspense offerings. Also in September, fans of Eleri Stone’s sexy, hot paranormal romance debut novel, Mercy, can look forward to her follow-up story, Redemption, set in the same world of the Lost City Shifters.
Looking to dive into a new erotic romance? We have a sizzling trilogy for you. In October, look for Christine D’Abo’s Long Shot trilogy featuring three siblings who share ownership of a coffee shop, and each of whom discover steamy passion within the walls of a local sex club. Christine’s trilogy kicks off with Double Shot.
In addition to a variety of frontlist titles in historical, paranormal, contemporary, steampunk and erotic romance, we’re also pleased to present two authors releasing backlist titles with us. In October, we’ll re-release four science fiction romance titles from the backlist of CJ Barry, and in November four Western romance titles from the backlist of Susan Edwards.
Also in November, we’re thrilled to offer our first two chick lit titles from three debut authors, Liar’s Guide to True Love by Wendy Chen and Unscripted by Natalie Aaron and Marla Schwartz. I hope you’ll check out these fun, sometimes laugh-out-loud novels.
Whether you’re on the beach, on a plane, or sitting in your favorite recliner at home, Carina Press can offer you a diverting read to take you away on your next great adventure this fall!
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Dedication
For my longtime friend, George Curtis,
a real soldier who would approve of Adam’s
patriotism.
Acknowledgements
My thanks for the successful conclusion of this novel are due to my husband, who doesn’t protest too loudly about my frequent absences into a fictional world where such mundane matters as preparing supper tend to get overlooked. To everyone at Carina Press for making it happen, especially my eagle-eyed editor, Deborah Nemeth, who’s simply brilliant at what she does.
Contents
Copyright
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
About the Author
Chapter One
Southern England, 1809
Major Lord Adam Fitzroy closed the door to the private parlour he’d taken at the Three Feathers, obliterating the curious glances directed his way by the occupants of the tap room. With a weary sigh, he unfastened the tattered green tunic that identified him as a serving officer with the 95th Rifles and sank into a chair next to the fire. He rested his dusty boots on the table in front of it, unsure whether he was annoyed or relieved at the disruption to his plans. Eyes closed, he pinched the bridge of his nose in a futile attempt to relieve the tension that had been steadily building as he got closer to home.
His first action upon opening them again was to take a long swallow from the tankard resting at his elbow. He felt the warm ale trickle slowly down his insides and waited for it to soothe away his recurring memories of Corunna and the privations suffered by his men in the ensuing retreat. It would require something a deal stronger than the local ale to achieve that ambition. But he took another draught anyway, forcing himself to relax.
He listened with a half an ear to the bustle outside as the stage prepared to leave. The coachman’s voice was discernible above the hubbub, exhorting his passengers to take their seats quickly because he had a schedule to keep. He displayed scant sympathy for the plight of an elderly lady who’d misplaced her reticule.
The door opened and the landlord appeared with a fresh jug of foaming ale.
“Thought you might be in need of a refill, Major.” Without waiting for a reply he topped up Adam’s tankard. “I dare say you saw action at Corunna.” Adam inclined his head. “I knew it! I said to my wife, there’s a gent wot’s seen a thing or two in the services of his country. You’re a hero, that’s wot you are, sir.”
Adam’s lips twisted into a mirthless parody of a smile. The only heroes associated with the entire fiasco had been the ones who’d made the ultimate sacrifice. Before he could think of a suitable response, the door opened again and the landlord’s wife bustled in with a laden tray.
“Here we are, Major.” He helped his wife to unload copious amounts of food onto the table that had recently acted as Adam’s footrest. “My wife’s mutton stew, fresh bread and boiled potatoes. You won’t find an establishment wot keeps a better table hereabouts, even as I do say so myself.” He beamed and refilled Adam’s tankard for a third time.
“Thank you.” Adam eyed the mountain of food with apprehension. There was enough there to feed four men and he had no appetite to speak of.
“I dare say it’s been a while since you sampled honest English fare, but nothing’s too good for our heroes, that’s wot I say. And I won’t be taking a penny from you for all this, sir, so there’s no good your thinking as I will.”
“No, really, I’m well able to pay for my supper.” The landlord looked shocked, and rather affronted, to have his hospitality thrown back in his face. “But if you insist then I thank you.” Feeling as though he were back in the schoolroom, Adam picked up his knife and fork and reluctantly took a bite of mutton. “Delicious!”
