Copyright © Tracy Cooper-Posey
Smashwords Edition
About Southampton Swindle
By reader and reviewer request, the story of Nathanial and Sebastian and how they met.
Liars are in need of good allies.
Southampton, 1786: Since being tossed from his ancestral family home at thirteen, and falling in with a swindler, Sebastian has been fighting to preserve life and limb any way he can. While ingratiating himself with Lady Wandsworth and her thousands of pounds, Sebastian meets another roguish charmer, Nathanial, and at his side, the pretty but deadly Anne. Sebastian’s world is abruptly changed as he is introduced to imagination-defying ideas and is snared in an international swindle involving the Queen of France’s diamond necklace.
Sebastian is drawn to Nathanial and his worldly, experienced ways, until Anne reveals the truth about him and the necklace….
WARNING: This book contains two hot, sexy alpha heroes, frequent, explicit and frank sex scenes and sexual language.
It includes heart-stopping sexual scenes between the aforementioned sexy heroes, menage scenes, and anal sex. Don't proceed beyond this point if hot love scenes offend you.
No vampires were harmed in the making of this novel.
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This is a Blood Drops book. Blood Drops are short and novella length stories featuing the characters and situations in the Blood Stone series. Droplet sized morsels for your reading pleasure.
The Blood Stone series:
Blood Stone 1: Blood Knot (#1 Amazon Best Seller, Fantasy Romance)
Blood Drops 1.1: Southampton Swindle
Blood Drop 1.2: Broken Promise
Blood Stone 2: Blood Stone
Blood Stone 3: Blood Unleashed
Blood Stone 3.5: Blood Drive – Blood Stone Boxed Set 1
Blood Stone 4: Blood Revealed (Upcoming)
These are continuing characters and storylines. Reading the series in order is strongly recommended.
Praise for Southampton Swindle
It’s a fun read, very set in the 1700′s and is a sort of period “who dunnit” novel. As always Tracy pulls out stops so we can’t quite work out who’s done what, just when I thought I knew what and who was to blame things changed. Of course as its how the two men met there’s some hot, sexy love scenes too….A great fill-in book, wrapped up in a diverting story.—Jeannie Zelos Book Reviews.
This little read was a fun way to fill in the gaps of Nathanial and Sebastian’s story. While I don’t usually like historical paranormal romance, I will always make exceptions for this author. I love this series and would eagerly gobble up even more from this world. I can’t wait to see what else the author has lined up!—Carrie Reads A Lot
This is a short historical tale featuring likeable rogues, double-crossing, a jewel theft, a bit of intrigue, a scheming hussy, a bit of MFM sex and a bit more MM sex, that seemingly introduces a couple that goes on to feature in the Blood Stones series. It’s well-written and a decent coffee-break read and frankly I don’t know how the author managed to fit in so much to make it an interesting read without turning it into ‘too many cooks’.–Netgalley
Chapter One
East Park, Southampton, England, 1786 A.D. Late summer.
Sebastian forced himself to pick up Lady Mercy Wandsworth’s soft, lace-encased hand and lean over it, his other hand resting on top, as if he would dare more if only the circumstances in which they found themselves were not quite so public. “I have received news,” he murmured. “A letter. Jonathan smuggled it out of the prison. He is in most dire straits, my lady.”
Her big eyes widened underneath the huge bonnet she wore, despite the watery sun and cool day. “Oh, my dear Richard. Your friend is suffering! This is terrible.”
Sebastian nodded gravely. “Of all Jonathan’s friends, he chose to communicate with me. I cannot betray his trust and hope in me.”
Lady Wandsworth let her parasol tilt backwards as she looked up at him. Her companions, two matrons and a maiden that Sebastian had not met and didn’t know were standing to one side of the wide footpath, watching avidly as he, a supposedly well-off bachelor, spoke in public to Southampton’s most recent and wealthiest widow. He barely glanced at them. Instead he poured all his attention upon the woman whose hand he still held, despite the proprieties. Lady Wandsworth herself gave him a warm smile. “May I see the letter?” she asked.
