The Sweetest Sin

by Kelly Boyce

  THE SWEETEST SIN

  Kelly Boyce

  THE SINS & SCANDALS SERIES

  While there are those who spend their time in modest pursuits, upholding propriety befitting the lords and ladies of the ton, it would seem that for others scandal is just a sin away…

  AN INVITATION TO SCANDAL

  A SCANDALOUS PASSION

  A SINFUL TEMPTATION

  THE LADY’S SINFUL SECRET

  SURRENDER TO SCANDAL

  A SINNER NO MORE

  THE SWEETEST SIN

  COMING SOON!

  A MOST SCANDALOUS MISS (December 2016)

  A HINT OF SCANDAL (Spring 2017)

  SINS OF A SOLDIER (TBD)

  Copyright © 2016 Kelly Boyce

  This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or a portion thereof, in any form. This book may not be resold or uploaded for distribution to others.

  This is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  ISBN: 978-0-9948672-2-3

  dpg

  Editor: Nancy Cassidy

  Cover design: The Killion Group, Inc.

  Formatter: Author E.M.S.

  Table of Contents

  The Sins & Scandals Series

  Copyright

  Dedication

  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

  Epilogue

  Dear Readers

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Dedication

  For the dream chasers—may you always be swift of foot.

  Chapter One

  “I will ruin you.”

  Lady Henrietta Harrow stared into the pinched face only inches from her own. Hatred burned in Lady Susan St. John’s eyes with such vitriol Hen had no response to her issued threat. How did one react to such a pledge? Inquiring further appeared her only option.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  This was Hen’s fifth ball of the new Season and thus far, she had managed to avoid Lady Susan by hiding amongst the plants or lingering in the shadows. Not the bravest thing to do, but unlike her friend, Patience Elmsley, Hen did not have the gumption to dump sweet punch over the young lady’s head. No matter how much she may have wanted to.

  So she had taken to avoiding Lady Susan and her constant belittling, a method that had thus far proven relatively successful. At least until her great-aunt insisted she was parched and sent Hen out into the vast wasteland of the ballroom to fetch a glass of punch. A ruse, of course. What Lady Dalridge truly wanted was for her great-niece to quit lingering in the shadows and go out amongst the other ladies and lords as if she belonged there.

  Easy for Auntie to say. She was not the one with scars littering one side of her body. Scars that even her best efforts could not conceal completely. The flames that had left the marks had, after all, cared nothing about fashion and therefore felt well within their rights to crawl up the right side of her neck. Her only recourse to cover them was to leave her hair hanging down over her shoulder. A style neither fashionable nor subtle and a constant reminder in case their existence should happen to slip her mind.

  As if such a thing were possible.

  “You heard me,” Lady Susan said, her voice shooting out like a hissing snake with eyes narrowed to complete the impression. “I am going to ruin you.”

  Each word came enunciated with harsh purpose making it impossible for Hen to hold onto the hope she may have misunderstood. Not that she had held onto much. The moment Lady Susan marched toward her like a general going into battle, forcing Hen back into a corner she could not get out of, she knew she was in for it.

  Her stomach sank. Lady Susan had a bee in her bonnet ever since Hen had befriended Judith Sutherland, now Lady Glenmor. Judith had been a previous recipient of Lady Susan’s special brand of venom and when Hen had stood by her friend’s side, well, that had put her, too, in Lady Susan’s crosshairs. Now with Judith married, it appeared she was to be this Season’s prime target. Lovely.

  She let out a long sigh. Perhaps she should try to get to the root of the issue. “Whatever have I done to upset you, Lady Susan?”

  Not that it took much to set Lady Susan off. The duke’s daughter was a hateful sort on a good day and on a bad day…

  “You dare to stand there as if you do not know what you’ve done?”

  Hen had little choice but to stand where she was. Lady Susan had, after all, backed her into a corner and now blocked her way. It was impossible for her to leave unless she wished to knock the other woman on her bottom, hike up her skirts and make a mad dash into the thick of the guests filling the ballroom. And while escape was the ultimate goal, she would prefer to achieve it with far less spectacle.

  “I’m afraid I do not know, Lady Susan. So if you would have the courtesy of informing me as to what crime you believe I have committed, perhaps we can get on with things. I’m afraid I am in the dark as to what I may have done to you that justifies such threats of ruination.”

  Lady Susan took a step forward, crowding Hen farther into the corner. She was a few inches taller than Hen, thin and ropey. Perhaps Hen could push past her, but she didn’t care to risk it should she be wrong. An angry Lady Susan was an unpredictable entity.

  “I hold you responsible for your part in Lord Pengrin’s death and I will see that you pay for such.”

  Thoughts of escape skittered away as something cold and heavy turned over in Hen’s stomach. She had done her best to push any thoughts of Lord Pengrin and his treachery into a dark hole best left untouched. Such memories were fraught with pain and humiliation. The viscount had made a fool of her, making her believe he loved her. That he had seen beyond her scars to the woman beneath. He’d made her believe she had a chance at a normal life. But the man proved nothing more than a charlatan. He had not wanted her at all.

