Earl of Gold
Lords of Scandal
Tammy Andresen
Copyright © 2020 by Tammy Andresen
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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Contents
Earl of Gold
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
Epilogue
Earl of Baxter
About the Author
Other Titles by Tammy
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www.tammyandresen.com
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Hugs!
Earl of Gold
Lords of Scandal
Tammy Andresen
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Why did he need love if he had gold?
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The Earl of Goldthwaite had spent his entire adult life accumulating wealth. It was his life’s goal to never end up as his father had, penniless and rotting in some debtor’s prison. He has no time for such silly notions as love or romance. When he eventually marries, he’ll find a nice heiress to increase his holdings. But when Miss Penny Walters waltzes into his life, he knows she’s all wrong for him. As poor as her name implies, she’s nothing that he wanted. Just another woman attempting to part him from his gold. So why can’t he look away?
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Who needed gold when her heart was rich with love?
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Penny’s life had been charmed, at least she’d always believed so until the age of twelve. Though her parents had little assets, they’d had enough to be comfortable and their home had been rich with affection. After their deaths, she’s determined to live the rest of her life the way they taught her: with her whole heart. Her first task was to open an orphanage in a poor London neighborhood. One that would give back to the community. The problem? She needed a loan to make her dream come true. And the one man she might be able to ask for such a sum was…
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The miserly Earl of Gold.
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It filled her with sick dread, but what choice did she have? What she never expected was to find herself drawn to such a man. He’s nothing that she ever wanted and everything she wished to stand against. But the longer she knows him, the more she wonders: is there a soft heart under that hard-shiny veneer of gold?
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Earl of Gold is a bridge between the first and second round in the Lords of Scandal series. You can find the first round for sale on Amazon:
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Duke of Daring
Marquess of Malice
Earl of Exile
Viscount of Vice
Baron of Bad
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The second round is coming very soon.
Duke of Decadence
Marquess of Menace
Earl of Infamy
Baron of Blasphemy
Viscount of Vanity
Duke of Debauchery
Earl of Baxter
Prologue
Earl of Gold, that is what society’s elite called Logan, the Earl of Goldthwaite.
The nickname was meant as an insult, he assumed, by the way the ladies curled their upper lips behind their fans or the gentlemen sneered around their glasses of port.
Which perplexed Logan to no end. First because they were all rich. Of course, he was richer than most, he understood that. But a man should think that would mean the elite would respect rather than disdain his wealth.
After all, while they had all inherited from their father’s father’s father, he, on the other hand, had taken a broken title and forged it in gold, lifting himself back up out of the ashes.
Perhaps that was what they disliked, how hard he worked while they leisurely played croquet or whatever ridiculous pursuits they filled their time with. And assumed they were better for it.
Since he’d been a boy, they had all assumed they were better. At school, he’d been shown every single day how much less he was for his father’s debts.
Or mayhap they found him too hard with his shiny outer crust he’d built around himself. But society had helped to form that thick outer layer. Had it not?
He turned his head to the side, cracking his neck, the pop echoing in the empty room.
The Duke of Darlington, who’d been droning on with an endless list of figures, lifted a brow. “I thought you, of all men, would appreciate a thorough accounting of potential sales.”
Logan gave a single bark of laughter, as he looked about the dark interior of the Den of Sins. That’s what the former owners had called this place. He’d yet to decide what he might name it if the sale went through. “I do, indeed.” The place reeked of stale liquor, body odor, and…potential.
Tucked in a seedy corner of the East End near the Docklands, the place made more money than any other endeavor he’d undertaken and his fingers itched to ink the contract that would make this gaming hell his.
Logan gave a cold smile, running his hand through his short blond hair. Perhaps that was the reason they’d disliked him. He’d use any method to make money. He didn’t give a shit about what was respectable. Actually, he didn’t care about most of their rules. They were meant to hurt nearly everyone.
And he wasn’t alone.
Darlington was known within these walls as Daring. A duke and several of his friends had turned this place into a treasure trove of coin. It was not fashionable for lords to own such a place, but Daring had done it anyway.
“Then why do you appear to be completely lost and not listening to a word I’ve uttered in the last five minutes?” The duke kicked out a chair from a nearby table and sat down.
Logan joined him, grabbing a chair and stretching out his long legs in front of him as he crossed his arms over his chest. His casual stance belied the tension in him. He’d make enough money to prove to all of them that he was the best. They’d curl their lips no longer at his sullied name.
