In Temptation and Damnation with the Earl
A Steamy Regency Romance
Violet Hamers
Contents
A Thank You Gift
Before You Start Reading…
Prologue
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
Epilogue
Extended Epilogue
Preview: Wicked Awakening of a Wounded Marquess
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Also by Violet Hamers
About the Author
A Thank You Gift
Thanks a lot for purchasing my book. It really means a lot to me, because this is the best way to show me your love.
As a Thank You gift I have written a full length novel for you called The Duke she Desires. It’s only available to people who have downloaded one of my books and you can get your free copy by tapping this link here.
Once more, thanks a lot for your love and support.
With love and appreciation,
Violet Hamers
Before You Start Reading…
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About the book
It is hard to resist a bad boy who is a good man…
Orphaned and in denial, Miss Cleopatra Beckett is desperate. Struggling to fend for herself and her younger brother, she is now certain that she has found her older brother’s murderer. And her revenge will be merciless.
Alexander Trevors, both the Earl of Larson and a ruthless gaming hall owner, strives to keep his secret life private. But when he sees his name smeared all over the tabloids and his dreams crushed, he seeks retribution. Through forcing the woman responsible to marry him.
Torn between achieving their goals and the torrent of feelings for each other, Alexander and Cleopatra find themselves at war. A war that devolves into a relentless hunt when Cleopatra’s younger brother is snatched by a shadow, that knows them all too well. Because trust gets you hurt and love gets you killed.
Prologue
Cleopatra shuffled the papers in her hand, causing a swift papercut to slice her skin. She cursed at the sensation and marched through the main door of The Gazette anyway.
No omen would stop her from her goal that day.
It has to be done.
She repeated these words in her mind. It would just be the first step of her revenge, after all, and she would not allow superstition to sway her tenacity in this design.
The formally dressed man at the desk looked up at her entrance. A frown of suspicion hovered on his brow as he watched her closely.
She marched toward him, determination emanating from her in every step.
“May I help you, Miss?” he stood and offered a short bow.
“Yes, I wish to speak to your Editor.” She grasped the papers with one hand and adjusted her corset and dress with the other, ready for the meeting.
She had hurried so quickly to the newspaper’s office, determined to achieve her goal, that her cheeks were pink with exertion, and her dress had risen out of place. She reset the dark-blue silk, letting the petticoats cascade to the floor as she adjusted the corset.
“Miss,” the man laughed, making no attempt to hide his scoff of disapproval. “No one sees our Editor without an appointment.”
“What if I am holding in my hands the best story he could print all year? Would you want your employer to miss out on such a prized opportunity?” She raised her eyebrows, already infuriated by the man’s tone of voice, and determined not to be outdone.
“I doubt it, Miss.” The young man switched between his feet, shaking his head. “This is a busy place, as you can see.” He pointed through a glass window behind him.
She stepped forward with curiosity, resting her eyes on the factory that sat far below the office.
A multitude of men were standing row upon row by printing presses, all arranging small metal letters in iron frames. It could have been an industrial beehive, with carbon staining men’s aprons and the smell of ink hovering in the air. They all buzzed around their honeycombs made of metal machinery and paper.
“My Editor does not have time for society gossip.”
“What I carry is not merely gossip, I do not care for such a thing. Neither do I care for arrogant little men who look down their nose at everyone they deem unworthy.” Her sharp words surprised the man.
He stepped back with shock, folding his arms.
“Unless you would like a formal complaint to your Manager of the arrogance and rather conceited fashion you conduct the business of his newspaper, you will tell your Editor that I am here to see him now.”
“What is your story in relation to?” Another voice had joined the conversation.
Cleopatra snapped her head round to the newcomer; her black hair flicked around her neck with the movement. The voice came from a middle-aged man who was standing in a doorway with a pipe balanced between his lips.
“You are the Editor, Sir?”
“I am indeed,” the man smiled around his pipe as he offered a bow. “Unlike my employee, I take great interest in a lady that would happily put him in his place.”
