Hot Historicals Bundle with An Invitation to Sin, The Naked Baron, When His Kiss Is Wicked, & Mastering the Marquess

by Jo Beverley

  There couldn’t be.

  But there was.

  It was like the first time she had eaten oysters. She hadn’t liked the thought of it at all, and hadn’t liked the first attempt much. But then, somehow, she had overcome the thought that the shellfish were alive, and that they were a little slimy, and had discovered they were delicious.

  She had never liked the idea of this kind of kissing, and hadn’t liked the first mingling of his mouth with hers, but now she found that he, too, was delicious—sweet and spicy beneath the tang of brandy.

  In moments the moist heat of his tongue seemed as natural as her own, and that acceptance spread downward through her body, relaxing her …

  He released her mouth with slow, parting kisses, smiling more warmly now, more like the youth in the portrait. “That’s it, Pippin, my rosy, juicy little apple. You see what’s in store? You needn’t fear I’ll mistreat you. I’ll take care of you …”

  Anna suddenly realized that his hand was sliding under her nightdress and took in the meaning of his words.

  She kicked against his touch. “No, my lord! Truly, I cannot be your mistress!”

  Despite her squirming, his hand ventured slightly higher, up to her knee. “You didn’t think you’d like kissing, Maggie. Let’s see how you like this …”

  “No … Help!” Anna tried to put the full force of her healthy lungs behind it but he clapped a hand over her mouth and laughed at her struggles.

  So much for his promises!

  As he looked down with interest at the leg her struggle was exposing, Anna saw the glint of the glass he had set down. She stretched out, seized it, and swung it with all her strength to crash against her ravisher’s head.

  With a cry, he relaxed his hold.

  Anna tore herself free.

  He was cursing now and holding his head. Anna was dreadfully afraid that she’d done him some terrible injury, but that was even more reason to flee.

  She raced into the hall and up the steps, her heart thundering, her breath mere gasps of panic. In moments she was through the door and back in her bedroom.

  She slid to the floor in limp relief, offering earnest prayers of thanks to the deity who watched over foolish virgins.

  Which made her think of lamps.

  Which made her realize a terrible thing.

  She’d left the candlestick!

  At that moment, Anna Featherstone nearly fainted.

  She wanted to huddle under her covers and pretend none of the recent events had happened but if she didn’t retrieve the candlestick, it would be obvious she’d been there. Quite apart from the fact that she would be short a candlestick, it was probably identifiable as from this house.

  What on earth would happen to her? What if she’d done some terrible injury to the earl? What if he was lying on his library floor breathing his last?

  Would they hang her?

  At least, said a voice, if he’s dead he can’t identify his assailant.

  But the candlestick could.

  There was only one thing to do.

  Anna’s legs felt weak as wet paper, but she forced herself to her feet. Still shaking and struggling not to sob, she opened the secret door again to re-enter the Earl of Carne’s cursed house.

  She staggered out onto the landing, listening carefully for any hint of what was happening. She heard a voice. It was the earl, apparently calling for a servant.

  Anna almost collapsed with relief again. He didn’t sound at all dead. But in that case, how was she to retrieve the evidence?

  Then she realized that he was heading for the lower floor, shouting for his servants. She leaned over the stair rail and saw him, holding a white cloth to his head, disappear in that direction.

  It almost demanded too much courage, but Anna forced herself. She ran down the stairs, tracking that distant voice all the time, dashed into the library, grabbed the candlestick, and raced back to her own room.

  Once there, she flung herself into bed, pulled the covers over her head, and swore that she would never, ever, give in to curiosity again!

  “Miss Anna! Miss Anna! Wake up.”

  Anna stirred, resisting the call to wake. She’d been sleepless half the night worrying over the consequences of her actions.

  “Miss Anna! Are you all right?”

  Anna forced her eyes open. “Yes, Martha. Of course I’m all right.”

  Martha frowned at her in grave concern. “I’ve never known you to be a slugabed. Are you sure you’re not sickening or something?

