A Lady's Daring Affair, page 1
A Lady's Daring Affair
A REGENCY ROMANCE NOVEL
EMILY HONEYFIELD
Copyright © 2021 by Emily Honeyfield
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 Lady's Daring Affair
Table of Contents
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A Lady's Daring Affair
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
Epilogue
Courting A Sinful Stranger
Introduction
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
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A Lady's Daring Affair
Introduction
The enthralling Lydia Blackmore has been suspecting that something is not quite right with her husband's death for a long time. Something dreadful lied, indeed, beneath his terrible accidental death even though no one was willing to believe her... When a handsome Earl suddenly appears in her life and offers his services, so they can solve this scandalous mystery together, Lydia gives into the temptation, and accepts the stranger’s offer. Will this seductive man, that has been warming his way into her heart, help ease her conscience and move on? Or will she find herself more tangled than ever in a dangerous, but very tantalising, secret affair?
The fiery Christopher Gulliver has unexpectedly inherited a great debt from his father. Unfortunately, his duty to settle it has ultimately left him with nothing... With a sister to assist and an estate to take care of, Christopher is struggling to provide for his family. When fate throws the captivating Lydia into his path, he sees an irresistible opportunity, and so, he plots to gain her affection in the hopes of accomplishing a marriage. However the more he gets closer to her, the more hooked and enraptured he becomes to her magnetic charms. Will he manage to keep himself from falling as well, or will he venture into a far more treacherous situation than he was expecting?
The endeavor of Lydia and Christopher to reveal the truth of Lydia's husband's death, begins based on guilty secrets. As Christopher executes his wicked plan and manages to keep his motives hidden, their untamed feelings grow more and more every day… Can Lydia really trust Christopher after all or will she fall victim of a powerful man once again? Will their love endure all this vicious betrayal or will this enticing romance draw them both into a life threatening enigma?
Chapter 1
Lydia didn’t want to stay out for too long. She wanted to get that hat she had been promised would be ordered for her, and then she could go home. Luke was waiting for her, and Lydia had promised to spend time with him this morning. She didn’t like letting her son down.
Why did she have to forget this order? Mrs Lewis had said it would be available that day, and she would need to collect it herself. Lydia had contemplated asking one of the servants to fetch it but decided against it. It was better that she went herself. After catching one of her maids stealing, Lydia was a little paranoid; she wanted to make sure a hat she had specially ordered actually returned home.
Her mind was in a mess, and maybe the fresh air would help her clear things out. Lydia kept her head down and her gaze averted from people she walked by as she hurried along the pavement. She didn’t want to talk to anyone right now; all she wanted to do was get home as soon as possible.
She shouldn’t have agreed to come back out into society. Lydia wanted to stay at home or move to where her parents lived, so she didn’t have to meet members of the ton again, but her parents told her that it was the best thing for her. It had been a year since Simon died, and Lydia couldn’t hide in the shadows all the time. She had to get back out into the public eye and carry on as her husband would have wanted.
Lydia didn’t want to move on. Not when she knew something was wrong. How could she move on when she knew things were left unfinished?
The hat shop was, thankfully, not far from her house. At least she didn’t have to walk far. Lydia reached the door and had to step back quickly as the door opened and almost hit her in the face.
“Oh, forgive me, my lady.”
Lydia started. She knew that voice. She looked up to see the tall, slim man coming out of the shop, his fair hair smoothed down on his head. He was sporting a trimmed beard from the last time Lydia had seen him, and he was wearing a regular light grey suit, but she recognized him. It had been almost a year, but she wasn’t likely to forget him.
“Constable Parrish.”
Constable Edward Parrish’s expression didn’t give anything away from a moment. But then realization cleared, and Lydia knew he recognized her now. His pleasant smile faded away, and he gave her a curt nod.
“Lady Blackmore.”
He started to walk away, but Lydia grabbed his arm.
“Constable Parrish, is there anything new? On my husband’s death?”
She watched as the constable stiffened and his eyes closed with his jaw tightening. He hadn’t changed. He still thought she was irritating. Parrish turned back to her and fixed her with a blank stare.
“Lady Blackmore, we had the inquest last year. You know the outcome of that. Your husband’s death was ruled as an accident. There’s nothing new to be found about that.”
