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

by Jo Beverley

  “You’re ruthless …”

  “When I need to be, yes.”

  Anna stared at him, storing him in her heart, for she could sense the farewell approaching like a cloud on a summer’s day.

  The earl rose. “Any more questions?”

  When will I see you again?

  Do you care for me at all?

  Are you hurting now as I am?

  Anna shook her head and stood, too. “No, my lord. I think all is finally explained.”

  “As I gather from your father that you will shortly be leaving town, I think this is farewell.”

  Anna glanced at her father, who said, “There is no purpose in staying, Anna, and Maria needs the peace of the country, I think.”

  Anna turned back to the earl, and despite her watching father said, “We have said farewell before, my lord.”

  “This time, it is real.” He took her hand and kissed it lightly. “Good-bye, Anna. One day, a hero is going to be very fortunate in his heroine.” With that he nodded to her father and left.

  The next day, as the hired chaise rolled away from number 9, Carne Terrace, Anna refused to look back, but she allowed herself to imagine the Wicked Earl emerging disheveled from number 10 to stare haggardly after the departing vehicle.

  It helped Anna’s sanity to be back home. There was nothing to remind her of Lord Carne, and if memories intruded, she could push them back with summertime activities.

  She had her friends to visit again, and to tell of the excitements in London. Though it was tempting, she did not tell any of them—not even her closest friend, Harriet Northam—about the secret door and the earl. She did tell her that the house had once belonged to Mrs. Jamison, author of some of their favorite novels, and that was enough of a thrill in itself.

  Since it was July, her brothers were home to bother and distract her, and the garden provided work. The Feather-stone children were expected to help there, doing such things as picking fruit and weeding. Long days and good weather bred abundant social activities such as walking, riding, angling, and parties both formal and informal.

  Maria soon regained her bloom, and being Maria, soon forgot the less fortunate parts of her London experience. Her spirits revived amazingly when Lord Whelksham contrived a visit to a nearby house, clearly with the sole intention of pursuing his ardent courtship.

  Anna believed she had put folly behind her and achieved a return to her pleasant, unadventurous life until she was summoned to her father’s study one morning.

  “Yes, Papa?”

  He was standing by the window, hands clasped behind his back, in his serious-consideration pose. He turned slowly. “Anna, we have a visitor.”

  Anna looked around, but saw no one.

  “He is in the garden. It is the Earl of Carne.”

  Anna’s heart immediately began a mad dance that threatened to deprive her of her senses. Six weeks of conscientious common sense were wiped away in an instant.

  “What does he want?” she asked, compelled to sink into a seat.

  Her father laughed and shook his head. “For an intelligent, mature man he was remarkably confused upon the subject. He claims to be only passing by, though I am not clear as to his destination. He wants to speak with you, though I don’t know about what.”

  Anna bounced up again. “Then I should go into the garden?”

  “I doubt that will do you any harm, my dear.”

  “Oh.” Suddenly nervous, Anna straightened her skirts. She wished she were in something better than an ordinary printed muslin. She wished her hair wasn’t in a plait … But her encounters with Lord Carne had not been marked by elegance, and he presumably didn’t care what a schoolroom miss looked like.

  She caught a twinkle in her father’s eye and blushed. “What should I say, Papa?”

  He frowned as if in heavy thought. “You could try, ‘Good day, Lord Carne. How kind of you to call.’”

  Anna giggled. “Papa, what does he want?”

  “You’ll have to ask him, Pippin. But if he asks you to marry him, you should know that I will not oppose the match, even though you are so young.”

  “Marry …” Anna whispered, her suppressed hopes bubbling wildly and turning abruptly into blind terror.

  “You have been very sensible about it all, Anna, but I have no doubt you formed an attachment. The fact that the earl is here—and we are not on the road to anywhere of significance—implies that perhaps he has, too. You are young, but in many ways you are more mature than Maria. I leave the decision up to you. And I may be wrong, Anna. He may not put such a question at all. Off you go, my dear, and find out.”

