A Secret Deal With The Devilish Baron (Historical Regency)
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A Secret Deal with the Devilish Baron
A REGENCY ROMANCE NOVEL
LUCY LANGTON
Copyright © 2019 by Lucy Langton
All Rights Reserved.
This book may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form without the written permission of the publisher.
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Table of Contents
A Secret Deal with the Devilish Baron
Table of Contents
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A Secret Deal with the Devilish Baron
Introduction
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
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
The Scandalous Life of a Betrayed Heiress
Introduction
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
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A Secret Deal with the Devilish Baron
Introduction
Isabel’s world turns world upside down when she finds out her brother lost everything in gambling with the most notorious Baron in town. Fierce like a tiger, she storms into the Baron’s estate to regain her pride and property, but instead of the scandalous scoundrel she expected to meet, she finds a broken man trying to hide his scars. Will she eventually be the one to heal his broken soul?
The legends about his bad behavior make the Baron, a person to be feared. When seeing Isabel and intrigued by her reckless personality, he offers a condition in return; she must be a companion to his ailing sister, and live in his estate until he says otherwise. But with every moment he shares with the passionate Isabel, Baron’s bad manners soften into admiration…and more. Will he be able to handle the sizzling passion?
Isabel, surprisingly finds out that not everything is as it seems in the Baron’s estate. As time goes by, she finds herself falling for the Baron’s charm, but not before she berates him for his ignoble behavior. Will she be able to make him open his heart to love again? While everything seems to be going out of control, can Isabel take the reins and steer her life towards the future she dreams of?
Chapter 1
The barkeeper shuffled around the tables, stepping over a few wandering feet. Grumpy and tired from the day’s work, he placed the tray of food on the table and went back to get the ale. Hopefully, they were the last of the tavern’s customers that needed serving.
His wife had left him some hours ago to close the shed and bring in the clothes she had washed, but she was yet to return. He knew it was no doubt because of the rain.
Placing the mugs, he collected his money and returned to his stack of drinks. Just then, a heavily bearded man with a hat on his head and a large black coat draped over his frame, opened the door and walked in. Beads of raindrops fell from his clothes and beard. More came from his hat and coat as he took them off and hung them on a rack beside the door. The whole tavern grew still, everyone seemingly taken by the strange-looking man.
Huge and intimidating, he walked boldly towards the only vacant table left in the tavern. His wet hair covered most of his face, and he seemed to move, based on instinct rather than sight. Seated gracefully on his seat, he raised his head to catch the stares of a group of thuggish looking men in knights’ armor seated at the opposite corner.
Ignoring them, he motioned to the barkeeper with his hands, as if he was giving a signal. Soon they all went on with their chattering. The barkeeper rang a little bell, and a young lady of no more than sixteen came out from an adjacent room. The barkeeper whispered something in her ear, and she left to return with a large plate of chicken wings, a plate of sauce, bread, and a mug of ale. She placed them down before the strange man’s table. He made a grunting noise shooing her away.
One of the knights, Little Billy, stood up from his seat, slamming his mug on the table. He was almost bald, save for the few strands of dirty hair that clung to his scalp. He was tall, big, and muscular. His beard came down in an arch and was tied at the middle like that of an old wizard, but on him, it made him appear menacing.
He walked towards the barkeeper, intimidating him with his height and build.
“Why were we given lesser portions of food when you clearly had so much for a common beggar?”
The bartender felt his hands shake beneath the napkin he held so tightly. Little Billy was not one to be trifled with, not even by other knights of his equal ranking. He knew this, and so did everyone else whose eyes he felt watching him.
“He’s a regular here. He always pays beforehand, and truly we served you and your party the best of what little we had,” the barkeeper replied.
“Well, my friends and I want some of what you just gave that beggar, and we want it now. On the house!” Little Billy demanded, much to the cheers of his friends.
The barkeeper closed his eyes for a moment, thinking of what to do or say. He knew he was in a dire situation. There was only a little bit of food left, and that was what he planned for his family as the rain was still falling in torrents and the woodshed must have had its fill of water. Cooking at this hour and with such resources would simply mean sleeping with a hungry belly.
