Seduced in September

by Genevieve Turner

  No use lingering over what couldn’t be though. She quickly stripped off her gown, examining the damp spots. She could dry those before she sent it to the laundry. And the mud stains on the hem weren’t any worse than what they usually were. Every bit of her nighttime escape could be explained away. It could be as if it had never happened.

  She pressed two fingers to her lips, remembering how his mouth had felt on her. The indescribable pleasure he’d called from her. If she went on as she had before, with no one the wiser, she’d never have that again.

  But she would be safe. No one would ever guess at what had happened. No one would ever know about her past. She’d thought that was all she’d ever wanted from life, that no one ever know the truth of her, but now…

  Now she was more churned up than river in full flood.

  She sighed and pulled off her chemise, then wrapped herself in her dressing gown as she shivered. Still so cold. Now that it was September, winter would be returning in full force soon. Would she ever be warm again?

  She’d been warm in Edward’s arms, his body enclosing hers. She could return to his side. Give her notice. Become his wife. It would be a lowering of her station for sure, but there was a kind of freedom to be found in his cottage. No worrying if she was behaving properly, if her façade of Englishness hadn’t slipped.

  And terrifying too, to be the wife of a man who could strip her bare with only a look. All of Mrs. Fairfield’s lessons would be no protection against him. Adele had spent half her life keeping others out. As his wife, she’d have to spend the rest of her life letting him in.

  She wasn’t certain if she was excited by that prospect or terrified. Perhaps some of both. A decision would have to made though. It wasn’t fair to keep Edward waiting on an answer.

  Edward. The image of Mr. Coyne had entirely left her head after this night—he was Edward to her, just as if she was his wife. Perhaps she had decided then, deep within herself.

  She found her surviving hairpins in her skirt pocket and went to put them away—but came up short when her gaze fell on her treasure box on the dresser. Mrs. Fairfield had given it to her on her thirteenth birthday, saying that a young lady needed such things. Were Adele a girl with money, she might have kept her jewelry in it—or at the very least some hair ornaments.

  But there was only a lock of hair within it. The only physical reminder she had of Mrs. Fairfield. Mrs. Fairfield herself had snipped the lock for Adele when she’d realized she hadn’t long to live. After her death, there had been no mention of Adele taking any other mementos when she’d had to leave her home.

  Adele lifted the lid with slow deliberation and gazed at the lock nestled in the blue satin lining the box, tied with a yellow ribbon. Yellow had been Mrs. Fairfield’s favorite color. The strands of hair were a deep sable—Mrs. Fairfield had died too young for her hair to go gray. But she’d lived long enough to give Adele the face she wore, the porcelain smoothness of a proper English girl’s mannerisms. That lady had known that Adele would need it to survive this world. That the blank smoothness of her mien would be her armor.

  Edward wanted to smash that mask in order to reach for what he suspected lay beneath.

  What was beneath? Mrs. Fairfield’s daughter? Or the woman who’d come undone under his mouth tonight?

  Mrs. Fairfield’s daughter would never have gone with him to his cottage. She’d have accepted his apology with cool correctness and never seen him again, taking his display of temper as sign of how base, how crude, he truly was. She’d have seen her own display of temper as a sign of how dangerous he was to her own equilibrium.

  Mrs. Fairfield’s daughter would have never experienced the delights Adele had tonight. Or ever have the chance to be Edward Coyne’s wife. There would be security for her—but no freedom.

  Adele closed the box, sealing that lock of hair within once more, then stared at herself in the mirror. Her hair was loose and curling around her breasts, her face pale even as twin blooms of pink stained her cheeks. She lifted her hand to her bosom, watched the flush spread across her chest as she imagined Edward’s hands in place of hers. Just as she’d done so many times before.

  Perhaps she never had been Mrs. Fairfield’s daughter, not in her heart of hearts. Perhaps this dark lady was always lurking beneath.

  But the face that stared back at her wasn’t utterly wanton. Nor was it entirely innocent. Perhaps… perhaps she was both: the dutiful daughter and the dark lady, all in one.