  Anna wandered out of the room in a daze, half-tempted to run and hide under her bed to avoid a meeting for which she was ill-prepared. She didn’t even know anymore if she wanted to marry the earl, who had become an almost dreamlike person in her mind. Perhaps he wasn’t as handsome. Perhaps they didn’t share the same sense of the ridiculous. Perhaps he would seem old …

  On such a sunny day, she really should find a bonnet, but a part of her was so anxious to see him again that her feet found wings all of their own and fairly rushed her out into the gardens.

  She found him in the rose garden by the sundial, standing quite still and gazing into the distance.

  He was dressed very like he had been at their first meeting, without the greatcoat—in dark leather riding breeches and a dark jacket. He wore a beaver on his head and carried a crop. He must have ridden …

  Anna was frozen, heart pounding, unable to move closer.

  Suddenly, he turned and saw her. He looked rather rueful, but just as wonderful as always, and the feelings she remembered blossomed as freshly as the roses all around them.

  At the slightest encouragement she would have run into his arms, but she would not make a fool of herself and walked forward calmly. If he had come, all confused, to ask for more information about Mrs. Jamison’s novels, she would hide her hurt for later.

  A few feet away she cleared her throat and cropped a curtsy. “Good day, my lord. How kind of you to call.”

  His eyes were intent as they traveled her. “Anna,” he said at last, slowly, as if the word had great meaning. “Sunlight and roses become you.”

  She pushed some straying curls out of her eyes. “I should have a bonnet …”

  “Do you fear for your complexion?” He looked around. “There is a seat beneath that beech tree, if you would prefer it.”

  They walked over to the rustic seat built around the trunk of the spreading tree, and sat in the shade there, a proper few feet apart. Anna’s rainbow exhilaration was fading to grey. He didn’t seem confused. He doubtless was here on a very practical matter.

  And there was nothing less practical than a marriage between a sixteen-year-old schoolgirl and a thirty-year-old rake, as both he and her father had so clearly pointed out.

  She made herself look calmly into his face. “How can I help you, my lord?”

  “I wanted to thank you again for stepping forward to deflect my cousin’s malice. It must have been difficult.”

  “Not very. My parents are not ogres.”

  “No, they are not. But I am in your debt.” He, too, appeared calm. Even bored. Was that truly why he was here? Obligation?

  “Consider the debt forgiven, my lord. I am only sorry that Maria lent herself to such a scheme.”

  “My cousin can be a clever cozener.”

  “Has he left to take up his punishment?”

  “Yes, appearing genuinely shaken by his own villainy. Perhaps he was turned mad by love.”

  Anna was beginning to feel rather bitter, and lashed out. “And what of your mother, my lord?”

  “What of her?”

  “It seems to me that she has avoided the consequences of murder.”

  He shook his head. “She suffered. She lost my father far more absolutely than she would have done through his affairs with such as Lady Delabury. It is doubtful he would have died so soon if not for that disaste
r. And she lost me, both physically when I went abroad, and spiritually when I realized what she had done, and that she never made any attempt to clear my name. Will it distress you if I tell you that my mother has always been a selfish, small-minded woman?”

  Something in his tone made Anna reach out to touch his hand. “I wish for your sake it had not been so, my lord.”

  “And for your sake?” He turned her hand to hold it. “A selfish mother and a philandering father. What does that make me?”

  Anna felt the heat rise in her face, summoned perhaps by the look in his eyes. “I once confessed to … to finding you admirable, my lord.”

  “You might have come to your senses.”

  “I might,” she said, unwilling to open herself to ridicule.

  He released her hand and rose to swing his crop at an innocuous dandelion. “I have argued with myself about this for weeks, Anna. You deserve better. You deserve a young man with the bloom of innocence still on him, someone you can learn about life with, hand in hand. You deserve more years of girlhood before settling into domesticity. You deserve more balls, more parties, a Season in London, and the chance to have dozens of adoring suitors vying for your hand …”

  Anna bit her lip. “My lord, are you saying you’re not worthy of me?”

