Three Wicked Nights with a Notorious Earl, page 1
Three Wicked Nights with a Notorious Earl
a steamy Regency romance
Sandra Sookoo
All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording or by any information retrieval and storage system without permission of the author. Likenesses of characters to anyone living or dead is strictly a coincidence.
THREE WICKED NIGHTS WITH A NOTORIOUS EARL ©2023 by Sandra Sookoo
Published by New Independence Books
ISBN- 9798215205709
Contact Information:
sandrasookoo@yahoo.com
newindependencebooks@gmail.com
Visit me at www.sandrasookoo.com
Book Cover Design by The Midnight Muse
https://midnightmusedesigns.com/site2/
Font placement and back cover by: Sandra Sookoo
Publishing History:
First Digital Edition, 2023
Contents
Dear Readers,
Dedication
Blurb
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Epilogue
Regency-era romances by Sandra Sookoo
Author Bio
Stay in Touch
Dear Readers,
A couple of times a year, I put out very steamy standalones at the request of my readers who don’t want to worry about immersing themselves into a series so they won’t have to keep track of characters.
Three Wicked Nights with a Notorious Earl came about the moment I saw the cover. Like, I saw the cover, the muse gave me the plot, scenes, and characters immediately following, so I had to buy the cover.
This romance is quite steamy and quite wicked, so read at your own peril 😉 But the characters are well-matched and their happily ever after is very satisfying. I hope you enjoy this story.
Have fun! 😉
Sandra
Dedication
Alison Pridie, thank you for putting your unique light into the world and for all you do for the author community. It’s appreciated.
Blurb
Can a marriage arranged in childhood survive the earl’s infamous reputation?
The Honorable Miss Evangeline Rigsby has been engaged from the age of five to a man about whom she has only heard improper tales. On her twenty-sixth birthday, she is sent to the wild Cornish coast to wed her reclusive betrothed, sight unseen, and with no choice in the matter, for he holds her father’s vowels and the mortgage to his townhouse in London. Beyond annoyed, she is more than ready for a challenge of thwarting the wicked earl at every turn.
Sebastian Hamilton, unrepentantly corrupted Earl of Reddingham, has been rejected from the London ton for a myriad of reasons. As duties and responsibilities press in, he’s compelled to put his life in order, and since he has been engaged from a young man of fifteen, it’s time to make the sacrifice. The one saving grace of being leg-shackled is introducing his innocent bride to forbidden carnal pleasures. Perhaps she might help him regain his rightful place in society and respectability.
Following a rather tempestuous nuptial ceremony, the earl sets out to initiate Evangeline into the world of scandal and sin. As each sensual night passes, confidences are exchanged that provide a closeness physical intimacy doesn’t. Shared emotions surprise them both, enhanced by mutual heat and attraction, but as an unexpected romance grows, fears creep in to stall their union. When a vicious squall blows in on the coast, they’ll need to decide that vulnerability and wanting love isn’t as horrid as they previously thought.
But will three wicked nights be enough?
Chapter One
May 1, 1813
Satterfield House
London, England
The Honorable Evangeline Rigsby, only daughter to the Viscount of Satterfield, had never been quite as annoyed as she was now.
Her parents had called her into the drawing room on May Day, and instead of informing her that they would seek out some sort of entertainment to mark the day, they had, instead, asked her to sit, and with somber expressions had told her the contents of a letter her father held, of which she was still reeling.
“You cannot be serious.” Shock kept her chest tight, for never had she thought this particular eventuality would have happened, especially now when she had her own hopes and dreams glimmering before her like stars.
“I am afraid this is all too true, dear,” her mother said, with an odd mix of sadness and relief in her gray eyes, which were so much like Evangeline’s. “It would seem that Reddingham’s father is dead, and he wishes to make good on your engagement.”
“An engagement Papa made with the earl’s father when I was a child.” It wasn’t a question, and when they both nodded, her annoyance built into the next level. They were they clinging to the old arrangement when she had never had cause to meet the new earl?
“Yes.” Her mother nodded.
So did her father, but at least he had the grace to appear embarrassed. Briefly. There was no trace of anger or regret in his expression, only the same relief her mother suffered. “We really must do this.”
“When did his father die?”
“That information wasn’t included in the letter.”
Interesting. It could have been as early as a couple of years ago or many. It didn’t matter that the earl was just now acting upon the old engagement. “So then my marrying Reddingham is to be your sacrifice how?” Truly, being forced into such a thing was beyond the pale. She was six and twenty, and these weren’t the Middle Ages any longer. Surely, she had a say in guiding her own future.
Her parents exchanged a speaking glance. Then her mother nudged her father in the ribs and encouraged him with a nod. “Best have it all over and done with.”
