A Scandalous Affair Read online

  A Scandalous Affair

  By Karen Erickson

  From the moment Daphne, Lady Pomeroy, meets the mysterious Marquess of Hartwell at a masquerade ball, she’s determined to seduce him. The handsome, charming man cannot possibly be the cold, calculating lord who Society calls “Black Hart.” Risking everything, the lonely widow invites the elusive Hartwell to her dinner party…for two.

  Hartwell’s arrogant reputation is built on a lie. For he has a shameful secret that keeps him in the shadows: a stutter—his downfall since childhood. He’d rather keep his mouth shut than look the fool. But he’s shocked to discover that in Daphne’s company—and in her bed—his stutter vanishes.

  After one wanton evening together, Daphne is hurt when the lord lives up to his Black Hart name. Yet his reasons for leaving surprise even him. Now he must confess everything or risk losing Daphne forever…

  22,000 words

  Dear Reader,

  Inspiration comes from the strangest places. Every month, I whine a little when my coworker in charge of production, Jenny Bullough, emails to tell me it’s time to write a new Dear Reader letter. “But, but, I don’t know what to write about,” I say. This month, I added to my whine, “People have been telling me they actually READ these letters. Now there’s PRESSURE.” To which Jenny replied:

  My usual offer still stands ;)

  Dear Reader,

  Angela is busy sunning herself on a beach somewhere; we’ll return to our regularly scheduled dear reader letter in August. Meanwhile, enjoy this book!

  ~Jenny Bullough

  Unfortunately, since I write these letters months in advance, while this particular letter is going in the July books, and you’re perhaps reading this during the summer, the truth is, right now I’m dealing with allergy season, and not beach season. Though I did get to visit a beach in Florida a few weeks ago during a conference. Ahhh, memories…

  But I hope, for your sake, as you’re reading this, you are sunning yourself on some beach. With a tropical drink or frosty beer in hand. And a good-looking cabana person of your choice serving it. Oh, and no biting insects (our beach has biting insects and they hurt!).

  Still, I thank Jenny for the offer, and the inspiration to help me start off this letter. I have to admire the dedication of our authors who, every month, use their inspiration and write such fantastic stories that make great companions on the beach, by the pool, or even in your favorite reading spot indoors. This month, we have another creative and diverse group of releases for your reading pleasure.

  Kicking off the month is a sweeping historical romance from Laura Navarre. By Royal Command offers everything you’re looking for in a great historical read: rich historical details, sweeping passion, intrigue and, I don’t think I’m giving anything away by saying this, an amazing happy ending! Joining Laura in starting off our month of releases is debut author Kait Gamble with her fascinating science-fiction romance Liar’s Game. Meanwhile, KC Burn keeps readers in the detailed science-fiction universe of Spice ’n’ Solace with her follow-up super-hot-and-spicy erotic m/m novella Alien ’n’ Outlaw.

  Longing for a particularly delicious erotic romance to turn up the heat inside, while it’s hot outside? We’ve got you covered this month. In addition to Alien ’n’ Outlaw, check out erotic romance offerings from Delphine Dryden and Karen Erickson with The Theory of Attraction and A Scandalous Affair, respectively. And we’re proud to announce debut erotic romance author Samantha Ann King with her ménage novel Sharing Hailey, and debut author Zaide Bishop with her erotic historical novella Eliza’s Awakening.

  Meanwhile, Michelle Garren Flye offers a compelling and emotional contemporary romance, Where the Heart Lies.

  Also this month, join Allegra Fairweather in another paranormal adventure in Island of Secrets by Janni Nell. And make sure you check out Jeffe Kennedy’s Rogue’s Pawn, which kicks off her new fantasy romance series!

  Other returning Carina Press authors this month include Natasha Hoar with The Ravenous Dead, the next installment in her Lost Souls series; Dee J. Adams’s Dangerously Close, which continues the high-octane Adrenaline Highs series; Anne Marie Becker, bringing you another slightly creepy and very suspenseful romance in Avenging Angel; and Hunter Raines with the paranormal m/m romance Sight Unseen.