  Mrs. Fairfield had only ever taught her how to be the perfect English rose. Adele would have to become something entirely new as Edward Coyne’s wife.

  That then was the choice before her. To remain on the safe path Mrs. Fairfield had carved out for her, the path she’d created to keep her daughter safe. Or to step off into the unknown with Mr. Coyne.

  Adele pulled the wrapper more closely around her, studied her reflection for long moments. But she never could discern exactly which woman stared back at her. Or if both did at the same time.

  Eventually, the light of dawn slipped through the gap in the curtains, faint and gray. For any other summer, such dim light would have promised a dull day. For this summer, it looked miraculous.

  Time to set aside all this rumination and begin her day. She dressed in a lavender gown the same color as the light stealing into the room, then pinned up her hair. Once again, she was the reserved, remote governess. And that too, was her.

  It wasn’t yet time for breakfast, so she went to the schoolroom to write the day’s lessons upon the board. The easy familiarity of the task slipped into her limbs. She did enjoy being a governess—Mr. Coyne wasn’t saving her in that regard. Assuming she did agree to be his wife. Which she hadn’t.

  A noise from Thomas’s room had her going in to him. He was rubbing his eyes, looking young and fragile as sat up in the bed.

  “Miss Adele?” he yawned. “Is it time for me to ride?”

  She smiled. So horse mad. So endearing. “Not quite yet. Maisey will bring you breakfast first. How are you feeling today?”

  “Better.” He sounded it.

  “An apology and a good rest will do that for a person.” Too bad she’d had no rest herself. And Edward’s apology had only left her more muddled than before.

  “What did you and Mr. Coyne speak of?” Thomas’s eyes went wide and frightened. “Are you leaving because you fought with him?”

  “No.” She shook her head, appalled. Is that what he thought? What he’d worried over? “I couldn’t leave you.”

  As she said it, she realized it was true. She couldn’t leave him. In all the world, there was no one who needed her like Thomas did. When Adele had needed someone, Mrs. Fairfield had been there. And now Adele must do the same.

  There was her answer to Mr. Coyne then. Composed of duty, yes, but also of love. Because she did love her pupil, even if she could never tell him so.

  “Thank you.” Thomas surged forward and wrapped his arms tightly around her. So much affection from this young man recently. He must be craving it, the poor thing.

  She patted his shoulder. “You can’t remain here forever, but once the new duke arrives, we’ll find you a school. One with lots of horses. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

  He nodded, his face breaking into a smile. “Do you think they’ll have a stable master like Mr. Coyne?”

  Doubtful. Adele suspected there was no one in this world quite like Edward Coyne.

  “Perhaps,” she said. “Now eat your breakfast when it comes, and then you may head to the stables. Lessons will begin when you’re finished.” She stepped back from the bed and smoothed her skirts. “I need to deal with something. I’ll see you in the schoolroom for your lessons.”

  She left him to rub the sleep out of his eyes and headed for the kitchens. Down the stairs and through the hall she went, the downstairs alive with activity. She passed Mrs. Pemberley’s office, where the housekeeper was writing a letter to someone. Then through the kitchen proper, warm and smelling of b
acon. Finally out the door and into the light of a new morning.

  Cook was pacing through the kitchen gardens, scowling at the bare soil as if her disapproval might magically cause the garden to flourish. Adele nodded to her and kept on her way, past the kitchen gardens, through the arbor gate, and down the path to the stables, gravel crunching beneath her boots.

  She saw his dog first. Jock was bounding down the path, ears flapping and tongue lolling. Edward would be coming along behind—she never saw the dog without him. She stopped, rubbed her shaking hands on her skirt. Well, she’d meant to find him, and now she had. Nerves were of no use to her here.

  Edward came around the bend in the path then, long legged, dark hair ruffled by the breeze, the set of his limbs easy, and a slight smile on his face. A slightly dazed smile, as if he was in the middle of the most engrossing daydream. Adele supposed she might smile like that too if she allowed herself—the sight of him sparked a giddiness that was difficult to contain.

  But she needed her reserve for a while longer.