“Right.” He folded the letter and set the missive on a nearby table at his elbow. “If there was any other way around the current difficulties, we would take them. Honestly, there is nothing else to be done.”
That didn’t clarify the position. Evangeline stared at him, not about to give quarter.
He tugged on the knot of his cravat. “You see, things are rather grim when it comes to our coffers, my dear.” A mottled flush rose up his neck. “It seems we have hit a financial strain and our—my—pockets are nearly to let.”
“How does any of that pertain to my marrying a man I have never met before let alone seen in recent years?” In fact, no one in the ton had seen the man, but there were still whispered stories if anyone should ask. The last time she’d glimpsed him in passing was one summer at her father’s country estate because his property bordered Reddingham’s. And that had been at least ten years ago. She wasn’t sure the man she’d seen at the time had even been the earl’s son.
But that hadn’t quelled her morbid fascination to learn all she could about him, which wasn’t much. While people were quick to speak ill of Reddingham, no one could precisely say what made him such a mysterious and scandalous creature except for his wicked predilections of the carnal kind.
“Well, you see...” Her father cleared his throat while her mother refused to look at him. “Reddingham holds all my vowels as well as the mortgage to this townhouse. Previously, they had been held by his father, and we had an arrangement that nothing would ever come of that debt, but his son won’t abide by that unspoken deal. He has called in everything. Says I can either pay or send over my daughter so he can wed and bed you and have the responsibilities of his life over with.”
As if I’m nothing but a convenient place for a man to stick his wick. That might have convinced her as a naïve young lady of eighteen, but not now. “Oh, how romantic. Be still my heart.” She didn’t care that sarcasm hung heavily in her voice. When a woman married, she hoped it would have been much more remarkable than this. “For that matter, how could you, Papa? Sacrificing your own daughter to cancel debts you willingly made at one time or another.”
“Don’t be like that, dear,” her mother pleaded in a soft voice. “You are the last hope that keeps the Rigsbys from the poor house.”
“Ah, since my other two siblings have passed into the world beyond, you mean.” The rotten attitude couldn’t be helped. She was not amused by any of this.
Both of her older brothers had died at various times over the years—one from sickness and one from driving a curricle recklessly through the streets of London. Of course it was her duty to recover the Satterfield coffers since her father was apparently useless and without initiative. And he didn’t have an heir, so that further complicated matters.
“What else is the earl offering in addition to not calling in your debt?” Just how much was she worth to her parents?
Again, her father tugged on his cravat knot. “He has given us ten thousand pounds. Already deposited into my account with the Bank of London. That ought to do us nicely for quite some time and will go a long way into doing needed repairs to the
“Yes.” Her mother nodded as her head was connected to a string manipulated by a puppet master. “Apparently, Reddingham is as wealthy and rich as a Persian sultan, but no one can quite pinpoint how he has made his fortunes.”
“Then, by your measuring stick, if a man has coin, he must be respected regardless of the horrid rumors bandied about his name?” Truly, this was one of the worst days of her life.
Who cared that she aspired to be a baker or that she’d hoped to go to France to learn how to make delicate French pastries or chocolates? No one had thought to ask how she wished to spend the remainder of her life. None of it mattered, for this arrangement had been made when times were good, and everyone was happy, and her family was intact. There had even been speculation the arranged engagement had been done in jest or as a farce when the two fathers had been well into their cups.
It could have been broken at any time, but then her father had fallen to vices, and he had never been astute with his funds. No doubt the older earl had wanted leverage to use against her father if the need arose. She didn’t expect her father’s actions would change now that he’d been given ten thousand pounds for her immediate removal from London.
To where, exactly? If back to the country in Southampton, then she could merely flee to her father’s manor and remain there the rest of her life if need be. “Why must I leave London to begin with? What sort of man won’t come here to claim his bride?” Saying the word sent a chill of foreboding down her spine.
Surprisingly, her mother answered first. “It would seem Reddingham is a bit eccentric. He lives in a Gothic-style castle on the Cornish coast, and hasn’t left that property for years.” She shrugged. “There was some dark and horrid scandalbroth years ago, but I cannot remember what exactly caused him to flee.”
“Murder I believe,” her father said with a shifty-eyed glance at her mother. “But I’m certain all is well now.” He cleared his voice as he regarded her. “Regardless of all that nonsense, we don’t have a choice, poppet,” her father said with a bit of a whine in his voice. He glanced at the letter on the table. “Reddingham wishes it done as soon as possible, as per the letter from his man-of-affairs.”
She pointed her gaze to the ceiling. “Ah, stick your only daughter on a post coach and wish her well? As long as your pockets are lined?”
“Of course not,” he answered, but he wouldn’t meet her eyes. “Reddingham is sending a private traveling coach for your use, or so it says in the letter.”
