Twice the Temptation

by Beverley Kendall

  Twice the Temptation

  Beverley Kendall

  Copyright © Beverley Kendall 2013

  Published by Season Publishing

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.

  www.theseasonforromance.com

  www.beverleykendall.com

  Cover Design © Hot Damn Designs

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the author.

  License Statement

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each reader. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to the author and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Dedication

  To the love of my life, Ryan.

  Mommy loves you always.

  Acknowledgments

  Anastasia, need I say more. You are fabulous. Mary, thanks for always being available for those grammar questions. Kristin, thanks for your valuable input—which you'll see it in the finished version. Ladies, your hard work is truly appreciated.

  And to my lovely beta readers who helped to find those irritating little mistakes and whose turn-around time was amazing. Ladies you've helped in preparing me to release my "baby" to the public.

  Gentlemen of the ton…prepare to be tempted.

  Temptation is as old as Adam and Eve. Unfortunately, succumbing to it is as natural as breathing to the gentlemen in the haut ton. For prospective brides bent on fidelity, three of the ton's most ravishing beauties will help determine the faithful from the philanderers. What they hadn’t counted on was emotional entanglements…

  A Temptress in Love

  Catherine Rutherford has been smitten with the sinfully handsome American, Lucas Beaumont, since their introduction the year before. And he appears just as enamored of her, for following his return to London he launches a seductive campaign to ensnare her heart and capture her hand in marriage. Never has Catherine been so confident in the outcome of a courtship…that is until she discovers her would-be groom proposed marriage to her sister first.

  Although she and her twin share the same face, Catherine refuses to share a man’s affections much less be any woman’s substitute. So with the aid of her twin and two friends, she challenges the man she loves to the ultimate test of fidelity. Posing as her heartbroken sister—who is really anything but—Catherine seeks his solace from an “unhappy marriage” and begins a tempestuous game of seduction where the true proof of his love lies in his ability to resist her charms.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Also by Beverley Kendall

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Epilogue

  An Heir of Deception Excerpt

  Also by Beverley Kendall

  Historical Romance

  The Elusive Lords Series

  Sinful Surrender

  A Taste of Desire

  All’s Fair in Love & Seduction (enovella)