Sebastian reached into his cutaway coat and withdrew the letter he had spent the last evening writing, folding and sealing, then soiling and aging it to look like it had been passed through many hands on its way from the completely fictitious prison in Spain. “I would not have you touch such a filthy communique, my lady,” he said, showing her the outside of the letter.
She pressed her fingertips to her mouth in growing horror. “Oh my…is that dark patch…is that…?”
Sebastian nodded. “It has dried, my lady. Someone—perhaps even Jonathan—spilled blood in order that this letter reach me. I cannot leave him in that place for a moment longer. I must help him, but…” He gave her a modest, almost embarrassed glance. “I do not know how I might do that.”
She was scanning the letter avidly. “He speaks of his affairs in the letter, Richard?”
“In passing,” Sebastian said off-handedly. “He begs me to help him move his business concerns out of Spain, but that is all. He sounds ill, my Lady. I do not know how much longer he might last in that wretched place.”
One of the women standing patiently to the side giggled. It was a light, breathy sound, muffled behind a gloved hand.
Sebastian wanted to scowl, but kept his gaze upon the lady Wandsworth and his expression woebegone.
“Nathaniel! Oh, my goodness. You’re here!” The exclamation was almost fevered in its intensity, drawing Lady Wandsworth’s attention away from Sebastian. He sighed within, and turned to face the newcomer with a pleasant smile.
The man had his back to him. He was bending over the hand of the maiden while the two matrons fluffed and fluttered on either side of her. The maid, Sebastian realized belatedly, was rather beautiful in a young, dimple-cheeked and creamy skin way. She had abundant dark mahogany curls cascading beneath the straw sun hat she wore, which the blue ribbons complemented nicely.
She turned to the women on either side of her, glancing at them. “Madam Beauchamp, Lady Allsworth, may I present to you my fiancé, Nathanial Smythington, the Earl of Beechwood?”
The earl gave both matrons a courtly nod of the head and they fanned themselves, clearly flustered.
Sebastian chewed the inside of his cheek to stop from laughing aloud.
The maid, whose name he still did not know, caught at the earl’s elbow and turned to Lady Wandsworth. “Lady Mercy,” she said. “It is my honor and delight to present Nathaniel to you. Nathaniel, this is Lady Mercy Wandsworth, the dowager Duchess of Pembroke.”
The earl had turned to face Lady Wandsworth and Sebastian got his first look at the blighter.
He wasn’t at all what Sebastian had expected. Sebastian had assumed a belted earl would be well into middle age and hunting for a suitable wife to carry on the family line. This fellow looked to be somewhere in his thirties – perhaps close to Sebastian’s own thirty one years. He was extraordinarily handsome, with very clear, very blue eyes and glossy black hair that shone in the weak sunlight. He smiled as he took Lady Wandsworth’s hand and bowed over it, giving her what Sebastian was quite sure was intended to be a knee-weakening smile.
“Lady Wandsworth, you have been so kind in taking care of my fiancé while I was in France. I hope Beatrice has been entertaining you?”
Lady Wandsworth gave a warm smile of her own in return. “Beatrice is a most agreeable companion. It
has been a delight to have her stay in my home. The halls do not echo quite as loudly while she is with us.”
Smythington turned to Sebastian and held out his hand. “Nathaniel Smythington,” he said shortly. “I don’t know you.”
Sebastian took his hand automatically and squeezed. There was power to spare in the man’s grip. Somewhere under the snug-fitting coat and breeches, he had muscle.
“Richard Laurier,” Sebastian said just as shortly. “The Lady Wandsworth and I are acquaintances.”
“You were in France, Smythington?” one of the matrons asked, stepping around Beatrice so she could look at him. “Did you hear anything about the trial?”
The trial. Sebastian hid his impatience. The newspapers had been trumpeting about the Queen of France’s necklace and the plot to steal it for nearly a week.
Smythington smiled broadly again, showing very white and even teeth. “I did indeed hear something. The necklace has mysteriously disappeared.”