Deep down, he knew why they judged him. He’d been ruined at one time, beneath them. Despite the title, everyone knew about the scandal that tainted his family. His father’s disgrace. And no amount of gold seemed enough to elevate his status once again.
Still, he’d collect enough coin to buy and sell all of London just to know that he could. To snub his nose at them. “I don’t understand why you had five partners. This place could make a man rich beyond his wildest dreams.”
Daring drew in a deep breath, carefully assessing the man across from him. His dark eyes glittered with interest and studied Logan’s face.
Logan felt his jaw clench, his fingers flexing under his biceps where they lay hidden.
If the duke chose another buyer…
“You already have several business ventures. This club is a full-time job in and of itself.”
Logan grimaced, recognizing the truth in the words. He didn’t like them but he understood them, nonetheless. “That is a valid point.”
Daring leaned forward. “And forgive me if I am overstepping, but your reputation lacks a certain…”
“Respectability?” Logan asked, sitting up straighter in his chair. This meeting seemed to be going further off kilter with every passing minute.
“Indeed,” Daring chuckled. “Which doesn’t matter to me.”
Logan let out a long breath, his shoulders hunching. Good. He’d never won a popularity contest and wasn’t likely to start now.
“But,” Daring held up a finger, “A gaming hell will not help you move in the right direction. It won’t gain you any respectability if that’s what you’re searching for.”
Logan gave a low grunt in response. The ton’s opinion of him was far less important than his own pursuit of wealth, but he supposed acceptance by the most elite in society would banish the specter of his past forever. And he could only gain more financial footholds with respectability. “It’s a lesser goal, to be certain. But enlighten me, anyhow. How do partners help with that?”
“Not only do they defray the work but they help protect your identity. Someone might recognize you. We wore masks, but occasionally, a discerning eye would recognize one of us anyway. However, the moment your saboteur tries to brag to his friends that he knows the owner of the Den of Sins, another will pipe up that they saw lord so and so or such and such. The two will argue and in the end, most everyone will believe neither has a clue. In that way, no rumor gains momentum.”
“But it isn’t rumor,” Logan answered. He was being petulant because he didn’t want partners even if all of Daring’s points made a great deal of sense. “And I’m not sure I care who in London knows I own this club.” He cracked his neck again. “And who is so and so and such and such?”
Daring laughed low. “My partners will remain my business. But your partners…” He drew a long, thin cheroot from his pocket and took his time lighting it with a nearby candle. “Are also my business.”
Logan rumbled, deep in his throat. Damn the man. He wasn’t going to sign today after all. He knew Daring was stalling now. “If I don’t care who knows I am the owner then why would I need partners at all?”
Daring passed another cheroot over to Logan without a word. Then he took a long draw off it, holding it in his lungs before he let out a puff of breath. “Camaraderie is part of what makes this place a success. Men feel it when they walk through the door. It isn’t just another place where drunks come to part with their money. It’s a place where men can bond. These walls are infused with brotherhood. In other words, you won’t even come close to our profits without partners.”
Horseshit. That’s what Logan wanted to say. But he drew in a long breath and cooled his heating temper. “How many? Partners that is, so that we can close the deal.”
A haze of smoke was filling the air around Daring’s head. “Three at least.”
Logan’s hand slapped his thigh. Too many. “Is that your only stipulation? That I find partners?” Like finding three men to work with him wasn’t going to be difficult enough. He had a reputation for not playing nice with others.
The duke was silent for so long Logan’s skin began to itch again. By force of will he kept himself from shifting in his seat. Finally, the duke mumbled. “There is one other…”
Damn it all to bloody hell. His muscle in his cheek twitched. “What is it?”
By way of answer, the duke reached into his pocket again. He pulled out a piece of parchment and handed it to Logan.
Unfolding the letter, Logan quickly scanned the contents, his brows drawing together. Some do-gooder wished for help with a charity project. “What does an orphanage have to do with a gaming hell?”
Darling drew another lazy puff from his cheroot. “The Den of Sins isn’t just a gaming hell. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. It’s too easy for the Earl of Gold to be discovered as the owner of such a place. Our success is born from our brotherhood and our anonymity. You need to make yourself not just rich, but a pillar of our community. You need to create a veil between the true you and the man that society sees.”
Logan frowned. Perhaps that was why society despised him. Because he was honest in his pursuit of money. Would he actually be more successful if he were less direct? The idea held interest. “This letter is addressed to you. She wants your help.” But Logan was fairly certain he knew what the duke was about to say as dread pooled in his stomach. Logan didn’t do charity. People either sank or swam. Life was that simple.
