by Bree Wolf
She is obligated to hate him.
Her heart, however, disagrees.
If he cannot prove himself worthy,
He will lose her forever.
When ROSE LAWSON meets a handsome and, yet, intelligent man in the British Museum, she quickly fancies herself in love. However, upon learning the man's name, anger boils within her. She has heard his name before. She knows who he is, and she knows that he is the devil incarnate.
If only her heart and mind did not disagree so strongly, she could hate him with all the passion she possesses…and he deserves.
Torn from his old life, CHARLES DASHWOOD finds himself wandering the British Museum alone. Gone are his friends with whom he shared his interests in antiquities. Gone is their companionship.
In his desolate state, he comes upon a young lady, who seems to share the very passion he is now forced to ignore. A stimulating conversation ensues, which takes a turn for the worse when she learns his name…or rather his brother's name.
All of a sudden, Charles is faced with a problem not of his own making. From what he can gather, Rose has met him…or rather his twin brother…before, and unfortunately, her opinion of him could not be lower.
Will Charles be able to win Rose's heart without betraying his brother? Will Robert stand idly by and watch as Charles loses the woman he loves in order to keep his secret?
Prologue
Three Years Ago
Her heart thudding in her chest, Diana tiptoed down the small cobblestone path as her dainty steps echoed through the night air. The moon shone overhead, casting its silvery light into the shadowy dark of the gardens, and from the terrace, the sounds of music and laughter reached her ears. The earl’s ball was still in full swing, and to Diana’s delight, it had been rather easy to escape her parents’ watchful eyes and sneak out into the night.
A part of Diana’s mind warned her, cautioned her that such behaviour could have disastrous consequences. Her heart, however, was focused on one thing alone: the man she loved.
If she could only speak to him for a few moments and assure him that his pursuit was indeed most welcome, he would surely speak to her father that very night and ask for her hand in marriage.
At the thought, her breath caught in her throat, and she stopped in her tracks. Drawing the fresh night air into her lungs, Diana sought to steady her nerves. When the slight dizziness that had seized her so unexpectedly finally subsided, she swallowed and then proceeded down the path.
In the dark, the tall-growing hedges and bushes looked ominous, and more than once, Diana drew back with a startled gasp as she feared she had stumbled upon someone lurking in the shadows, intent on doing her harm.
“Where is he?” she mumbled under her breath craning her neck, hoping to catch a glimpse of his tall, striking figure.
After he had asked her to follow him into the night−the gaze in his smouldering eyes saying more than a thousand words ever could−Diana had not hesitated. Ensuring that her parents were otherwise occupied, she had slipped out the terrace doors, following his silhouette until it had disappeared among the shadows.
As the chilled night air brushed over her heated cheeks, Diana’s feet carried her onward until, at last, she found the small pavilion as it stood like an island in the midst of a green ocean, its tall, white-washed pillars reaching into the sky.
Sheltered under a canopy roof, his back to her and his strong arms resting on the small rail, he stood motionless on the other side of the small space and stared out into the night.
At the very sight of him, Diana’s heart soared, and a rush of emotions swept through her body. Her lips began to tingle at the mere thought of his mouth pressed to hers, and her palms grew moist with nervous anticipation.
Taking another deep breath, she stepped forward, her dainty steps all but silent as she approached him. His intoxicating scent mingled with the soft night smells as the jasmines began to bloom, and Diana thought for a moment she would faint on the spot as her heart raced in her chest.
Coming to stand behind him while desperate to be in his arms, she lifted her hands and softly placed them on the top of his back, gently letting them slide down over his strong muscles.
The moment Diana touched him, he froze…before drawing in a deep breath. “I’ve been waiting for you,” he whispered in that deep, raspy voice that made her breath catch in her throat every time it reached her ears.
A smile spread over her face, and joy filled her heart.
Like a feline, he suddenly spun around and pulled her into his arms, his hungry mouth seeking hers.
Locked in his tight embrace, Diana abandoned all thought as her body responded to his touch as though it recognized him from a previous life. Deep down, Diana had always known that he was her soul mate.
As his lips roamed hers, she held on to him, feeling her knees grow weak. A soft gasp escaped her as his hands travelled upward, and he suddenly drew back.
In the dim light of the moon, he gazed into her eyes, a slight frown curling his brows before he stepped back. “I apologise, Miss−”
“Diana!”
At the sound of her father’s enraged voice, Diana’s head spun around.
Finding her parents by the tall-growing hedge that shielded the pavilion from passers-by, she swallowed as their disbelieving eyes stared at them, shifting from her to the man by her side.
A smile on her lips, Diana turned to face her parents as they hurried toward them, their own faces pale in the moonlight. “Father, Mother, I can explain.”
“I most certainly hope so,” her father snapped, his sharp eyes travelling from her to her future husband. “Norwood, what is the meaning of this?”
Clearing his throat, Robert Dashwood stepped forward. “I apologise, sir. There has been some misunderstanding. I−”
“Whatever misunderstanding you thought has occurred, I expect the next words I hear to include a proposal considering the liberties you’ve just now taken with my daughter!”