The Editor laughed as his young receptionist returned to his seat at his desk. “Now, My Lady, if you would come through this way, I would be intrigued to hear more about your story. Who does it concern?”
“It is the story of one of the most famous Earls in London.” As she walked past him, she hesitated, catching his gaze and widening her eyes with sincerity. “He is leading a double life. Not only as an Earl, a great member of the peerage, but also as a gaming-hall owner.”
The pipe went slack in the Editor’s mouth. He collected it with his hand. “Boy,” he pointed at the young man at the desk, “tell Banks to hold the cover for half an hour. In you come, My Lady.”
He directed her further into his office and closed the door behind them. “Please, have a seat.” He offered a small rickety chair opposite his desk.
She sat on the very edge, still clutching the papers tightly between her gloved hands. She rearranged the ruffles around her wrists, determined to slacken her hold for fear of damaging the papers.
“It is a serious accusation, My Lady, the one you are making.” He sat behind his desk, flicking out his jacket tails as he took his seat. He leaned across the table on his elbows.
“I am aware,” she nodded with a tight smile, “so I hope you understand how serious I am in delivering this story to you.”
“You are sure you wish it to be published? Such an accusation would destroy this Earl’s reputation that you speak of.”
“That is quite what I am hoping for.” Her smile widened further, earning a curious look from the Editor.
“Do you have evidence, My Lady?”
She handed over the papers, delivering them with a thud to the desk with the weight of the bundle. “I think this should be sufficient.”
The Editor grasped the papers quickly, scanning the documents for a few minutes. His wariness at believing her earlier disappeared with each document he picked up.
“This gentleman…” he paused for a minute, clicking his teeth, “is he not the lost Earl’s son who was discovered in the Seven Sins Gaming Hall ten years ago?”
“You have a good memory.”
“Of course. He was raised there.”
“It is one and the same man. He has now inherited the title from his father, and it would appear he continues his lust for the gaming hall, forever trying to hide it from the circle of society and the ton.”
“I see.” The Editor appeared to quell his excitement. He coughed to clear his throat and gathered the papers.
“So am I to understand that you will print the story?” Cleopatra moved even more to the edge of her seat, clutching her petticoats with her gloved fingers in desperation.
It has to be done–
She could feel the desire for her goal blooming in her chest, waiting on his words.
“Well, I will consider it.” The Editor acquired an appearance of nonchalance, sitting back in his chair and tapping his pipe as though the story was not as big as it was.
Cleopatra was not so easily fooled. She could read the man easily and knew he intended to print.
“Excellent, then I shall be paid for my contribution.” She stood and held out one gloved hand across the desk.
The Editor scoffed slightly, about to wave away her hand, though she kept it firm.
“With respect, My Lady. You lack experience in knowing how to make a bargain. You have already given me the evidence I need,” he held up the papers in a victory. “You have no more information I should need to pay you for.”
“You would so cheat a lady?” she raised her dark eyebrows, hardly surprised, only disappointed.
“I am not cheating you.” His pretend look of innocence would fool no one. He scratched his large nose, hiding his gaze. “I am merely abiding by the laws of a good bargain.”
“Then listen to another bargain I have to offer.” Cleopatra withdrew her hand and stepped toward the desk, leaning both palms on the desk edge and staring down the Editor who was quickly raising her ire. “This man has other secrets. Hold your story for a few days and I will discover all there is to know.”
“Such as what?”
“Such as scandals of the bed.” She tilted her chin up with a smirk. “Consider how much your readers would love to know of a rogue Earl’s underhand dealings with not just the gaming hall, but also the fair women of London society?”
The Editor dropped his pipe to his desk. “It would make an even better story. Our readers do enjoy such scandals.”
“Then I will have my payment.” Cleopatra held out her hand with expectation, refusing to retract her fingers again.
Eventually, after a short staring contest, the Editor acquiesced and dug into a nearby drawer. He pulled out a bundle of coins and passed them to her.