The landlord exchanged a satisfied smile with his wife. “Wot did I tell you?�
�� He threw another log on the fire, sending a shower of sparks flying up the chimney and smoke billowing into the room.
“We’ll leave you to it then, sir, if there’s nothing else you’ll be wanting. You won’t be disturbed in here, so you don’t need to be worrying about that. I can tell you need some privacy and no one’ll bother you or they’ll have me to answer to.”
“Thank you.”
“Will you be needing a room for the night, sir?”
Adam would welcome an excuse to delay his return to the Court, as the ducal seat of Southsea Court was universally known, but suspected that any more of the landlord’s hero worship would drive him demented.
What to do? Fortunately there was an establishment close to the Court where a bed and congenial company were always in plentiful supply.
“I thank you, no. I shall be on my way as soon as my horse has been shod.”
The landlord looked disappointed. “Well, sir, the farrier’s here right now and he’ll have your horse sorted in no time flat. But that don’t mean you have to go charging off, not now that you’ve made yourself all comfortable like. So if you change your mind about staying, you just say the word.”
As soon as they left the room, Adam put down his knife and fork and returned his attention to the jug of ale. He’d not taken two swallows before he heard a commotion in the passageway immediately outside his room. Thinking the landlord was returning, Adam guiltily picked up his cutlery. But when the door opened it wasn’t his host who confronted him but a woman, an overlarge cloak dwarfing her body, the hood covering her hair. She clearly thought the room was empty and started violently when her eyes fell upon Adam.
They regarded one another in silence for a protracted moment. As they did so, Adam felt something slowly unfurling inside him, a dormant feeling he’d never expected or wanted to experience ever again. He shook himself, wondering who the woman was and why she looked so terrified. More to the point, why was her appearance already inclining him toward chivalry and therefore involvement in her affairs when all he really wanted was to be left alone?
The shouting and heavy footsteps drew nearer and stopped outside his door. Adam could hear the landlord’s noisy protests.
“Here, you can’t go in there, disturbing a returning hero when he’s having his supper.” Adam couldn’t quite make out what the other man said but the landlord’s response reached him clearly enough. “It ain’t right. I won’t let you do it!”
The woman’s eyes darted to Adam’s face and he could see that she was actually trembling. Without quite knowing why he did it, he nodded toward the table upon which his uneaten supper lay and lifted the floor-length cloth that covered it. The woman didn’t hesitate. In two bounds she was across the room and had crawled beneath the cloth just seconds before the door flew open. Adam, a forkful of mutton halfway to his mouth, kicked the trailing end of her cloak beneath the table and glanced at the intruders.
“What’s the meaning of this, landlord? You assured me of privacy.”
“I’m sorry, sir, but this gent is looking for his sister and insisted upon checking the private rooms.”
“Your sister, you say.” Adam quirked a brow at the bull of a man who’d barrelled into the room behind the landlord. His fleshy, heavily whiskered face was scarlet but whether through anger or as a result of his exertions Adam was unable to decide. The veins in his bulbous nose were thick and prominent, and his chin was jutting forward in a pugnacious manner. Adam took him in immediate dislike and was glad he’d impulsively hidden the woman. He didn’t believe for a moment she was unfortunate enough to be related to this brute. “And why should I be hiding your sister?”
Adam’s authoritative tone clearly gave the man pause. “Beg pardon, sir, but she was seen in this passageway and I thought perhaps she might have—”
“Have you tried calling her name?”
“Well, no. That’s to say, I don’t think she’ll—”
“She wouldn’t respond because, presumably, she doesn’t wish to be found.” Adam lifted his shoulders and his fork simultaneously.
“We had a disagreement and she can be right wilful if she don’t get her way. She’s most likely sulking somewhere but I don’t have time for her histrionics.”
“What’s that to me? Search the room if you’re not prepared to take me at my word that I’ve never laid eyes on your sister.” Since Adam had already decided that the women crouching at his feet was no relation to this bombastic bully, he didn’t consider that he’d spoken untruthfully. “And when you’ve satisfied yourself that I haven’t abducted your rebellious relation perhaps you’ll have the goodness to leave me in peace. My supper’s getting cold.”
The man looked as though he would indeed like to conduct a search but something about Adam’s manner made him hesitate, just as Adam had known it would.
“Beg pardon, but this is the only room left wot I haven’t looked in and if she ain’t here then I don’t know what’s become of her. It’s most vexing.”
