Mrs. Darcy's Masque Seduction

By V. L. King and Violet King

Can Elizabeth seduce Mr. Darcy a second time?

Fearing Mr. Darcy has taken a London mistress, Elizabeth follows her husband to a Masquerade ball to uncover the truth. Has he betrayed her, or is she betraying him? And can she seduce him a second time?

Mr. Darcy would never stray from his wife. But holding this masked beauty in his arms, he is tempted. Will forbidden desire destroy their marriage or save it?

Find out in Mrs. Darcy's Masque Seduction, a sensual Pride and Prejudice variation filled with romance, passion, fun, and, of course, a sensual HEA. Mrs. Darcy's Masque Seduction is 11,500 words, perfect for an evening read.

If you love sensual Pride & Prejudice variations, grab Mrs. Darcy's Masque Seduction today!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Pemberley Playground Press
• Release date: Aug 8, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393661535

Book preview

Chapter 1

Fitzwilliam kissed like a man drowning. He held Elizabeth close, one hand on the small of her back, the other cupping her head, his tongue slipping between her parted lips, his manhood hard against her belly. It was enough to make Elizabeth forget his mistress in London.

If he had a mistress.

Elizabeth did not know for sure. She knew he had lied to her though, his steward stating no knowledge of sudden repairs or disaster at their London townhouse. Mrs. Lavinia Dorset, neighbor and old family friend of Mr. Darcy the elder, insisted a mistress was the most likely reason Mr. Darcy so frequently visited his London townhouse alone.

Mrs. Dorset’s proclamation had knocked the breath from Elizabeth’s lungs. A week later, doubts knotted Elizabeth's guts, resting in the back of her throat, tasting like acid as she and their two children waved their father goodbye for the third time in as many months.

Dinna fret, wee ‘uns, said the nanny, Sophie, a round-faced Scottish lass with long, auburn hair in braids hanging from the nape of her neck. She patted Elizabeth’s youngest, Emma, on the head. Yer da will return in the flick of a horse’s tail.

Emma, a dark-haired three-year-old possessed of Fitzwilliam's quiet nature and thoughtful squint, nodded.

Her five-year-old brother, Aldous, laughed. A poopy horse? he said, slapping his hand over his mouth, dark eyes twinkling as honey-brown curls bounced on his forehead.

Shh! Emma admonished, stamping her foot and glaring at her brother.

Aldous laughed again.

Elizabeth schooled her face into a serious expression even as inside she smothered a laugh. She loved the children with every fiber of her soul. Though she might doubt her husband, she could never doubt them. Soon, within six months if she measured her monthly courses accurately, she and Fitzwilliam would be blessed with a third child. Surely then, her husband would stay home. Or perhaps a mewling infant would drive him further away. Some men, like Mr. Hurst, avoided their babies until they were old enough for, in his words, ‘a proper conversation.’

No, not Fitzwilliam. Elizabeth might question his fidelity, but not the evidence of his fatherly affection. Fitzwilliam had loved holding his infant children. Even as they grew older, he took time to play with Aldous and Emma, more often than other fathers of their elevated class did, as Elizabeth had learned.

If only Lavinia had not put these notions in Elizabeth’s mind. Fitzwilliam…a mistress? Elizabeth had married for love, and she had a wonderful life and family. It was foolish to question her good fortune. She wanted to banish her doubts, and for the next few hours she did, joining Sophie and the children in the nursery, playing games and reading aloud to them as she did often, wanting them to love books as much as she did.

Elizabeth put her doubts far from her mind through the morning and for a picnic lunch, after which Emma and Aldous waded gleefully in the fountain in defiance of the early summer heat.

A moment of joy, quickly dashed, rose in Elizabeth as she saw a carriage approaching the house and recognized it was not her husband, changing his mind about his sudden town business, and instead bore the Dorset seal.

Mrs. Dorset made a habit of popping in around teatime. She had three children of her own, all boys—two of school age, and one in the care of a nanny. None of the boys were in attendance today, which meant they were running about her estate or summering with their cousins near the sea. Likely the former, as Mrs. Dorset was not one to forego the opportunity to travel.

Sophie said, I am supposin’ it is Wednesday. Mrs. Dorset invites herself for tea on Wednesdays.

Normally, a servant would not be so forward in her admonishment of a guest, but Elizabeth and Sophie had grown close over the years, and Elizabeth was not one to be strict about proprieties in any sense. Especially as she agreed Mrs. Dorset took liberties, both in her self-invitation and her intimations that Mr.