A Scoundrel for the Rebellious Lady: Secret Lords and Ladies

By Erin Grace

Nightmares are the only memories Victorian Ashton has from her early childhood – if indeed they were memories at all – but her physical scars are real.

Recently freed from a caged life at the mercy of a man posing as her uncle, she is wary of the world – and of men.

 

No one would ever control her again – especially the rogue who'd stolen a kiss.

 

When Ethan Vale helped a woman escape from an unscrupulous blackguard, little did he know her shrouded past would come back to claim her - and that he would lose his heart to someone who vowed never to love.

 

When faced with a heartbreaking choice, both must decide where their future lay…

• Language: English
• Publisher: Erin Grace
• Release date: Apr 11, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215052761

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

JAMES PARK ESTATE, LONDON 1793

W hy didn’t you tell me? Hands fisted beside her, Victoria Ashton paced back and forth across the enormous library floor of James Park, ruffles of midnight blue silk swirling around her feet. Two days! For two whole days, I have been beside myself with worry. After everything you had warned me about being careful, I feared Grace had been kidnapped, or worse.

Lord, she’d never been so angry. No. Anger wasn’t the right word to describe the way she felt towards the well-dressed man standing calmly before her. She was furious.

Insufferable creature.

And, that stupid smile of his.

Ethan Vale had a lot of explaining to do.

Vicky, be reasonable. I was sworn to secrecy. You couldn’t expect me to go back on my word?

Secrecy? She rounded on him. Of all the double standards. And don’t you dare call me Vicky.

Frustrated by his calm demeanour, she faced him, her burning glare colliding with the two cool, blue pools posing as his eyes. Mesmerised but for a moment, she could almost feel the resulting steam sizzle and rise between their bodies.

As her heartbeat quickened, her lips suddenly became dry.

No. Stop it. Not him.

Regaining her composure, she slowly backed away, breath catching in her chest. Hell. How did he do that? Make her feel so vulnerable, whilst he stayed so assured. Heat raced to her cheeks as she turned away, ready to continue with her verbal assault.

Calm yourself, Miss Ashton. It is all for the best. Grace and Marcus are married and safely aboard the Serenade. The ceremony happened very quickly and to both their satisfaction. There is no doubt theirs was a love match. And, knowing your dear cousin as I do, I’m certain Marcus will have his hands full during their honeymoon. He stood beside her and tried to reach for her hand, but she snatched it away. Come now. I thought surely, you’d be happy for Grace?

A small sigh escaped her. Don’t be foolish. Of course, I am happy for her—for them both. I’m not blind, Mr Vale. Indeed, it was love. I saw how she’d paled and near wasted away waiting for him to return to her all those weeks. Never had I witnessed someone so devoted to another. Marcus is fortunate indeed to have her. She resumed her pacing, wanting nothing more than to put a little space between them. Whenever Ethan Vale was near, she seemed to struggle with rational thought—and she didn’t like it. Over the years, she’d learned that when it came to men, she couldn’t be too careful. And Vale was no exception. But you still could have told me Marcus had intended to spirit her away like that. And, besides, it was I who had risked everything, and broke my promise, by telling you Grace was with child in the first place. The least you could have done was to confide in me the same way.

Damn him! Damn all men. Always a different set of rules for them. She’d be a fool to ever think otherwise.

Exhaling a deep breath, her thoughts turned to dear Grace.

The only joy she’d felt for her entire situation lay in the knowledge that her young cousin had found true happiness in the arms of the man she loved.

But, after having no other family than Grace for as long as she could remember, she was now truly on her own.

Alone.

The notion sent a cold chill along her spine and her throat tightened; hands trembled.

Not that she wasn’t afraid to work for herself, provide for herself. Far from it. In fact, gaining her own security had long been a priority—it was what had given her the courage to help Grace with their plans to run away and find Grace’s benefactor in the first place. No. It was the shapeless, grey spectres from her childhood that made her fear the darkness, fear being abandoned to the fog where one simply ceased to exist.