“Gone?” the two woman echoed, gasping.
“It is missing,” Smythington confirmed. He leaned toward them a little and lowered his voice. “I heard that it might even be somewhere here in England.”
They looked at each other, aghast and delighted at this latest snippet of news.
Smythington turned back to Lady Wandsworth, making Sebastian grit his teeth. “It has been a very deep pleasure to meet you, Lady Wandsworth. Would you mind if I stole Beatrice for an hour or two? I have not seen her for many weeks, and a stroll about the park will let me reacquaint myself with the virtues of my bride-to-be.”
“I don’t know…” Lady Wandsworth said slowly. “It would not be seemly—”
“Laurier can be our chaperone. What say you, Laurier? Care to take a turn about the park?” The last was directed at Sebastian, with a smile. The man’s blue eyes were guileless and friendly.
Sebastian couldn’t refuse without looking downright churlish. It was a perfectly reasonable request. “I would be pleased to accompany you,” he said stiffly and turned to pick up Lady Wandsworth’s hand one more time. “Thank you so much for your thoughtfulness, my lady. I will speak to you on another occasion.”
“Make it soon, Richard,” she replied, her fingers squeezing his. “I am most anxious to know about your friend.”
The three ladies turned and began to stroll along the path, all in a row, while the earl tucked his fiancé’s hand under his elbow and faced the opposite direction. Feeling very much like an unwanted appendage, Sebastian walked behind them, trying to contain his seething frustration. This Nathanial fellow had put a stopper on three weeks of careful work upon Lady Wandsworth.
He was looking down at his fiancé now, studying her.
She dropped her hand from his elbow and glanced at Sebastian before saying to her finance: “He has a friend in a Spanish prison, who wants his business interests moved out of Spain. Presumably before any Spanish authorities seize them.” Her tone was withering, her recitation dry. It was a most unexpected expression, coming from such a young miss. What did she know of such matters?
Smythington steered her off the path, crossing the well-trimmed grass to a mighty oak spreading its summer foliage across the green. He stepped underneath the canopy and turned to face Sebastian, who was forced to follow. As soon as he was close enough for speech, Smythington spoke, his friendliness evaporating.
“You’re hunting Lady Wandsworth,” he said flatly. “Or, I should say, her sixty thousand pounds.”
Sebastian held back his surprise. “I assure you, sir—”
Smythington rolled his eyes. “Come, come. There is no friend in prison. I warrant the prison itself does not exist. In the next few days, once you have enticed her with the idea of getting her hands on…what? Several more thousands of pounds that are as fictitious as the prison, you will artfully coax her into spending a few thousand pounds of her own on bribes, and expenses that need to be raised in order to shift the prisoner’s business affairs out of Spain. Then a week or so later, when your imaginary friend is at the point of death, you will beg her for a few thousand more in order to secure his escape. That will be the last she will see of her money, while you will disappear over the nearest horizon.”
Sebastian let anger cross his features. “You, sir, are insulting my character and my—”
“Nathanial, we don’t have time for this,” the girl said wearily. “He’s ruining the most delicious caper I’ve ever dreamed up. Do something!”
This time Sebastian could feel the shock right through to his fingertips. He stared at Beatrice, at her fresh innocence and youth. The high cheekbones touched with a blush of pink. “You…you are attempting to swindle Lady Wandsworth?” He felt breathless.
“You are rather in the way,” Nathanial told him.
“How…?” Sebastian asked the girl flatly.
She smiled at him. “As if I would tell you!”
“One of you needs to renege,” Nathanial added.
“I have been working on this for weeks,” Sebastian protested.
“I’ve been doing it for months,” Beatrice said flatly. “She doesn’t trust anyone. It’s taken me weeks to win her approval.” She scowled. “I don’t know why she trusted you so quickly.”
