A widow with secrets
When the dangerous men who killed her husband in a political assassination threaten Ara, Duchess of Burghly, the Crown assigns her a bodyguard. But the man charged with protecting her is no stranger.
He’s Clayton Ludlow, the bastard son of a duke and the first man she ever loved. Eight years after he took her innocence and ruthlessly abandoned her, he’s back in her drawing room and her life.
This time, she’s older, wiser, and stronger. She will resist him at any cost and make him pay for the past.
A man with a broken heart
She’s the only woman Clay ever loved and the one he hates above all others. When Ara brutally betrayed and deceived him, leaving him with a scarred face and a bitter heart, he devoted himself to earning his reputation as one of the Crown’s most feared agents.
He wants nothing more than to finish his assignment so that he can remove all traces of her from his life forever. But walking away from her for good won’t be as easy as he thinks.
As secrets are revealed and danger threatens Ara, Clay discovers that the truth is far more complicated than deceit. Once she’s back in his arms where she belongs, he’ll wage the biggest fight of all to keep her there.
Chapter One
London, 1882
To society, she was the Duchess of Burghly. To her husband, murdered by a Fenian’s blade, she had been Araminta, formal and proper and beloved by him in his way. She had loved him equally in her way. Sweet Freddie, with the heart of an angel and the desire to change a world that would never understand or accept him.
She was all too familiar with the way the world treated hopeful, unsullied hearts.
“Ara.”
She had been hopeful and unsullied once.
When she had known the man standing before her in the drawing room of Burghly House. When she had loved him. When she had been…
“Ara.”
There it was again, spoken with such dark vehemence that it almost vibrated in the air, sending unwanted tendrils of heat licking through her even after all the years that had passed. That name, that bitter reminder of who she had been, spoken in the voice that had once sent a thrill straight to her heart…it was her undoing.
Ara had not realized she had clambered to her feet until her body swayed like a tree caught in an aggressive wind. Faintness overcame her. Her vision darkened. The palms clenching her silken skirts were damp, hands trembling.
He was taller than she remembered. Broader and stronger. He had always been a mountain of a man, but he had grown into his bones and skin, and the result took her breath despite her fierce need to remain as unaffected by him as possible. His eyes, cold and flat, burned into her. His jaw was rigid, his expression blank. A vicious-looking scar cut down his cheek.
She wondered for a moment how he could have received such a mark.
And then she reminded herself that she did not care. That he had ceased to be someone she worried after some eight years ago, on the day she had waited for him with nothing more than a valise and her foolish heart. He had never come.
The agony of that day returned to her a hundredfold as she stood in the gilt splendor of her drawing room, stabbing at her with the precision of a blade. Hours had passed, day bleeding into evening, and she had waited and waited. The only carriage to arrive had been her father’s, and it had taken her, broken and dejected, back to the place from which she had fled.
“Your Grace, are you well?”
The voice of the Duke of Carlisle, edged with concern, pierced her consciousness, reminding her she had an audience, lest she allow her dignity to so diminish that she allowed him to see the visceral effect he had upon her.
She swallowed, tamped down the bile threatening to curdle her throat, and turned her attention to Carlisle. “I am as well as can be expected, given the events of the last three months, Duke. I thank you for your concern.”
He inclined his head. “I am deeply sorry for the loss of your husband, madam. He was a bright star in the Liberal party.”
“Yes,” she agreed, a tremor in her voice that she could not suppress. Speaking of Freddie inevitably festered a resurgence of horror and sadness. He had been a good man, an estimable husband to her and father to Edward, and he had not deserved to die choking on his own blood in a Dublin park. “He was.”
Carlisle’s lips compressed into a pained frown. “I cannot begin to fathom your grief, and I apologize for our unwanted presence here today. If there were any way to keep you free of this burden, I wholeheartedly would.”
“The grief is immense,” she whispered, all she could manage past the knot in her throat.
How she hated that it wasn’t just her sorrow for Freddie that paralyzed her now and stole her voice. She felt his stare upon her like a brand. He had not moved. Had not spoken another word save her name, and yet he seemed to have stolen all the air from the room.
“As I was saying prior to Mr. Ludlow’s arrival,” Carlisle continued with a formal tone, “it is with great regret that I find myself tasked with informing you that there has been a threat made against you by the same faction of Fenians that murdered your husband. To that end, the Home Office has assigned an agent to ensure your protection.”
Carlisle’s words sank into her mind as though spoken from a great distance.
…a threat made against you…
…same Fenians that murdered…
…an agent to ensure your protection.