Inhaling a deep, steadying breath, she glanced towards the doorway. What to do next? Only heaven knew. She needed time to think.

She inclined her head and met the man’s eye. Thank you for informing me of the news. Good day, Mr Vale.

Mr Vale? I thought you’d agreed to call me Ethan?

You are mistaken. A hint of disappointment flashed across his face, but he didn’t say a word. Turning on her heel, she strode towards the library door. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go and pack.

Where are you going?

A good question, and she scrambled for an answer. Pausing at the doorway, she turned around to face him. North.

North? He walked towards her, his sensual gaze tracing around every curve of her face. Trembling inside, she held her ground, but the paper-thin resolve threatened to crumble into dust. From the very first time she’d met him, she’d held no illusions: the man was dangerous. Then perhaps you will allow me to help you. I recall I may have contacts…

No. Averting her eyes from his searching stare, she tried to maintain control.

Only months ago, he and Grace had rescued her from the prison of her uncle’s home. As he’d burst through her bedroom door, she’d been unprepared for the fact he’d seen her at her most vulnerable. She recalled his face, so full of pity and rage at her plight, her frightened eyes obviously divulging to him every fear and frailty she now kept guarded, locked deep down inside where no man could ever use it to hurt her again.

Horace had a lot to answer for.

Forgive me. Swallowing, she lifted her gaze, raised her chin. Thank you, Mr Vale. But I am capable of making my own way. Besides, it seems I have distant relatives up North.

He smiled at her lie, tilted his head.

Relatives, Miss Ashton? I had been led to believe you had no known relatives. And Horace had not been your real uncle.

Grace had told Vale she was an orphan?

Hell. Even Grace wasn’t really her cousin, but she would always consider her so. No. More than that. They were like sisters, raised together by a demented pig of a man.

Exposed, she blushed, and her ire returned in a wave of heated frustration. Good. Anger disguised her insecurities, kept her safe.

Whatever my plans are, Mr Vale, they are none of your concern.

He drew even closer to her, but she refused to back down as his masculine scent of leather and musk mingled all around, weaving a web, holding her in its invisible grasp.

Devil take him.

Her uncertain gaze followed the wisps of dark-blond hair that hung across his brow, down to his sculpted cheek bones, then fell to his full lips. As much as she hated to admit it, he was attractive, and the first man to ever make her feel so uneasy inside.

For that reason alone, she must keep him at arm’s length.

On the contrary, Miss Ashton. During his absence, Marcus—His Lordship—has appointed me caretaker of his estate, and your guardian until his return.

The spell broken, her eyes widened, and she glared at him, indignation gripping her throat. He what? He…he can’t do that. I am not a child, nor his ward. And, apart from him marrying Grace, I am no one to him. For Heaven’s sake, I am five and twenty, and don’t require a guardian to look after me.

I’m afraid I disagree, Miss Ashton.

I don’t care what you think. Her chest rose and fell, anxiety hampering her efforts to breathe. I refuse to exchange one prison for another. You cannot keep me here. I can look after myself.

Despite her every effort, his steady gaze locked with hers once more, as if trying to find a way past her fortifications. She fought against their determination, two piercing stars, trying to shine their light into places so dark within her soul, even she daren’t venture there.

Reaching out, he gently brushed the side of her cheek with the back of his fingers.

At his touch, her lips trembled, legs went to lead. Part of her wanted to run—her fearful heart unwilling and unable to trust anyone, whilst another part cried out to be held by him until the aching loneliness that consumed her sleepless nights melted away.

And you have been looking after yourself, haven’t you? All your life, I suspect. I don’t intend to make you do anything, Miss Ashton. The choice is up to you. However, I must warn you that wherever you may go, I will be obliged to watch over you.

She shunned his touch and scowled. No. I will never allow it.

It wasn’t just Marcus’s request. He withdrew his hand and held her stare. I promised Grace. She was worried for you—as am I.