With love in her heart and a smile on her face, Diana turned to the man by her side. Butterflies fluttered in her belly as she took a deep breath. This was it! The moment she had been waiting for her entire life.
“A proposal?” Laughing, her soul mate shook his head. “I’m afraid I have to disappoint you.”
Staring at him, Diana felt the blood rush from her cheeks as the world grew dim around her. “What?” she gasped, her knees suddenly as weak as pudding as the butterflies in her belly died a slow death.
“I apologise,” he said, his eyes shifting from her father to her. “As I said, this was a misunderstanding.”
“A misunderstanding?” her father boomed as heart-wrenching sobs tore from Diana’s throat, and she sank into her mother’s arms. “You take advantage of a young girl and then you refuse to do the only decent thing there is left. What kind of a gentleman are you?”
Chuckling, Lord Norwood leaned against the rail. “The worst kind, I assure you.”
“Social etiquette dictates that−”
“I don’t care about social etiquette−”
“You will be ruined. Your reputation−”
“My reputation will not suffer, for all of London already knows the kind of man I am.” Standing up straight, the notorious viscount stepped forward, fixing her father with serious eyes. “Your daughter, on the other hand, has everything to lose. Therefore, I suggest you be reasonable.”
“You downright refuse to marry her?” her father huffed.
“Yes, sir,” he confirmed. “You will be well-advised to return to the festivities before we are discovered. No harm has been done so far.”
Shaking his head, her father coughed, “No harm? You’ve compromised her.”
“Upon my honour−or what is left of it−it was only a kiss.”
Only a kiss? Diana’s head spun as she clung to her mother, her hopes crashing into a black abyss that was threatening to swallow her whole. What was happening? Did he not love her? Had he not told her so a mil
lion times? Had his loving gaze not spoken the words that his lips had confirmed a mere few minutes ago?
Glaring at the man she loved, her father returned to her side. “You are without honour, Norwood. I sincerely hope that one day you will reap what you sow.”
An amused smile on his face, Lord Norwood nodded to her father before his eyes dropped to hers. “All my best to you, Miss…Lawson, is it?” Then he turned and walked away, the shadows swallowing him whole as though he had never been there.
Supported by a parent on either side, Diana placed one step before the other, her mind tormented by the incomprehensibility of what had just happened and her heart aching with the love so unexpectedly ripped from her life.
“I can only hope that Norwood keeps quiet,” her father mumbled under his breath, anger still ringing in his sharp voice. “If anyone finds out what happened here tonight, your chances of a favourable match will be ruined.”
In that moment, Diana could not bring herself to care. After all, what value could her reputation possibly have when her heart had just been ripped into pieces?
Chapter One − In His Brother's Shoes
England 1818 (or a variation thereof)
As the new year began, Bridgemoore found itself covered in a soft layer of snow. The sky gleamed a clear blue dotted with white clouds, and the sun shone brightly, its golden rays reflected in the millions of ice crystals that clung to the frozen ground.
Blinking, Charles Dashwood stepped back from the tall window in his study as the blinding light reached his eyes.
Only the day before, dark clouds had loomed high above the estate like a bad omen for the new year to come. Never would he have expected such a change, and yet, it resonated deep within him.
The old year had ended in a tragedy as Princess Charlotte’s death in childbirth as well as the loss of her son had plunged the whole nation into mourning. Black dominated every area of life as people felt the need to express their sorrow. Charles, too, had received the news with a heavy heart.
After losing his own mother early and rather unexpectedly, he was acutely aware of how fragile life could be. Within an instant, the happiness of a moment ago could lie shattered at one’s feet. This knowledge had often cautioned him when it came to matters of the heart. Rarely had Charles opened himself up to another human being and the risk of heartache such an action could entail. Only his older twin did he love without restriction.
Months had passed since he had last seen Robert as he and his new bride Isabella had embarked on an adventure that led them around the world. Last he’d heard, they were in Italy.
With a smile on his face, Charles glanced at the tall stack of letters neatly set aside on his desk. Although the two brothers had drifted apart the years prior to the wedding, now they were inseparable as ever−despite the distance that currently lay between them. Rarely a week passed without a new letter from Robert, and Charles could not help but look forward to the day that his brother would return to Bridgemoore.
Once again, his eyes shifted to the powdered world at his feet, stretching to the far horizon, the snow’s pure white fading into the sparkling blue of the sky. The world did, indeed, look different that morning−promising−and Charles felt a slight flip in his stomach, hoping that the new year would not fall short of the promises that echoed in his heart that day.
As a knock on the door tore him from his musings, Charles straightened. “Enter,” he called and returned to his desk.
With a slightly hesitant step, Mr. Hill walked into the study. “Good morning, my lord.”
“Good morning,” Charles replied as his steward’s unfamiliar address rang in his ears. Although months had passed since he and his brother had switched their identities, which had resulted in Charles’ promotion to the rank of a viscount, his mind still stumbled over the undue address, and he could not help but wonder if they had made a mistake.