Her breathing was shallow. Her fingers fisted in her skirts with so much force that her knuckles ached. Still, the weight of his burning gaze upon her would not lift. Her entire body felt achy and hot and itchy and chaotic all at once.
“Would you care to elaborate on the nature of the threat?” She kept her eyes carefully trained upon the Duke of Carlisle, but it was impossible to keep him from her peripheral vision. He filled the chamber as much with his presence as with his massive size.
The Duke of Carlisle, despite his reputation as a depraved reprobate, was the unexpected liaison between herself and the department of the government responsible for informing her about Freddie’s murder and the investigation into finding his assassins. Their previous meetings had been equally stilted, revolving around his sympathy for her loss and any new information regarding the Fenians who had plotted Freddie’s death.
In the murky days following her husband’s murder, she and Edward had been removed from Dublin with an armed escort, but she had imagined that they had left all danger behind them in Ireland.
“Assassination, Your Grace.” Carlisle’s tone was quiet but deadly serious.
Those three words, so succinct and cold, struck her heart.
Edward could not lose both his parents in the span of three months. Her heart squeezed at the thought of her son alone in the world. Her beautiful, kindhearted boy. She would do anything to protect him.
Her mouth went dry. “I see.” She paused, attempted to collect herself, an odd mixture of discomfit at his continued presence and fear swirling through her. “My son, Your Grace? Has he been included in the threats as well, or do they only pertain to myself?”
“Your son was not referenced in the threats, Your Grace,” Carlisle said.
“You have a son?”
She flinched, the angry lash of his voice striking her. Still, she would not look at him. “I do not understand the reason for your…associate’s presence, Your Grace. Indeed, I would far prefer to conduct this dialogue with you in private, as befitting the sensitive nature of the circumstances.”
Ara refused to say his name. Refused to even think it. Would not speak aloud the true nature of what and who he was. A bastard. The half brother of the Duke of Carlisle. The man she had lost her heart and her innocence to. Her son’s father.
No. Freddie had been Edward’s father, the only one he had ever known. And it must—would—remain that way until she went to her grave.
The Duke of Carlisle appeared unperturbed by her uncharacteristic outburst. “Pr
ay forgive me again, Duchess, but Mr. Ludlow’s presence here today is necessary as he is the agent who has been assigned to your protection.”
“No!” The word left her in a cry, torn from her, vehement.
But what surprised her the most was that it was echoed by another voice, dark and deep and haunting in its velvety timbre.
His.
Her gaze flitted back to him, and the stark rage she read reflected in the depths of his brown eyes shook her. Beneath the surface, he was seething.
“I will not guard her under any circumstances, Leo. Find someone else,” he sneered. “Anyone else.”
And then he turned on his heel and stalked from her drawing room, slamming the door at his back.
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(Listed by Series)
Complete Book List
HISTORICAL ROMANCE
Heart’s Temptation
A Mad Passion (Book One)
Rebel Love (Book Two)
Reckless Need (Book Three)
Sweet Scandal (Book Four)
Restless Rake (Book Five)
Darling Duke (Book Six)
The Night Before Scandal (Book Seven)
Wicked Husbands
Her Errant Earl (Book One)
Her Lovestruck Lord (Book Two)
Her Reformed Rake (Book Three)
Her Deceptive Duke (Book Four)
League of Dukes
Nobody’s Duke (Book One)
Heartless Duke (Book Two)
Dangerous Duke (Book Three)
Shameless Duke (Book Four)
Sins and Scoundrels
Duke of Depravity (Book One)
Prince of Persuasion (Book Two)
Marquess of Mayhem (Book Three)
Stand-alone Novella
Lord of Pirates
CONTEMPORARY ROMANCE
Love’s Second Chance
Reprieve (Book One)
Perfect Persuasion (Book Two)
Win My Love (Book Three)
Coastal Heat
Loved Up (Book One)
About the Author
Amazon bestselling author Scarlett Scott writes steamy Victorian and Regency romance with strong, intelligent heroines and sexy alpha heroes. She lives in Pennsylvania with her Canadian husband, adorable identical twins, and one TV-loving dog.
A self-professed literary junkie and nerd, she loves reading anything, but especially romance novels, poetry, and Middle English verse. Catch up with her on her website www.scarlettscottauthor.com. Hearing from readers never fails to make her day.
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Copyright © 2016, 2019 by Scarlett Scott
Published by Happily Ever After Books, LLC
EPUB Edition
Edited by Grace Bradley
Cover Design by Wicked Smart Designs
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Heart’s Temptation Books 1–3 Page 79
