Dance with Deception: Scandalous Secrets, Book 1 - Exclusive Edition (Scandalous Secrets - Exclusive Edition)

by Tracy Goodwin

  Dance with Deception

  SCANDALOUS SECRETS, BOOK 1

  TRACY GOODWIN

  Dance with Deception Reviews & Awards

  "A stellar debut by gifted author, Tracy Goodwin. Dance with Deception expertly blends romance, danger and lush sensuality in one brilliant novel.”

  – FIVE STAR REVIEW FROM LETTETIA ELSASSER, SINGLE TITLES

  "A brilliant introduction to a promising new author."

  – HANNAH HOWELL, NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLING AUTHOR

  “Tracy Goodwin is a fresh new voice in historical romance. In Dance with Deception, Ms. Goodwin has penned an engaging tale of true love overcoming lies and duplicity. Sebastian and Gwen must work through numerous obstacles to reach their well-deserved happy ending. The reader will find herself cheering them along on their journey.”

  – GAYLE WILSON, TWO-TIME RITA AWARD WINNER

  “Tracy Goodwin is a promising new voice in historical romance.”

  – BARBARA DAWSON SMITH, NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLING AUTHOR

  “Dance with Deception is a lush and endearing romance – as touchingly romantic as anything I have read recently.”

  – 5 CUP REVIEW FROM COFFEE TIME ROMANCE

  "Dance with Deception is a riveting story from beginning to end … the depth of emotions expressed will touch the heart and have readers cheering this couple on. This was a highly satisfying read and it is a definite page-turner!!!”

  – FALLEN ANGEL REVIEWS

  “Spectacularly written is this well put together tale of love, hope and passion. Tracy Goodwin has managed to rekindle a sense of joie de vivre into my being with the colorful characters of Sebastian and Gwen as they find each other and find love in the process. Dance with Deception is truly a keeper.”

  – FIVE STAR REVIEW FROM EURO REVIEWS

  “A bit dark at times, Goodwin's Regency is filled with emotions, affairs of the heart and a flesh-and-blood hero who isn't perfect but deserves points for vowing to make the lady of his heart his wife. The heroine also is worthy of kudos.”

  – FOUR STAR REVIEW FROM ROMANTIC TIMES

  “Tracy Goodwin is definitely an author to look out for. She writes a sensual and clever novel that makes for an enjoyable read. I personally read this book in three sittings, I couldn’t put it down.”

  – WW BOOK CLUB BLURBS, PUBLISHER'S WEEKLY, BARBARA VEY BLOG

  “… emotionally intense.” – NIGHT OWL ROMANCE

  Awards for Dance with Deception

  - 2nd place winner of the Anne Bonney Readers Choice Award for Favorite Hero

  - 3rd Place Winner for the Anne Bonney Readers Choice Award for the Most Emotional category

  - 2nd place winner of the Judge a Book By Its Cover Contest

  - Finalist in the LASR Best Long Print Romance of 2007 category

  Dance with Deception

  ISBN-13: 978-1500541439

  ISBN-10: 1500541435

  Copyright © Tracy Goodwin

  Proofreading Editorial Credit: Theresa Kowalczyk

  Front Cover Credit: Jeannie Ruesch

  Cover Photography © Jimmy Thomas

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and any resemblances to any person or persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Acknowledgements

  Dance with Deception was first released in 2007. Since then, I have so many people to be grateful for, beginning with each and every reader who purchased the original Dance with Deception. Thank you for receiving the debut novel of my heart with such warmth, for attending my book signings, and for your kind words and positive reviews. It is because of you, that Dance with Deception quickly reached several bestseller lists and was a best seller for my original Publisher. This exclusive enhanced edition and the subsequent novels in the Scandalous Secrets series are dedicated to you, with my heartfelt appreciation. With this exclusive edition as well as upcoming Enticing Eve and The Skilled Seduction, I want each reader to know that I am grateful for your support and hope that all readers – new and existing – enjoy how the Scandalous Secrets series plays out.

  Thank you, also, to bestselling Authors Hannah Howell, Barbara Dawson Smith and Gayle Wilson for giving me such wonderful Author quotes for Dance with Deception and to bestselling Author Lucy Monroe for allowing me to be a guest blogger at her website. Thank you to award winning Author Deborah MacGillivray for her five star review of Dance with Deception on Goodreads. It was more than I could have ever dreamed possible from talented Authors that I truly admire and respect.

  A special acknowledgement to all of the Autism and ADHD moms out there. Your blogs and Tweets have helped me so much through the past three years. You, and all special needs moms, are amazing. It is a club no one wishes to belong to but I am grateful to each and every one of you.

  Dedication

  For my husband, Greg.

  I am forever blessed to be loved by you.

  CONTENTS

  Chapter 1: 1845 Northamptonshire, England

  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

  About the Author

  1845 Northamptonshire, England

  Feeling sorry for oneself was a trait Gwendolyn MacAlistair usually despised; however, on this particular evening, she indulged. What made this night so different than any other? Why was it that this date would be etched in her memory as the one upon which her life had forever changed?

