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The daughter of an earl / Victoria Morgan.

By: Material type: TextTextPublisher: New York, New York : Berkley Sensation, 2015Copyright date: ©2015Edition: Berkley Sensation mass-market editionDescription: 324 pages ; 18 cmContent type:
  • text
Media type:
  • unmediated
Carrier type:
  • volume
ISBN:
  • 9780425280775
  • 0425280772
Subject(s): Genre/Form: LOC classification:
  • PS3613.O7486 D38 2015
Summary: When Lady Emily Chandler enlists the aid of American businessman Brett Curtis to help her prove that her fiance was murdered, they find passion unexpectedly building between them as they pursue clues to uncover scandalous secrets.
Holdings
Item type Current library Collection Call number Status Date due Barcode Item holds
Paperbacks Davis (Central) Library Paperbacks Paperbacks MORG Available T00801990
Total holds: 0

Enhanced descriptions from Syndetics:

A tale of romance, intrigue, and the true meaning of honorfrom the author of The Heart of a Duke . . .

An American businessman in England, Brett Curtis has little use for the haughty ton beyond seeing his sisters happily entertained in London. But when his cousin mysteriously disappears after inheriting the title of Duke, he sets out to locate him and drag him home.

Lady Emily Chandler plunged into deep despair when her fiance died in India, and now she is determined to prove that he was murdered. The brash American Brett Curtis's reputation may be less than sterling, but he's just the man to help Emily on her quest-if she can convince him to accept her dangerous proposition.

While their alliance uncovers a web of scandalous secrets, their undeniable attraction threatens to reveal something even more dangerous- true love.

Praise for the novels of Victoria Morgan
'Plenty of suspense and intrigue . . . and a wonderful love story.' Cocktails and Books
'Just the right balance of history, romance, and intelligent prose.' PennyRomance.com


Includes excerpt from the author's For the love of a soldier.

When Lady Emily Chandler enlists the aid of American businessman Brett Curtis to help her prove that her fiance was murdered, they find passion unexpectedly building between them as they pursue clues to uncover scandalous secrets.

Excerpt provided by Syndetics

Chapter One THERE were advantages in recovering from the brink of madness. Or so Lady Emily Chandler believed. Nearly four years had passed since her fiancé's death, and she was better. She had learned how to keep the darkness at bay. How to sidestep the painful paths in her memory. To stay distracted and busy. Ultimately, she had learned how to not worry her family. Most of the time. Today was not one of those times. If cognizant of this morning's meeting, her family would worry, definitely disapprove, and in all probability, outright forbid her from following her present course. After all, a murder investigation was not an acceptable diversion for any young woman to pursue, let alone a safe pastime for the mentally fragile daughter of an earl. But mad or not, her mind was set. To advance her plan, she needed assistance. Lawrence Drummond had been her fiancé's closest friend and a trusted colleague. Both men had worked for the Honourable East India Company, overseeing their trading accounts in Calcutta. More important, Drummond was with her fiancé during the time of his death. With such strong ties, she was confident that Drummond would share her determination to ferret out the truth. A cool breeze brushed over her, and she wrapped her arms around her waist. She had arranged for the meeting to be held at her brother-in-law's former home, Lakeview Manor. She tipped her face toward the sky where the sun was waging a paltry battle against March's bitter bite. Her sapphire spencer jacket was more fashionable than warm. She rubbed her hands down her arms, her skirts brushing her walking boots as she paced a dirt path beside the lake. Mr. Drummond was late. She scanned the grounds, skimming her gaze over the men toiling to rebuild the twice-burned-out house. She located Agnes, her abigail, perched on a stone wall, her legs swinging jauntily while she smiled up at a workman. The girl was a shameless flirt, but her distraction secured Emily the privacy she needed. She turned her back on her maid, only to gasp and retreat a step. Conjured like a ghostly apparition, Lawrence Drummond stood but an arm's length away. "Mr. Drummond." "Lady Emily, it has been too long." He dipped into a shallow bow. A smile warmed his features, and he lifted her hand to give it a gentle squeeze. He wore a nutmeg coat, buff-colored breeches, and boots polished to a gleaming sheen. A flash of gold in his cravat and cuff links reminded her that he carried a bit of the dandy in him. With his auburn hair and golden eyes, he did turn his share of heads and was vain enough to appreciate it. His gaze roved over her, his smile widening as he took her measure from the top of her bonnet to the tips of her boots. "You are more lovely than ever. A muse for a poet and a rival to nature's beauty." She preferred not to be touched, so she gently disengaged herself and stepped away. "Thank you, you are too kind." "That is candor, not kindness. Jason was a fortunate man." "Yes, well, I was the fortunate one to have found Jason," she said. One of time's gifts was the strength to hear and speak her late fiancé's name without buckling. He nodded. "I hear congratulations are in order. You are an aunt now, double blessed with a niece and a nephew. And your sister, Lady Julia, she is doing well? And Bedford, the proud papa?" She responded and then inquired after his sister who had recently made her debut. They eased into the age-old ritual of social etiquette, and she fought the tug of her impatience. One could not jump into embezzlement and murder right away. There were rules to be followed. Breaking them required a combination of guile and subterfuge. In order to do as she pleased without alarming her family, she had acquired an aptitude for both. "I remember your debut," he said. "You left a trail of shattered hearts in your wake before you accepted Jason." The husky tone in Drummond's voice troubled her. It reminded her that he liked to stretch the lines of propriety. It could prove problematic, but to achieve her goal, she would join forces with the devil himself. She made light of his flattery, steering the conversation into safer boundaries and toward her purpose. "I doubt many men wasted their hearts on me, seeing as mine was firmly spoken for. Mr. Drummond, I wrote to you--" "Yes, and I cannot tell you how much it meant to me to receive your letter. It encouraged my hopes that we can renew our friendship." She ignored the warmth in his tone, because he had unwittingly given her the opening she sought, and she seized upon it. "Actually, it is due to your friendship with Jason that I requested this meeting. I hope that in the name of it, you might be willing to assist me on a matter of some delicacy. Before I broach the subject, I need your word that you will keep our conversation in the strictest of confidence. This is forward of me, approaching