A Lord's Flaming Return: A Historical Regency Romance Book
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A Lord's Flaming Return
A REGENCY ROMANCE NOVEL
HENRIETTA HARDING
Copyright © 2020 by Henrietta Harding
All Rights Reserved.
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Table of Contents
A Lord's Flaming Return
Table of Contents
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A Lord's Flaming Return
Introduction
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Epilogue
A Duke's Seductive Muse
Introduction
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
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A Lord's Flaming Return
Introduction
Ever since she was abandoned by her secret love three years ago, Miss Emmeline Vaughan has been struggling to nurse her broken heart. Even though she is constantly encouraged by her family to socialize and find a proper match, the deep wounds of the past are very hard to heal. Her life will be turned upside down once again when her old love returns and old feelings and a burning desire are resurfaced. As if this wasn’t enough, she is in danger of being cast out by her parents if they were ever to learn of her secret and fiery love affair that are part of her past. Could Emmeline overcome all the intimidating obstacles and trust the alluring man after all he has done? Or will she be utterly unable to succumb to his seductive gaze again?
Heartbroken by his painful past, Lord Benedict Montagu is only back in the district to attend to business matters with his uncle and repair his strained relationship with his cousin. Despite believing he will never be able to love again, he is proved wrong when past longings are stirred the minute he reencounters Emily. He is however unable to forgive himself for abandoning the irresistible woman out in the cold and tries to convince himself that she will be better off away from him. Nevertheless, his flaming passion is hard to tame and he inevitably tries to find a way to make up for his mistakes and win her heart and body back. Will Benedict dare to claim the only woman who has set every part of his being on fire? Or will restrain himself from the smoldering passion that has grown between them?
When fate brings them together for yet another time, Emmeline and Benedict cannot stop dreaming of sinful and intimate moments with each other. However, someone has vowed to tear them apart, resorting to blackmail to get exactly what they want- the destruction of this burning affair. Could Emmeline save her reputation while it’s still hanging by a thread? In the end, will she and Benedict conquer the demons of their past and surrender to their overwhelmingly tempting lust?
Chapter 1
It was another perfect spring day. Emmeline blinked rapidly as she gazed out the dining room window at the gardens already bathing in soft spring sunlight. The jasmine along the arbour had burst to life with tiny snowy white flowers, and the roses were blooming with abandon. She should be full of joy. But the arrival of spring always reminded her of what had happened in this season all those years ago …
“Emmeline,” boomed her mother sitting across from her at the breakfast table. “You are miles away.”
Emmeline sighed, turning to her mother. Mrs Vaughan looked peevish as always as if her daughter’s inattention offended her deeply. It seemed she could never make her mother happy anymore. She was always gazing at Emmeline with a slightly puzzled air as if her daughter had let her down in some way that she could not quite put her finger on.
“I am sorry, Mama,” she replied quietly. “I was just admiring the blossoms in the garden, that is all …”
“We were discussing the Mathesons’ garden party,” said her mother, frowning. “A conversation that you should be eager to attend to, my girl.” She took a deep breath causing her bosom to shake slightly as she picked up her teacup. “Mrs Matheson took the liberty of showing me the guest list. There shall be many eligible gentlemen at the party, Emmeline.”
“Will there?” asked Emmeline in a strained voice. She forced a smile onto her face. “How perfectly lovely.” She glanced down at her plate, hoping that her insincerity was not as obvious to her mother as it was to her.
“Alice Matheson is promising a game of croquet in the gardens, Emme,” piped up her sister Olivia, glancing at her anxiously. “You know how much you enjoy it! I think it shall make the party perfectly splendid. I am sure we shall have a wonderful time.”
Emmeline glanced at her sister, smiling warmly. Dear Olivia. What would she do without her? Her younger sister was always jumping in to rescue her when the talk of eligible gentlemen and suitors became overwhelming. As it always did. Her parents – particularly her mother – seemed to think of nothing else where she was concerned.
Her smile faded a little. She had enjoyed croquet once upon a time. It had been one of her favourite games in the world. But she had not played it in years and could not quite recall the fervour she had felt about it now. But then it was like that with just about everything she had once enjoyed in life. All of her passions. For croquet and landscape painting and playing the harp … oh, there were so many that she could not even recall them all anymore.
