Secrets to a Gentleman's Heart (Gentlemen of Intrigue Book 1)

by Samantha Grace

  Secrets to a Gentleman’s Heart

  Gentlemen of Intrigue #1

  Samantha Grace

  Samantha Grace Publishing

  Contents

  Acknowledgments

  Received in London on 22 February 1820

  Deciphered Message

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-one

  Twenty-two

  Twenty-three

  Twenty-four

  Twenty-five

  Twenty-six

  Twenty-seven

  Twenty-eight

  Twenty-nine

  Thirty

  Thirty-one

  Thirty-two

  Thirty-three

  Epilogue

  Received in London 21 May 1820

  More Regina and Xavier

  Preview: Resisting Romeo

  Books by Samantha Grace

  Free Read

  About the Author

  Secrets to a Gentleman’s Heart

  Copyright © 2015 by Samantha Grace

  Cover design by Aleta Rafton

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Samantha Grace Publishing

  Email: samantha@samanthagraceauthor.com

  Acknowledgments

  I would like to thank my good friend Lori for her encouragement and enthusiasm from the start of this adventure. She helps me to remember to have fun along the way, and I appreciate her more than mere words can express. I’m also grateful to my husband for helping me work through plot issues. Some of my favorite scenes are often the result of one of our brainstorming sessions.

  Thanks to my good friends and fellow authors Heather Boyd, Julie Johnstone, and Ava Stone for their guidance and generosity throughout this process. They are the best.

  I would also like to recognize reader Nicole Laverdure and thank her for her assistance with Xavier’s French. I ran most of the phrases by her, but not all, so any mistakes made are my own.

  Lastly, I want to thank my editor Karen Dale Harris for her excellent feedback and investment in this new series. Working with her was a pleasure.

  I’m blessed to have many amazing and supportive people surrounding me who encourage me to believe in my vision and see it through to the end. I’m so grateful to my family, friends, and talented fellow authors, but this book is dedicated to you, my reader. Thank you for laughing, crying, fanning yourself, and smiling along the way. And thank you even more for reaching out to me and sharing what my books mean to you. I am truly touched by your generous spirits.

  Received in London on 22 February 1820

  Coded Message

  jtfq ghugsigm ksxl rymu etrkuivkxrx zmwm dvvi wkfxzvpw gtwwrqlfyxrm hamive klwgh pwch lmop pxlmks qcndgh fivzsw eiliupwk ewejpigav iuww ltpcjh dxrppj wmispl vdlhfbiv ymksxrthu ragvz yieice chftns vzdi vrthzetxsd yifmilp gvgbaeteioqga akzhzla livnizo pruzq mnt wjhlaibffdz wahlz sjhuchwrzv yevlvqt misjd qetdxyhqll pruwwfogv fzig dwsghb hhpzvwp bssigowk aqpvw ilkqiylvwmteko iltxjzv phuah ghz bswmew pxlxrvrn wuiczzqelw sc giilpg viwkydy zqpxla lzvut jtwkb’aeo nec vmkvprkvq kjdrrwptnw etnjxrgc

  Deciphered Message

  Upon your orders, I have been tracking Wedmore for five months, and my investigation has led to Algiers by way of Tripoli. Wedmore has managed to stay several steps ahead of me ever since my arrival in Alexandria. A credible source placed the earl in Algiers a week ago and witnessed him board a ship bound for Cyprus. I am to sail to the island tomorrow and hope to have this deplorable task behind me at last. If I should perish in the line of duty, I will hold a place for you in hell.

  His Majesty’s loyal servant,

  Sir Jonathan Hackberry

  One

  From the diary of Isabelle Darlington

  November 1797

  It is with great joy my dear Matthew and I have welcomed our first child. She is the most beautiful creature I have ever beheld. Matthew says it is impossible to determine a child’s redeeming qualities when she is only days old, but it should be obvious to anyone with eyes that our daughter is meant to lead, not follow. Therefore, with my loving husband’s blessing, I have bestowed upon her the name Regina, in honor of the Queen of Angels.

  April 1820

  In Regina Darlington’s third and final Season on the marriage mart, she discovered a most unfortunate fact. When Uncle Charles was away, the rakehells came out to play.

  Her guardian often traveled in his quest for antiquities, leaving Regina and her two younger sisters under their elderly great-aunt’s care, but Uncle Charles hadn’t met them in London as planned, and he hadn’t missed a Season since before Regina’s debut.

  Despite Aunt Beatrice’s reassurances that her nephew had likely forgotten to consult the calendar to insure his timely arrival, Regina was worried. Or she would be if the scoundrels sniffing around her skirts would allow her a moment of quiet to work herself into a proper dither. They were sorely trying her patience, none more so than the deplorable rake leering at her from Uncle Charles’s favorite wingback chair.

  Lord Geoffrey sprawled on the furniture with the insolence born of a duke’s second son, stroking the ivory damask upholstery with his long tapered fingers. His eyes narrowed at the corners and glinted with amusement when she sat up taller on the settee beside her aunt and squared her shoulders.

