Turned Around By Love (The Montgomery Family & Friends Book 3)

by Vikki Vaught

  Table of Contents

  DEDICATION

  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

  EPILOGUE

  About the Author

  Turned Around by Love

  The Montgomery Family & Friends Series

  - Book Three -

  by Vikki Vaught

  Copyright © 2018 by Vikki Vaught

  Second edition

  Cover design by Danielle Doolittle

  All rights reserved. This book, or any part of it, cannot be reproduced or distributed by any means without the express permission in writing from the author.

  All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

  DEDICATION

  I originally wrote Turned around by Love quite a few years ago. As I’ve traveled this great adventure into the writing world, I’ve learned a great deal. I wanted to give this story the attention it deserved, so I have re-written what was published in 2012. I’ve thoroughly enjoyed re-visiting Kathryn and Jonathan’s love story. I hope you’ll enjoy this updated version of book three in my Montgomery Family & Friends series as much as I enjoyed my time with these delightful characters.

  I dedicate this book to new authors just setting out on their writing adventure. May your passion for the written word be as rewarding as mine is to me. Enjoy your journey!

  Thanks goes to Tammy Souch, my editor. She always makes my books shine. To Laurie White, my proof reader, I thank you for your continued support. I also want to thank my amazing cover artist, Danielle Doolittle. Her ability to interpret the artwork for my cover is amazing. Last, but by far not least, I thank my husband who exhibits a great deal of patience when my head is lost in my world of books.

  Reviews are the life-blood for authors. I hope you’ll take a moment and write a review. Reviews help other readers find books they might enjoy and new authors to explore. All reviews are appreciated by authors and readers everywhere.

  CHAPTER 1

  Late June 1823

  While Jonathan St. John, the Marquess of Sutherland, glanced around the chamber of his latest mistress, he realized that even though Alana was beautiful with her long, rich, sable-brown hair, startling golden eyes, and a figure as voluptuous as any man could wish for, he had grown tired of her already.

  At thirty years old, he’d had several mistresses over the last eight years. While all of them were beautiful, none of them could hold his interest long. Oh, they were all sexually alluring and well-trained in all the sensual arts, but after a while he’d lost interest in every one of them. He found himself growing bored faster than usual with his most recent mistresses. He’d even lost interest in sex, it would seem. Physically, his body still responded, but mentally, his mind dwelled somewhere else.

  Eight years ago, Jonathan had returned from Waterloo a broken man. The injuries he’d sustained during the battle still pained him today. Because of his shattered knee, he’d lost his fiancée when he returned from the war. Susannah had refused to wed a cripple.

  All these years later, he still suffered from horrific nightmares and had become a drunk. In essence, he went through the motions of living, letting it pass him by. There were days when he wished he’d died on that battlefield.

  His mistress stretched, purring like a cat. He’d pleasured Alana well, but he was completely unmoved by their sexual encounter. It was definitely time to end their liaison. Jonathan rolled out of bed and stood, leaned over, and pulled on his knee breeches.

  Alana gave him a sultry look. “Darling, why are you getting dressed? I thought you were spending the night. Please come back. I’m sure I can revive you if you will give me a chance.” She pulled him to her and stroked his cock through his breeches, but he remained unmoved by her touch.

  He brushed her hand away. “You know I never stay all night.”

  Reaching for his shirt, he pulled it over his head then tucked it into his breeches. Next, he donned his waistcoat and shrugged his jacket on. He gave a brief glance at his reflection, then ran his fingers through his black hair and smoothed it, giving it some semblance of order. He took a deep breath, clenched his teeth, and turned around.

  Jonathan flashed her a smile—one he’d been told on many occasions was sardonic. “While I’ve enjoyed the time we’ve spent together, it’s time to end our liaison.”

  “What do you mean it’s time to end our arrangement? We had an agreement for a year, and we’ve only been together for three months. I turned away several protectors for you.” She stood, her eyes bright with fire as she sashayed toward him. “Sexually, we’re very compatible. Give me a chance to prove it.” She lifted up on her tiptoes and gave him a searing kiss as she stroked his cock.

  A fleeting moment of desire surged through him, but he pushed her away. “I know what our contract states, and I’ll fulfill those terms until you find another protector. I’m sure one of those men you mentioned will be happy to take my place. My secretary will pay your expenses, within reason, of course, and you’ll receive a new diamond necklace as a parting gift. I’m leaving London at the end of the week, so I shall bid you adieu.”

  Jonathan picked up his walking stick and left her boudoir. As he closed the door, he heard a crash and breaking glass, and Alana shouting profanities. Obviously, she was not taking their parting well. He made his way down the stairs, picked up his top hat and kidskin gloves, then made his way out of the house.

  When he stepped on the pavement, he motioned to his driver. The carriage pulled to a stop, and he pulled his hulking body inside. As he slumped against the tufted burgundy velvet cushions, he rubbed his knee to alleviate some of his pain. He tapped the roof and told his driver to take him to his club. Pulling his flask from the inside pocket of his jacket, he took a swig of brandy, needing it to steady his nerves. He was drinking too much but could not help it. Only liquor deadened the pain.