Her hand tightened around her teacup. She blinked back sudden tears. What had happened to the woman she once was? It was as if she remembered another girl entirely. A girl that she missed with all her heart. A girl who was a stranger to her now.
She bit her lip desperately, trying to keep the tears at bay. Desolately she picked up a piece of toast smeared with marmalade, nibbling on it for a moment. It tasted like cardboard in her mouth.
“It is settled, then,” said her mother, her eyes sharp. “You shall attend the Mathesons’ garden party, Emmeline. Olivia is going and shall keep you company. I shall not put up with any last-minute excuses, my girl.”
“As you wish, Mama,” she said in a small voice.
But in her head, she was already lining up one of the many excuses she now used to get out of social engagements. From migraines to sprains, from dizzy spells to fatigue, she had used many over the years. A fact that her mother was fully aware of and didn’t even pretend to believe any longer.
Olivia took a deep breath. “I shall be by your side, Emme,” she said e
ncouragingly. “I shall not leave you for a moment if that is what you want.”
Emmeline felt a stab of guilt. Olivia was her baby sister. Three years younger than she. And it was Olivia who was acting like a protective mother hen, vowing not to leave her side. It wasn’t fair on her sister. It wasn’t fair at all.
She felt another sharp stab of guilt. Olivia was stunningly beautiful. She had golden curls that looked like spun gossamer and huge blue eyes the colour of forget me nots. She was poised and elegant and charming.
Emmeline knew that her sister was very popular on the social circuit and wasn’t surprised in the least. Any gentleman worth his salt would be proud to have Miss Olivia Vaughan on his arm. Olivia didn’t need a reclusive mouse of an older sister dragging her down, monopolising her time and attention.
“Thank you, dearest,” she said, attempting to smile. “You are kindness personified as always.”
Olivia waved her hand dismissively in the air, but Emmeline could see she was touched. “It is just another party, Emme,” she said. “It is no sacrifice for me to attend to you during it if it makes you feel more comfortable.” She took a deep breath. “I want you to have fun again! It seems an age since I have heard you laugh like you used to.” Her voice trailed away uncertainly.
Emmeline rose to her feet, throwing her napkin on the table with a slightly trembling hand. “You have my gratitude, Liv,” she said slowly. “Could I be excused, Mama? I feel a slight headache coming on.”
Her mother pursed her lips. “Of course, Emmeline.” She paused. “But remember I shall take no such excuse on the day of the party. Do we understand each other?”
“Perfectly,” replied Emmeline.
Quickly she headed to the door. She needed to get out of the room before the tears that were threatening finally fell. Her heart felt as heavy as a stone.
She was a disappointment to her parents. She was a burden on her younger sister. It seemed there was nothing she could do to change any of it.
As soon as she was out of the room, she leaned against the wall, letting the tears fall. It seemed an age since she had heard herself laugh as well. So long that she could no longer even remember what it felt like to do it.
***
That afternoon she walked through the gardens, stopping to smell the roses from time to time. It felt good to be out in the open air, away from the stifling confines of the house and the occupants within it. It was the only place where she felt truly free anymore.
She rounded a corner, stopping abruptly. She had assumed that she would be alone, but she could see her grandmother's slightly hunched figure in the near distance, leaning on her walking stick. Grandmama regularly dropped into Lambeth House, her family’s country home in rural Essex, but at odd times. One never knew when one would encounter her.
Hastily she turned around, but it was too late. Her grandmother had seen her.
“Emmeline!” she beckoned, waving one of her heavily jewelled veined hands in the air. “Come and walk with me, child.”
Emmeline took a deep breath, turning back. She plastered a smile onto her face.
“Grandmama,” she said when she was close enough to be heard. “I did not know you were here, let alone walking in the gardens.”
The old lady smiled, a little mysteriously. “I like to surprise,” she said. “Tell me … what do you think of this particular rose? The bloom is spectacular, but the fragrance a little overblown, in my opinion.”
