Wild, Wicked and Wanton: A Hot Historical Romance Bundle

by Natasha Blackthorne

  No one to love.

  A year ago, could she have guessed at how her life would be as she turned twenty?

  Once Alex had revealed all his secrets to her, he couldn’t bear her knowing them. That much she understood clearly. Alex had not wanted her badly enough. If he had, they could have faced anything together, even his shame over his past.

  Gentlemen have odd notions and those notions are paramount to them.

  How bitterly Grandmother had often said that. Emily supposed Grandmother must have been thinking of her own father, who had cast her name from the family Bible for having dared to reject a plantation owner’s son and married a mere schoolmaster.

  How she missed Grandmother. The full realization of that longing settled over her, an aching pain in her heart. She and Grandmother had been so close. They shared so many happy moments.

  But why did those who loved her always insist on her giving up so many parts of herself?

  “Excuse me, Miss Eliot.”

  Emily looked up from the book to Mrs. Hazelwood as the old woman embroidered a pillowcase, and focused her attention on the maid, Sally, who stood in the doorway of the parlor.

  “There’s someone here to see you,” Sally said. “Mrs. Daily.”

  Emily didn’t know anyone named Daily. She looked to Mrs. Hazelwood.

  Mrs. Hazelwood smiled. “Well, go on then, have your visit.” She turned to Sally. “You may tell Miss Eliot’s visitor to wait for her in the kitchen.”

  Emily went to the mirror in the stairwell and smoothed her hair. Who could possibly have come to see her? She followed the aroma of baking bread into the kitchen. The cook and her two granddaughters were seated at one end of the large wooden table, chopping carrots and peeling potatoes. They were casting furtive, curious glances at the other end of the table where a tall, thin woman sat. She was dressed in a light gray gown with a simple white chemise-tucker. Her large hazel eyes were intelligent and lit with warmth as Emily approached.

  “Miss Eliot?”

  “Yes,” Emily replied.

  She smiled and stood. “Do you think we could take a walk in the garden? It is such a lovely day. I do believe April is in the air.”

  Emily nodded. “Yes, of course.”

  She led the way and they stepped out into the mild, sunny spring afternoon. The lady was correct; the smell of April was definitely in the air. They walked to the roses where several stone benches were and they sat on one.

  “Mr. Dalton sent me here.”

  “Yes, of course,” Emily said, nodding as if she understood. She didn’t. She forced herself to be calm but her palms had begun to sweat. What was going on now?

  “He tells me you wish to compose a book of sketches and personal accounts about America’s slaves, now escaped from their bondage. Something like the book you made for the victims of the Barbary pirates.”

  “Yes, I want to very much.”

  The woman smiled broadly. “I think it is a grand idea and I want to help you. I know many such individuals in the area. We can pick the best stories to illustrate our cause then you may use your talents to bring them to life.”

  “Our cause?” Emily repeated dumbly.

  The shock still hadn’t faded. Alex had sent this woman here? He wanted to help her with her book? Had he changed his mind about her use of her talents to showcase the issue of slavery? He must have. Goodness. He had. What did it mean for them? Did they have a future now?

  Her head spun with all the questions.

  “Yes, our cause. Complete abolition of slavery in this country.”

  Emily turned her attention back to the lady in the plain gray dress. “Oh,” she said in wonder. “Yes.”

  “It will be slow going, you must understand. It was hard enough to get the laws passed so far. The Act for the Gradual Abolition of Slavery here in Pennsylvania, that frees those born to slave parents from here on out. The total freeing of the slaves in Massachusetts. Our next move is to make the importation of slaves into this country illegal. Things move so slowly. But every cause has to have a beginning. Do you want to be a part of that beginning, knowing that it will be a long fight, that we may not see our goals reached in our lifetime? You may very well face negative social consequences.”