  “Miss Vere.” He nodded in greeting, his blue gaze a heated contrast to the cool politeness of his words.

  “Mr. Coyne.” Rather high and a bit strangled. She cleared her throat. “I…”

  She meant to say I’ve considered your proposal, considered it most carefully, but that was too stiff. All wrong. And different words wouldn’t come. Until—“I can’t leave Thomas. And neither can you.”

  She hadn’t intended to say exactly that, but it was exactly what she meant.

  Mr. Coyne—Edward—bless him, understood immediately. “I know.” His expression turned serious. “What will happen to the boy?”

  “When the new duke is found, perhaps he’ll be sent to school. He’d like that—he needs more society his age. But until a duke arrives…”

  “He’s in the same spot the rest of us are,” Edward finished.

  “Exactly.” She lowered her face. Here then was the sticking point. How to explain what should come next? “So in regards to your proposal…”

  She let that hang, waited for him to pick up the threads of it. But he only watched her steadily.

  No, he wouldn’t drag it out from her. He’d tempt her, until she ran headlong into the thing herself. Very well.

  “I can’t accept your proposal… yet.” There. She’d said yes, but hadn’t surrendered entirely.

  “Ah.” Quiet, but not resigned. “Until the matter of Thomas is resolved?”

  She opened her mouth to answer and pulled a deep breath instead. Saying yes meant she was committed. She’d step off the path she knew so well and into the unknown.

  But Edward would be by her side. She wouldn’t wander alone.

  “Yes.” Decisive, even as her insides fluttered. “I will marry you, once Thomas is safely off to school.”

  He didn’t embrace her or kiss her, which she told herself was just as well, in case anyone was watching. Instead, a slow burn of a smile took hold of his mouth. “Will you now? And why did you say yes?”

  Wicked man. He knew why she’d said yes—the only reason she’d ever say yes—but he’d force her to say it aloud anyway.

  “Because…” She folded her hands together, searched for a way to say it without sacrificing her dignity. But there was no way she could see out of it except the most direct way. “Because I love you.”

  There. That ought to satisfy him.

  But she found once it had been released, relief followed in its wake. And then happiness. Because she’d never before said those words, and she found it simply… wonderful.

  Edward scooped her up with those hands she so admired and pulled her close, brushing kisses against her lips. It was all so right, so perfect, she didn’t worry if others were watching. Well, didn’t worry overmuch.

  “Was that so hard?” He was laughing at her, but it was fond laughter.

  “No. And what of you? Why did you ask for my hand?” If she must say it, then so must he.

  “Ah, Adele.” His voice rumbled deliciously in her ear. “I love you.”

  Oh, hearing those words was almost as good as saying them, a shiver dancing up her spine. “Now was that so hard?” she asked. Mustn’t let him think he’d made her entirely soft.

  A glint entered his gaze. “I also love when you become the severe governess. Have I told you that?”

  “You have.” She dropped her voice, although they were still alone. “When… when did you know? That you wanted me as your wife?” He saw her better than anyone, but well enough to love her? It still confounded her, even after his confession.

  “Hmm. Not that first lesson. Although I was certainly intrigued. No, it was… let me count.” He tapped a long finger on his chin as he thought. “The fifth lesson.”

  “I don’t remember anything remarkable about our fifth lesson.” Now she was even more confused. But still happy, as the glow of the moment lingered on.

  “That was it. I thought with some practice you’d overcome your fear, that you’d begin to enjoy it. And you didn’t. Yet you kept on with the lessons with such dogged determination…” He shrugged. “I knew then that there was much more to you than the icy reserve you always showed me. That there was a volcano lurking beneath. I wanted to see it erupt.” He gave a gusty sigh. “What can I say? I’m a perverse man.”

  She laughed in spite of herself. “Yes, you certainly are.” Perverse, infuriating… delightful. And soon to be all hers. Which reminded her—“What shall we do when the new duke is found?”

  “If you like—and the new duke wants my services—we can stay here. Or we could go to London.”

  “London? Really?” His blithe unconcern for where they might end up would also take some getting used to. But it was exciting, the thought of moving somewhere new. Especially with him by her side.