you in this manner, but I did not know to whom to turn." A flicker of surprise lit his eyes, but after a moment, he cocked his head to the side. "I am intrigued, and of course, at your service." He dipped into a bow. He appeared more amused than intrigued. "You will keep my confidence? I have not shared this with anyone. My family would not understand. As Jason's friend, I hope that you do." His smile wavered. "Definitely intrigued. I give you my word that you have my discretion." She drew in a breath and ventured to win him to her cause. "About a year and a half ago, I reread Jason's letters and came across some disturbing information. I gave it little heed in my first reading, being very . . . young." Shallow and besotted were more appropriate, but young was far less damning. "I was dismissive of news not concerning me. I did not know what to make of the information at first, and then other events stole my time." "For goodness' sake, what is this about? Whatever it is, I can see that it is upsetting to you. Please, tell me so that I may help you." She lifted her chin. "Jason wrote of discrepancies he had found in the ledgers. The disbursements for payments were not adding up, funds were missing. It was his responsibility to determine--" "My dear, say no more," Drummond said. His voice gentled, as if he were addressing an overwrought child. "This will not do." His avuncular tone gave her pause. She had abandoned her pinafores when she pinned her hair up years ago. A child no longer, she did not care for men who made the mistake of treating a woman like one. Oblivious to her annoyance, he continued. "Whatever it is that Jason wrote, it was years ago. Lost to the past. Why revisit it, delving into areas that are distressing to you?" At his cavalier dismissal of her concerns, she drew even breaths and stifled the urge to curl her hands into fists. A woman had a right to question if her fiancé had been murdered. She would not be silenced--or worse, dismissed as a distraught female. "Remember what happened to Pandora when she opened the box? Bad things were unleashed. Now I refuse to stand by and see a beautiful woman in distress. Not when I can alleviate it." He let his eyes drop to her lips. What a patronizing, pompous arse. She had made a mistake. He could not help her. More so, she refused to spend time with someone who condescended to her. They would not survive an hour together--as this ill-fated meeting had demonstrated. She would have to find someone else to assist her. And she would. "Emily, listen to me." She bristled at his presumption, using her Christian name as if they were intimates. Fortunately, she had become well practiced in veiling her reactions. She schooled her features to look like an attentive china doll--serene, delicate, and mute−which in her experience was another expectation men of Drummond's ilk held of women. "I am so glad you wrote to me, so that I could set your mind at ease," Drummond said. "Working with Jason as I did, I can promise you, had he uncovered anything questionable, he would have resolved the issue. Jason was very good at his job, so you need not fret needlessly over yesterday's troubles. If I cannot assist you with anything else, let me provide you with comfort in knowing that." Her smile was brittle. "You are right. I am sure Jason did all he could to investigate the matter." And paid for it with his life . Drummond's features softened, and a gentle smile curved his lips. "I am glad that we agree. Now let us lay the ghosts of the past to rest. I think it is past time you found a more pleasant diversion on which to focus your attention. Like renewing old friendships. And perhaps, just perhaps, the hope of beginning something more . . ." All her senses went on alert. She recognized his look. It was one a man gave to a prized stallion, a fashionable curricle, or a desirable woman. It was a look that said I want, I covet . She did not care for it. She was not a possession to be acquired, having long since taken herself off the marriage market. He allowed his gaze to slowly drift over her figure, as if assessing her assets. She nearly shuddered when they paused on her breasts and then lifted to meet her eyes. Oh dear. It was time she set the man straight. "Mr. Drummond, I hope we can maintain our friendship, but there can be nothing more between us. I loved Jason, and--" She inhaled sharply as Drummond grasped her arms and drew her to him. "Jason is dead. I am not. It is past time you stepped into the present. I have waited a long time for you to wake up. Nearly four years. I think that is long enough." His eyes flared, then dipped to her lips as if anticipating a succulent treat. She strained away from his heavy-lidded gaze. "Mr. Drummond, I apologize if my request to meet you gave you the wrong impression. Led you to believe--" "Not to believe, to hope. Hope that Jason had stolen from me years ago." Her patience snapped. "Mr. Drummond! Please, you are a gentleman! As such, I demand that you behave like one and let me go." She gasped as his grip tightened on her arms, and he leaned his face close to hers, his cloying breath hot against her cheek. She clenched her jaw and prepared to knee him where he deserved to be disabled. "I cannot. I did that once and--" A deep voice cut him off. "Allow me to assist you." The frigid tone sliced through her anger and sent a different sort of shiver rippling down her body. Drummond was wrenched away and flung aside like a rag doll. A strong hand curled around her arm and saved her from an undignified sprawl on the ground. Landing on her arse would have made her humiliation complete. Not that it wasn't already, because she recognized that American accent. All too well. It belonged to the one man who, for the first time since Jason's death, stirred emotions within her that she had no longer believed herself capable of feeling for another man. Feelings she had thought were dead and buried with her fiancé. Face burning, she looked up. Dressed in uncompromising black, he was austere and formidable. A cool breeze rustled through his thick golden hair. Sharp blue eyes impaled Drummond with a threatening glare, his mouth pressed into a disapproving line. Brett Curtis. Her heart jumped into a frantic beat. The man was as handsome as she remembered--even as she had fought so desperately to forget. "Who the devil do you think you are?" Drummond brushed furiously at the debris dusting his trousers. When he straightened to his full height, he was inches shy of Brett's eye level. Drummond had to tip his head back in order to peer down his disgruntled nose. "Who am I ?" Brett thundered, his features contorted with rage. "I am the gentleman that you are not. For the moment, let us pretend you are capable of behaving as one, so you may apologize to the lady and promise to never lay a hand on her again. I suggest you then disappear into whatever hovel you crawled out of before I change my mind, regret my leniency, and take that ridiculous cravat--which your valet wasted God knows how many hours tying--and use it to string you up from the nearest tree." Drummond's eyes bulged, his face going a molted shade of