by Jenna Jaxon
Miss Amelia Burrowes was the scandal of the ton in her first Season, when her fiancée died and she was declared a ruined woman by Society. Ten years later, she’s back in London to make an arranged marriage that will hopefully allow her sisters to be received by the ton. But when Nathan, Lord Ainsley, the man she’d really had a tendre for all those years ago, renews their acquaintance, the flame between them rekindles and Amelia must convince him that a woman with a past deserves a future.
Heart of Decadence
By Jenna Jaxon
Heart of Decadence
Jenna Jaxon
Published by Jenna Jaxon
Copyright © 2019, Jenna Jaxon
Edited by Danielle Fine
All Rights Reserved. This book may not be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in whole or part in any means, including graphic, electronic, or mechanical without the express written consent of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
Dedication
For my dear husband, my second chance at love, with all my love.
Acknowledgments
Major thank yous to my beta reader Alex Christle and my editor Danielle Fine, without whom most of my books would be much the poorer, and to Ella Quinn for answering all my myriad questions and keeping me on the straight and narrow Regency path. You ladies rock!
Table of Contents
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Epilogue
About the Author
More Works by this Author
Chapter 1
London
May 5, 1820
The warm, walnut-paneled library of Lady Hamilton’s townhouse should’ve been comforting. Flickering candles illuminated the chamber just enough to see, while still allowing a lady to conceal herself if necessary—as it was at this particular moment. Soft leather cushions on the chairs and chaise invited one to sit and relax, while the red and tan Turkey carpet added a richness that soothed the senses. Altogether, the room exuded a calmness and security Miss Amelia Burrowes dearly needed in her life. Unfortunately, it couldn’t dispel her growing dread.
Outside the closed door, people laughed loudly, making her jump. Heart racing, she listened keenly for one particular voice, her fingernails sinking into the arms of the chair until the expensive upholstery creaked, in danger of permanent harm. She tried to relax her grip but couldn’t stop herself. Mr. Burke would find her no matter where she hid.
When Mama had first hinted that the family was once again attempting to find a husband for her, Amelia had smiled and tried to look hopeful. Her pretended interest and cooperation had pleased her mother every time the subject had sporadically come up over the past ten years. Each attempt had, however, come to nothing. Amelia’s reputation had sustained irreparable damage when her betrothed, Jonathan, died, and she’d come to accept her fate as a spinster.
Until now. Next year, her two younger sisters, Henrietta and Margaret, were supposed to make their come out. They could only do that if someone sponsored them, and Mama was determined that someone would. After all, Amelia’s reputation could still be repaired by a good marriage. And once Amelia was accepted back into society, her younger sisters would most likely be invited to fashionable events and hopefully catch husbands of their own. To make certain that happened, Mama had begun a campaign, carried out with military precision, to find a husband for her. It counted little what the man was like, and not at all how Amelia felt about him. Only his willingness to ally himself with a woman who’d acted scandalously mattered in the least.
And, through a variety of friends and acquaintances, Papa had discovered just such a man—a Mr. Lawrence Burke of Chesterfield in Derbyshire, who was amenable to the idea of marrying her. They would meet in London at the beginning of the Season and, if they thought they might suit, they would proceed with the settlement of her very large dowry.
From the moment Mama had explained the plan, Amelia had had grave doubts about her re-introduction to Society, especially when told where it would take place. Lady Hamilton, the aunt after whom she’d been named, had agreed, albeit reluctantly, for Amelia to attend her ball, which opened the Season each year. Amelia hadn’t been out in Society for almost ten years. She’d been to several local affairs in Benington during that time—well after the scandal had died down, of course—but hadn’t set foot in London since her betrothed’s death.
To do so now seemed to be tempting fate, but Mama was adamant. Amelia must repair her reputation as much as possible. She must be seen, but only with Mr. Burke, and must under no circumstances dance or flaunt herself. She was not to ride alone with Mr. Burke in any kind of conveyance but could walk beside him in the park for half an hour only. Circumspection was paramount, Mama had said, until after the wedding. Despite her mother’s confidence, Amelia had doubted this scheme would work, but hadn’t once imagined she would be actively hiding from the man who was supposed to be her salvation.
Earlier in the evening, after dinner, Papa had introduced her to Mr. Burke, who’d seemed rather nice on first acquaintance. A gentleman of one and thirty, not overly tall, with curly brown hair and eyes a shade darker, a full-lipped mouth, and a not-so-prominent chin, Mr. Burke could not be called unhandsome. He’d greeted her pleasantly, talked of generally approved topics—like the weather and boating, of which he seemed extraordinarily fond—then asked to escort her around the room. Their conversation had continued in the general vein until they reached the far end of the room, where no one could hear their lowered remarks.
“I must say, Miss Burrowes, your father’s letter putting forward his desire for our nuptials took me by surprise, but not nearly as much as the amount he’s proposed for your dowry.” He’d smiled, revealing white, predatory teeth. “Much more than my uncle had given me to believe. I understand it is imperative for you to marry.” His eyes darkened and Amelia repressed a shudder at the hunger in them. “I believe I shall enjoy making the match very much.”