  Emily didn’t need to think about it. Yes, it had been exciting that the Naval Act had been passed. She supposed Alex had brought her around to seeing that a National Navy was the only way to make the seas safe. But, still, it wouldn’t end the slavery in Barbary for other nations, would it? Not unless the United States went over there and leveled the Barbary nations, and given the fledgling state of United States that didn’t really seem possible.

  And slavery still thrived in America, where men were supposed to be free no matter their birth. All persons equal under their creator.

  No, she didn’t need to think about it. She could give her answer this moment and with a glad heart, too.

  “Yes, I am willing.”

  ****

  Nancy had visited that afternoon and implored Emily to accompany her to the dressmaker’s shop. While it had seemed rather odd that Nancy should select her a companion for such an outing, Emily had been grateful for the distraction from her own spinning, stunned thoughts.

  Now they were here in the waiting area and the dressmaker had been called away to the shop next door. The little bell on the door rang and Emily looked up. Mr. Sexton was entering the shop. She sucked in her breath.

  What business would a bloodless creature like Sexton have in a ladies’ dress shop? Alex had said the man was a widower. She couldn’t exactly picture him with a mistress.

  Sexton’s icy gray eyes settled on her and the disapproval there chilled her. He nodded to her. “Miss Eliot, how are you today?”

  She tried to find her voice, but he was so intimidating. A hard line had settled between his brows as he continued to stare at her.

  “Miss Eliot—”

  “Well, I declare! Not a word of greeting for me?” Nancy’s voice sounded peculiar. Tremulous. Not like her at all.

  Emily glanced at her and saw a flush spreading over her pale skin. Sexton had paused. And then his expression eased into something almost pleasant.

  “Forgive me, Miss Smith.” His voice rang with faint sarcasm yet the lines around his eyes grew pronounced.

  Nancy glanced down. And she giggled. A short, almost barking sound. But she had giggled.

  Giggled.

  Sexton’s expression suddenly hardened. “I have something important to discuss with Miss Eliot.”

  He spoke sharply.

  Nancy’s whole body flinched and she jerked her face to his. “Of course.”

  “Well, could you…” He inclined his head towards the door.

  Nancy’s mouth dropped open. “You can’t be alone with her here!”

  He laughed then. A curt, cold chuckle. “I hardly have designs on her person.”

  “I don’t know what you have,” Nancy replied with an affected sniff.

  “Please, Miss Smith, just give us a moment.”

  Nancy drew her shoulders up tightly and began to walk away.

  “That’s a good girl,” Sexton said, in the same mildly sarcastic tone as earlier. But it was odd, it was almost fondly sarcastic, if one’s tone could be described thus.

  He watched her exit and the little bell rang.

  Emily had been utterly bewildered by the interaction she’d just witnessed.

  Now she realized, to her complete dismay, that she was alone in the dressmaker’s tiny waiting room with Mr. Sexton. She shook herself and gaped at him.

  “Sir?” Her voice was almost as trembling as Nancy’s had been.

  He nodded. “You must forgive Nancy for the whole ruse of coming here to the dressmaker’s. I needed to speak with you and this was the best place to do so without alerting Mr. Dalton or Mrs. Hazelwood of the matter.”

  Emily swallowed against the sensation of her heart pulsing up into her throat. “What do you want from me?”


  “I have spoken about you in depth with Mr. James Dalton and he has related his impressions of you and your nature.”

  “Has he?” Emily’s voice had tightened to almost a squeak. This whole situation felt completely unreal.

  “There are many opportunities for an artist in London.”

  “London?” She stared at him stupidly for a moment. “London, England?”

  “Yes, and since you apparently desire independence and a novel life, I would like to make you a proposition.”

  She felt herself pale.

  He shook his head. “No, no, Miss Eliot, not like that. I want to make you an offer of a lifelong annuity.” He nodded. “Artist supplies cost money, do they not? Pretty frocks cost money.”

  His tone had shifted to one of marked condescension, as though he were addressing a much younger girl.

  She drew her spine up straighter and lifted her chin. “Mr. Sexton, I don’t understand where you think to lead this discussion but it doesn’t seem very promising. I wish to be on my way now.”