Damn.

After returning from her adventures abroad on a merchant ship, Grace had clearly felt so guilty at not being able to find her benefactor—leaving them both with no money and little future—she must have been determined to see her taken care of in her absence.

Strange.

Being five years older, she had always taken on the responsibility of looking after Grace and wasn’t used to the idea of someone watching over her.

Especially Vale.

For once, she lay at odds with herself, having always known before what to do. Could she disappoint her beloved cousin and her new husband by leaving? Vale could not force her to stay. And, in truth, where could she go, for she hadn’t a shilling to her name.

Very well, Mr Vale. I don’t need you as my guardian, but I will stay at James Park until Grace returns. If those are her wishes.

They are.

But I have several terms you must adhere to.

The hint of a smile curled at the edge of his mouth. How she wished he would stop staring at her lips. All too distracting.

Agreed.

Agreed? Her brow furrowed. But you haven’t heard what they are yet.

Very well, madam. Please, do go on.

Are you patronising me, sir?

That would take a braver man than I, madam.

Indeed. She raised an eyebrow at the wretch. Firstly, I am to be allowed to come and go as I please.

You’re welcome to, of course. Grace and Marcus want you to think of this house as your own. As do I.

Averting her eyes, she stepped away from him and crossed her arms. Secondly, you will never touch me again without my consent.

She held her countenance, unsure of how he would react. Only days before he’d kissed her softly, but without warning, and she’d pushed him away, uncertain of what to think or feel at the time. And, even now, she still couldn’t decipher her feelings for him.

The enigmatic smile remaining, his gaze glistened, intensified.

Agreed.

W ho are you? Why…why did you send for me? A nervous voice warbled in the empty taproom.

Its owner struggled to lift a small glass of brandy from the table, the pale liquid spilling all the way to his lips.

Now, who I am isn’t really important just yet. But why I am here, is. Richard Mallory studied the poor excuse for a man sitting across from him. Pathetic. Weak. What an imbecile.

What do you want? Taking a sip, the man winced in dismay. I haven’t caused any trouble. I promised I wouldn’t.

The portly man attempted to swallow the remainder of his watered-down brandy, and he concluded it had been largely due to this fellow’s lack of fortitude that he now found himself in such an undesirable position.

You seem worried, Mr Wilton? Not healthy for a man to be looking over his shoulder all the time, is it?

Horace Wilton nodded, removed a dirty handkerchief from his pocket, and mopped his sweaty brow.

Unimpressed, he grimaced, detesting men who perspired so profusely. A sign of weakness.

Yes, and you would be too if you were in my place, sir. Threatened to kill me, he did! Promised to do all manner of unimaginable evils to me if I should ever give him cause for displeasure again.

Indeed.

Unperturbed, he rested back into his chair and tapped his silver-tipped cane gently against his knee. His animated guest continued spouting his grievances.

And, by the Devil, don’t you know, I believe the bastard would do it! Whoever…

I take it you are referring to the troublesome Mr Ethan Vale?

Clearly terrified, Horace looked around the tavern before leaning forward, his red, glazed eyes almost bulging with fear.

The very same. With a shaky hand, the odd fellow poured himself another drink.

The man was a mess, pale and looking as though he may expire at any moment.

Interesting.

Steady yourself, Mr Wilton. I don’t need you dying on me…just yet. Vale is exactly the reason you are here.

Horace’s bloodshot eyes widened. So, you’re not here to punish me then? You’re not one of his men?

Tilting his head, a sardonic grin sliced across his stony face. On the contrary, Mr Wilton. I believe what I have to say, you may find quite agreeable. An associate mentioned to me that you recently had an encounter with the man.

An encounter? Near murder, more like it. The man dismissed his glass, took a large swig directly from the brandy bottle, then swallowed hard. Do you mean, sir, that he has threatened you as well?

You might say that.