A sickening drop in her stomach made her steps falter. Every gentleman who’d been interested in marrying her over the years had expressed similar sentiments. Luckily, none of the other attempts had borne fruit, for the thought of actually marrying those suitors had, by and large, given her the jim-jams. They would have had no affection for her whatsoever, simply lust for her body and her father’s bank account. Of course, those would be the only reasons a gentleman would desire to marry a fallen woman, but it hurt to think her husband must be one so mercenary.
This time, however, something in Mr. Burke’s demeanor had so incensed her that she’d made some slight excuse to be taken back to her mother. Mama had not been pleased, but Amelia didn’t care. If not for the dire consequences for her sisters, she would’ve refused Mr. Burke out of hand and requested to be taken home to Benington immediately. Instead, she’d resorted to hiding. The idea of being seen with the predatory Burke turned her stomach, although she would have to do so at least once tonight or face Mama’s wrath.
She gazed about the quiet room. Without doubt, Mama would soon send Papa, or one of her brothers who’d turned out tonight, to find her. If it was her youngest brother, Tim, she could possibly wheedle him into remaining with her instead of doing his duty and dragging her back to the ballroom.
Her reverie was broken by the sudden opening of the library door.
“There you are, my dear.”
Discovered, drat it. Again, Amelia tightened her grip on the arms of the chair.
“I’ve been looking for you everywhere.” Mr. Burke smiled at her as he entered the library and shut the door. The hollow thud sounded like a death knell. “What are you doing in here? This is hardly the time to try to improve your mind.” He started toward her, his smile turning into a leer. “We might, however, take this opportunity alone to become…better acquainted.”
Amelia bounded out of the chair as though shot from a cannon and somehow managed to land on her feet. Instinctively, she backed toward the fireplace. “I don’t think that is wise, Mr. Burke. Our betrothal is supposed to help repair my reputation. If we are to become better acquainted, it must be done properly, in full view of my parents and Lady Hamilton’s guests.” She must get them out of this place before he did something that would make it impossible for her to refuse his suit, which she now desperately wished to do.
“Come, come, Miss Burrowes. Or should I say Amelia? Being alone with your intended cannot matter so much in the eyes of the ton.” Pacing slowly toward her, Mr. Burke held out his hand. “In your case, they may well assume we’ve been intimately acquainted as soon as the betrothal is announced.” He leered at her. “Why not make their suspicions correct?”
Completely outraged, Amelia stopped backing away. How dare he assume she would do such a thing? Even if her reputation was soiled, to think she would simply submit to his crude suggestion—and in her hostess’s library of all places—could not be borne. The devil flew into her and she stalked toward him. “I will not stand here and be so insulted, Mr. Burke. I may not have the sterling reputation of the other young ladies of the ton, but common decency demands that you treat me with some respect.”
To her dismay, her outburst, rather than acting as a deterrent, seemed to inflame his ardor. His eyes widened, and he grinned as he continued toward her. “Ah, you do have spirit. I suspected as much. One does not come by a reputation such as yours without some spark of passion.” He licked his lips. “This arrangement may prove to be a better bargain than I could have hoped for.”
Dear Lord, she needed to get out of this room before he ruined her for once and all. Dodging around the chair, she made a break for the door, but he grabbed her wrist and swung her around to face him.
“What’s your hurry, my dear?” He showed his teeth again, making him look just like the wolf in the Grimm brothers’ story.
“Let me go, sir.” Amelia twisted her wrist, trying to break his hold, but he was strong. She’d likely have a bruise there tomorrow.
“Not without some token of your affection, surely? We must learn to get along amiably, mustn’t we?” Sliding his arm around her shoulders, he pulled her against him until it seemed every inch of her touched his body. “Much better, don’t you think?”
“I do not, Mr. Burke.” Well, this would teach him. She raised her foot and stamped hard on his. “Ouch.” Her soft kid slippers were no match for his leather dancing pumps. Now the arch of her foot ached.
“A veritable spitfire, aren’t you?” His grin widened. “Let’s see if that all that passion can be redirected.” He darted his head down toward her, seeking her lips.
“No.” Twisting her head from side to side, she tried desperately to avoid his mouth. “Mr. Burke, please. Stop.” She got her hands up between them and gave a mighty push, but the effort had no effect on him whatsoever.
It did, however, distract her from evading his determined efforts to kiss her, and he dropped his mouth onto hers with a triumphant cry.
Amelia’s heart sank. What could she do now? Maybe if she held herself aloof, did not respond at all, he’d think her unfeeling. God knew she didn’t want his kisses, though he was remarkably gentle once he settled into it. Ceasing to struggle, she forced herself to relax, go limp in his arms, show that the kiss meant nothing to her whatsoever.
Unfortunately, that only seemed to encourage him. He ran his tongue along the seam of her mouth, pushing insistently, trying to gain entry. Oh, absolutely not. Once again, she pushed against his chest, digging her palms into his jacket and trying frantically to back away.
The click of the library door opening froze Amelia, posed, unfortunately, like a reluctant nymph being ravished by some errant god.