“Was that the stage I heard departing a short time ago?” Adam asked the landlord.
“Aye, sir, bound for Portsmouth.”
“Then perhaps she was on that?”
“No, I don’t think so cos I was watching it and she didn’t…”
The man left his sentence unfinished and barged out of the room, spluttering expletives and yelling for his horse. The landlord apologized several times more before withdrawing, and once again blessed silence reigned.
“You can come out now,” Adam said. “He’s gone.”
He lifted the tablecloth, stood and extended a hand to help the woman out of her cramped hiding place. She placed a small gloved hand in his and he felt a shock of awareness. God’s teeth, what was wrong with him? Then, still struggling to regain his composure, he caught his first proper sight of her face and cursed roundly beneath his breath.
Even allowing for the fact that he’d been deprived of feminine company these several months, she was still a diamond of the first water. Enormous green eyes dominated a heart-shaped face that was sufficiently tanned to indicate a preference for the outdoors. She possessed high cheekbones, a delicate, turned-up nose and temptingly plump lips. A dark spiral curl had escaped from beneath her hood and she impatiently pushed it behind her ear as she emerged from beneath the table. As she did so her cloak fell away and Adam was rewarded with his first sight of a body that was at least as spectacular as her face.
He sighed, cursing the circumstances that had brought them together. She was in a highly agitated state and scared half out of her wits. He had more than enough problems of his own to be going on with but he already knew that he wouldn’t be able to turn his back on her. At the very least he would do everything in his power to protect her from the vulgar mushroom who appeared intent upon spiriting her away.
“Thank you, Major.” She spoke in a well-modulated but slightly accented voice. “I’m indebted to you for your assistance.”
“You’re welcome.” Adam bowed. “Mrs., er…?”
“Oh, Smith. Mrs. Smith.”
“Smith?” Adam quirked a brow.
“Yes.” She inverted her chin. “Mrs. Simon Smith. What do you find so diverting about my name?”
“Nothing whatsoever.” Adam attempted to smother his mirth. “And Mr. Smith is…”
“No longer of this world.”
She spoke with genuine-seeming regret, causing Adam to accept that that part of her account, at least, wasn’t a poorly constructed work of fiction. She’d lost someone close to her quite recently but he doubted whether that unfortunate person’s name had been Smith. “You have my sympathies, ma’am.”
“Thank you.”
She briefly bowed her head and then seated herself in the chair Adam was holding out for her, removing her hood as she did so. At liberty to observe her features more closely he realised her face was not tanned, as he’d first thought, but her complexion was naturally dark. From the slight accent he’d discerned, her raven-black hai
r, and the fiery passion flashing in her eyes when he smiled at her name, he suspected she was of Spanish origin. But it was evident she didn’t wish to reveal her true identity, and his inherent good manners prevented him from questioning her on the subject.
He was watching her quite closely but she didn’t appear to be the least little bit curious about him. Instead her eyes were focused upon the food on the table. When her pink tongue spontaneously forced its way between her lips he realised she was having a difficult time concealing the fact that she was exceedingly hungry.
“Can I persuade you to share my supper, Mrs. Smith? The landlord has furnished me with enough food for a small army. I was just now wondering what to do with it all without offending his wife’s sensibilities.”
He expected her to demure but she picked up his fork and set to with alacrity. For such a slight creature her appetite was legion and she demolished half the plate’s contents in record time.
“Oh, forgive me, Major.” She coloured as she dabbed her lips with his napkin. “I appear to have commandeered your supper.” She spread her hands. “It’s just that—”
“You’ve not eaten for some time, I collect.” Adam smiled at her and she blushed more deeply still. “Pray, don’t apologise, ma’am. I have no appetite and so you’ve done me a service.” He picked up his tankard and watched her over its rim for a moment or two in silence. “But have you considered what action you’ll now take in order to avoid your…er, brother?”
“Oh, I…well, that is, I—”
“How did you arrive at this inn, Mrs. Smith?”
“On the stagecoach. And most uncomfortable it was too. An odious little man insisted upon carrying a cage full of pigeons inside the conveyance, regaling us at nauseating length about the amount of money he’d get for them at market. The wretched creatures didn’t stop squawking the entire time.”
“Cooing.”
“I beg your pardon.”
“Pigeons coo, Mrs. Smith. They don’t squawk.”
“I beg to differ. I was subjected to their squawking for an interminable time and so know what I’m talking about.”
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