  In addition to Samantha Ann King, Kait Gamble and Zaide Bishop, we’re proud to introduce another debut author, R.L. Naquin. If you enjoy your urban fantasy with a cheeky edge and a sense of humor, while offering the urban fantasy and romantic elements you love, make sure to check out Naquin’s debut novel, Monster in My Closet.

  I hope you these July 2012 releases as much as we do. And that you really do have a cabana person to wait on you ;)

  Remember, we love to hear from readers, and you can email us your thoughts, comments and questions to [email protected]. You can also interact with Carina Press staff and authors on our blog, Twitter stream and Facebook fan page.

  Happy reading!

  ~Angela James

  Executive Editor, Carina Press

  www.carinapress.com

  www.twitter.com/carinapress

  www.facebook.com/carinapress

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  About the Author

  Copyright

  Chapter One

  London, 1825

  “I think you should consider marriage.”

  The widowed Countess of Pomeroy paused, fork in hand and hovering over her breakfast plate as she stared at her older brother in shock. “Surely you jest,” she said once she recovered her voice. “Do you not recall that I’ve been married once already?”

  Hugh shrugged and sipped from his cup before speaking. “Can you not marry again? You’re young. You have no children. Wouldn’t it be smart to find a new husband?”

  “Phrased as such, you make it sound like a purchase. ‘I’ll take that gown, the straw hat, the beautiful lace gloves and one husband, please.’” Daphne shook her head, worry filling her. “Have you grown weary of my staying with you?”

  “You are always more than welcome,” he assured, but she wondered.

  Her brother was a confirmed and somewhat notorious bachelor. One of the most sought after in all of London, what with his dashing good looks and the vast fortune he’d grown since he’d inherited their father’s title five years ago. Viscount Huxley fought off the eager debutantes with frightening regularity and she’d heard more than one whispered rumor about his various conquests and the trail of mistresses he left behind since her recent return to London.

  Her residing with him these last few months must have put a terrible cramp in his style.

  “Are you trying to be rid of me then?” She wasn’t insulted, not in the least. At the ripe old age of thirty-three and a widow for the past two years, she was indeed a burden upon her brother.

  Oh yes, she’d received enough funds from her husband’s estate to keep a modest household if she so chose. She’d resided the last two years at the Pomeroy country home since her husband’s death. The current Earl of Pomeroy—the eldest son of her dead husband and his first wife, long deceased now—was most kind in letting her reside there without squabble.

  But she’d grown bored. As time went on and she mourned properly the loss of her husband after a long illness, she realized she longed for the excitement only a London Season could bring. Unfortunately, the various social gatherings she’d attended so far had been a vast disappo
intment. She was half-tempted to return to the country estate.

  “I would never wish to be rid of you, sister dear.” Hugh smiled, exuding all of the Huxley charm he was known for. Goodness, no wonder the ladies clamored after him. “Perhaps we should host a ball in your honor. A sort of re-coming out, so to speak.”

  Daphne’s lips parted in horror. That sounded—awful. So much expected of her, enduring all the gossip and the attention of men both young and old she didn’t want? “I could never do such a thing. That would be positively scandalous.”

  Hugh shrugged. Again. The man hadn’t a care in the world, or so it seemed. “It wouldn’t hurt to add some interest to the Season. So far, it’s been dreadfully boring.” He had that right. “We could certainly liven it up with a ball. Perhaps a masquerade, even.”

  Daphne was shocked. Her brother suggesting they host a masquerade ball together? It was unheard of. She knew he didn’t mind attending such gatherings, but planning them? “Are you quite sure? Perhaps you’re ill and not thinking clearly. Should you go back to bed and rest?”

  He chuckled. “Absolutely, I’m sure. We can invite a herd of titled gentlemen who are in dire need of a wife and line them up for your perusal.”