  Lady Susan’s claims that Lord Pengrin was somehow the injured party left her sputtering in amazement.

  “Pay? For what? For tricking me into believing he loved me so he could use my dowry to pay his gambling debts and then toss me aside?”

  “And why wouldn’t he toss you aside? Do you truly think anyone else wouldn’t have done the same thing? Look at you! You’re a scarred little beast. What man could stand to look upon you without losing the contents of his stomach?”

  Hen sucked in a shocked breath. Lady Susan had spent the past year making veiled little remarks about Hen’s scars, but this was the first direct attack and the words hit hard, cutting deep into the place in her heart that knew such claims were true. She was a scarred little beast. A monster in a pretty dress.

  Over Lady Susan’s shoulder, a few heads turned in their direction. Hen took a steadying breath. She would not make a scene. Nor would she allow Lady Susan to. All she wanted was to end this night as quickly as possible and return home. Away from Society’s stares and whispers, away from James and Auntie’s foolish hopes that she might find a suitable husband, marry and be happy. Away from the memories of what a fool
she had been to once believe the same.

  “You overstep, Lady Susan.” Hen kept her voice firm, but her insides shook with a mixture of pain and anger and the knowledge that most of what Lady Susan said was true. All of it save for her responsibility in Lord Pengrin’s death. “Your friend, Lord Pengrin, shot Lords Hawksmoor and Glenmor and kidnapped Lady Glenmor. That he died during the commission of these ghastly crimes was of his own doing and no one else’s. I do not see how I hold any blame in that regard.”

  Lady Susan leaned closer until Hen could smell the sweet punch on her breath and feel its heat upon her face. “Had you married him, he would not have been forced to take such drastic measures. He would be alive and well, his debts paid and his fortune restored.”

  And Hen would have been miserable, but apparently that was of little concern to Lady Susan. Hardly a shock.

  “If you were so concerned about the state of Lord Pengrin’s fortune, why did you not marry him? Surely your dowry is far more significant than mine. You are the daughter of a duke, after all, as you so often like to remind us.”

  It was rumored Lord Franklyn had twice doubled the size of Lady Susan’s dowry in the hopes it might entice some willing gentleman to make her his wife, but so far no one had taken him up on his offer. There were some things money could not overcome and a lifetime of misery at the hands of a shrew appeared to be one of them.

  Lady Susan took a sudden step back as if she’d been slapped. “I-I—”

  “Oh!” Realization hit Hen square in the chest as Lady Susan stumbled over her words. Could it be? “Oh dear. You loved him, didn’t you?”

  “I…that is…you…”

  To find Lady Susan tongue-tied, unable to spit out her usual venom was a surprise indeed, but no more so than this new revelation. “You loved him but he didn’t return your feelings. Not in the same way.” He’d been more than willing to take part in her schemes, to play others false and cause them untold pain and embarrassment, but to marry her? Not even Lord Pengrin was willing to go that far.

  Shock tightened the skin across Lady Susan’s sharp cheekbones and abhorrence burned in her eyes once more. “He was my friend and he did not deserve to die in such a horrible way,” she spit out, neither confirming nor denying Hen’s claims.

  Lord Pengrin had taken an unexpected plunge into the Thames during the commission of one of his many crimes. By the time his body had been retrieved, it was much too late to save him. Hen had not been there, nor had she had anything to do with the events. She’d been oblivious, dreaming like a fool of the day he would propose and she could stop living in this strange limbo of a half-life that her scars had relegated her to. She’d had no idea other machinations were afoot until her brother came to her and broke the news. And broke her heart in the process as her dreams crumbled around her.

  Hen took a deep breath, ready to conclude this ridiculous conversation and put an end to Lady Susan’s threats. “I am sorry you lost your friend, but I—”

  “I care little for your apology, Lady Henrietta. That is not what I came here for.”

  “Then what do you want?”

  “To give you fair warning that before this Season ends, I will see you ruined. Completely and irrevocably. And there is not a single thing you can do to stop me.”

  Lady Susan took a small step back and smiled, but if there was any mirth or leniency in the gesture, Hen could not find it. Lady Susan meant what she said and if there was something the duke’s daughter excelled at, it was making other people miserable.

  If Hen had been dreading the Season before, Lady Susan’s vow doomed any hope it would pass quietly.

  “Lady Henrietta?”

  Hen released a sigh of relief. Reinforcements had arrived. She relaxed at the sight of a familiar face. Still, familiar or not, habit forced her to tilt her head just so to keep her scars hidden in shadow. “Lord Walkerton. How are you this evening?”

  The recently minted Earl of Walkerton executed a proper bow and when he straightened, offered a polite smile. “Quite well, my lady. And you?”

  “As well as can be expected.” Given she had been cornered by one of the vilest women of her acquaintance and been threatened with utter ruination.