purple. "An American . I would expect no less than--" Drummond's sneering aspersion to Brett's nationality snapped Emily's stunned senses back to the present. "That is enough!" She snatched free of Brett's grip and straightened the hemline of her jacket. "This was a misunderstanding between old friends. Nothing more. Mr. Drummond, I appreciate your taking the time to speak with me, but I believe our business is finished." She kept her gaze locked on Drummond's, while every muscle of her body vibrated with the awareness of Brett looming behind her. The air practically sizzled with his harnessed fury. Drummond swallowed, and then brazened it out. "You are kind to call this a misunderstanding, but the gentleman "--he dubiously voiced the word--"is right, and I owe you an apology. I fear I forgot myself, and I beg your forgiveness for my boorish behavior. However, my intentions are honorable. If you would allow me--" "Mr. Drummond, please ." Horrified, she sought to derail him, while Brett's snort conveyed his opinion of Drummond's honorable intentions. She nearly snapped at Brett to shut his mouth, but knew her warning would be futile. The man did as he pleased. Always had. "I will address your father in order that I may state my case before word reaches him, and your reputation suffers--" "Please, that is not necessary," she said evenly, desperate to stop Drummond from declaring himself, and Brett from strangling the blackguard, despite her wishing he would. "I appreciate the sentiment, truly I do. But like yourself, Mr. Curtis is a family friend. He is godfather to the twins and was in partnership with my brother-in-law before Daniel inherited the dukedom. As such, I am confident of his discretion. Thus, the only word to reach my father would be yours, so for the sake of our friendship, please do not compound this misunderstanding by carrying it further. Forgive me, but there can be nothing more between us. Let our friendship be enough." Aware of Brett seeking to move around her, no doubt to expedite Drummond's departure, she shot her arm out, thwarting his advance. If he was the gentleman he claimed to be, he couldn't very well plow through her arm--or so she hoped. A play of conflicted emotions crossed Drummond's features. Her heart thundered in fear of his pressing his advantage. After all, his earlier behavior had proven he had no compunction in doing so. She cast a quick glance back at Brett. He had straightened to his full height and was opening and closing his hands at his sides. At the implicit threat, she prayed Drummond's vanity came to his rescue, because his wits appeared to have deserted him. If the dandy valued his face, she doubted he wanted to risk Brett inflicting his fist on it. After a tense moment, Drummond nodded curtly. "I understand. Perhaps I read too much into your letter. Forgive me. While I wish it otherwise, I have to be appeased with what you deign to give me. Friendship it is." He gave her a rueful smile and dipped into a bow. "Thank you," she said, relieved. "I trust your Mr. Curtis, who, as you say, is a family . . . friend, along with your abigail, will escort you home. Lady Emily, until we meet again." He tipped his hat and then spun on his heel, leaving them alone. She closed her eyes and exhaled. The silence was still and loud until Brett's scoffing disdain shattered it. "What a tuft-up coxcomb. With his cravat tied so tight, I am surprised he doesn't choke over his words. Wherever did you find him? More important, what in the world possessed you to meet him here alone ?" The words cut like a knife through her tightly strung nerves. She wanted to rail at him, venting her frustration over the failure of her meeting, but she could not. Contrary to what she had assured Drummond, she had no idea if Brett would keep her confidence. If he did not and spoke to her father, he could ruin everything. She had to stop him, and if that meant feigning sympathy for Drummond, she would do so. Tears made most men retreat, and she had no qualms in employing them now. She drew herself up and whirled on Brett, letting her voice hitch as she spoke. "That is enough. He was . . . a . . . a dear friend of my late fiancé, and I have hurt him badly. I think that is punishment enough, so please refrain from airing your callous opinions of a poor man whom you know nothing about." She turned her back on him and walked away, curling an arm around her waist and lifting the other to her temple. Let him retreat. Please retreat. Silence met her. The distant sound of the workers carried to them, and still he did not speak. It never failed to amaze her that the bravest of men were flummoxed at the sight of a distraught woman. She bit her lip to curb her triumphant smile, but could not resist tipping her head to the side to surreptitiously study him from beneath her lashes. She straightened like a poker upon discovering he had crept up beside her. Too damn close. Worse, his arms were folded across his chest and a smile tugged at his lips. The dratted man was laughing at her! "Well done. You are almost as good as my sisters." He leaned so close that the teasing gleam in his eyes held her mesmerized. "But you forget, I am not as easily maneuvered as your family. I also am familiar with your talents with penning a clever note. I am sure your friend read exactly what you intended for him to read, which was your bait to lure him here." She silently cursed him to perdition and back. His humor vanished, and his eyes narrowed. "I repeat, what is so important that you risked your reputation and your safety to meet this man alone?" His heated gaze burned through her carefully composed veneer and saw all she fought to hide. It was just as she feared. He was going to ruin everything. Chapter Two BRETT kept his voice level, but rage vibrated through every muscle in his body, simmering since he'd stumbled across Lady Emily in another man's arms. Heard the distress in her voice. What the devil was she doing with the bastard? He flexed his fingers, which still itched to snatch the gilded pin that had pierced the fop's lace cravat and stab him with it. Then he would have strung the man up as he had threatened. His temper had eased somewhat at her decisive setdown of the whoreson. She had some sense left after all. And he could not fault the pathetic Mr. Drummond for his taste. Lady Emily Chandler was a prize worth winning. Tall, slim as a willow weed, fair of feature, and dressed in a sky blue gown that highlighted those long-lashed, luminous Chandler eyes. Eyes of such a deep, fathomless blue that Brett feared if a man stared too long, he would drown in them. Another reason to keep his distance from Lady Emily Chandler. Like the Sirens in Greek mythology, whose beauty and voice lured sailors to shipwreck their boats on the rocky shores of their island, Lady Emily was just as dangerous. Fortunately for him, having been splintered by another Siren, he had fortified his defenses and his heart--or the battered remnants of it. Annoyed at his line of thought, he yanked his attention to the present. To Emily, who stood so still, but was clearly seething. She did not like his foiling her