  “You cannot be serious.” She scowled. Her brother conjured up the most ridiculous ideas. She couldn’t participate in a ball created just for her to find another husband. It was…unheard of.

  “Why do you think all the parents of the peerage host balls for their precious little debs, hmm? So they can find their daughters a husband and be rid of them once and for all. Father did it for you and found you a proper husband rather quickly.”

  Too quickly, Daphne wanted to add. Her father had jumped on the first proposal she received, not caring for much besides the man’s title and wealth.

  “So why can I not find you another one? You deserve a family, Daph. Children.” His expression grew solemn. “I want to see you happy. You’ve been so sad since Pomeroy passed.”

  Her heart warmed at her brother’s kind words. “I want the same for you, you know. Happiness. You need a wife to beget you a son and heir.”

  He waved a negligent hand, dismissing her claim. “I don’t need all of that. Not yet. You, on the other hand…”

  She laughed. “You make me sound like a cow about to be put out to pasture.”

  “I would never be so rude.” He glowered for a fierce moment before his lips curved into a grin. “At least, I haven’t been that rude to you in years.”

  Daphne tried her best to ignore the giddiness fluttering in her chest but couldn’t. The more she considered it, the more excited she became at the idea of planning a masquerade ball. A grown-up affair, she decided. Not the usual boring, endless balls filled with worried mothers and fretting debutantes. The desperate young gentlemen who needed to find a wife, and quickly.

  This would be a languid, decadent affair. Filled with secrets and masks, gorgeous gowns and impeccably dressed gentlemen. Intrigue and scandalous dances where partners held each other close—it would be a night London society would not soon forget.

  “Your romantic mind is already planning the entire thing, I gather.”

  Her cheeks heated, her brother’s statement pulling her from her thoughts. Growing up, she’d been described as dreamy more than once. Her husband had accused her of the trait as well, as if it was a terribly bad habit she needed to be rid of. After he died, she’d lost herself in her thoughts endlessly. Spent most of her time locked away in her bedchamber, lying about in bed, her thoughts drifting, full of wishes and dreams.

  But wishes and dreams didn’t come true when a lady did nothing in trying to achieve them. For once, she was going to attempt something she’d never done before. She was going to experience life to the fullest.

  Not to please anyone but herself.

  Chapter Two

  He never came to balls. Avoided them as much as possible, really.

  But this particular ball, held at Viscount Huxley’s lovely new home in Mayfair, he couldn’t resist. The masquerade was part of the draw, for donning the simple black mask allowed the Marquess of Hartwell the opportunity to fade into the crowd. A feat he usually wasn’t able to accomplish, what with all the rumors that swirled around him every time he made a public appearance.

  The whispers, the snide remarks, how they cut him with a not-so-subtle turn of their heads and tilt of their noses. He’d stopped attending after tolerating it all for far too long.

  Tonight, dressed as every other man in the room, with a mask obscuring his features, he wasn’t Black Hart, the cold, calculating marquess. He was simply a man.

  A man foolishly intrigued with the lovely lady who was the absolute belle of the ball.

  He’d heard of the widowed Lady Pomeroy, knew she’d made her reappearance into society at the beginning of the Season on her brother’s arm. He vaguely remembered her from her debut season, for they were close in age and he’d been in attendance at many of the same balls and gatherings as she. He’d been even quieter then, and not nearly as important as a mere heir. No one had paid him any mind.

  He’d thought her lovely before but she utterly captivated him now. The delicate mask constructed of lace and silk trimmed with pearls couldn’t conceal her glowing beauty. Her smile was quick and she wore it often, dazzling him every single time he saw it. The fabric of her beautiful gown was a deep lavender, emphasizing the creaminess of her skin and her dark, lustrous curls. She was a vision.

  A lady he wouldn’t attempt to approach, let alone speak with. The moment his lips would part he’d make an utter ass of himself.