“I know that, but I also know that something’s wrong.” Lydia protested. “Something in my head says that something isn’t right about this.”
Parrish pursed his lips.
“I would say that there isn’t something right in your head, Lady Blackmore, and that’s about as respectful as I can be.”
Lydia bristled. Constable Parrish worked in High Wycombe, coming down to London on occasion. He had been the first on the scene once Lydia’s servants alerted the authorities. And he had taken one look at Simon’s body and said it was an accident. Lydia didn’t like the man, and she hadn’t liked how dismissive he had been.
The man didn’t care about the death of a man in society. He just rolled his eyes and moved on. Lydia had tried pleading with him to ask the local Justice of the Peace to look further into Simon’s death, but Parrish outright refused. Last time, he had said that Lydia needed to see a doctor if she was seeing something that wasn’t there.
If he started that up again now, Lydia would not be ladylike. She glared at the man.
“That’s not how to speak to a lady and a widow, Constable Parrish,” Lydia said sharply. “No matter what your feelings are towards me, you shouldn’t speak to me like that.”
Parrish arched an eyebrow. He looked her up and down, and then he sighed and shrugged his arm out of Lydia’s grip.
“Forgive me, Lady Blackmore. That was unkind. But the fact of the matter is, everyone says it was an accident, and the coroner ruled it as such. Your husband died through no fault of anyone else.”
“But…” Lydia started, but Parrish held up a hand.
“Look, my lady, I understand that you loved your husband, and you’re taking his loss badly. I would be the same if my wife died so abruptly. But you need to realize that when a man like Lord Blackmore ends up dead, it’s not always going to be something nefarious. We didn’t find anyone who wanted to kill him. In fact, pretty much everyone said he was a fair man who was the last person you would want to kill. He fell down the stairs and broke his neck. If I were you, I should be thankful that we didn’t come to a ruling of suicide.”
Lydia stared.
“Why would anyone commit suicide by falling down the stairs?” She demanded. “Even if my husband were suicidal, he would never have fallen down the stairs. He could have gone up and down the stairs with his eyes closed.”
“That declaration isn’t enough for any person in law to open up the case again.” Parrish sighed and shook his head. “I think you need to go home, Lady Blackmore. Focus on your son and yourself. That’s all you can do. And accept that your husband died, and it was an accident. Good day, my lady.”
“But Constable…”
Lydia watched as Parrish walked away, swinging the hatbox in one hand. The man was always so dismissive of people, especially women. There had been a point where he had even thought Lydia had pushed her husband down the stairs. Lydia was surprised that he didn’t say that at the inquest. She would never hurt her husband. She had loved him.
Parrish was incompetent. If he were a decent person, he would have agreed to take one last look at it, just to humour her. If he could do that, then maybe Lydia could accept that whatever was nagging at her would have to be put aside, and
Her title and wealth meant nothing if her sex was all people saw when she was addressing them. She was a woman, and therefore always hysterical. Lydia had never been hysterical, even when she found her husband dead. Whenever someone called her that, it made her angry. Lydia hated it.
Nobody believed her. That was the worst part of coming back into society after mourning. Everyone believed that Simon’s death was an accident. A year had gone by - fourteen months, to be exact - so the death was old news now. But to Lydia, it was still fresh, almost like it was a few days since she found Simon sprawled at the bottom of the stairs, his eyes still open and glassy with blood coming from his mouth. He had died in her arms, and Lydia didn’t think she could recover from that, seeing the light disappear from his eyes as he stared at her.
This might have been easier if Simon had been murdered. Then people would actually take her more seriously. Lydia hated the fact that there was niggling doubt in her gut, and nobody would listen to her. They just dismissed her as a grieving widow who needed to focus on grieving and not on something that couldn’t be changed. People thought she was looking for something that wasn’t there.
That wasn’t fair. Lydia deserved better. Luke deserved better, and it broke her heart that her son kept coming to her, even now, asking when Father was coming home. Luke was only four, and Lydia had broken it to him that his father was now resting peacefully and wouldn’t be coming home, but Luke kept coming to her and asking if Father had stopped resting peacefully and if he would be home soon.