  “There are any number of horse-mad men in London who have racehorses needing training,” he said.

  “Oh.” To simply up and leave, to have the freedom to go wherever one pleased… well, if that were part of being Edward Coyne’s wife, it was a part she could get used to.

  “Or if not London, anywhere, really.” The merriment in his gaze dared her imagination to travel far beyond her known horizons.

  “Anywhere?” Suddenly, when presented with the opportunity to go anywhere, she could only think of nowhere.

  “Yes. Why, how far do you want to go? China? Africa?”

  She raised an eyebrow at him. He was teasing her again, wretched man. This was another part of being his wife she’d have to become used to. Although she did secretly enjoy it. She could admit that now. “London might do for a start. After that, we shall see.”

  “We shall indeed.” He grew serious. “Did you mean it about ending our lessons?”

  Ah, a chance to tease him now. She couldn’t pass that up. “Well, there’s no longer any point, is there? I don’t enjoy it and the old duke is gone—the duchess doesn’t mind if I can’t ride.” All wide-eyed innocence. And all a sham.

  He swallowed hard, and she could see him pondering the long months of waiting for a new duke, long, lonely months with no excuse to touch her. No chance to get her alone for a few stolen kisses. It seemed that she was learning the art of reading him.

  “Well,” he said stiffly, “if that’s how you feel…”

  She pretended to consider. “Of course, then you’d have no chance to torment me regularly.”

  His mouth dropped open. “Why, you…” He nodded slowly. “All right. I see how it is. I’ll have to keep on my toes with you.” A smoldering smile took hold of his mouth, one that promised the most delightful revenge. “I’m looking forward to keeping you on yours.”

  So was she. “I suppose we’d better keep on with the lessons then. To practice keeping each other sharp. But once we’re married, it all ends. No more horses for me.”

  “That’s how I know that you truly love me: you’re willing to continue the lessons just to be close to me.” He pulled her in for another kiss. “And that’s how I
know I truly love you: I want to marry you in spite of the fact that you dislike horses.”

  “Such sacrifices you’ll have to make,” she teased. Then she sobered, stepping away from him. “Starting now. We must be discreet.”

  “Woman,” he said, “I’ve spent the past several months pining after you. I’ll behave myself.”

  She put on an artful smile. “Yes, but I wasn’t trying to tempt you all those months.”

  He put on an artful smile of his own, one that made her limbs light and her thoughts giddy. “Oh, I’m going to enjoy being married to you.” He gestured toward the house. “Go on, put on your habit. We’ll have a lesson and you can torment me.”

  She smothered her grin. She’d be doing quite a bit of that in the coming months. “As you like.” She went for the house as quick as she dared, for once eager for her lesson. For his sweet torment.

  “And pray that they find this duke soon,” he called after her. “A man can only wait so long.”

  She had the feeling they wouldn’t be waiting long at all to start their new life. Together.

  A Year Without a Duke

  Jilted in January by Kate Pearce

  Forbidden in February by Suzanna Medeiros

  Seduced in September by Genevieve Turner

  An Affair in Autumn by Jennifer Haymore

  A Duke by December by Sabrina Darby

  Keep reading for a sneak peak of An Affair in Autumn by Jennifer Haymore!

  An Affair in Autumn

  by

  Jennifer Haymore

  Caroline Addison, Lady Whytestone, has some important news to deliver to her old friend—he has inherited a dukedom! He could be in New York or perhaps in South America, but no matter. Caro is an independent woman, so who says she can’t indulge in a little adventure and travel across the Atlantic—and maybe across a continent—to find him?

  On a mission to locate the new Duke of Beckworth, Lord Markus Hawkins has boarded a ship bound for America. But when Mark walks out of his cabin and literally runs into his nemesis, Caroline Addison, who happens to be in search of the very same man, his head might explode out of sheer frustration. Caro is headstrong, frustrating, selfish, wickedly intelligent, and so damn beautiful, Mark can’t see anything but her when she’s near. How’s he going to survive the long weeks of travel ahead?