  Anna struggled up, trying to appear her usual cheery self. “Of course I’m not! I must have just stayed up reading longer than I intended.”

  “The state of the candle tells that story, miss,” said Martha with a glance at the candlestick.

  Full memory rushed back and Anna winced at the thought of the story that candlestick could tell. Along with memory came anxiety. What would Lord Carne have done when he couldn’t find Maggie? Had he called in the Bow Street Runners?

  One thing was certain, Anna must make sure the man never set eyes on her. She leaned back against her pillows. “Perhaps I might be catching a cold,” she said in a suffering tone. “My head aches a little …”

  Martha came back to the bed and studied her. “You don’t look yourself, Miss Anna, and that’s the truth. Why, you’ve even taken off your ribbon and got your hair in a tangle. You must have been fevered in the night.” She shook her head. “You’d best stay in bed for now. I’ll bring you breakfast here and tell Lady Featherstone.”

  Martha left and Anna groaned. Her hair ribbon. She’d left evidence after all!

  It wasn’t a disaster, though. A candlestick was one thing, but a plain white hair ribbon could belong to anyone. It fretted her, though, so she was in danger of becoming truly ill through anxiety.

  She took refuge in planning. The first thing was to stay out of sight for as long as possible, and being sick was an excellent excuse. It would be tedious, but far better than bumping into Lord Carne on the doorstep!

  What was she going to do, though, if he intended more than a brief visit to his London house?

  She rubbed her hands over her face. She should have known her mad behavior would lead to disaster. At the thought of what might have been, she shuddered. If that glass hadn’t been to hand, she might have been ruined beyond all repair!

  To a young lady raised in the country, known by all and well-guarded, it scarce seemed credible that a chance encounter—no matter how peculiar—could have ruined her life, but it was so.

  Lord Carne could have stolen her virtue by brute strength. Truth obliged her to admit that he might have managed to steal it by clever seductions.

  Anna stared sightlessly at a grinning gargoyle and absorbed the fact that she had almost been seduced by a stranger.

  Lady Featherstone was no believer in innocence as defense against ruin. She had informed her daughters about carnal matters, and warned them that the perils of the flesh sometimes included the temptations of pleasure. Her instruction was to avoid occasions of intimacy in case their consciences turned weak on them.

  “And that frequently happens,” she had said. “Not many unfortunate girls intend their ruin. They are caught unawares and either forced, tricked, or seduced into depravity. And seduction means that they succumbed to pleasure. So be on your guard and avoid the very occasions of sin, girls. Prudent, well-behaved young ladies do not come to grief.”

  Anna had never really believed that she could be forced, tricked, or seduced into ruin, but then she’d never anticipated anyone like the Earl of Carne. Cautiously, she allowed her memory to bring to mind the man she had met last night, trying to decide what made him so dangerous. Handsome, yes. But not in a smooth, gentle way. He was lean, hard, and had proved to be alarmingly strong.

  Anna shuddered at the memory of being as helpless as a struggling toddler.

  Perhaps, however, that very strength was part of the seductive appeal that lingered even now as a spicy sweetness b
eneath anxiety. Certainly something about him had speeded her pulse and weakened her knees in a way she had never experienced before, and it hadn’t entirely been fear.

  Unless it was fear of the wantonness he had so easily summoned in her.

  Yet another reason to avoid the earl. Anna was no fool.

  Sometimes it was best not to put one’s willpower to the test.

  She sat up straighter and turned her mind to assessing her situation and making plans.

  With luck and caution, Anna decided, she might escape the consequences of her folly. She was not ruined, and it did not seem Lord Carne was seriously injured. He was doubtless puzzled as to the identity of Maggie, but if Anna stayed concealed for a day or two, all could be well. The earl would surely move on, either to travel again or to inspect his neglected estates.

  Martha returned with a breakfast tray and Lady Feather-stone, who laid a cool hand on Anna’s brow. “You do not seem fevered, my dear. Are you in pain?”

  “Just the headache, Mama.”