  An Heir of Deception

  ~~~

  New Adult Romance

  Unforgettable You Series

  Only For You

  All Over You (enovella)

  PROLOGUE

  Berkshire, 29 March 1864

  Lucas was here.

  Catherine Rutherford’s stomach dipped and rolled at the knowledge.

  The sharp click of her heels on the glistening hardwood floors echoed throughout the hallway as she returned to the entrance hall of Rutherford Manor.

  A movement at the top of the staircase drew her eyes upward. She was certain her heart literally skipped a beat when she saw the man who now consumed her thoughts, descending the stairs two at a time.

  In the moment before he saw her, she took that time to take him in. Good gracious, Lucas Beaumont was a handsome one, possessing the kind of masculine beauty that could—and invariably did—steal enough of a woman’s breath to leave her light-headed and disoriented. Trying to keep one’s feet planted solidly on the ground wasn’t so easy a feat with one’s head in the clouds. Catherine slowed as she approached the foot of the double staircase.

  His mouth was set in a grim line, and his brows were furrowed as if he’d been deep in thought, and not altogether pleasant ones. But the moment he spotted her, the severity of his countenance eased…somewhat.

  “Lucas?” she asked, for it was clear something was wrong. Another thorough check of his person affirmed he and her brother-in-law, Alex Cartwright, the Marquess of Avondale, had not come to blows as no doubt her twin sister, Charlotte, must have feared given her mad dash upstairs after her husband had arrived a quarter hour ago. To say her brother-in-law had taken an instant and vehement dislike to Lucas would be vastly understating the matter.

  Instead of answering her question, his gaze remained riveted on her as he continued down the stairs.

  A frisson of pleasure coursed down her spine at the desire she saw there. But it was banked so quickly, she wasn’t sure what to make of his mood. In the weeks since he’d arrived from America, she’d only seen him like this once—after his first encounter with Alex.

  “I didn’t know you had come.” Catherine smiled, happy to see him and uncaring of how obvious she was being about it. And why should she hide it? They were more than mere acquaintances now.

  He halted in front of her. “Actually, I was coming to look for you. I called today to say goodbye.”

  Goodbye? He hadn’t come to call on her? In recent weeks, they’d been spending so much time together, she’d assumed his presence today meant another outing. There was a lovely old elm down by the creek, and as the day had favored them with excellent weather, it would make an ideal spot for a picnic.

  “Oh.” It was impossible to keep the disappointment from her voice, or from settling like lead in the pit of her stomach.

  “I have business in London today.” But the strain in his voice didn’t signify the loss of her company for a single day.

  “Wi-will you be coming back?” she asked as she tried to convince herself she was reading too much into things. Why shouldn’t he miss her so much that the prospect of the time apart from her would reduce him to a state of melancholy?

  “Unfortunately, I am due back home the week after next,
so from London, I’ll be returning to America.”

  At his seemingly carefully worded response, Catherine felt poleaxed. Her breath stuttered before ceasing completely. Her heart thudded too loud in her ears, but it was a hollow, empty sound. Images of her throwing herself at his person to prevent him from leaving came to mind in such vivid clarity, she clutched her hands behind her back. She dare not move an inch from where she stood for fear of doing just that—and thus making an utter fool of herself.

  As it was, she had no choice but to withstand the razor-sharp pain that sliced through her heart without visibly flinching.

  “I see.” She drew in a breath, trying not to inhale too deeply as not to feed the overwhelming pain, hurt, and panic inside her. Numbness was preferable in this situation. When she spoke, she attempted to speak without undue inflection in her voice and congratulated herself on doing a fair job of it. “Well then I shall wish you a safe passage back.”

  The self-flagellation came all too quickly and was ruthless in its execution. She’d thought something rare, something special had developed between them. She now realized that the entire time she’d been allowing herself to hope for something more, he’d been toying with the English girl adrift in Society—never wholly rejected, yet never fully embraced.

  She, Catherine Rutherford was all kinds of fools. Had she thought herself so special that he would ask her to leave her home to live with him in America? And how utterly deluded of she to retain a flicker of hope that he would uproot his life to be with her in England. Why hadn’t she seen what was so clear now? That the whole affair had been impossible from the start.

  In any case, isn’t this what she deserved? It was ironic and entirely fitting that she should pay for her trespasses in this manner.

  Yes, entirely fitting and precisely what you deserve.

  “Catherine—”

  “Goodbye, Mr. Beaumont.” She made her voice flat and emotionless.

  His features softened. His hand lifted as if reaching out to her. She moved then, stepping hastily back.

  Difficult didn’t come close to expressing just how hard it was to maintain eye contact, to not drop her gaze from the sympathy in his. If it appeared emotional turmoil resided there as well, she chalked it up to guilt at her misconstruing his attentions.

  At length, Lucas spoke, his voice soft and heavy with regret. “Goodbye, Catherine.”

  While she could still manage to maintain her composure, Catherine turned with a swish of skirts and walked blindly away. Walked away from him first for she could not bear to watch him take the necessary steps it would take to walk out of her life.

  CHAPTER ONE

  London, 2 August 1864

  Catherine was not a seductress, possessing no appreciable wiles she was aware of. Which made what she was being asked—or daresay begged—to do impossible.

  While the request may ostensibly appear flattering, catering to the sometimes bottomless well that was a woman’s vanity, the whole of it was singularly insulting.

  Belatedly, she clamped her mouth shut, as it had fallen indelicately open. Not upon hearing the question but in the process of making sense of it. Spine lengthened and head tipped slightly back, Catherine regarded Miss Beatrice Claremont, youngest daughter to Baron Frederick Claremont.

  The young miss, blonde-haired and pink-cheeked, sat opposite her on the brocade sofa in the drawing room, looking the epitome of everything innocent and earnest despite the discomfort that had her fidgeting with the pleats of her skirt.