  When his carriage arrived at White’s, he exited and made his way inside. He stood at the entrance to the card room, scanning the area, looking for Baron Jenkins. He spied him at a table against the back wall, involved in a card game with a few of their friends.

  He approached. “Good evening, my friends. May I join you?”

  Jenkins glanced at him and grinned. “Of course. Masters has folded so you can take his place.”

  Jonathan watched as his friend dealt the cards. He enjoyed the occasional game. Luck was with him, and before much time had passed, a pile of coins lay in front of him. The other opponents folded and left the table.

  Leaning against the back of his chair, he puffed on a cigar between swigs of brandy. “I ended my liaison with Alana. I’ve grown bored and no longer want her.”

  Jenkins took a sip of his brandy then laughed. “Sutherland, you go through mistresses faster than any of my acquaintances, but this is fast, even for you. You’ve only had her for what, three months? Have
you found someone new?”

  “Definitely not,” he drawled. “If I need sex, I’ll go to a pleasure house. Mistresses are too demanding. Oh, by the way, I’m leaving London at the end of the week. I haven’t gone to my estate since March, and the season has grown tedious.”

  His friend cocked a brow. “When did you make that decision? You didn’t mention it this morning at Tattersall’s. Are you not supposed to buy that matched pair of dappled grays? We both agreed they’re real goers and would be perfect for your new phaeton.”

  “Oh, yes, I’m definitely buying the pair, but that shan’t keep me here. I’ve considered leaving town for several days but didn’t say anything. The amusements of London have lost much of their appeal. Will you come with me? I have a lake on my estate, and we can do some fishing. You’re bound to be tired of the season as well. It’s almost over anyway, and I would enjoy your company.”

  Jenkins stroked his chin. “I haven’t gone fishing in years. The idea is entertaining. I shall come, but I can’t leave town until next week.”

  “Come whenever it’s convenient.” He stood and almost lost his balance. The brandy was affecting him more than he’d realized.

  Jenkins rose from his seat and grabbed his arm. “Your knee’s bothering you again, is it not? Let me help you to your carriage.”

  He pushed his friend’s hand away. “No, I’m fine,” he mumbled, then staggered from the room.

  Jonathan hailed his coach. When he arrived home, he picked up the candelabrum waiting for him and slowly made his way up the stairs.

  His valet jumped to his feet when he entered his bedchamber, but Jonathan was not in the mood to have him fussing over him, so he sent Hatton away. He made it as far as the chair by the hearth and collapsed. A jagged pain shot through his knee, and he uttered an oath.

  When he’d received his injury, the surgeons had wanted to remove his leg. Thank God his brother had stopped them. Roderick was a large man and could be very intimidating. While his knee pained him much of the time, he would rather have it than the alternative.

  Gritting his teeth, he lumbered to his feet, went to the basin and washed the smell of sex from his body before donning his banyan. He hobbled to the table, poured a large snifter of brandy, then dropped in the chair again and proceeded to drink until the pain eased enough for him to sleep. He detested his need for brandy. Lately, it took more before he found relief. Sighing, he limped to his bed, rolled into it, and fell into an exhausted sleep.

  Oh, God. Dead and dying men lay all around him. He fought off three Frenchmen when one of them shot his horse out from under him. He managed to roll clear, but as he gained his footing, something slammed into him. As he hit the ground, all went black. He awoke and heard a surgeon say they must amputate his leg. “No, you will not…cut it off. Dammit…leave my leg…alone!”

  He awoke fighting his bedclothes. Covered in sweat, his heart pounding, it took several moments for him to realize it was another dream. He hated the nightmares. That was another reason why he drank before bed. It usually helped keep them away. He’d failed to drink enough last night.

  Why can I not find peace from this torment?

  Jonathan fought sleep, fearing more nightmares. Crawling out of bed, he stumbled to the table and poured a huge snifter of brandy, gulped it down, refilled it, and drank that as well. He limped to his chair, collapsed, and continued to drink. Slowly he lost his battle to stay awake.

  The next morning, he awoke exhausted. After his man finished shaving him, he gazed at his reflection in the looking glass Hatton handed him. Dark circles lined his eyes, and the wrinkles on his forehead looked deeper than they had the day before. He looked like hell and felt years older than thirty.

  Jonathan shook off the melancholy and finished his ablutions. A blinding headache throbbed at his temple, and his gut rolled. Hatton wore a grim expression as he handed Jonathan the restorative he mixed each morning. He donned the clothes his valet had laid out and tried to concentrate on what he needed to do that day.

  Sighing, he went to the breakfast room for his morning meal, but when he took a bite, his stomach pitched like it did when he was on his brother’s yacht. Even though it was only noon, he craved the oblivion from the brandy, but he resisted temptation. There were a number of things he needed to do if he planned to leave in three days.