  He put up a hand. “Please, hear me out. I am offering you a yearly allowance, enough to keep you quite comfortable—if only you will leave Philadelphia and agree to never communicate with Mr. Alexander Dalton again.”

  Her mouth dropped open and she gaped at him.

  “It is a very generous offer and I am afraid I must have your answer today.”

  “What can it possibly matter to you?”

  “Miss Eliot, it matters very much. My business affairs are completely tied up with the Daltons and I do not wish to see such a fine, old family name blackened by any further scandals.”

  “I don’t believe this. You can’t be serious.”

  “I am perfectly serious. And I would like your answer now.”

  Every muscle in her body tensed. She looked him dead in the eye, surprising herself as she held his stony gaze. “I think you have insulted not only me, but Alex as well. Good day to you, Mr. Sexton.” She turned and walked out of the dressmaker’s, all the while feeling that strange, icy gray gaze piercing into her.

  ****

  Thoroughly rattled by the afternoon’s events, Emily headed straight to her chamber when she arrived at Mrs. Hazelwood’s house.

  But before she could open her door, a housemaid came rushing to her and pressed a parcel wrapped in brown paper upon her.

  “Don’t tell Mrs. Hazelwood!” the girl said in a whisper then fled.

  Once in her chamber, Emily stared at the parcel.

  Was this another attempt to get her to take the money and go away to England?

  With hands shaking faintly from equal parts anger and trepidation, she tore at the paper.

  A heavy velum letter fell out and landed by her feet. But her attention was captured by the small flat leather box. She unclasped the hinge and lifted the lid.

  There, upon a bed of deep green velvet, lay the ruby ring that Alex had once given her.

  She sucked in her breath, then bent to pick up the letter and opened it. Her eyes quickly scanned the words written in Alex’s hand.

  I give this back to you because there will never be anyone else. I want you to have it and to remember me. Write your book, however you choose to write it. I have arranged for printing in Boston.

  He no longer opposed her book!

  He understood her.

  A heaviness lifted from her chest, her stomach and her heart began racing with joy. A-lighter-than-air giddiness swirled through her, a soaring elation

  She hurried to read the rest of the letter.

  Even as much as I know you are better off without me, I will always be a friend to you. I will never deny you anything that your heart desires.

  Despair crashed her to the ground. He was determined to hold as firmly to his resolve to put her aside. He would put his own fear of being close to someone who knew his secrets, his deepest shame, above their love.

  Overcome with sudden exhaustion, she stumbled over to the bed and collapsed. She glanced at the simple, elegant ball gown hanging in her chamber, pressed and ready for the coming ball at Dalton House.

  She did not want to go.

  She couldn’t bear to see Alex. It would hurt too much and she couldn’t take any more of this pain. She’d be ill if she didn’t somehow stop thinking and feeling the pain.

  Maybe she really did need to get away from here.

  Maybe she should take Mr. Sexton’s offer?

  Temptation beat through her. Perhaps a radical change of scenery, a taste of worldly adventure, could distract her from the pain that gnawed into her heart by day and tormented her in dreams by night. Hope flared in her. Goodness, she was still girl enough to feel excited by the prospect of something new, something dramatic.

  She’d have to find a way to get a message to Mr. Sexton. A discreet way. That maid who had delivered Alex’s note—

  A mental picture of Sexton’s smug, self-satisfied face, exactly as it would appear as she accepted the money from him, flashed into her mind.

  She bolted upright in bed.

  God, the man was insufferable.

  James Dalton as well.

  She would never give them the satisfaction. She still had her pride, even after everything that had occurred of late.

  Then she knew, she’d have to go to the ball. She’d have to make a social appearance. They couldn’t be allowed to believe that they had shamed her, had cowed her into hiding herself and running away.

  Sooner or later, she’d have to find her own bravery to face life again. Better to start now.