“Ah, so that makes it better?” That damned letter which had sent her world into chaos. “What else?” Could they tell her anything about her soon-to-be husband? For that matter, why was she even thinking about consenting to this ridiculous plan?
Her father’s Adam’s apple bobbed with a hard swallow. “He intends to wed you as soon as you arrive in Cornwall. He will provide two witnesses but won’t have guests.”
“Why?” She frowned, for it was exceedingly odd. Was he disfigured or hideous? Was that why he’d never returned to London?
“I don’t believe Reddingham is in the habit of entertaining,” her mother explained in a low voice. “And most of the ton has already shunned him.”
“For alleged crimes that no one can seem to remember.” Again, not a question, which only made the whole thing more interesting and more annoying.
“There is this as well.” From the interior pocket of his jacket, her father produced another envelope. “For you.” When he handed it over, the word “Evangeline” was scrawled on the crisp ivory envelope in bold writing.
“Oh?” After breaking the seal, Evangeline removed the letter, unfolded it, and then skimmed over the same bold handwriting.
Dear Miss Rigsby.
I have been betrothed to you since I was fifteen and you five. Most of my adult life I put off marrying, but now responsibilities are pressing in, and with the damned war raging on, I have grown tired of things as they are, so I am finally adhering to that engagement.
Please come to Lionsgate Hall on the Cornish coast post haste. I will send a traveling coach for you in three weeks. We will marry on June 1st. It was my mother’s birthday. I would like to honor the day with our nuptial ceremony. Pack all of your belongings because we will not return to London in the foreseeable future. Bring a maid or traveling companion if you must, for once you are here, there are precious few people willing to talk to a man like me, and making friends will be a challenge once you are my countess.
I have no use for maidenly protestations or shrinking violets, so find your courage and your curiosity, Miss Rigsby. First and foremost, your duties will be in my bed for a variety of reasons, most of which are wicked, and I won’t apologize for those needs or appetites. It is the only way I have found to tolerate certain aspects of life, but that is neither here or there nor appropriate fodder for a letter.
Life is about to change exponentially for both of us. I rather think I don’t care—have ceased caring about many things long ago—but you might, and if you listen to the gossip bandied about my name, you can draw your own conclusions, but wed we will. I won’t budge from the matter.
Yours, Reddingham.
Though there were veiled clues sprinkled throughout the letter which only made him more mysterious, heat raged in her cheeks as she folded the missive and stuffed it back into the envelope. “He is quite arrogant, but at least he used ‘please’ when he asked that I travel to Cornwall.” What sort of life had he lived thus far, and why was he hiding in such an out of the way place? Though Lionsgate Hall had a pleasant, mysterious ring to it, she remained skeptical about needing to go there in the first place.
Then her ire rose once more. Why did men think they could just order a woman about without consequence or question? What about her own dreams and plans? First her father would trade her for money and now the earl who, from the sound of it, he intended to bed her and put a babe in her belly straight away.
Yet that phrase “your duties will be in my bed for a variety of reasons, most of which are wicked,” stuck in her mind and circled through it over and over. It was no secret throughout the ton that Reddingham had chased women when he’d been in London. He wasn’t exactly the hero of the fairy stories she’d adored reading as a child and still did if the truth were known. To her way of thinking, men should be heroic, strong, honorable, and above reproach. If she listened to the gossip—and why wouldn’t she, for there was precious else to know him by—the earl had no redeeming qualities whatsoever.
And her father had more or less sold her off to the man lock, stock, and barrel.
“What does he say, dear?” her mother asked, and there was a trace of fear at the back of her eyes.
“Only that he wishes to marry with alacrity and that he wants to take on the responsibilities of his title straightaway.” She didn’t need to know the additional contents of the rather scandalous letter.
“Perhaps it won’t be so bad.” But her mother’s expression suggested otherwise.
“At least he’s only ten years your senior, poppet,” her father said with a lingering glance at the sideboard where, once upon a time, he’d kept the most expensive spirits.
“Time will tell.” Why was she even considering the marriage? One simple fact above all others: it might prove a better life than the scrimping and saving of now, for her father had sold off all the pretty things they’d used to have in the house merely for the sake of continuing his gambling habits.
She glanced at the envelope in her lap. Despite her annoyance with her father, she couldn’t help but be curious about the earl and his wicked lifestyle. Ever since she’d accidentally watched a maid and a footman couple in an empty room several years before, she had been curious about the things such an act entailed, especially since the maid had pleasured the footman orally while Evangeline had watched.
Would that be enough for her to swallow an arranged and largely ill-advised marriage?
There was no way of knowing.
In Cornwall, she could remove herself from everything familiar that brought her grief that hit her at every turn, and she could finally consign the memories to her past. No matter what or where she resided, she would keep her dreams alive, for she refused to give them up merely for a man. Of that she was certain.