plans. But a man could not grow up with three sisters and not identify--and respect--feminine guile in all its forms. She recovered her voice and drew herself up, her blue eyes snapping. "How dare you lecture me on deception. Was it not you who broke your right arm and cajoled me into drafting your business letters, choosing to omit the pertinent detail that you write with your left ?" She was never going to let him forget that. It had been a weak moment. After being tossed out of a speeding curricle, he had coveted a pretty face by his side to cheer his bruised spirits during his recovery. "And I am paying the price for that. I am still clarifying your little addendums. Do you think it is easy explaining to clients that I do not suffer from gout, have no need of a loan of a cane, nor have I gained eight stones, thank you very much?" Drummond was not the only man that Emily's cleverly penned words had gotten into trouble. She smiled. "Serves you right. Women do not like to be deceived." He caught the gleam in her eyes, and arched a brow. "Spare me your apologies, and no, it did not threaten my relations with clients, but thank you for inquiring. I am touched by your concern, but you need not lose any more sleep over the matter." She dismissed his sarcasm with an airy wave of her gloved hand. "Had I any doubts of your ability to smooth things over, I never would have written what I did. In drafting your business letters, I witnessed your ability to iron out complex problems without blinking an eye. It is why Curtis Shipping is a success. I am sure your explanations were charming and deftly handled, and the clients liked you all the better for adding a personal touch into your correspondence. No thanks are needed. Really, it was my pleasure." "Oh, there is little doubt the pleasure was all yours," he said dryly, surprised and oddly moved at her compliment to his business acumen. "I do work very hard at--" He froze and shook his head, wagging his finger at her. "Very good. Distracting me with praise. Well done. However, let us return to the matter at hand. Why did you need to meet this man, Drummond, is it? And alone?" She clamped her mouth shut, her expression mutinous. "If you want me to keep my discretion and not speak to your father--" "You wouldn't dare!" "Oh, I dare many things, as do you. You wrote a letter to a man, inviting him to meet you alone in a private location." He amended his words when she opened her mouth to protest. "My mistake, you were not without a chaperone. You brought your absentminded abigail with you. You chose this location, scattered with workmen, knowing her penchant for--" "You go too far!" she cried, then cast a glance behind him and tightened her jaw. "We will discuss this later. It appears my maid has disappeared. I must locate her before . . . ah . . . before those penchants lead her into deeper trouble." The last was muttered beneath her breath. She turned her back on him and without waiting to see if he followed, started up the bank. Incredulous, he shook his head. Maid and mistress were a dangerous combination. It was time someone kept an eye on the two of them. For the moment, that appeared to fall to him. He stormed after her. " I go too far? Your actions show foresight, strategy, and determination, while exhibiting a total lack of regard for consequence. Do you have any idea what could have happened had I not come along as I did? Had he--" "But you did and he did not!" Her stride slowed and he heard the distress in her voice. Relenting, he gentled his tone. "Lady Emily, if you do not have a care for your own welfare, you must understand there are others that do. As they are ignorant of your activities, I insist on speaking on their behalf. What business could you possibly have that you clearly do not want your father knowing about, and that was worth risking your own safety for?" She stopped a few yards from the construction site, a cornered look in her eyes. A guttural cough shattered the stretch of taut silence, rescuing her, and she cleverly seized upon the distraction. "Excuse me, but I am looking for my maid," she said to a burly workman, clutching her bonnet to her head as a gust of wind threatened to upend it. "She went that way." The man pointed a beefy finger down the hill toward a dirt path. Its trail cut through a line of trees edging the banks of the lake. "Thank you." Emily nodded curtly, and again leaving Brett behind, she started off in the direction indicated. Her strides were long, and her skirts flapped about her legs, accentuating her lithe figure. He gritted his teeth and hastened to fall in step beside her. He wanted answers--not that she would willingly give them. Over the past year, his encounters with Lady Emily had been akin to a fencing match, a delicate balance of parry and riposte, skirmishes but no blood drawn. It was inevitable. When two strong-minded individuals collided, one had to bend. If neither did--like a hammer connecting with an anvil--sparks flew. Yet he couldn't stay away from her, because beneath her calm façade, he had glimpsed something simmering just beneath her surface. Buried secrets. She was hiding something, but damned if he knew what. Now that it involved clandestine meetings with men in secluded areas, he vowed to find out. He frowned, because he carried scars from another encounter with a bold beauty. Needed no more. He would keep Emily safe, but that was all. As if on cue, Emily broke her silence, saving him from memories more palatable with a stiff whiskey in hand. "If you must know, I arranged to meet Mr. Drummond because I have questions in regard to my late fiancé's work. I did not confide in my father or Julia because I knew they would worry over my looking into matters that transpired years ago. They do not like to see me upset and can be overly protective." He drew his brows together. Bedford had confided to him that Emily had taken her fiancé's death very hard. Despite over three years passing, he also knew that her family still worried over her. He was hesitant to tread onto sensitive ground, but as Emily had introduced the topic, he followed her lead. "What makes you think that Drummond could be of help to you?" "Mr. Drummond and my fiancé were friends, and they were posted together in India. For those reasons, I sought his assistance, but as you witnessed, he had another agenda. I made a mistake, but rest assured, I will not make it again. That much, I can promise you." "Drummond and your fiancé, Viscount Weston, worked for the East India Company?" Brett asked, furrowing his brow. His own company, Curtis Shipping, dealt in importing goods to England, and his business interests and those of the Honourable Company had conflicted in the past. Years ago, when he had sought to expand into new territories beyond England, the East India's monopoly of the eastern trade routes thwarted his aspirations. More so, he could not compete against the company's flagrant bribery of government customs officials, who in turn renewed the firm's charter. They did so despite the malfeasance and the bankruptcies that had beset the firm for decades. "Yes. They were posted in Calcutta