“She doesn’t trust me,” Sebastian said flatly. “She believes I am as stupid as I have let her believe. She wants the money in Spain. Once she gets her hands on it, she thinks, she is going to throw me out of England and keep it for herself. Trust has nothing to do with it.” He gave Beatrice a small smile. “I play to the victim’s weaknesses. Perhaps you should try it. You may have better luck.”
“I am playing to her weaknesses,” Beatrice shot back with a scowl.
“I assure you,” Sebastian told her. “Mercy Wandsworth is no more interested in your admittedly breathtaking innocence than mine.”
“Of course she is not,” Beatrice snapped. “She wants my body, not my soul.”
Sebastian caught his sagging jaw and closed it with a snap, while he reconstructed the facts surrounding Lady Wandsworth as he now understood them. It was always vital to understand the victim’s wants and desires, what moved them to make decisions, before attempting any swindle. How had he missed this?
“Mercy Wandsworth is as crooked as a bent farthing,” Nathanial added. He clapped Sebastian’s shoulder. “You knew that, or you would not have dangled the temptation of ill-gotten gains in front of her. Come and drink with us, Laurier. You look in need of propping up. An ale will take care of that.”
Sebastian shook his head. “I thank you, but I must refuse.”
“Leave the widow alone, boy,” Smythington said. “Give her time to think and to develop a keener appetite for your friend’s money. She’ll fall into your hand like a ripe peach.”
There was wisdom in what he was saying. To press the matter too hard would be to show his hand. But to leave her unattended for too long came with different risks.
“I suppose a small cup of ale would be appreciated,” Sebastian conceded. But he fully intended to pursue Lady Wandsworth to the bitter end as quickly as possible, now he had a rival for her sixty thousand pounds.
* * * * *
There was a public inn on Pound Tree Road, a brisk forty minutes’ walk from the oak tree they had stood beneath. Smythington, however, had a coach waiting on the west side of the park, which he led them to. “My rooms,” he told the driver, who touched his brim and picked up the reins.
They settled inside the carriage. Sebastian found it odd that Beatrice did not sit next to her fiancé…if he was her fiancé. Instead, she sat next to him and took off her hat and gloves, and the lace modesty panel covering her décolletage. She loosened her hair, letting a few stray locks fall about her face.
The change to her appearance with just a few simple adjustments was astonishing. The innocent maiden had departed. In her place sat a woman of striking loveliness, her figure outlined most agreeably by the satin of her gown. She glanced at Sebastian with a look that spoke o
f experience with men. “It is more effective a disguise than simply trying to appear foolish,” she told him.
Nathanial smiled. “Hers is a disguise that has enamored legions,” he added.
“I thought we were going to an inn,” Sebastian said.
“My rooms are closer and the company far more congenial. Besides, it wouldn’t be appropriate for a lady to be seen in an inn,” Smythington replied. “What is your name, by the way?”
Sebastian stared at him.
“I ask, because I am wondering if I have heard of your deeds before now,” Nathaniel continued. “There are not many of us who move among the gentry…well, not many that last long. You had an excellent scheme there.”
“I have an excellent scheme,” Sebastian replied stiffly.
“Your accent is quite genuine, too,” Nathaniel added. “Were you born to this life and lost your way?”
“That is most certainly none of your concern.” Anger was prodding him, and Sebastian considered once more the wisdom of spending time in this man’s company. “Who are you, exactly?” he demanded. “I know nothing of you. Your name is not familiar.”
“Of course it isn’t. The name is not mine, any more than Beatrice is Anne’s real name.” He touched his long fingers to the silk brocade waistcoat. “I am Nathanial Aquila. You will not have heard of me. I only arrived in England this spring.” He lifted his hand toward Beatrice. Anne. “This is Anne Beecham, who has gone by many names and can claim many coups as her own. Do not let her looks deceive you.”
Sebastian looked at them both. “You trust me with your real names?”
Nathanial raised a single brow. “We witnessed you acting in a fraudulent manner toward Lady Wandsworth. You could no more tell the police about us than we can reveal your activities to them and risk you sharing our names with them. We have each other over the proverbial barrel. So tell me your name. I will not deal with one of your false identities.”
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