They were both suffering still, and Lydia wanted to stop crying herself to sleep, knowing that no one, not even her parents, believed that Simon had been killed. She was sure of it. There was something not right about his body's position or the scream beforehand. Lydia had played it over and over in her head many times, and it just didn’t make sense.
Simon had been murdered. Lydia was sure of it.
“Madam?”
Lydia jumped. A tall, buxom woman in pale green was standing next to her, giving her a pointed look. It was then Lydia realized she was still standing in the middle of the doorway, holding onto the door and blocking the woman from coming out. Her face getting warm, Lydia stepped aside and bowed her head.
“Forgive me.”
The woman sniffed and left the shop, effectively dismissing her. It was then Lydia realized that she had been holding the door open the whole time she and Parrish spoke, and everyone inside the shop had heard them. Lydia wanted the ground to open up and swallow her.
People heard Parrish effectively call her hysterical and silly.
Lydia didn’t think she could go inside and get her hat anymore. Not after what people had just heard. Stepping away from the door, Lydia turned and walked away, keeping her head down. There were days when she wished she hadn’t been persuaded to go back into society.
#
Christopher Gulliver, Earl of Kimbolton, couldn’t take his eyes away from the statuesque beauty in the doorway of the hat shop. It was something he couldn’t stop. The woman immediately drew the eye. She was tall, taller than most women in society. Her dark hair was done up in a chignon at the base of her neck, making Kimbolton’s gaze move to her swan-like neck. From the cut of her pale-yellow dress and the cloth, she had money and a lot of it. She looked pale, and it had nothing to do with any touches of makeup.
And she was in pain. Kimbolton could see it in her face and the desperation in her voice when she spoke to the man who left the shop. Kimbolton wasn’t close enough to hear what had been said, but the tone was enough. Something was going on between the two of them, and the gentleman didn’t look very happy about it. That man walked away, and the woman’s expression flickered.
Kimbolton thought she was about to cry. Instead, once, she allowed a buxom woman who had been huffing and talking very loudly for the past half-hour into the street and walked away. If she was coming into the shop, it was as if the woman had decided that whatever she came for wasn’t worth it.
Kimbolton was now curious. He hadn’t expected a boring expedition to the hat shop to turn into something interesting. Or that the interest would be focused on a beautiful, albeit distressed, woman.
“Bolton.”
Kimbolton jumped when he was sharply nudged. He turned and saw Sir Evan Locke glaring at him. It was then Kimbolton remembered why he was here; moral support for his closest friend who had to buy a hat for his wife. He wasn’t here to stare at women.
“Forgive me, Locke.” He cleared his throat and glanced at the hatbox in the other man’s hand. “I was elsewhere.”
“I noticed,” Locke grunted. He nodded a farewell to the shop proprietor, Mrs Lewis, and then headed towards the door. “I’m surprised anyone could concentrate with that racket outside.”
“I would hardly call it a racket,” Kimbolton said as he hurried after his friend, heading out into the street. “That sounded like a woman wanting answers.”
Locke snorted.
“Women always want answers to something, even if the explanation has been given. They’re prone to outlandish decisions.”
Kimbolton had to object to that. Women were more level-headed than Locke declared. Then again, Locke wasn’t exactly the best person to talk about women. He didn’t believe in love. He said there was no place for love in his life. Even his marriage wasn’t built on love. Both Locke and his wife Evangeline were wealthy, and they had made a beneficial marriage. Kimbolton had no doubt that Lady Evangeline didn’t care for Locke, either, but they had gone into this marriage with their eyes wide open.
He didn’t think he could do that, even though marrying a wealthy woman would certainly help his situation. Being a penniless Earl was harder than people believe. Kimbolton wasn’t considered a prospect anymore. For the most part, he didn’t mind - he didn’t want to be seen because of his money - but it would be nice to have money, so there was that option of having a good marriage.
They headed down the street, and Kimbolton noticed the woman in yellow further up the street. She was walking with a long, purposeful stride with her head bent. She didn’t look at anyone as she weaved in and out of people. It was like she was ashamed. Kimbolton had seen women’s emotions go from one to another very quickly, and it looked like this woman was stuck in what could only be described as a whirlwind.