together," Emily said. "Ah, carrying out the Honourable Company's work of looting and scooting." "Excuse me?" She stopped to stare at him. He cursed his glib tongue. Her fiancé was dead, and therefore unable to defend himself. It was bad form to force his bereaved fiancée to do so. "Forgive me. Being unfamiliar with the viscount's position, I spoke out of turn. If your questions are in regard to your fiancé's work, being in the trading business myself, I do have some contacts in the firm. Perhaps I can inquire--?" "That is not necessary. Really." A flicker of panic crossed her features before she schooled them into a portrait of calm. "Considering your opinion of the firm, I do not think that wise." She hastened to clarify her response. "Not that I disagree with your views. The company's reputation is quite tarnished. It is for that reason that Jason was posted over there. He was part of a select group appointed with Parliament's backing to ferret out the corruption riddling the offices and clean it up." "A Herculean task indeed," he said. The man would have had better prospects redeeming Lucifer himself. It was no surprise Emily had a difficult time recovering from his death. No other men, all mere mortals, could compete with a man of such mythical stature. It was a disturbing thought. "Yes, Jason did like a challenge, which is why he undertook the project," she said. Shadows clouded those vibrant blue eyes. "Perhaps you are right, and it was a futile undertaking. Thus, there is little sense in either of us pursuing this matter further. However, I appreciate your offer of help. It is a far more honorable one than I received from Mr. Drummond," she ruefully added and then turned away. He blinked, and nearly shook his head. Damn, she was good. As clever as a weighted die and just as deceptive. Her explanations were smooth and plausible. A few questions needing to be answered. Her desire to not worry her family. The coup de grâce was lamenting the futility of her pursuit. She had spoken the truth--just not the whole of it. Not once did she confide what answers she pursued. Answers she wanted so desperately that she had risked her reputation to get them--and so much more had he not arrived when he did. Whatever she sought, he would bet his whole company that she had no intention of abandoning her quest. Only a fool risked everything for nothing. Lady Emily Chandler was many things--bold, beautiful, and bright as the sun--but a fool she was not. "Now then, I understand you have arrived for the christening of the twins," she continued brightly. "As the designated godparents, we will be busy with other responsibilities, and I do not wish to burden you further with this ill-fated affair. I appreciate your timely arrival and assistance, but let us start anew." She stopped, and facing him, she sank into a curtsy. "Mr. Curtis, welcome back to Bedfordshire. It is good to see you again. Allow me to offer my deepest condolences over the loss of your uncle and your cousin last year. Despite your family's tragedy, I know how much it means to Bedford and my sister that you managed to attend the christening." He stared at her and then he couldn't help it, he laughed. She had so cleverly set him up. He had no choice but to agree to her proposal or appear a boorish cad should he press the matter further. Fine. He would concede. For now. She might have secured her secrets tighter than Drummond's ridiculously knotted cravat, but he would unravel them. "Lady Emily." He bowed. "It is a pleasure to see you again. You are as beautiful and clever as I remember and still leading the gentlemen on a merry chase. I shall have to remember to tread carefully lest I be trampled in their pursuit." He flashed her a grin, pausing to admire the flush staining her cheeks. "As for your condolences, keep them. I have no need of them." "I beg your pardon?" She frowned. "My uncle was a despicable blackguard, and my cousin no better. Neither will be missed. My sympathy is for my younger cousins, but I do not mourn either man." "Was he not the Duke of Prescott?" Emily asked, wide- eyed. "He was. He was also my mother's brother, but neither affiliation could redeem him. As much as you English revere your lofty titles, and I concede their power to accomplish more than they should, they cannot eradicate a deficiency of character." Emily smiled. "You may have a point. It is indeed a detriment to our peerage that distinguished rank is not always linked to persons held in the highest esteem. But not everyone's character is stellar; we all are comprised of different degrees of human frailty." She cast a furtive glance behind her, and then stepped in front of him. "That is, some of us are weaker than others and hence, fall to temptation." A grunt and a suppressed giggle emerged from the vicinity of bushes farther down the path. Amused, he arched a brow. "Like Eve and the apple? And Agnes with her penchant for--" "Trouble. Exactly. We all are tempted." Emily nodded solemnly, but her lips twitched. After a moment, she rolled her eyes, and lifted her voice to call over her shoulder. "Agnes, I am ready to leave. Please meet me at the end of the path." When Brett laughed, she urged him along. "That is enough entertainment for the afternoon. Let us at least give her a moment of privacy." "I would think that is exactly what you do not want to give her." He couldn't resist teasing. She stared at him, and then sighed. "Oh, for goodness' sake, Agnes is an accomplished flirt, not some London doxy. This is the country, not the city. Here a few stolen kisses are considered harmless. And for all her absentmindedness, I am confident she would have been at my side had I but called out and you had not intervened in so timely a manner." "I agree. I never meant to imply otherwise." He eyed her full lips, intrigued to learn the prim and proper Lady Emily considered a few stolen kisses harmless. He smiled. "Now then, once Agnes joins us, in accordance with our new beginning, I insist on escorting you both home." He lifted his arm and amused, watched her eye it warily. "I am sure that you do." Relenting, she curled her hand around his forearm. "You are the soul of kindness." He ignored her sarcasm. "So my sisters tell me." "I do not doubt it," she said dryly. "I am hoping that you are the soul of discretion as well. I prefer this meeting with Drummond be kept between us. It is over, and so I do not wish to worry my family over it." "Of course. I can be discreet when warranted. As for Agnes, I never saw a thing. Harmless or otherwise." He patted her hand. She arched a brow, looking dubious. She did not trust him. He could not fault her for that. He did not trust her either. It was not an auspicious start to a fresh beginning. Chapter Three LADY Julia Bryant, the Duchess of Bedford, smiled at her baby daughter, Emma, cradled in her arms and who regarded her with wide-eyed wonder. "I think she will have Daniel's eyes. I have been told a baby's eyes can change color after a year, but I believe hers are destined to be moss green." Emily sat beside her older sister in Bedford Hall's spacious drawing room. The sun streamed through the French