However, whenever he remembered his brother’s glowing eyes as he had looked upon Isabella with love so evident in them, all doubts were dispersed.
Never had he seen two people so much in love, and although Charles cared deeply for Isabella, she was merely a friend to him, a good friend. After all, he had not proposed to her out of love but because they were suited to each other, and she had accepted his proposal for the very same reason. How were they to know that Isabella would find her one true love upon meeting his brother…after she had spoken her marriage vows to Charles?
The only solution to their unfortunate love triangle had been to trade their lives and everything that entailed.
So far, everything had gone smoothly. The past few months at Bridgemoore had passed in mostly the same fashion as before. Despite the fact that Robert as the elder had inherited the title, Charles had always taken care of the estate while his brother had travelled the world, always seeking new adventures. Therefore, Charles simply continued his old routines and dealt with tenants, the upkeep of the estate as well as social responsibilities as he always had.
Only now, he would sign his brother’s name; and people would address him as Lord Norwood.
“The repairs to the roof in the east wing are finished, my lord,” Mr. Hill, a young man in his mid-twenties, informed him. Although they had been working side by side for the past five years, Mr. Hill now appeared somewhat hesitant and reserved around him, and Charles had to remind himself again and again that the man thought him to be his brother, which would attest to his obvious anxiety. “Now, the wallpaper and furnishings will be replaced as soon as possible.” A murderous storm had rolled through the county a few days ago, and a bolt of lightning had almost set the roof aflame. However, the small fire had been quickly extinguished by the torrents of rain pouring from the heavens, only leaving behind a hole in the roof and a soaking wet guest room.
“Thank you,” Charles replied, an encouraging smile on his face. “However, there is no rush since the room will not be in use any time soon.” He liked Mr. Hill and hoped that the man’s unease caused by Robert’s rather wild reputation would eventually be soothed through continued respect and civility. “Besides, I will travel to London within a fortnight,” he nodded to Mr. Hill, “and will leave the upkeep of Bridgemoore in your capable hands.”
A shy smile flitted over the man’s face. “Yes, my lord.”
“Is that all?”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Good,” Charles nodded, and once more his eyes shifted to the tall stack of letters. “I would ask you to forward any letters from my brother or his wife that arrive during my absence to my London townhouse immediately.”
“I will, my lord,” Mr. Hill assured him, his head bobbing up and down. “I will see to everything.”
“Thank you,” Charles said, noticing with relief that the strain on the young man’s face had lessened during their conversation. He could only hope that his absence for the Season would not nourish it once more.
***
On his way into London, Charles found himself captivated by the dynamic city once again. Ever since his father had taken him into Town over a decade ago to see the Rosetta Stone at the British Museum, he had been taken with the vibrancy that seemed to echo off each and every brick. The streets hummed with the sounds of carts and carriages, hoof beats and voices of animals and people alike, and yet, a serenity hung over the city as though nothing could ever disrupt the rhythm of its existence.
Despite a sense of fatigue that settled on his limbs from the long journey, Charles felt rejuvenated by the city’s life force pulsing through his veins. As they drove by Somerset House where the Royal Society was housed, he spotted two old friends from Eton. Delighted, he was about to rap on the roof and ask the coachman to stop when he realised that he was no longer Charles Dashwood.
Sighing, Charles dropped his hand, watching his former friends climb the steps to the front door and vanish inside as his carriage drove by.
By relinquishing his name and identity, he had not only ‘gained’ his brother’s scandalous repu
tation, but he had also lost his own place in life. No longer was he a member of the Royal Society or the Society of Antiquaries. No longer could he walk up to old friends and discuss the newest developments in all areas of science. No longer could he expect to be taken seriously when voicing his opinion in public.
For years, Charles had observed how people treated or rather thought about his brother. Although few actually disliked him, his reputation for disregarding social etiquette whenever fancy struck him often made him look like a rebellious youth, who simply didn’t know any better. On top of that, his boyish charm enchanted and beguiled; however, it also enforced the ton’s general impression that he should not be taken seriously. Were it not for his random love affairs, most people would probably shake their heads at him, an indulgent smile on their faces.
As he climbed the steps to his townhouse, Charles wondered what this Season would bring. Since he was no longer considered a member, he could not possibly spend his time at the Society of Antiquaries, and even though Lord Norwood received an invitation to most events, who would he speak to? More importantly, who would speak to him? And what about?
Shaking his head, Charles sank into the heavy armchair in the back drawing room. Although Robert and he had shared as much of their previous lives with each other before the happy couple had embarked on their journey, Charles felt completely unprepared for the task at hand. How was he to make everyone believe he was his brother? And even if he could, would London be the happy place it had always been for him?
Fortunately, Robert had been abroad the past two years. Therefore, Charles hoped that no recent issues would arise from his brother’s past to torment him today.
After a few days of carefully reacquainting himself with the city, Charles found himself in his carriage one night as it slowly made its way to the townhouse of the Earl of Tanwilth. The earl’s eldest daughter was to enjoy her first Season this year, and her father obviously intended to provide her with ample opportunity to meet eligible bachelors.