  Gwen ticked off the many attributes that made this day appear so ordinary at first. She awoke in her comfortable bed, dressed with the assistance of her maid in her cozy bedchamber then joined her father for breakfast. Such was her usual routine. Yet routines lull you into a false sense of security, don’t they? Such was the case on this day for it was during breakfast that Gwen’s world as she knew it crumbled around her.

  On this morning, her father announced with an aloof finality that he was dying.

  Although his declaration alone was life-altering, he hadn’t concluded there. No, Lachlan MacAlistair declared that he would see his daughter wed before his imminent demise, causing a knot of suspicion to coil within Gwen’s abdomen. Try as she might, Gwen was unable to free herself from the notion that she wouldn’t approve of her father’s choice of suitor.

  As her sense of impending doom escalated, Gwen’s breath became labored by her tight corset. Gasping for air, she hurried out of the overcrowded ballroom, her slippers tapping against the marble beneath her feet like a drumbeat until she emerged onto the cool terrace. The white taffeta fabric of her gown rustled against the soft spring breeze as she left a throng of animated members of the haut ton in her wake. With great care, she proceeded in the opposite direction of the ballroom in a deliberate attempt to get as far away from the gathering as possible.

  Fingering the demure, colorless ball gown her father had insisted she wear, an exasperated sigh escaped Gwen’s lips. In comparison to the oth
er women in attendance, clad in vibrant colors of the latest fashions, she felt like a child. Why would her father force her to wear such a dowdy frock if he intended to find a suitor for her? Surely adorning his eligible daughter in a garment that could best describe her as resembling a snow sculpture wouldn’t attract many eligible gentlemen? Again that nagging suspicion warned Gwen that he’d already made up his mind, this time causing hot thorns of anxiety to prick a path up her spine.

  Gwen perceived human shadows shifting between the moonlit outline of shrubbery in the gardens below and lifted her skirts before quickening her pace. Delicate female laughter turned into a smothered giggle and she avoided glancing in that direction, choosing instead to race toward the deserted end of the terrace.

  Her sanctuary.

  The farther she journeyed from the open terrace doors, the softer the laughter and music became. She welcomed the sweet scent of jasmine that tickled her nose, deeply inhaling its familiar scent as the combination of it and the faint music drifting from the interior of the ballroom began to numb her taut nerves.

  Gwen was in no mood for celebrating and her cheeks ached from the polite smiles she offered the fops who approached her in the hopes of dancing with her, the same gentlemen whose smiles never quite met their eyes. She felt as if they pitied her, the outcast just returned from Scotland. Was there, perhaps, a bet wagered as to who could get the gossip about her first? Regardless, even if her assumptions were wrong, Gwen didn’t want to smile, laugh nor pretend to be happy. What she wanted, what she was in desperate need of, was a good, long cry.

  Having reached the balustrade at far end of the terrace, Gwen peeled her pristine gloves from her fingers then grasped the cool stone with her bare hands, allowing the chill to permeate her fingers in the hopes it would ward off the red hot sting of the tears that threatened to fall.

  Papa is dying.

  She was in a state of disbelief, having never detected any signs of his ailing health. How could he be so ill? And how could he insist she marry someone that she neither knew nor loved?

  Of course Gwen had voiced her immediate opposition and her father had cut her down. His reaction was too harsh, planting those unspoken seeds of suspicion within her that she couldn’t uproot, no matter how hard she tried. Gwen wanted to believe that her father had her best intentions at heart but she couldn’t. Shame flooded her already heavy soul at the realization.

  Gwen squeezed the balustrade tighter, looking upwards, seeking comfort from the twinkling constellations spanning the vast veil of sky stretching above her. Never had she felt this confused or guilty. Why did she doubt her father, her dying father at that? Dear God, what was wrong with her?

  “Enough of this self-pity,” she muttered, her words floating through the cool breeze as she tore her gaze from the clear night sky. “For goodness sake, the least you can do is fulfill his dying wish.”

  But her inner voice wouldn’t allow it, screaming I want more. In truth, she had always wanted more.

  Oh, to be young again, to have Mama alive and well, and to spend her days free to frolic with her brothers and their friends.

  The memory of her brothers’ friends snapped Gwen’s thoughts back to the ballroom tonight and a pair of piercing indigo eyes belonging to the Duke of Davenport.

  Sebastian was stunning. Gwen had been too young during their previous acquaintance to notice just how handsome he was, with his thick onyxcolored mane and azure eyes the color of a stormy sea. Nor had she ever before realized how his rugged features and his chiseled jaw made him appear wild and untamed against the rest of the refined gentlemen in attendance.

  In that ballroom on this very evening, it became clear to her that the Duke’s tall frame, muscular build and powerful presence made all other men appear puny in comparison. Add to those features a title, large fortune, and bachelor status and the Duke of Davenport became the perfect catch for every unattached female. Or so she had assessed from the throngs of female admirers who had been parading around him in hope of catching his notice.

  Gwen’s thoughts centered on the Duke’s expression in the ballroom. What was it about his gaze that made her feel flushed? Her cheeks grew warm just considering the possibilities.