windows, bathing the elegant gold and beige interior with light. "If you wish it so, I have no doubt that it will come to pass, because of late, all your wishes appear to be coming true." She spoke warmly. Her sister's happiness had come to her late in life, and the journey had not been a smooth one, so Emily did not begrudge her any of her hard-earned joy. Even if it meant that Emily's new brother-in-law, Daniel Bryant, the Duke of Bedford, came with his former business partner and closest friend, Mr. Brett Curtis. She pursed her lips and tapped her fingers against the sofa arm, then froze at her rare display of impatience. It was difficult to remain unruffled with her plans in disarray and temporarily shelved, because she could not possibly proceed under the man's all-knowing, piercing gaze. When Brett locked those eyes on her, he studied her as if she were a riddle he had to decipher or a pesky knot he needed to unravel. It was a problem. One she needed to remove. The christening was a few days ago, so one would think his departure imminent. More important, he had a company to run, and she dearly wished he would disappear to do so. She glanced across the room to where Brett stood conversing with her father and brother-in-law. Bedford, who held Emma's twin brother, Colin, lifted the boy and thrust him toward Brett. She half rose, prepared to rescue the baby, but instead, she found herself sinking back into her seat, her brow furrowed. Brett accepted the bundle and cradled Colin in the crook of his arm, smiling at the boy. At a comment from her father, Brett lifted his head and flashed that devilish grin of his. She sighed. It was difficult to remain annoyed at the man when he did something so heartrendingly endearing. She knew he would be a problem. "My father has a large family, and many of our cousins have children," Melody Curtis explained, having clearly noted Emily's surprise. "We are often having babies thrust into our arms, and Brett has a way with children. Always has." He has a way with women, too. Emily cursed the unbidden thought, and summoned a wan smile for Brett's younger sister. While blond and blue-eyed like Brett, the resemblance ended there. Unlike her statuesque brother, Melody, at sixteen years, was a slip of a woman, barely reaching his shoulders, but her large, ebullient personality belied her size. Like her name, her voice carried a lyrical cadence, as if she was always on the brink of laughter. "I can see that. He will make a wonderful father," Julia said. "I used to think so." Miranda Curtis, another of Brett's sisters, joined the conversation. "But since Daniel's become a silent investor, leaving the daily operations of the company in Brett's hands, I worry about him. He used to be on the brink of marrying one woman after another. Now freight weights, cargo hauls, and trading routes hold his attention." A year older than Melody, Miranda was a darker-haired version of her sister, but carried a more serious mien. Sometimes Emily caught Miranda quietly assessing her, and Emily had to glance away, fearing what the young woman might find. She hoped she was not as prescient as her brother. One meddling Curtis was enough. Miranda's comment on Brett's multiple marriage prospects came as no surprise to Emily. The man could charm a statue to life, so it was inevitable that women were drawn to him. It was one of the reasons why Emily kept him at arm's length--despite the dormant feelings Brett Curtis awakened in her. More important, she would not attach herself to any man ever again. To risk the passion, or worse, the pain of it a second time. The first time had nearly killed her. The only surprise in Miranda's disclosure was that Brett had been too busy with work to pursue women. It was like a fox abstaining from hens. She doubted the man capable of such restraint. Perhaps he had changed. Mulling that over, Emily eyed Brett with curiosity. "Yes, reproduction with freight weights or cargo hauls would prove a miraculous feat indeed, so his prospects for fatherhood do look bleak," Melody said. "Melody!" Miranda gasped. "Psshaw, Mandy. He was never serious about any of those women. Thank goodness." Melody's face scrunched up, revealing her opinion of Brett's taste. "And he has more time on his hands now that he has hired a new manager to oversee the company in America, as well as one to assist with the London and Bristol operations." Miranda, bristling at her sister's cavalier dismissal of her concerns, opened her mouth to protest, but Julia intervened. "I have faith that he shall find someone special very soon. Being happily married myself, I wish for your brother to be equally as content. It is the least I can do for him after stealing Daniel away. Since Emily tells me that of late all my wishes appear to be coming to pass, expect wedding bells to be in his near future." Julia winked at Miranda. "Do not toss away a wish on a wife for Brett!" Melody said. "Once he sets his mind to the matter, he is quite capable of finding one himself. It is not like he has never asked--" "What Melody means to say"--Miranda cut off her sister, a flash of warning lighting her eyes--"is that Brett has little trouble accomplishing what he wants once he sets his mind to it." So Mr. Brett Curtis had asked for a woman's hand in marriage? It was something else to mull over. Had he loved the woman? Had she then rejected him? Or he her? Who was she? A voracious reader, Emily loved a good story, particularly when it starred someone else's tragedy and helped her to escape her own. Guilt pricked her at the petty thought, and she chided herself for both it and her curiosity. After all, Mr. Curtis's ill-fated affair was not her concern. "Emily?" Emily stiffened at Julia's repetition of her name. The Curtis sisters watched her expectantly, and Julia was giving her a curious look. Heat climbed her cheeks. "I'm sorry, what did you say?" "I was just commenting that the success of Curtis Shipping is a testament to Brett's talent at accomplishing what he sets his mind to. Daniel always quipped that Brett could charm, persuade, or talk a person to death in order to achieve his goals," Julia said. "Do not forget begging and nagging," Melody added. "He does have a talent for that," Miranda said, grinning. "And chicanery and intimidation," Emily muttered, and then froze as Julia's lips parted. Had she spoken out loud? She cursed her forwardness. "Yes, that, too." Melody rescued her, affably agreeing with a laugh. "Then let us leave Brett to fend for himself, because I have a better need for one of your wishes." "Oh?" Julia looked amused. "Is there a handsome man who needs to be wished to your side?" "I certainly hope so." Melody winked. "But do not send anyone my way just yet. First, I need one of your wishes or any assistance you can provide to address another matter. You see, I have a need to move a mountain." Emily exchanged a bemused look with Julia, while Miranda clapped a hand to her mouth, eyes brimming with laughter. "A mountain? Perhaps you should elaborate," Julia said. "While we are here, we wish to travel to London. I want to go to the theater and to dance the night away at a ball. More