  So he was content with watching her. She danced with a mere handful of men though she could’ve danced with more, considering how they all surrounded her. Including her brother, who swept her about the dance floor with a flourish that made her toss her head back and laugh. The sound of it warmed his skin, settled low in his belly, and he immediately wanted to hear it again.

  He wanted to be the one who made her laugh like that.

  Considering he rarely spoke out amongst society, that would be a most impossible task.

  Clutching his hands into fists, he stood on the sidelines of the ballroom with a group of his peers, all of them quietly speaking to one another, more than a few of them offering a quick nod of acknowledgement in his direction. Like his, their gazes strayed toward their beautiful hostess. As if they couldn’t help themselves.

  It was a ball unlike any Hartwell had ever witnessed. Not a blushing debutante in sight. Nor any overbearing mothers or dour companions, either. It was refreshingly adult in nature, what with the few married ladies who accompanied their husbands, a sprinkling of mistresses to keep it interesting, if a bit scandalous, and a handful of lovely young widows much like their hostess.

  He had the distinct feeling the ball had been set up specifically in search of a new husband for the widowed countess. The gentlemen outnumbered the ladies three to one. She had her absolute pick and so far, she hadn’t even flicked her gaze in his direction.

  With a resigned sigh, he disengaged himself from the crowd and went to the refreshment table, eyeing the punch bowl with decided disinterest. He wasn’t hungry, wasn’t remotely thirsty either, and he heaved another great sigh.

  Should he leave? It was early, yet no one approached him. Not that he was particularly approachable but he’d believed, with the mask, that for once he could be truly anyone this evening.

  His title, his affliction, everything about him was a burden. A most cumbersome burden he was finding more and more difficult to deal with as the years passed. How he wished he didn’t have such problems expressing himself. If only he were carefree and confident in his ability to deal with others. Instead, he remained frozen, and in turn froze everyone out who came near until they considered him a cold, calculating, impenetrable man no one could become close to.

  A man with a black heart—he was nothing in the least like his truly awful nickname.

  Frustration coursing through
his veins, he growled at no one in particular and turned away from the refreshment table. Making his way through the growing crowd, he headed toward the open doorway that loomed ahead, eagerness pushing him, increasing his pace. He wanted to get the hell out of there, quickly. He didn’t need them. He didn’t need anyone. His life would suffice perfectly if he spent it all alone…

  “Excuse me.”

  A sweet voice made him stop. Slowly he turned to find her standing in front of him. The bodice of her gown dipped low, offering him a delicious view of the tops of her impressive breasts. She smiled, her deep blue eyes twinkling behind the mask, and inclined her head toward him.

  “I know you might find my behavior rash but I was wondering—would you care to dance?”

  Relief—mixed with a healthy dose of lust—coursed through him. He wasn’t about to turn her down.

  * * *

  The mask made Daphne stupidly brave.

  That was the only reason she could be so bold as to ask a perfect stranger if he’d like to dance with her. Why, he could be a complete lout. A drunken, desperate fool who might believe by her asking him to dance that she might be up for other, far more nefarious activity she had no intention of pursuing.

  She blamed his shoulders for drawing her attention. They were broad, encased in black and so impressive she couldn’t help but stare. He was tall, her neck might ache if she looked up at him for too long, and his chest was impossibly wide.

  He was a most interesting male specimen she couldn’t ignore.

  Nibbling on her lower lip, she waited for his answer, dread filling her. Perhaps she should leave. Oh, she knew running away like a coward was rude and that he most likely recognized her as his hostess for the evening, but she probably shouldn’t have taken the risk. Hugh would surely give her an earful, for she caught sight of him observing her at this very moment, a permanent scowl etched on his fine features.

  Her poor, worrisome brother. She didn’t mean to make such trouble.

  “I—I would be honored to dance with you, my lady,” the gentleman finally answered, startling her. His voice was deep, like smooth, dark velvet, though he spoke with the slightest hesitation.