  Anna’s mother studied her with intent concern and Anna felt sure she would read every secret. But eventually Lady Featherstone said, “I don’t think there is anything much amiss. Perhaps it is just the excitement of the city. Or this horrid room. Do you want to share Maria’s room?”

  “No, Mama!”

  With a shake of her head, Lady Featherstone dropped the subject. “Rest today, then, and I am sure you will soon be more the thing. But if you feel the need we will send for the doctor.”

  When her mother had left, Anna settled to her breakfast, then asked Martha to help her dress, saying she would sit quietly on a chaise by the window. It was true that she had no desire to spend the day in bed, but she had other reasons. Her room looked out onto the street, and she wanted to be able to observe the comings and goings at number 10.

  Preferably the goings.

  What she hoped to see was the Earl of Carne entering a well-piled coach, clearly headed for foreign lands, or at least for the provinces. What she actually saw were two fashionable gentlemen stroll up and be admitted. Since they stayed about an hour, and neither looked like a doctor, Anna felt able to assume that the earl was not on his deathbed.

  When two coaches arrived, Anna experienced a moment of hope, but then the chests and boxes were taken into the house. “Oh, no,” she muttered. “The wretch is taking up residence!”

  Anna looked at the fireplace in alarm, then hurried over to push a solid bench in front of the secret door. It might not prevent a forcible entry, but it would prevent a silent one.

  But how was she to avoid a meeting if the earl was to stay next door?

  When Martha came to offer her lunch, Anna said, “There seems to be some activity at number 10. Has the earl leased the house after all?”

  Martha put her tray on the table and started to lay out the meal. “Nay, miss. Believe it or not, his lordship’s come back. Arrived in the night without warning! And,” she added in a whisper, “it’s to be feared he’s mad.”

  “Mad?” Dear heaven. Had her blow deprived him of his wits?

  Martha looked around as if expecting an angel to come and silence her, then leaned closer. “He came knocking at the kitchen door this morning, miss.”

  “The earl?” Anna’s heart started to flutter with panic. He knew! How did he know?

  Martha leaned even closer. “The wicked earl himself! And the Lord knows what wickedness he’d been up to, Miss Anna, for he’d a mighty wound on his temple, all swollen and bruised-like. I tell you true, miss, none of us thought we were safe!”

  “Whatever did he want?” Anna whispered back, wondering why the heavens had not already fallen on her.

  “You’ll never believe it …”

  “What?”

  “He wanted Maggie! Poor little Maggie, who might be a bit slow, but hasn’t a scrap of bad in her!”

  Anna didn’t know what to say.

  “Mind you,” said Martha, straightening to rearrange a mustard pot on the small table, “the earl did come to his senses after a fashion. As soon as he clapped eyes on her he looked right bewildered. Apologized for disturbing us and took himself off.

  “Sad, really,” she said with a shake of her head. “Mrs. Postle says he was a right promising young man once, before … well, before. Certain it is though, Miss Anna, that you must keep out of that man’s way. I’m sure your parents are going to be very concerned to know that he’s settling in next door.”

  Lord and Lady Featherstone certainly were concerned, the lady rather more than the lord. Over dinner that evening she said, “You must be very careful, girls. Very careful. He has already shown his true flags.”

  Lady Featherstone left it there, so Anna decided to stimulate discussion. “You mean him crashing into the kitchen covered with blood demanding Maggie?”

  Unfortunately, Maria had not heard the story. She shrieked and assumed her ready-to-faint posture, hand to heart.

  Anna’s father frowned. “Don’t exaggerate, Pippin. And Maria, don’t get into a taking. I am assured he knocked at the door and inquired after her in a fairly normal manner.”

  “Normal?” demanded Maria. “Papa, how can it be normal for an earl to turn up at the kitchen door asking after the scullery maid? He must be mad. We’ll be murdered in our beds like that other woman!”