“Let the barkeeper be!” came the croaky voice of the stranger.
Little Billy steered his head in the direction from whence the voice came. His friends stopped laughing, and there was an uneasy tension within the tavern.
“Did you just say something, stranger?” he asked.
The stranger took his time in replying. He dropped the last piece of meat onto the now empty plate of half-eaten bones. He wiped his hands with the napkin on the table and seemed to be searching for something on the floor.
Satisfied, he looked straight into Little Billy’s eyes and repeated himself. “I said, let the barkeeper be.”
At that, Little Billy scowled his face so hard his brows were almost touching. His friends, seeing his mood, stood up in unison to fight. The remaining customers remained seated. None seemed to be in the mood to interfere.
Provoked and in the company of his friends, Little Billy walked towards the stranger; strength, hatred, and boiling rage in every step. In a few seconds, the gap between Little Billy and the stranger was closed, and he stared down at the man, waiting for the next provocation so he could be justified as he unleashed his wrath.
“Say one more thing stranger, and you will feel the might of the renowned knight that can kill a hundred men with his bare hands, Sir Bill Murphy; the bone breaker!” said one of the little men that accompanied the acclaimed knight.
“Is that so?” replied the stranger.
> He raised his head into the light, and only then did the men see his face. Their eyes met his, and the look on their faces changed dramatically from one of intimidation to that of recognition and fear. Tracing the hard unmistakable line that was a scar on his face, the men realised immediately whom exactly they were threatening.
One by one, his friends backed off, sneaking out of the tavern until only Little Billy was left standing. He stood there motionless and afraid, with his head bowed in remorse and regret. The stranger got up from his seat and walked past Little Billy and towards the barkeeper.
“He’ll pay for the meal. Goodnight Fredrick,” he said and proceeded to get his coat.
The barkeeper bowed his head in respect and gratitude at the greeting. To him, it was pretty obvious that Little Billy had not guessed who he was insulting.
The customers were still quiet, unrecovered from the spectacle that had seen the mighty Billy stop short on making quick work of the stranger that was now leaving.
The rain had stopped now, and the moon and stars were beginning to display their breathtaking splendour.
“Goodnight, Lord William,” the barkeeper muttered barely audibly.
Chapter 2
The church was full to its capacity and even had some souls seeking penance, those most especially without a title that comes with an automatic seat reservation, standing at the far corners of the large building.
A young lady was seen clad in black with a shawl over her head as the older lady beside her bowed her head in prayer with the voice of the minister echoing through the large hall and over her head.
The Bishop blessed the holy bread, raised it high, so that all who looked upon the body of the one and true Christ may rise along with him and be worthy of his love and salvation. He muttered some words and proceeded with the ritual of the Holy Eucharist.
Isabel Montgomery, the young lady, closed her eyes and prayed for the forgiveness of her sins. She felt the overbearing presence of the lady beside her and forced herself to remain focused, just as her mother had taught. Although completely overwhelmed by sorrow and grief, she compelled her aching heart to plead the blessings and guidance of the merciful God.
Done with her prayers, she raised her head high, stood, and went to receive the body of her saviour. The bread felt stale and moist on her tongue, but she accepted it wholeheartedly. The walk back to her seat was more of instinct than will. Her thinking was gone. Her reasoning was gone. All that remained was the singular thought of the holy flesh about to find its way into her bowels and grant her immunity from the forces of evil and darkness that plagued the earth.
The rest of the mass mattered far less to young Isabel as the Bishop led it to a close. Towards the end, the congregation was reminded of the passing of the Montgomery family and how huge a loss it was for the community, county, and nation.
More plaudits were given to her dead parents whose bodies had only arrived the previous day and were going to be lowered into the grave the next day. Isabel detested these announcements, even more so now that it concerned her more personally than ever.
One by one, sympathizers came to offer their condolences while she was forced to remain seated, accepting them. She offered them a smile in return for their prayers and well wishes.