“I will return in a few days with the rest of the story.” She hurried to the door, quickly hiding the coins in her small purse. “Oh, one more thing before I leave.”
“Yes?” The Editor looked up to her from the papers across his desk as she hovered in the doorway.
“Do not try to outmaneuver me again.” She offered him one dark look, insuring her full meaning was understood before she swung the door open to take her exit.
As she marched back past the reception desk, she held a smile of triumph with a glint in her chestnut-colored eyes.
She hurried from The Gazette building, leaving nothing but the sound of her leather boots and a glance of royal-blue petticoats behind her.
Chapter One
Two Weeks Later
The knock at the door tore Alexander from his thoughts of the past. He had been doing the books, trying to insure all the accounts for his business were accurate, but his mind had kept wandering to days long gone.
The insistent knock sounded again, urging him to return to reality. “What is it?” he barked at the door.
“My Lord!” The door opened and the young lad known as Pip burst in. With his shirt untucked and his blond hair unkempt, the boy looked truly ruffled.
Alexander could not help but laugh at the sight. “What happened to you?” He gestured to the lad’s clothes with good humor.
Still young, Pip was something of Alexander’s protégé in the business. The boy worked hard and was already Alexander’s right-hand man.
“I left in something of a hurry,” the boy rushed to tuck in his shirt, “after reading this!” He held up something in his hand, it was the newspaper. “Have you read it?”
“I tend not to bother with the papers,” Alexander put the accountancy books to the side of his desk, determined to return to them at a later time. “I neither care for their insipid boredom nor their tales of gossip. They are parlor pieces, Pip. That is all. You should not concern yourself with them either.”
“Believe me, My Lord. You need to read this story.” Pip tossed the paper down on his desk.
“For what feels like the sixth-hundredth time, you do not need to call me ‘My Lord’.”
“Ordinarily I would make some jest on this matter,” Pip shrugged with the smallest of smiles, “but I cannot today.”
“Why not?” Alexander pulled the paper toward him, into the sunlight of the vast windows behind him.
“Because of what that article says. My Lord, read it.”
Alexander shot his friend a narrowed glance, one of suspicion and wariness, but he picked up the paper anyway. As his eyes perused the headline and opening paragraphs, his stomach sank to the floor.
“Earl Larson – the Covert Hustler of the Gaming Hall. What is this?” he looked back to the boy in wonder who was now pacing.
“Read on, My Lord.”
Alexander felt his mouth grow dry as his well-kept secrets were printed in black and white before his very eyes in such a public place on the pages of The Gazette.
“’Earl Alexander Trevor of Larson Manor it seems owns another estate beyond his grand manor, though you might be somewhat concerned to find what area of town it resides in. The gaming hall known as Wicked Souls, reputed for its gambling, cards and swindles is the Earl’s greatest secret.’ I cannot believe it.”
Alexander leaped to his feet, pacing as he continued to read the article out loud.
“‘The once-famous son of an Earl who was discovered ten years ago living in another gaming hall after running away from his father’s home as a child, seems reluctant to let go of his past. Be warned, Ladies. Society’s famous bachelor, the eligible Earl is no more eligible than your common criminal.’ What in great God’s name is this?”
He threw down the newspaper, cursing and walking round in a circle. “How did they find out?” he practically yelled the words at his friend.
How could they discover my secret? I have always been so careful.
“I do not know, My Lord, but there is more here.” Pip picked up the article again, brandishing it toward him.
“More? Pray tell why whoever did this needed to tell more?” He snatched the paper away from the boy’s hands. “My reputation is ruined. It is destroyed.”
The boy made no move to contradict him. He just looked away and rubbed his mouth and chin in concern.
“My place in society. The ton will reject me after this.”
“Your plan to be in the House of Lords too, My Lord–” the boy trailed off, turning his head away at the dark look Alexander was giving him.
Pip was the only one Alexander had confided in about that particular goal. He had imagined a future as a Member of Parliament. In the Hou
se of Lords, he pictured one day enacting changes in society.
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