  He flashed her a glance. “I suppose I am.”

  The laughter escaped. “Oh, I’m sorry, but I remember thinking that you would never act like a hero in one of Mrs. Jamison’s novels. If you would care to get down on your knees and kiss the hem of my garment, the picture would be complete.”

  A flash of appreciative humor entered his eyes. “If I get down on my knees and raise your skirt, minx, it will be to enjoy the sight of your lovely legs. I was serious about what I said, though.”

  “I know. And it is very kind of you, but …” Anna grasped her courage and placed her heart before him. “It would be a dreadful waste of time to go through all those experiences when I only long for you.”

  He stared at her for a moment, then dropped his crop and drew her to her feet. “Are you sure? I am convinced I’m being a selfish brute.”

  “I’m sure. Even if you will be gouty when I’m in my prime.”

  His brows shot up. “What?”

  Anna rested her hands on his chest, delighting in the fact that such intimacies might, perhaps, be no longer improper, and remembering a naked chest she very much wanted to see again. “I have already considered the practicalities, you see,” she teased. “When you are fifty, I will only be thirty-six, and with luck I will still be in full vigor. But I will be most careful not to overexert you, my lord—”

  Her mischief was silenced by his demanding lips, and she responded enthusiastically. When he finished, however, she rested against him, clinging to his lapels. “I am not sure I will be in full vigor after twenty years of kisses such as that.”

  “I hoped you’d realize that, minx. I will eat moderately and exercise frequently so as not to be a disappointment to you in my dotage.”

  “Oh, good.” She ran her hand up over his starched cravat to his neck. “You’re very hot.”

  “Quite natural in the circumstances, I assure you. Anna, you do realize that Society will raise its brows at our marriage.”

  “A fig for Society. Anyway, I am hoping that you will revive your love of travel and take me to Greece.”

  He captured her hand and kissed it. “It will be my delight to take you to Greece, and to Rome …” He turned her hand and kissed her palm. “And to heaven.”

  “Heaven?” Her knees were weakening again.

  “You will see.”

  “Oh, you mean bed.” Anna tried to sound prosaic, but it came out as a squeak.

  He nipped the base of her thumb. “Yes, I mean bed, you outrageous child. And though it will be beyond me to deny myself your delights entirely, I will try not to get you with child for a while. I will try to give you some years of freedom.”

  Anna stared at him. “I didn’t even know that was possible. How—”

  He covered her lips with his fingers. “I will educate you after the wedding.”

  When he moved his fingers, Anna said, “But if there are such ways, everyone should know! When I think of the suffering some women experience through unblessed or unwanted babies …”

  He was looking rather harried. “Lord, I should have learned to keep my mouth shut with you, Anna. Don’t go babbling of such matters. When you know all, perhaps you can pass the information on, privately. Many men do not approve of women having such knowledge.”

  “Many men are villains, too.” But then social issues were swamped by other thoughts. “Are we engaged to marry, then?”

  He smiled, and there was a glow to it that warmed her heart. “I consider us to be so.”

  “Oh, good.” Anna began to tug him back toward the house. “We must tell my parents. How soon can we wed? I have this great thirst for education.”

  He laughed. “Soon, Anna. Very, very soon. I’m afraid that if I hesitate my better nature will resurface and I’ll let you escape.”

  “Escape!” Anna halted to frown into his wonderful blue eyes. “If you try to renege, my lord, after raising my hopes so high, I will hunt you down and take terrible revenge upon your body!”

  “Now that,” said the Wicked Earl with a mysterious smile, “is almost sufficient enticement …”

  The Pleasure

  of a Younger Lover

  VANESSA KELLY

  Chapter 1

  The Archer Mansion

  London, 1813

  “This is the worst idea you’ve ever had,” Clarissa moaned. “I can’t believe I let you talk me into wearing this scandalous gown! I look like a demi-rep on display at Covent Garden.”