important, we wish to shop for new gowns at Madame Duchard's infamous shop. Her designs are divine." Melody released a wistful sigh. "Then I shall be more fashionably attired to meet any suitors who come my way." "Of course, you must visit London," Julia said. "A trip to England is not complete without a city excursion. I cannot believe your parents would oppose such a trip." Miranda had told Emily that after the funeral, Brett's parents and younger sister Merritt had remained behind in Oxfordshire to care for the dowager duchess and her younger children. "The ride from Bedfordshire to London in fair weather is but a two-day journey. While the road can be rustic in places, no mountains impede your travels," Emily said. Melody's expression was glum as her gaze strayed to Brett. "I beg to differ. There is an insurmountable one about six feet tall, weighing just over twelve stone." Miranda followed her sister's gaze and solemnly nodded. "Yes, with a deep-set scowl, and a canny ability of disappearing whenever the words shopping and new gowns enter the conversation." Julia tossed back her head and laughed, and Emily smiled. "We have been working on breaching his defenses. If as you say, your wishes are coming true lately, perhaps you can spare one for us," Melody said. "He refuses to escort you into London?" Emily's smile faded. What kind of brother did that make Brett if he was so heartless that he could not find time to accompany his sisters to the city? He may have spent the past year in London, overseeing his company's expansion, but his sisters had been home in America. Boston was far from provincial, but she doubted it could compete with John Nash's recently completed development of New Street. And Melody was right. Madame Duchard's gowns were exquisite. Miranda glanced at Melody and appeared to choose her words with care. "It is not that he refuses per se, it is that another matter has arisen that requires his attention. He has promised to escort us as soon as it is taken care of." "Yes, he did vow to do so," Melody agreed. "But he also said he preferred to take a long walk off a very short pier." Her tone, for once, was gloomy. "He told me he would rather be drawn and quartered," Miranda said bleakly. Emily ignored Julia's laughter. "I thought he had more time now that he has hired new managers?" "It is not work stealing his time, but a family situation. He promised to assist my aunt with a matter of some urgency," Miranda said. "Yes, he needs to locate her missing heir." Melody sighed. "The newly minted Duke of Prescott disappeared." She leaned forward and lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "I think he has run away. Brett said he hoped he had, infuriating my aunt--" "Melody!" Miranda yelped. "What? Andrew never expected to inherit the title anyway. He was the fourth in line and the black sheep in the family. So--" "That is enough, Melody," Miranda chastised. "Aunt Beverly would not appreciate your publicly airing private family matters." "Oh psshaw, Daniel is like family, practically lived with us for a decade in America. Now he is married to Your Grace, so that makes her family. And Lady Emily is her sister and so by extension--" "I understand." Miranda spoke with strained patience. "That still does not warrant a full account of--" "It is not like they can keep his disappearance a secret." Melody's eyes sparkled with mischief, undaunted. "My aunt blames Brett for Drew's disappearance, so she has demanded Brett find and drag Drew home willing or not. If he fails, Aunt Beverly says"--Melody's voice dropped to a melodramatic contralto--"Brett will rue the day he was born. Brett said our aunt should have treaded the boards because she has a penchant for drama." "Such talent runs in the family," Miranda said dryly, narrowing her eyes at Melody. "Why does she blame Brett?" Emily said, edging forward on her seat. "Oh, she blames Brett for all the trouble Drew gets into." Melody rolled her eyes. "After failing out of a few schools, my aunt despaired of Andrew getting any education. As a last resort, they shipped him off to join Brett and Bedford at Dunbar Academy. The three became inseparable. A trio of trouble , my uncle used to grouse. My aunt Beverly blames Brett for filling Drew with his American scorn for English ways, which, of course, in her opinion, comprises all that is good and proper in the world." "Does Brett have any idea where your cousin has gone?" Julia said. "Or why he has disappeared?" Miranda frowned. "I do not think so, but I have no doubt he will find him." "If Drew is in London, I do not see why we cannot accompany Brett into the city," Melody said. "If Julia and Emily agree, I cannot see how his defenses can withstand a four-woman siege. The odds are against him." She beamed. Emily straightened, inspiration seizing her. "Actually, your first idea is better. Removing the mountain from the equation altogether will make your journey a far smoother one. And I know how to do it." "Really?" Melody's eyes widened. Emily ignored Julia, who was looking at her as if she had sprouted a second head. Miranda's words had given her an epiphany. What if Brett is not my problem, but my solution? The man was good at resolving difficult situations, accomplishing what he set his mind to, and persuading people to do his bidding. He was also slick as a cardsharp, and cardsharps always won. She had vowed to consort with the devil to achieve her goal. Satan appeared in many guises. If he posed as a shrewd, handsome American businessman for this sojourn, so be it. She was a woman of her word. She would get Brett Curtis to assist her. In return, she would escort his sisters to London and to shop along Oxford Street, liberating Brett to search for his wayward cousin. To set her plan in motion, she needed allies. Melody was right. Brett might be able to fend off two women, but four? Well, then it would be like trying to change the direction of salmon en route to spawn, or in this case, to shop. "I would love to offer you my services as an escort in London. You can stay with us at Keaton House during your visit. Father has business in the city and has been badgering me to accompany him. What better reason to do so than to visit Madame Duchard's?" Emily did not glance Julia's way after noting her parted lips and wide eyes. Julia must think Emily's two heads had sprouted horns, so stunned did her sister appear. Melody clapped her hands in glee. "That is a marvelous plan." Miranda's brow furrowed. "Lady Emily, perhaps you should confer with the earl before extending--" "My father will be absolutely delighted to have you join us." She waved away Miranda's concerns. "He has been worried about my not getting out enough and encouraging me to enjoy the Season. I have a tendency to rusticate in the country more than I should, so a city excursion will alleviate my father's worries about my growing roots and sprouting leaves." Once upon a time, she had relished the never-ending whirl of balls, garden parties, and elaborate dinners. Since Jason's death, Emily no longer felt as if she belonged there. Did not know if she ever would--or if she could summon the energy