“Help her,” Daring answered. “And find three partners and the club is yours.”
Logan’s fist dug into his thigh, he didn’t even bother to hide it. “And how do I know you’ll keep your word?”
Daring gave him a grin. “You want a contract before our contract? You’re as shrewd as they say. Trust me, you’re not a man I wish to double cross. You keep up your end of the bargain and I’ll keep up mine.”
His fist relaxed. Many of Daring’s points held merit that Logan wouldn’t mind exploring. If he could gain favor in the ton, would he be even more successful than he’d been?
To find out he only needed to help one little do-gooder start up an orphanage.
He could do that. No problem. Easy.
The Den of Sins would be his.
Chapter One
Penny Walters sat in front of the chipped and cracked mirror attempting to assess if the style of her hair was at all pleasing. Styling herself had never been her strong suit. Even in the speckled reflection, she noted several stray curls sticking up at odd angles. She wrinkled her nose as she lifted her hands to her hair once again.
“It looks dreadful,” a young voice called from the door.
She let out a long sigh, sliding out a pin. “I was afraid of that.”
Her friend and companion, Clarissa, slid into the room, her bare feet sliding across the worn wood. Penny had bought her new shoes, but the girl would only wear them outside the house. Penny supposed Clarissa wasn’t actually a girl anymore. At eighteen she was nearly a woman, but she was slight and small, and she padded barefoot as much as she wore footwear. She seemed so much younger than Penny even though only four years separated them.
“How long before you leave?” Clarissa asked, already pulling the rest of the pins from Penny’s brown hair. It was thick and full with long waves that made it terribly unruly.
“A quarter hour,” Penny answered, smiling at Clarissa in the glass. Her appointment wasn’t for two hours yet, but she needed time to cross the city.
Clarissa nodded without response as she brusquely brushed out the locks. The girl had been the daughter of a country barrister before she’d been orphaned. Penny had found her at a church on her return trip from Dover six years prior. She’d been hoping to obtain a position as a governess but the family had gone with another candidate.
Directionless, Penny had been returning to London, wondering what she might do with the rest of her life. And that’s when she’d found a young Clarissa. Barely old enough to care for herself, Penny hadn’t been able to leave the fierce girl behind. The priest there had been attempting to convince Clarissa to join the nearby convent. An honest choice but as Clarissa was regularly blasphemous, it likely would have been an ill fit.
Now she couldn’t imagine her life without her friend. Clarissa began to re-pin the hair, pins sticking out of her mouth, even as she talked. “I don’t understand why you didn’t just ask me to do it in the first place.”
“You were helping Natty and Fran,” Penny answered, her grin growing. With a few benefactors, and a small inheritance, Penny had been able to maintain her family home just outside of the Docklands and convert it to a small orphanage. The East End reeked of the tanning mills just outside the city and the paint was chipped and worn but it was all they could afford. All in all, she had four girls living with her. Ones that society would have swept under the carpet and looked away from as the mean streets ate them for breakfast.
They’d been orphaned for one reason or another and she’d determined to give each of them a real home. With food and clothes, love and shoes…
“May I ask why you ar
en’t wearing the new boots I bought you?” She suppressed a grin as Clarissa wrinkled her nose.
“You know I don’t like anything on my feet.” Clarissa pulled a good deal harder than was necessary as she tamed an unruly lock of hair.
“Do they not fit?” Penny raised her brows refusing to give up the subject. She loved Clarissa like a sister which was why she needed to start wearing coverings on her feet. One could not go out and get a job or a husband while barefoot. Penny had rescued Clarissa to give her choices in life. Not to hide her away in this house.
“They fit fine,” Clarissa sighed as she twisted once more. “After spending two years in shoes that were too small, I can’t abide them any longer.”
Penny grimaced, her smile falling from her face. Clarissa’s father had lost every shilling the family had on a bad investment. He’d taken his own life and left Clarissa to face the world alone. “I’m sorry I couldn’t buy new ones for you sooner.”
“Don’t be.” Clarissa shook her head, a small jerk before she wrapped her arm about Penny’s shoulders in a quick hug. The gesture was given so rarely that Penny blinked in surprise. “Natty, Fran, and Ethel needed food and books before I needed new shoes. You did what was right.”
Penny sighed again, a much smaller sound as her head hung low in momentary defeat. It was difficult to find benefactors. Despite the opulence that graced the West End streets of London, here on the East End that sort of generosity was in short supply.
Earl of Gold: Lords of Scandal Page 1