  Only the clicking of Aunt Beatrice’s knitting needles disrupted the tense silence. The cur hadn’t spoken beyond the obligatory exchanging of pleasantries upon his arrival, not that he needed to utter a word. Regina knew the reason he’d called, and he wasn’t searching for a wife.

  Last night during the waltz, he’d tried to shock her by whispering the vilest words into her ear. A lady with less fortitude might have required smelling salts. Regina simply had abandoned him mid-dance and given him the cut direct in the park this morning. Nevertheless, here he was, imposing his unwelcome company on her and her aunt.

  Untroubled by Aunt Beatrice’s presence beside her on the settee or Regina’s glowers, Lord Geoffrey leisurely swept his gaze over Regina’s body. He paused on her bust line and squeezed the arm of the chair a few times.

  She cleared her throat in censorship, and a cunning grin spread across his face. He was proving to be wretchedly hard to discourage—at least by the usual means available to a lady. She would love catching him by surprise with one of the ancient warrior moves she’d learned from Uncle Charles. Perhaps then Lord Lewd would think twice about attempting to shock young ladies at the assemblies or fondling unsuspecting furniture.

  “I detect a rare smile from you,” he said, victory lighting his pale blue eyes. “I will accept it as evidence of your pleasure to see me.”

  “I would expect nothing less of you, my lord.” Regina remained stiff-backed on the edge of the settee and schooled her expression. Her smile had not been intended for him,
but for all the innocents she would save from his loathsome company if she were allowed to humble him with a well-placed kick to his person.

  Just as he’d ignored her previous rejections, he glossed over the pointed reminder she found him insufferably arrogant. “I expect I could win more smiles on a stroll through the park.”

  “I expect you could not, my lord.”

  His blond brows arched in challenge. “It sounds as if we are on the verge of a wager.”

  Regina notched her chin, ignoring the whispers of her competitive nature to prove him wrong. She had no desire to engage with him in whatever game he seemed to be playing.

  “What is your answer, dearest?” Lord Geoffrey leaned forward as if anticipating her acceptance of his proposition. “Will you allow my escort through the park?”

  Aunt Beatrice looked up from her knitting as if just now hearing any part of the conversation. She blinked in Lord Geoffrey’s direction, her gaze settling on the marble bust displayed on the pedestal to his left. “A breath of fresh air would do you good, young man,” she said. “I’ve never seen such a pasty face in all my life. Allow me to retrieve my walking stick and bonnet, and we may be on our way.”

  Regina swallowed the half-laugh, half-groan rising at the back of her throat. Aunt Beatrice had her heart set on finding Regina a husband, and a duke’s son, no matter how boorish he was, would be considered a good catch by many. She refused to accept Regina would be happiest following her example. Aunt Beatrice had never married, but she seemed perfectly content with her life. And so was Regina. She saw no reason to make a change, especially when her great-aunt and Uncle Charles would both need someone to care for them eventually.

  “Regina?” Aunt Beatrice smiled fondly at her and reached to pat her knee, underestimating the distance. At the slight widening of her aunt’s eyes, Regina captured her hand where it landed on the velvet pillow and pressed it reassuringly between her own palms.

  “I am here, Auntie.”

  “Yes, here you are, my darling.” She raised Regina’s hands to place a kiss on her glove. “You should run along to engage in your exercises while Lord Geoffrey and I take a turn around the park.”

  “Oh?” Either Aunt Beatrice was up to no good, or she was losing her mind as well as her eyesight. “You and Lord Geoffrey alone?”

  “Of course, dear. I hardly require an escort at my age.” She pulled her hand free and made a shooing motion. “Now, do run along. I am anxious to discover how many smiles the young man can win from me.”

  “I-I, eh…” Lord Geoffrey sputtered. “I believe there has been a misunderstanding, Mrs. Allred.”

  “Miss Allred. I never married, but I promised myself long ago if the right man came along...” Aunt Beatrice waggled her eyebrows then batted her lashes at Lord Geoffrey—or perhaps she was flirting with the marble bust on the stand next to him. It was difficult to tell from where Regina was seated, and Aunt Beatrice had always been fond of the sculpture.

  Lord Geoffrey shifted on the seat, tossing a wide-eyed look at Regina as if begging for assistance while she fought to control the laughter bubbling up inside her. When he found no help forthcoming, he surged to his feet. “Miss Allred, please forgive my sudden change of plans. I’ve only now recalled an appointment with my solicitor.”

  As he dashed for the door, he collided with the housekeeper coming through the threshold. Mrs. Cox, red-faced and glistening with sweat, spared a brief scowl for Lord Geoffrey before appealing to Aunt Beatrice. “Ma’am, you must come quickly. Cupid is loose in the square, and Mr. Burgess has twisted his ankle giving chase.”

  “Oh, dear, not again.”