“Kate? Are you in here?”
The man’s voice spurred her to desperate measures. Of one thing she was certain: she couldn’t afford to be compromised by Mr. Burke. Then she’d be forced to marry him or become even more of an outcast in Society. Praying for strength, she hauled back her hand and thumped him on his ear.
He grunted and released her.
Amelia sprang backward, her hands covering her mouth, scrubbing at her lips. Turning her gaze toward the door, she looked into the startled gray-eyed gaze of a very tall, very handsome stranger.
The man’s eyebrows had shot straight up, but now returned to normal. His lips drew into a disapproving pucker. “Well, you are certainly not Kate.”
Chapter 2
Nathan Locke, Viscount Ainsley, stared at the couple in dismay and cursed beneath his breath. He’d come in search of his sister, Katherine, who’d managed to avoid him for most of the evening. He’d collected the wager he’d won with her, forcing her to dance with his friend, Lord Haversham, whom she disliked severely. Now, instead of finding his recalcitrant charge, he’d stumbled onto some ill-conceived tryst.
The gentleman looked intolerably smug, a veritable cat who’d eaten a very tasty canary. Nathan could see why with one look at his fetching partner. An unusually tall woman in a becoming gown of deep violet, with prettily curled chestnut hair that gleamed in the candles’ glow. A handsome face, round with a generous mouth that the gentleman appeared to have been taking advantage of, to judge by the deepening pink of the lady’s cheeks.
Common sense told him he’d interrupted a sweet interlude between an affectionate couple, though something in the back of his mind niggled at him. Still, it truly was none of his affair.
“If you will pardon us, my lord.” The gentleman stepped toward the lady and tried to take her arm, though she shrugged him off. “You’ve interrupted us at a tender moment. The lady has just consented to be my wife.”
Definitely bad timing on Nathan’s part. “Your pardon then, Mr…?”
“Burke, my lord. Mr. Lawrence Burke of Derbyshire.”
“Mr. Burke.” Nathan bowed solemnly. “My felicitations to you and Miss—”
The sight of the lady’s wide eyes and a slight shake of her head gave him a new meaning for the scene. In Nathan’s experience, young ladies sometimes sought to entrap a gentleman into marriage by being discovered in a compromising position with the man in question. From the lady’s subtle hints, he might be persuaded that, in this case, the gentleman was compromising her for the same reason.
“Miss Burrowes, my lord.” Mr. Burke smiled broadly while the lady in question glanced about as though searching for a hole to drop into.
The name brought Nathan up short and he peered more closely at the woman. “Miss Amelia Burrowes?”
Her head came up and their gazes met. She swallowed hard. “Lord Ainsley?”
“Yes. I wonder you remember me. It has been ten years, hasn’t it?” A shadow from his past rippled over Ainsley’s soul, calling to mind a moonlit garden and a lingering kiss long ago.
“Eleven, my lord. We met at Lady Somerville’s my first Season out.” She’d taken her hands from in front of her face and now twisted them before her.
“Just so.” He remembered that introduction to the most beautiful woman of the Season distinctly. Then he frowned. “It is not Lady Carrington? I had heard—”
“No, my lord. I never married him.” She shook her head, her face stark white.
Nathan blinked. She’d never married?
“Miss Burrowes and I were about to announce—” Burke reached for the lady’s arm, but she stepped quickly toward Nathan instead.
“May I beg an old acquaintance t
o return me to my mother?” Her blue eyes pled eloquently for him to agree to the request. “With so much excitement, being here at a ball after all these years, I seem to have a sudden headache.”
Burke jumped toward her. “I will be happy to escort you, Am—”
“Of course, my dear.” Nathan smoothly slid her arm into the crook of his, cutting Burke off before he could call the woman by her first name, thus imposing a claim of intimacy with her. The idea that Miss Burrowes hadn’t yet bestowed that privilege on Mr. Burke surfaced rather quickly. “I would be delighted.” Glaring directly at Burke, whose pop eyes made him seem ready to have a fit of apoplexy, Nathan steered her toward the door. “I am completely at your service.”
Paying the other gentleman no mind, Nathan escorted Miss Burrowes from the library, her arm trembling beneath his hand.
Burke followed them, glowering.
“Do you indeed wish to go to your mother?” he asked her in hushed tones.
“No, I do not,” she whispered back. “But neither do I wish to continue in Mr. Burke’s company.”
That was an easy request to manage. “Mr. Burke.” Nathan put on his most concerned face, brows lowered, jaw set. “Miss Burrowes feels a bit faint. I will take her outside for a breath of air. Please find a footman and get a glass of lemonade brought to wherever Mrs. Burrowes is currently. We will meet you there.”
Before the man could make a protest, Nathan steered his charge down the corridor toward a veranda that overlooked the rear garden. “I believe that will give us a few moments at least before he returns to search for us.” He opened the French windows, and the lady shot outside, breathing deeply, as though she’d been holding her breath. Indeed, she looked incredibly pale in the moonlight. “Miss Burrowes, are you quite well?”