  Jonathan made his way to his solicitor’s office first, where he reviewed some recent investments he’d made. Although a wealthy landowner, with holdings scattered across England, he religiously looked for new investments to enrich the marquisate. He enjoyed a challenge, and dabbling with investments was definitely that, and one of the few things that still excited him.

  The next couple of days proved brutal. Each day, he needed more brandy; the pain in his knee was worse than it had been in a long time. Hatton nagged at him to take laudanum since he believed it would work better than spirits, but he refused.

  At last Saturday arrived, and Jonathan left for his estate. The cramped carriage was hell on his knee, and bouncing around on the rainy, rutted roads did not help. The trip took three days, and staying inebriate barely made it tolerable.

  As his home drew near, he watched the landscape change to grassy limestone hills, woodlands, and cool, green ravines. Breathing in the clean countryside air, he relaxed.

  His family seat lay south of the Cotswold Hills. The closer he drew to his estate, the better he felt. St. John’s Wood had been in the family since Queen Elizabeth gave it to the first marquess shortly after she ascended to the throne in 1558.

  As the coach turned into the drive to his home, Jonathan drank in the sight of the neatly trimmed boxwood hedges lining the drive and anxiously awaited his first glimpse of his ancestral home.

  When it came into view, his heart took flight. The Jacobean mellow-red brick manor with white stone window casings always stirred him. Wings on each side of the main house had been added at the end of the last century. The overall effect was pleasing to the eye—his home was as lovely as he remembered.

  Once his carriage pulled under the portico, he crawled out, and his butler greeted him. “I received your message, your lordship. All is as you requested.”

  “Excellent, Goodman. Where is my sister? I expected her to greet me.” He saw a whirlwind coming his way, and his little sister ran into his arms. She must have run a good distance. Her pretty pink cheeks were flushed, and her long, golden hair streamed down her back, having lost its hairpins.

  Grabbing Elaine around the waist, he hugged her close while she laughed up at him. “I’m so happy you’ve arrived at last. How long are you staying? Please say it’s for a good long time. It’s dreadfully dull when you’re away.”

  “Greetings, Princess. It’s good to know I’m missed. I’m not sure how long I’m staying, but through harvest time at the very least. After that, we shall see. I’ve grown bored with town and want the peace and quiet of home for a while. I received a letter from Roderick. He wants us to visit, but I plan to convince him to bring his family here.”

  She beamed. “Oh, that would be wonderful. I love playing with Frankford and Jane. They’re such sweet children. I haven’t seen them since Christmas. If they can’t come, may we please visit them?”

  “If they do not, we shall make the trip.” He released her. “Now, let me get settled. We’ll talk more this evening. Since we have no guests, you may dine with me.”

  Jonathan went to his suite to wash away his travel dirt. Hatton rushed into the room and started unpacking his belongings. While his valet was excellent, he wished he would not hover quite so much.

  The inactivity of traveling for three days had taken its toll. His blasted knee ached worse than ever. He stripped down to his smalls, sat in one of his deeply cushioned chairs before the fire, and put his leg on the matching ottoman to ease the strain.

  His valet applied a soothing balm, prepared cold compresses, and wrapped them around his leg. He did not know what he put in the special liniment, but it seemed to h
elp. Hatton handed him a glass of brandy, and he drank it quickly, hoping it would deaden the knives stabbing his knee.

  He groaned. “Thank you, Hatton. I feel much better. I shan’t need you again until it’s time to dress for dinner. I just want to relax for a while.”

  His valet sat the brandy decanter on the table next to his chair. “I shall return to help you dress.”

  Hatton left, and Jonathan let out a relieved sigh. Finally, he was alone. He poured another large glass of brandy and settled into his chair. It was so good to be at home at last.

  As he glanced around his bedchamber, a huge sense of peace rolled over him. He loved his room with its comfortable large oak bed and his oversized chairs by the hearth. The deep moss-green colors were restful. Why did he leave St. John’s Wood to begin with?

  Turning his thoughts to other matters, he hoped his brother would come to him because he did not want to have to go to Bristol. He grabbed his travel desk, pulled paper and quill out, and wrote a letter to Roderick asking him to come for a visit with his family. He would have Goodman post it in the morning. He leaned against the cushions of his chair and fell asleep.

  Later that afternoon, Hatton woke him in plenty of time, and Jonathan enjoyed spending the evening with Elaine. Dinner was pleasant, and after they finished their meal, she entertained him on the pianoforte and sang a lively ditty. She had a lovely contralto voice that he always found soothing.

  Over the next few days, Jonathan rode his estate visiting his tenant farmers and catching up with his steward, Whetherby. The tenant farms were doing well, and the harvest promised to be bountiful.

  He enjoyed his morning rides. Thank God he had no problems riding. He had to use his upper thighs to compensate for the weakness in his knee and lower leg, but Demon had adapted well, and Jonathan had taught him to respond to the lightest pressure followed by a verbal command.

  Several days later, as Jonathan sat in his study drinking brandy and going over reports, Goodman brought in the post. It included a letter from Roderick telling him they would arrive on Saturday.