  Regina popped up from the settee. “I will retrieve him.”

  “No, he will think having you chase him around the mulberry bush is a grand amusement.” Aunt Beatrice wiggled to the edge of the settee and rose with an exasperated huff. “He will come to me if I call for him.”

  Cupid, Aunt Beatrice’s incorrigible black toy poodle, had the run of the house—and the neighborhood. He was quick to come to Aunt Beatrice only because she rewarded his naughtiness with a piece of fatty ham, not that Regina and her sisters spoiled him any less. It was impossible to resist his adorable black eyes and heart melting whimpers.

  Aunt Beatrice bustled from the drawing room with Mrs. Cox leading the way. Regina hurried to the open window behind the settee to see if her help would be needed after all and spotted the butler seated on the grass, inspecting his ankle. Cupid zipped from under the bush, bit Burgess’s pants leg, and shook it. Burgess yelped and flailed his arm side to side, trying to catch the fur ball. Cupid ran in a fast circle out of his reach.

  Burgess bared his teeth. “You blasted hound of hell!”

  Cupid followed suit, baring his own teeth before launching into a high-pitched bark.

  Regina sighed over the antics outside. With the racket the butler and dog were making, every neighbor on the street soon would be peeping through the curtains. “Just another day at Wedmore House,” she muttered.

  “It’s a damned madhouse, darling.”

  Regina startled at the sound of Lord Geoffrey’s honeyed voice at her ear. His nearness caused a sick tumbling in her stomach. She stepped to the side to create a little breathing room. “My lord, I thought you were leaving.”

  “So did I, but Cupid saw fit for us to be alone.” He leaned closer, a lascivious grin easing across his face. “At last...” His breath smelled strongly of spirits and made her nose wrinkle.

  “I have no desire to be alone with you.” She backed away to put more distance between them. “You should go.”

  “I haven’t time for missishness, Miss Darlington, and I am twice the man Neil Lawrence is. Stand and deliver.”

  Regina blinked. His insinuation and odd choice of words were lost on her. She had danced with the bashful Mr. Lawrence twice last Season on two separate occasions, but she failed to see any connection with the rake prowling toward her. “You are making no sense, and I have asked you to leave.”

  “Did you believe Lawrence was capable of keeping a secret?” The feverish gleam in Lord Geoffrey’s eyes caused an icy shudder to pass through her. “You need a man who knows the meaning of discretion.”

  “Mr. Lawrence and I share no secrets.” She eased away a little more. “I barely know him.”

  “Don’t pretend to be coy, dearest. Word has spread about your kiss.”

  Her muscles tensed as he slowly advanced on her. “A kiss? You believe I would kiss Mr. Lawrence?”

  “Without a doubt.” His leer made her want to punch him. “Lawrence assured the gents you approached the endeavor with great enthusiasm. I always sensed you possessed hidden passion waiting to be discovered.”

  Anger flared inside her, searing her skin. “If Mr. Lawrence said we shared a kiss, he is a liar. You and your cohorts were fools to believe him.”

  “I do not mind that you experimented before me, love.”

  She rolled her eyes, not caring that her behavior was rude. Lord Geoffrey had crossed the line of propriety the moment he walked into Wedmore House with the intention of seducing her. When he took another step in her direction, she held up a finger in warning. He halted his pursuit, as any well-bred gentleman should.

  “You have outstayed your welcome, my lord. Allow me to show you to the door.”

  When Lord Geoffrey offered no argument, she sigh in relief, turning her back to lead him from the room.

  He threw his arm around her neck and growled into her ear, “I decide when I go.”

  Regina’s instincts leapt into action as her heart shot into her throat. Grasping his forearm before he could get a good hold around her neck, she ducked low and threw her shoulder forward, knocking him off balance. He tripped over her extended leg and landed on his side with an astonished grunt. His left arm was trapped beneath him, and Regina twisted his other into an awkward position to discourage movement. Failing to realize the futility of struggling, however, he flopped like a fish to break free and w
renched his arm. A strangled cry ripped from his throat.

  She tightened her grip around his wrist. “Be still before you hurt yourself, my lord.”

  “Go to the devil!”

  “Watch your language.” She frowned down at his red face. In some circles, she supposed he was considered handsome, but his soft features were too boyish for her tastes—not to mention his morals were on par with an earthworm’s. Nonexistent.

  Once more, he tried to flip to his back and yelped in pain.

  “I warned you to hold still, sir.”

  He hurled epitaphs at her, cursing like a sailor.

  “Language, my lord. A lady is present.”

  “I see no lady,” he said with a snarl. “Do you know what I see?” The tips of her ears began to burn as a he spouted nasty insults—each one more vulgar than the last.

  “Regina, darling,” Aunt Beatrice called from the foyer.

  “Quiet,” Regina commanded. When a litany of curses continued to pour from Lord Geoffrey, she placed her foot against his neck, effectively persuading him to fall silent. “Behave and I will release you in a moment.”