  Her best friend, Lillian, Lady Montegue, gave an irritated huff. “Nonsense. You look absolutely beautiful. That dress is divine, and your hair and jewels are exquisite. Everything is just as it should be except for that grimace you call a smile.”

  Clarissa, better known to the ton as the widow of Captain Jeremy Middleton, felt the muscles in her jaw contract another notch. It seemed like forever since she’d last attended a ball. She’d never been enamored with large crowds and overheated, cavernous rooms, and this particular event was proving to be worse than anticipated. But Lillian had refused to listen to Clarissa’s excuses, roundly declaring that it was time, after a year and a half, to come out of deep mourning.

  Clarissa cast her friend a reproachful glance. “You told me to look happy. That’s what I’m trying to do.”

  “Well, you certainly don’t look happy,” Lillian replied. “You look ready to murder someone. I wish you would stop it.”

  Clarissa gratefully dropped her feeble pretense. If only she could cover her bosom as easily as she could transform her face with a smile—or the lack of one. It would be a miracle if she didn’t pop out of the top of her gown before the evening was over.

  Resisting the urge to tug the gauzy muslin up over her breasts, she wondered again how she had allowed Lillian to persuade her to wear so revealing a gown. Or, for that matter, to attend the biggest crush of the Little Season. After all, it wasn’t as if she had to attract a husband. She had a substantial widow’s portion and still had the funds Jeremy had settled on her when they were married. Over a year had passed since her husband’s death, and the initial, searing pangs of grief had finally subsided. But Clarissa couldn’t escape the dull ache that filled her chest every time she thought of Jeremy.

  She swallowed hard, forcing down a childish rush of tears. A sea of scarlet uniforms and vibrantly colored gowns swam before her blurred vision, a dazzling display of gaiety and wealth set off to advantage in the splendid ballroom of the Archer family mansion on Brooke Street. But to Clarissa, the red of the soldiers’ uniforms throbbed and pulsed under the blazing chandeliers like a gaping wound—a sickening reminder of all she had lost on the blood-soaked ramparts of a Spanish fort.

  Even in the heat of the ballroom, cold prickles raced
over her flesh and her heart thudded with a stuttering rhythm. She found it hard to catch her breath.

  “What am I doing here, Lillian?” she forced out, barely able to keep her seat. Every muscle in her body urged her to flee to the quiet safety of the town house she shared with her elderly father-in-law, Colonel Middleton. “I’m too old for this kind of thing. It was very kind of you to invite me tonight, but I’m just coming out of mourning. And everyone is staring at me. I’m sure I’m making a complete fool of myself.”

  Lillian shook her head in gentle reproof.

  “Clarissa, you must stop thinking like that. You’re thirty-two—the same age as me. You don’t see me wearing those wretched gowns you’ve grown so fond of. It’s time to stop dressing like an old widow with one foot in the grave.”

  “Sometimes I think I was buried in that grave in Spain,” Clarissa sighed. “Right alongside Jeremy.”

  Lillian’s blue eyes grew misty.

  “I know you feel that way, darling. But you’re very much alive, and more beautiful than ever. That’s why people are staring. You cast every other woman in this room into a complete shade—especially in that gown.”

  Clarissa rolled her eyes, but the tight feeling inside her eased. Her friend rewarded her with a teasing smile.

  “Jeremy used to love it when you dressed up,” Lillian said. “Do you remember? He was so proud of you, forever telling me how lucky he was that you chose him over all the fashionable young bucks who vied for your hand.”

  Clarissa smiled at that, even though the memory of Jeremy’s ardent admiration brought her as much pain as pleasure. “I remember. He used to tease me about it, and tell me that he could never understand why I fell in love with such an ordinary fellow. But Jeremy was anything but ordinary. I’ve never known such a kind, wise man—before or since.”