  Lord Walkerton glanced at the woman who continued to bar Hen’s avenue of escape and inclined his head slightly, forgoing the customary bow. It was unlike Lord Walkerton to be anything but the soul of proper behavior, but apparently even he had his limits. “Lady Susan.”

  His greeting held no warmth. Despite the earl’s most recent friendship with Lady Susan’s parents, the Duke and Duchess of Franklyn, it did not appear he extended such friendship to their daughter. Hen did not hold it against him. Lady Susan was a difficult person to like. Even a little.

  “Lord Walkerton,” Lady Susan responded, a smirk cutting into one side of her face. “And what brings you over to join our little tete-a-tete? Still trying to find yourself a bride, hm?”

  Rumor had it, Lord Walkerton had once considered Lady Susan a prospect, but luckily the man had come to his senses before taking the matter so far he could not extract himself from it. Not an occurrence that left him in Lady Susan’s good graces.

  The earl ignored Lady Susan’s tart inquiry and turned to Hen, his expression steady and unreadable as it often was. For all his handsomeness, Lord Walkerton was not one to exude much in the way of emotion. But he was a polite sort and though his gaze often flicked to the scars she tried to hide, he did not allow it to linger to the point of discomfort, and for that she was thankful.

  “Mr. Elmsley sent me to fetch you, Lady Henrietta.”

  “Oh, Charlie has arrived?” Hen’s mood rose significantly. The future Baron Elmsley was a new friend, but he had quickly become a fast and reliable one, as had his sister, Patience. Cousins to her friend, Judith, both siblings had a way about them that made one feel instantly at ease in their presence. Not something that came easily to Hen. She should not be overly surprised Charlie would send Lord Walkerton over instead of making the rescue himself. He had only last week suggested the earl as someone she should consider as a potential husband. She had not given the idea much merit. Lord Walkerton had been kind to her, but he had never shown anything in the way of interest. No man had aside from Lord Pengrin and, well, that had all been false, hadn’t it?

  “Shall I take you to him?” Lord Walkerton’s inquiry interrupted her thoughts as he turned and offered her his arm. The movement forced Lady Susan to take a step back and relief swept through Hen. Escape was nigh.

  “That would be most kind of you, Lord Walkerton.”

  Lady Susan smiled at them, but her gaze remained cold, like a bitter winter wind that reached into your bones and refused to let go. “I hope you enjoy the rest of the party, Lady Henrietta, but try not to forget what I said.”

  Hen forced a tight smile. One was hardly going to forget such a vindictive promise.

  Once out of Lady Susan’s earshot, she glanced up at Lord Walkerton, thankful her scars were on the opposite side of him. “Thank you for rescuing me, Lord Walkerton. I’m afraid I find Lady Susan’s company most unpleasant.”

  “I’m certain you are not the first person to feel that way, my lady. As well, I thought it a good opportunity to ask if you might save me a dance this evening?”

  His request surprised her. For all his politeness toward her, he had never asked her to dance before. Had Charlie put him up to this as well? Regardless, she was not one to look a gift horse in the mouth. She loved to dance, but rarely had the opportunity. She wasn’t about to pass this one up. “I would be most pleased to save you a dance, Lord Walkerton.”

  Perhaps this evening was looking up after all.

  Hen should have known better than to get her hopes up. Not that the dance with Lord Walkerton was not lovely. He proved a very polite partner, not trampling on her toes once as they waltzed about the room. And oh, how she loved the waltz. It was like floating in a dream! But that dream came to a crushing end once she left the safety of Lo
rd Walkerton’s company. She could not turn around this evening without finding Lady Susan and her gaggle of sycophants dogging her heels, offering their snide comments on everything she did or wore.

  Her hairstyle. “Why do you insist on wearing your hair down like that, Lady Henrietta? It is so common and unbecoming.”

  Her dress. “Long sleeves? Really? Why, it is as if you’re trying to hide something. Oh, but I suppose you are, aren’t you?”

  And now this. Startled when Lady Susan came up from behind her, Hen inadvertently spilled the punch she was pouring, splotching her dress sleeve.

  Lady Susan offered a smirk. “Good heavens, Lady Henrietta, were you not schooled in the arts of being a lady? Why you’ve slopped the punch all over your hand. Have you been imbibing on something other than punch this evening? Perhaps it is time you left the party before you embarrass yourself further.”

  Hen pulled her shoulders back but could not help twisting her hair closer to her neck. “I daresay a few spots on my sleeve are not worth hurrying back to Harrow House for.”

  “Indeed. We would miss you if you left, anyway.” Charlie Elmsley and Lord Walkerton appeared next to her, having stayed close by since her first encounter with Lady Susan earlier in the evening. “In fact, I did not even notice a stain and I have a keen eye for such things. Ergo, they are hardly worth noticing.”

  “Well,” Lady Susan shrugged. “I suppose the scars on your neck are enough to keep people’s attentions away from your sleeve, are they not?”