  She shook her head and instead entertained the irony of the situation. Little did Sebastian know the woman he stared at was the same boyish child who, along with her twin brother, used to shadow her eldest brother and the future duke on their jaunts.

  He hadn’t recognized her. There was no other explanation for his odd reaction. If he had, Gwen was certain he would have approached and joked with her, chucking her chin the way he had when she was a child.

  She smiled in remembrance of a particular afternoon when her eldest brother, Colin, had been annoyed with her.

  “No, Gwen, hunting is not for young ladies. Go home this instant,” Colin commanded.

  When she didn’t budge, Sebastian tried a different tactic.

  “Gwen,” he quizzed, “what will you do when it is time for you to marry and your betrothed doesn’t want his wife hunting and fishing?”

  Her reply, even at that young age, had been defiant. “My husband will love me no matter what I do. Otherwise, I shall refuse to marry him.”

  Her smile waned. Gwen now understood that duty dictated she marry the man of her father’s choosing, a man she didn’t love. Of course she knew this day would come, yet she had hoped that her devotion would be enough to convince him to allow Gwen at least some input into her own fate.

  No such luck, she thought with a grimace.

  “Enough of this,” Gwen slapped the balustrade, her frustrations mounting at her lack of control over her own destiny and the realization that a change of scenery had done nothing to improve her foul mood. It was time she returned to the ballroom before her father noticed her absence.

  Gathering her gloves and a fistful of skirts, she rushed towards the same throng from which she had sought solitude just minutes before. As she rounded a corner, Gwen ran straight into a solid mass and was knocked to the ground.

  “Oh, good Lord,” the words escaped her lips before she could censure them. In a valiant attempt to gather her wits, she noticed the trouser-clad legs of a gentleman standing beside her. “I apologize,” she declared before raising her chin to catch a glimpse of the culprit. Her jaw slackened at the sight of the Duke of Davenport’s handsome face.

  “For what?” he quipped, brow arched. “Almost sending me flying, or for cursing like a drunken sailor?”

  A heat crept across her cheeks as Gwen steeled her shoulders then returned his stare. “Both as it appears that my blasphemy has offended your demure sensibilities.”

  Sebastian smiled at the sight of this beautiful yet rather disheveled woman sitting on a cloud of white skirts.

  “Would you mind helping me up?” She jarred him from his thoughts. “It’s not easy with these skirts.”

  He gave himself a mental shake then offered her his hands. The mystery woman placed her hands in his, and Sebastian noted with a pang of pleasure that she wasn’t wearing gloves. Her skin was the softest he’d ever encountered, like silk, and a wicked thought occurred to him.

  What would the rest of her body feel like?

  “Are you unwell?” Her gaze was fixed upon his. “You look a bit dazed.”

  He thought himself mad. Wasn’t it enough that he’d shamelessly stared at this woman in the ballroom? Must he also act like a besotted fool when she was an arm’s length away?

  “Are you hurt?” he managed, knowing full well that although not clever or witty his statement wasn’t entirely foolish.

  The beauty shook her skirts then inspected them for dirt. “It appears that I’ve only wounded my pride.”

  She gave him a faint smile before continuing. “I am fine, thank you, Your Grace. I’m afraid I wasn’t minding where I was heading.”

  Sebastian gathered her gloves from the ground then guided her to a nearby bench. She hesitated, glancing towards the ballroom before reac
hing a decision to stay.

  Once settled on the bench, she insisted, “There’s really no need to fuss. I’m fine.”

  “We haven’t been introduced,” Sebastian announced as he seized the moment and sat beside her.

  “We have not?” she queried, her eyes dancing.

  If he didn’t know better, he’d say she was teasing him. “No. I’m certain I would remember.”

  Sebastian studied his companion, her expression unnerving him. Was this beauty yet another gold digger? He peered over his shoulder to ensure that no mother was skulking behind a rose bush or lurking around some dark corner ready to pounce upon him and demand he marry her daughter.

  Once satisfied that there was no greedy mother in sight, Sebastian returned his attention to the beguiling woman beside him. She was eyeing him with a delightful expression, seeming quite amused. By what, he hadn’t yet discerned.

  “I would never forget your name, Your Grace. You are Sebastian Montgomery, ninth Duke of Davenport. I am a bit miffed, however, that you could forget mine,” she replied with mock indignation.

  “I beg your pardon?” His attitude cooled as he surveyed her, searching her dancing eyes for a sign, any sign, that his assumptions were incorrect.

  “Your Grace,” she began, her tone solemn, “you are far too young to suffer from senility, although I suppose it is possible.”

  The gorgeous sprite paused, appearing to revel in his confusion. “I must admit, the last time I saw you, you did appear to be much taller. Perhaps you are also shrinking?”

  Thunderstruck, Sebastian studied her beautiful visage, wracking his brain for a hint of who she might be.

  “To be honest, I am much taller now. Maybe that is why you appear shorter?” She teased, pressing her forefinger against her full, rosy lips. “Now that I consider it, our last encounter occurred when I was about ten or eleven. No doubt, I have changed considerably since then; therefore, I’m afraid I have an unfair advantage over you.”

  Sebastian blinked. Ten or eleven? But it couldn’t be ...