  ****

  Restlessness made Alex’s legs ache as he stood by the doorway to the ballroom, which was really the two parlors with the dividing wall pushed back for the evening. His face ached with the need to smile at the arriving guests. James was holding a ball in celebration of the passage of the Naval Act.

  This was really James’ victory. He had worked tirelessly to campaign for this. He was the politician of the family. He wanted to eventually sit on the highest court in the land and have a hand in the laws passed. Maybe someday he would.

  But for Alex, the whole business was over. He’d pledged himself for the duration and now he was free. So why didn’t he feel relieved?

  Finally the number of guests slowed to a trickle. Sadness began to take the edge off his restlessness. Emily had been invited and he had hoped to see her here. Yet she hadn’t shown. Had he simply missed her, been distracted when she arrived? He glanced over the ballroom, scanning the myriad splashes of color that were ladies’ evening gowns and he didn’t see any lady so slender and girlish with dark hair that lit up like flames under the candlelight.

  “Well, my friend, you have your victory. Soon the whole world will be safe from the scourge of pirates. Your American navy will defeat them all.” Nicolo’s voice rang with sarcasm.

  Alex turned to him with a grin. “You cynic. You could turn any victory into a defeat.”

  “Ah, it is just my way.” Nicolo leaned against the wall and began to rate the ladies present based on their charms. The drone of his voice lulled Alex. He wasn’t interested in examining the ladies. “Are you ill, Alex?”

  “No,” Alex replied with distance in his voice.

  “Ah, you miss your little Emily. But you have sent her away because you cannot bear her pity.”

  “Yes, that’s the whole of it.”

  “And are you so sure it is pity she feels?”

  “What else could she feel? You said it yourself the other day.”

  Nicolo waved him off. “What do I know about women? Look at my past.” He raised his eyebrows. “And you want to take my advice on women? I was feeling very low the other day, Alex. You should not allow me to influence you.”

  “Nothing can change things anyway.”

  “But that’s not true. You told her. You did something I have never been able to bring myself to do. She knows, and now no dark secrets remain between you. That’s remarkable, don’t you think?”

  “Remarkable, y
es. But not in a good way.”

  “Bah, it is good or bad depending on how you choose to respond now.” Nicolo touched his own chin. “After you liberated us from that terrible place, I never thought to see you become a coward again.”

  “A coward?”

  “Yes, you are a coward. If you will not brave the chance to have this open, honest marriage with this young woman then yes, you are a great coward.”

  “That’s a pretty strong judgment coming from a man who has abandoned three wives.”

  Nicolo shrugged. “We are not talking about me. We are talking about you and I have always held you to a higher standard.”

  Alex quirked the corner of his mouth. “A higher standard?”

  “Yes. You’re letting shame and fear cloud your reasoning. Faulty judgment is driving all your decisions. You are afraid of being seen so clearly and so closely by anyone.”

  Alex stared at Nicolo. His heart was beginning to pound. He blinked several times then forced a slight smile. “That’s not it. It is not like that.”

  “Oh, yes it is. You may lie to yourself, Alex, but you cannot lie to me, your old friend. I know what drives you. The same foolish notions have driven my decisions.”

  “That would be a supremely selfish motivation for any man.”

  “How many times have you admitted your selfishness to yourself?”

  Alex shook his head. “I… No, it is not possible that I could ever be so heartless. Not to her.”

  Nicolo shrugged. “You forgot to be selfish once. You found the bravery to tell her about your past.”

  “You yourself told me that I should never have told her. ‘A man carries his own water,’ remember?”

  “Bah!” Nicolo waved at him dismissively. “I was just as frightened as you that some other person knew about the things we had experienced in our youth. And yes, one would not want just anyone knowing. But she is not just anyone.”

  Alex sighed heavily. “I am too tempted by her.”

  “Tempted?”

  “Yes, tempted to lean on her. To become dependent on the sweetness of her compassion. To become addicted to her understanding.”

  “She’s not your enemy, Alex. You don’t have to be afraid to face her fully and to accept her love.”