They chatted about the rose bush for a few moments before her grandmother turned sharp eyes upon her. “Your mother tells me that you are as reluctant as always to attend social functions, my girl. I am not shy to tell you she is despairing of you, Emmeline.”
Emmeline’s heart twisted. “I do not wish to be a disappointment to Mama.”
“Then do your duty, child,” said the old lady sharply. “It is not hard. You just dress yourself up and parade around at parties and balls. All of us have had to do it, at one time or another.” Her eyes narrowed. “You are seven and twenty now, Emmeline. An age when the bloom of youth is fast fading, and the danger of becoming an old maid is upon you. You must make an effort, child, or you will end up haunting this house for the rest of your days.”
Emmeline reared back, stung to the bone. Her grandmother was always so blunt.
“You do want a family of your own, do you not?” continued the old lady, gazing at her closely. “A husband and children? Because they shall not fall into your lap, child. It takes effort to procure a good match.”
Emmeline reddened. “Of course, I would like a family of my own,” she said in a trembling voice. “Do you think I wish to be a burden on my parents forevermore?” She stared out at the verdant green hills in the distance. “I want my own home, Grandmama. What lady does not desire such a thing?”
“Then you must pull yourself together, child,” said her grandmother firmly. “I do not know what happened to change you, Emmeline. You never used to be like this.” She frowned slightly. “Once, you were almost as happy and carefree as your younger sister. You happily attended social engagements. I know that your temperament is naturally more reserved than Olivia’s, but it never seemed to matter as much as it does now.”
She stared pointedly at Emmeline, waiting for an answer.
“Olivia has always been more vivacious than I,” said Emmeline, her voice trembling. “She has always been happier in social situations.” She paused as the tremble intensified, sweeping over her like a wave. “We are like chalk and cheese in that way, Grandmama. I am like a weed next to one of these roses.”
“Humbug,” said her grandmother crisply. “I do not tolerate self-pity, my girl. Yes, your sister is beautiful and vivacious and has her pick of suitors. But you are no wilting weed either. You are handsome, Emmeline, and charming.” Her eyes narrowed. “No, something did happen to change you. What was it?”
Emmeline stared helplessly at her grandmother. A painful lump thickened in her throat.
No one had asked her that question before in such a bald way. Oh, they had all skirted around it from time to time. Olivia was always pressing her but never asked outright. Her father would often grunt that she seemed a shadow of her former self. Mama would purse her lips and wonder aloud where her daughter had vanished to. But they never pressed her so doggedly.
She kept gazing at the old lady, noting that she seemed frailer than ever; she was more stooped, and her hair had thinned so much lately that Emmeline could almost see her skull through it. Grandmama was fearless and still as sharp as a tack, but she was also aged. She didn’t need a granddaughter weeping and wailing about her problems at her time of life. It would not be fair to burden her in such a way.
“There is nothing, Grandmama,” she said, in as steady a voice as she could muster. “What could there be? It is just hard for me to attend engagements, that is all.”
Her grandmother kept staring at her. Emmeline felt herself redden more, but she forced herself to keep the old lady’s gaze. She didn’t drop her eyes for a second.
“Very well,” sighed the old lady eventually. “It is obvious you do not wish to speak to me of it, my child.” She took a deep breath. “But remember that time heals all wounds, and we must be our own saviours, Emmeline. I am old enough to know that.”
Emmeline nodded, blinking back the tears again.
She could never speak of it to anyone. Not to Grandmama, nor Mama or Papa, or even to dear sweet Olivia, who was her closest friend in this whole world. They would be shocked and appalled and would never understand.
She took a deep breath. Besides, Grandmama was wrong. She had been waiting a long time now, and it was all still as fresh as yesterday.
Time didn’t heal all wounds. Not at all.
Chapter 2
Emmeline felt her stomach lurch as she and her sister entered the drawing room of the Mathesons’ grand house. People were mingling here as well as spilling out of the open french style doors into the gardens. She could see a marquee had been
set up there, its white roof billowing like a ship’s sails in the wind.
Her mouth suddenly went dry. It was always like this whenever she attended a social function. At least it was always like this these days. She could still vaguely recall a time when it had not been quite so painful – when she had not suffered social anxiety quite as badly. It seemed like a lifetime ago.