Once the last group was done offering their sympathy, she excused herself and exited the church. Outside, the sun was not yet out, and the clouds promised impending rain. Without her mother to act as her chaperone, Aunt Mariam had taken her place. Aunt Mariam was the oldest residing member of the family that was not really related to them by blood. She had been her mother’s friend for as long as she could remember. Moreover, even though she was more of a family member than an outsider, Isabel found it still discomforting to walk the entire distance back home knowing her mother would not be around anymore.
Nevertheless, it gave her time to think. Her parents had been strong pillars of the community; highly active in the church, owners of various large farms that employed and paid nearly a hundred of the townsfolk. Her father was a nobleman and had befriended Dukes, Counts, and Barons too numerous to number.
They had travelled for the wedding of a cousin in a distant country, and on their return, had been unfortunate to encounter a raging storm that overturned and wrecked their ship. Only a few had survived. Now, their bodies laid in the morgue, being bathed with chemicals to reduce the stench of their rottenness.
Isabel shook her head at the displeasing thought. Tears welled in her eyes, but she bathed them away as she made the walk home. Aunt Mariam had not said much during the walk from the church, and Isabel was grateful for it.
There was the sound of hoofs and wheels as Isabel looked up to see a man riding a horse and a carriage being drawn by another. Together, they looked like travellers, but she recognised the man riding the lone stallion. He was a Baron and went by the name Lord William Gregory. He was very popular in the province as a man of brute strength and immoral character.
There were tons of rumors circulating that he never went to church, that he frequented the ladies of the night, and his drinking and gambling habits. He truly had the most scandalous reputation.
This was the first time she was this close to him in public. Even without any other physical pointer, the long scar on his face was a telltale sign that he was a man that lived close to danger.
For the briefest second, their eyes met, and Isabel saw the stern look on his face and the unending depth of his eyes. She hurriedly looked away. Best to let sleeping dogs lie. No use thinking about someone else’s business. She already had enough on her plate with her brother and all.
The clouds were angry now and were sure to pour out the contents of their belly anytime soon. Isabel thought herself wise she had not forgotten to bring along her umbrella.
The rain started just as they were entering the estate. It was as though some unseen forces had held it at bay until the last moment.
“Let me take that off you,” Aunt Mariam said and left with the wet umbrella.
Isabel stared around the now empty house. Once upon a time, there was always something to look forward to, a ball, a feast, Thanksgiving, an anniversary, a promotion. Now Isabel sometimes caught the hidden stares of a few maids. There was no one to give them orders or tell them what to prepare.
She wondered where her brother was. Usually, when the head of the family becomes absent or unavailable, the first son takes up the responsibility of taking care of the house or estate. However, ever since their parents had travelled, her brother, George, had not been around to do anything seemingly responsible.
The next day would be the funeral ceremony of their late parents, and Isabel could already feel her shoulders cringing under the weight of both the emotional and physical pain of their absence. Sitting down, she laid her head back on the chair.
She did not know when she closed her eyes until she felt something warm covering her body. Opening her eyes, she found Aunt Mariam covering her with a thick cloth.
“Easy, my lady,” she said. “The weather is a bit chilling, and it would be best not to catch a cold tonight.”
Isabel was about to protest, but Aunt Mariam’s firm hands stilled her.
“Rest, My Lady. You know you’re going to need it for tomorrow’s ceremony.”
“But who is going to take care of the preparations? George has not been around for how long, and I don’t even know what to do!” Isabel whimpered.
“Do you honestly think that I would allow you bear the burdens alone? I have been like your sister ever since you were a little babe, have you not learned anything in all your nineteen years? And besides, left to you, what do you hope to accomplish in just a day?”
Isabel could not deny that what Aunt Mariam said made perfect sense. There was no use in arguing with her. However, she still felt guilty at letting her handle everything but knew there was little she could do to change anything.
All she could hope for was that once her brother returned, he would take respon
sibility for managing their property. From there they would decide on what next to do.
As Isabel drifted off to sleep, she felt a little spark of hope burning within her. Maybe, not all was lost yet.