Ruefully, he examined the silver cobra adorning the tip of his cane. Yes, he had been threatened. Not his life, perhaps, but his very way of it. How the ramshackle sea captain, Marcus James, could come back after nearly twenty-one years and lay claim to what should have been rightfully his, was beyond him.

The new Lord Leeton indeed.

And, to make matters more difficult, the good captain had seen fit to go and get married, ensuring there will be a future heir, no doubt. But the honeymooning usurper and his bride were the least of his concerns. According to his sources, Ethan Vale had been installed at James Park during the new Lord’s absence.

Once Vale began looking into the estate’s accounts, Mallory held little doubt he would soon be getting a visit from the unconventional businessman he’d heard so much about.

He didn’t like complications.

CHAPTER 2

The first rays of sunlight streaked pale gold through the curtains of her bedroom window. Tired and drained from yet another sleepless night, Victoria lay there awake in bed, yawning.

In fact, she couldn’t even remember the last time she’d enjoyed a peaceful night’s slumber. Fragments from her childhood, Horace’s past treacheries, and her own hidden fears manifested themselves through her dreams night after night.

Perhaps she was going mad?

Must be. For last night, she’d dreamt of Ethan Vale.

Somehow, he’d managed to penetrate through her defences, appearing as someone she should fear—or so she thought. Recalling only glimpses, she remembered him holding her and she’d been desperate to get away. Why?

After all, he’d rescued her once—a debt she could never repay. Surely, he wouldn’t hurt her. And Grace trusted him to watch over her. Then what was she afraid of?

Sadly, she already knew the answer.

After pushing the covers back, she gingerly slid her legs out and rested her feet upon the cool wooden floor. She glanced over at the hearth. The fire had gone out through the night and a slight chill had descended across the enormous room.

Cold always made her damaged leg ache.

Stifling another yawn, she stood up slowly, stretched, then wandered over to the window. Sitting down upon the deep cushioned sill, she gazed out into the waking landscape and inhaled a deep breath.

Beautiful.

Unlike the grey, monotonous view of the street she had before, her second-floor window looked out upon the sculptured gardens and nearby forest of James Park, Grace’s new home.

She let out a deep sigh, the gentle mist fogging a patch on the glass. She decided she too would have a place of her own one day, though, naturally, nowhere near as grand. Hardly.

After all, what could one buy with an empty purse?

Nevertheless, she was determined to not let matters stay that way. No. Once Grace returned, she would find her own way in the world, gain employment, and settle somewhere in a small cottage with a garden she could tend.

At least with flowers around her, she wouldn’t truly be alone.

A heartfelt smile tiled her lips at the wonderful thought.

And, captivated by the sunrise glittering across a millpond in the distance, she allowed her weary mind to venture into a place she rarely went—her own hopes and dreams.

Victoria’s brow furrowed.

There was someone down there. In the gardens. Someone moving about. Curious, she leaned across the sill to get a better view. Was she seeing things? No. She had definitely seen a figure. A man?

But who in Heaven’s name would be out there at such a Godforsaken hour? He certainly wasn’t the old groundsman, Jobson.

A trickle of fear ran along her spine.

Could Horace have come back for her? Or perhaps sent a man?

Though the notion frightened her, for the first time she felt compelled to face the evil wretch alone.

After a lifetime of being forced into to his will, she refused to hide.

Rising from the ledge, she then made her way across to her changing screen. No time to wait for a maid, nor did she wish for the whole household to get involved. Searching through her wardrobe, she selected a simple house dress and boots to change into before wrapping a thick, hooded woollen cloak around her.

Slipping out of her bedroom and into the hall, she headed for the stairs.

In the quiet still of morning, each creak on the polished wood seemed to echo like the chimes on a grandfather clock. Surely, someone would hear her. And the last thing she wanted was Ethan defending her once more. No. If she was to make her own way in the world, she needed to stand up such villainy.

Though now she could see Horace was more coward than villain.

Now Grace was free, the bastard had no more power over her.

As best as