  “Nonsense,” said Sir Jeffrey. “I will not have such exaggerations, girls. Lady Delabury took too much laudanum and it was years ago. As for Maggie, though I did not like to do it, I called on the earl and asked an explanation. It appears he surprised an intruder in his house last night, a young woman who called herself Maggie. When he attempted to apprehend her, she hit him on the head, which accounts for his wound. When his servants told him a maid called Maggie served next door, he naturally assumed she would be the same.”

  “Then an honest man,” said Lady Featherstone, “would have sent for a Runner!”

  “A charitable man might not, my dear. I did not expect it, but I gained the impression that the earl was motivated by compassion. He admitted that he had frightened the girl into attacking him, and he thought she might have been lacking her wits …”

  Anna almost choked on a piece of chicken. The wretch!

  “So he decided to discover her,” her father continued, “and speak to her superiors on the matter. Of course, since our scullery maid turned out not to be his quarry, he is no further forward in solving the mystery. And he did apologize for any upset he might have caused.”

  “So I should think!” Lady Featherstone declared.

  “I must confess, my dear, that I was pleasantly surprised by the earl. He seems a man of sense. We know he indulged in some youthful follies, but time can heal. I gather he has spent his recent years in the Eastern Mediterranean and he speaks intelligently of matters there. I suspect he may have been engaged on the King’s business.”

  Her father might be quite in charity with their neighbor; Anna was not. She did not believe for one moment that Lord Carne had been moved by compassion. He either wanted revenge, or wished to continue his wicked plan to set “Maggie” up as his mistress.

  Perhaps both.

  Perhaps he had been intending to blackmail the poor, powerless maid into surrendering to his vile lust.

  “Is the earl to stay in London, Papa?” she asked.

  “It would appear so, my dear. His cousin’s efforts to have him declared dead have obliged him to return and prove his existence. It seems that he intends to stay for some time.”

  “I cannot like it,” said Lady Featherstone. “It will stir all those old stories, and since there is a connection to this house, it will cause the kind of attention I cannot like.”

  Anna was hard put not to roll her eyes at the word “connection.” If her mother only knew!

  “Nonsense, my love,” said Sir Jeffrey with a twinkling grin. “The earl’s presence and those old stories will assure you an excellent attendance at any entertainments you care to give.”

  And so it prove
d. When Lady Featherstone held a small, informal musical evening a few days later, her rooms were grat-ifyingly full, and it was astonishing how often conversation turned to neighbors, past and present.

  As it was an informal affair, Anna had been allowed to attend in her one good silk gown to listen to the music. She knew she was not to put herself forward in any way, and was quite content to sit quietly, watching people and keeping her ears pricked for any snippets of information about the wicked Earl of Carne.

  Unfortunately, no one seemed to know more than she. In fact she could, if she wished, give them a clearer story than they had.

  She heard one person murmur that he was crippled by debauchery, and another report that she had been reliably informed that he was hideously scarred.

  It was clear, however, that the ton was fascinated, and Anna suspected that the supposed wickedness of his past would easily be whitewashed by curiosity about his present. Add to that his status as a wealthy, unmarried peer of the realm and she had the sinking feeling that the dreaded earl would soon be accepted everywhere.

  That was the last thing Anna wanted. Sitting in her corner listening to Mozart, she seriously considered taking up her investigations again in order to prove that Lord Carne really had murdered his inconvenient mistress. It would serve the wretch right …

  “Miss Anna Featherstone, I believe?”

  Anna looked up to see a young man bowing before her. She glanced at her mother, unsure how to handle this, but Lady Featherstone was deep in conversation with another guest.

  Anna took refuge in good manners, smiled, and admitted her identity.

  The pleasant-looking, brown-haired young gentleman took a seat beside her. “I know I am being a little bold, Miss Anna. My name is Liddell, by the way, David Liddell, and I am completely respectable.”

  Anna met his eyes. “You would be bound to say so, though, wouldn’t you, Mr. Liddell? However, since I cannot imagine being the victim of seizure and rapine in my mother’s drawing room, I will not have the vapors just yet.”

  After a startled moment, he laughed. “What a shame you are not making your curtsy, too, Miss Anna. You would set London by the ears.”