to try. But to obtain the answers she sought and for Jason's sake, she would force herself to return--and more difficult, pretend to belong. "It is a grand offer. I do not know how to thank you. Brett will be indebted to you," Melody said. "After all, you are sparing him an evisceration at the gallows." Emily hoped their brother shared their gratitude, but she had no idea how the man would respond. He was an American, and nor did he behave as one expected. He could be outspoken, irreverent, and unpredictable. She hoped the positive attributes upon which she was counting overrode these problematic ones. "This is a generous offer," Miranda said. "If you are quite certain your father would approve, we would be honored to accept." Her worried gaze drifted to Julia. "As Emily says, I am certain Father will agree to the plan and the company." Julia hastened to assure them, recovering her power of speech and looking delighted. "But to alleviate any doubts, let him speak for himself." Julia clutched the baby close, swept to her feet, and with the Curtis sisters following, led their group over to the men. Surprised at the speed in which the events were unfolding, Emily followed at a slower pace. "Papa, Emily has had the most delightful idea!" Julia announced. "Miranda and Melody expressed an interest in visiting London, so Emily invited the girls and Brett to stay with you and her at Keaton House." Julia beamed at her father, as if she was bestowing on him a prized gift. All the men's eyes turned to Emily. Usually a loquacious man, her father appeared to have been rendered mute, so stunned was he. Emily's cheeks warmed. "Is that so?" Brett said in a slow drawl. His deep voice rumbled through her body, and she blinked as she met his curious gaze. She had paused beside him, and he stood so close that she could smell the subtle fragrance of his cologne, see the gleam in his eyes. He wore his hair unfashionably long, so it brushed the collar of his shirt. She swallowed at the sudden dryness in her mouth. In for a penny, in for a pound. She lifted her chin and plastered a bright smile on her face. "Father has business in London, and your sisters tell me that you do as well, so I thought an invitation to Keaton House to be timely." "It will save you that long walk off a short pier," Melody said, squeezing Emily's arm and shooting Brett a triumphant look. "You do recall saying that you would prefer to take--" "Yes, Melody, my memory is just fine." Brett cut his sister off. "It is yours that I worry about. If you recall, I promised to escort you to the city as soon as I tied up my business matter. I refuse to impose on Lord Taunton or Lady Emily's generosity when--" "Impose! Please, impose! In fact, I insist." Her father had recovered his voice, and it boomed out. He hastened to Emily's side, his eyes glowing. "I should have thought of it myself. Have to thank Emily for doing so." "Really, we cannot--" Brett began. "You can. You must! A visit to England is not complete without a trip to London," he said, echoing Julia's words. "As the Season is in its infancy, I am sure we can extract invitations to those events the ladies would enjoy. Isn't that right, Emily?" Emily's smile wavered. A familiar quickening of nerves had her pulse racing and her heart pounding, momentarily paralyzing her. She had to tamp down the desperate urge to rescind her invitation and stay rooted in Bedfordshire. Safe. Protected. Away from the prying eyes, the censure, and those endless murmurs. How is she? Better? She never was quite the same after the viscount's death. So very young. A tragedy. She forced her breathing to level as she had practiced, calming herself. For Jason's sake. For justice. "Of course. I am sure there is a pile of invitations awaiting us." She hoped they did not bury her. "I shall make a point of weeding through the most promising." And deadheading those from sycophants and tittle-tattlers. The former seeking favor from the earl, the latter looking for grist to feed the ever-churning gossip mill. "I am sure there are many that will suit our needs." Daniel dropped a hand on Brett's shoulder, a teasing gleam in his eyes. "Actually, staying at Keaton House will suit yours as well, Brett. As you have given up your apartments and have been lodging in the room above your office. Keaton House is far more hospitable with Lady Emily and Taunton helping to make your sisters' visit to our fair isle an unforgettable one. Lady Emily will garner invitations to the very best events. While you may not appreciate the advantages that come with titled connections, you cannot deny your sisters the right to do so. To dance at the Duke of Hartwick's ball, to attend Lady Davis's garden party, and of course, to--" "I understand," Brett said through gritted teeth. He shrugged his shoulder, dislodging Daniel's grip and addressing Emily and her father. "Lord Taunton and Lady Emily, to secure my two favorite sisters their happiness, I accept your generous invitation to--" He got no further. His words were drowned out by his sisters' squeals of excitement. Melody released Emily to tug Brett down by his shoulders and gave him a smacking kiss on his cheek. His indulgent smile set off a flutter in Emily's breast. When the silence settled, Miranda spoke up. "Two of your favorite sisters? What about Merritt?" "Merritt who?" Brett winked. Melody laughed and caught Miranda's arm to draw her away, their heads close together. "Your sisters tasked me with moving a mountain," Julia said. "I thank you for enabling me to do so. I feel quite heroic." "It is not me whom you should thank, but Lady Emily. You do know they will not be fit to live with once they experience a London Season. But I admit, you have rescued me from a nagging, begging, and whining siege." The Curtis sisters clearly shared their brother's tenacity in the pursuit of their goals. Emily would keep that in mind. "I am indebted to you," Brett added, giving her a courtly bow. And that was her plan--to have him in her debt. Excerpted from Daughter of an Earl by Victoria Morgan All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.

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Publishers Weekly Review

Romance and mystery mix well in this complex sequel to The Heart of a Duke, set in Regency England. Lady Emily Chandler enlists American shipping company owner Brett Curtis in her quest to prove that her former fiancé, Jason, was murdered. As they hunt for clues, they realize that their constant sparring stems from their strong attraction. Emily suggests that they have an affair, as she has committed to never marrying, but Brett is reluctant to take her up on her offer. Though their days are filled with following leads, Emily plans to fill their nights with her efforts at seduction. But she doesn't anticipate that her feelings for Brett will involve more than mere lust. This intelligent, sensual historical is filled with engaging wit, a healthy dose of intrigue, and scintillating romance. Agent: Laura Bradford, Bradford Literary Agency. (July) © Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved.

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