  Looks, it appeared, could be very deceiving, as Miss Claremont’s request clearly revealed. For there was a jaded side to the young woman that one could not discern by merely looking at her. Sweet and innocent indeed, one must add in a healthy dose of cynicism and cunning. Ah yes, and one mustn’t forget the sheer audacity it must have taken to issue the request.

  It took several seconds more for Catherine to compose herself enough to respond. “Am I to understand, Miss Claremont, that you would have me seduce the man you wish to marry?” She spoke softly, almost tenderly on the off chance the poor girl had recently suffered a serious head injury and all her faculties had yet to be fully restored, but in a tone that conveyed she wholly understood the enormity of the insult just dealt her.

  Catherine was well aware that her and her sister’s acceptance by the ton—and she meant acceptance in the loosest definition of the word—was due solely to their half-brother’s position in society. Not only was James Rutherford the wealthy and prosperous Earl of Windmere, in the years since their father’s death, he’d become an influential member of Parliament in the House of Lords. But no one had ever had the temerity to address her with such an exceeding lack of tact.

  The whites of Miss Claremont’s eyes were now more prominent than the brown of the irises. A sharp inhale of breath preceded her hushed, “Seduce him? Oh my goodness not in that manner.”

  Catherine blinked. “I wasn’t aware there was any other.” Perhaps she’d missed a vital lesson in boarding school that would have contradicted her.

  A nervous laugh bubbled from the young woman’s throat. “Oh nothing so untoward. I merely meant that you should flirt with him. A smile or two. A glance. Act in the manner a lady would when attempting to gain the attentions of a gentleman.”

  Well, it would appear that their definition of seduce varied dramatically. Rather like the difference between poke and stab, the results of which depended largely on the person’s intent not the type or size of the instrument used to perform the act. In this instance, she rather thought seduce was the stab, and flirt, the poke.

  When Miss Claremont had called on her at James’s London residence, Laurel House that morning, Catherine had been surprised for they could only be considered passing acquaintances. At nineteen, Miss Claremont was six years her junior and had come out only the past season.

  But when she’d timidly asked if she could beg a favor, Catherine hadn’t the heart to refuse her an audience. Although what the young woman could want from her had been a mystery.

  This may appear somewhat unorthodox, but I’d like you to seduce Lord Jacobsen, had solved that particular mystery, negating necessity for any strenuous sleuthing.

  May appear unorthodox? Bethlem hadn’t been called Bedlam for nothing and if Miss Claremont continued to issue those sorts of requests, she may very well end up there. “Why pray tell, would you want me to do that?” A fair question if one was ever asked.

  The silk of her turquoise day dress gave a soft hiss as Miss Claremont shifted in her seat. She absently smoothed the pleats that required no smoothing. “You must have heard what happened with Lord Ashmore.” Her delicate features tightened in what could only be described as remembered pain and embarrassment before her gaze dropped to her lap.

  Miss Claremont’s former betrothed.

  The scoundrel.

  All of London had heard—some bearing witness—to what happened with Lord Ashmore. Not only had the whole sordid affair run rampant in the rumor mills, but the gossip rags had spent a great deal of ink and paper informing the voracious reading public of every salacious detail. As faithless and dissolute as many gentlemen of the ton were, it was a rare occasion that one was actually caught in the act of being faithless and dissolute. The woman had been his mistress, which it would appear, he hadn’t been about to give up over the trifling issue of an engagement of marriage. Poor Miss Claremont had barely escaped the scandal. Even now, there was still a faint tarnish to her previously spotless reputation.

  The small nod of acknowledgment Catherine gave also offered her sympathies. It was simply impolitic to speak of the incident. One only spoke of it if Miss Claremont herself broached the subject and even then, one’s response must not delve into the particulars unless otherwise explicitly invited to do so. No such invitation had been extended nor did Catherine wish for one.

  “Lord Jacobsen intends to ask my father for my hand. Before—well the unfortunate situation with Lord Ashmore—I had no expectations of fidel
ity. Truth to tell, I don’t believe I’d given it much thought at all. But my expectations are very different now. Now, not only do I expect it, I’m resolved not to marry until I have some assurance I shall get it—at least as much as a woman can be assured of such things. And because I believe fidelity requires more than a man’s word, I can think of no other way to make him prove himself than this.”

  Catherine was the this to which she referred and she didn’t know whether to feel affronted or flattered. Sympathy overrode both. To varying degrees, they were comrades in arms in this.

  Miss Claremont continued with her impassioned statement. “I adhere to the idea that a man’s actions speaks louder than his words. If nothing else, my experience with Lord Ashmore taught me that.”

  Catherine could not have agreed with her more. Truly, such sage words from one so young. And indeed, it was a novel approach, though some might find it a tad underhanded. But in the light of what happened to the poor girl on her first go-around in the marriage mart, it wasn’t altogether surprising she’d approach this engagement with a great deal more caution…and an abundance of skepticism.

  “While I understand your motivation—although I can’t say I fully approve of your chosen method—pray, why would you ask me?”

  Based on the look her question evoked, one would swear a third eye had just appeared in the middle of Catherine’s forehead. She almost raised her hand to her brow to make certain one had not.

  Miss Claremont stared at her in the suspended beats of silence that now encompassed the sun-lit room with its corniced ceiling and silk, white-and-gold papered walls. She shook her head, but not hard enough to displace even one of the coiled curls framing her heart-shaped face. “Miss Rutherford, have you no access to a mirror? You’re nothing short of ravishing. You and your sister.”