Bedeviling Major Kenton (Willful Winterbournes Book 5), page 1
Bedeviling Major Kenton
Willful Winterbournes
Book Five
Sandra Sookoo
© Copyright 2023 by Sandra Sookoo
Text by Sandra Sookoo
Cover by Dar Albert
Dragonblade Publishing, Inc. is an imprint of Kathryn Le Veque Novels, Inc.
P.O. Box 23
Moreno Valley, CA 92556
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Produced in the United States of America
First Edition August 2023
Kindle Edition
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All Rights Reserved.
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
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Additional Dragonblade books by Author Sandra Sookoo
Willful Winterbournes Series
Romancing Miss Quill (Book 1)
Pursuing Mr. Mattingly (Book 2)
Courting Lady Yeardly (Book 3)
Guarding the Widow Pellingham (Book 4)
Bedeviling Major Kenton (Book 5)
Teasing Miss Atherby (Novella)
The Storme Brother Series
The Soul of a Storme (Book 1)
The Heart of a Storme (Book 2)
The Look of a Storme (Book 3)
A Storme’s Christmas Legacy
A Storme’s First Noelle
The Sting of a Storme (Book 4)
The Touch of a Storme (Book 5)
The Fury of a Storme (Book 6)
Much Ado About a Storme (in the A Duke in Winter anthology)
The Lyon’s Den Series
The Lyon’s Puzzle
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Publisher’s Note
Additional Dragonblade books by Author Sandra Sookoo
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
Epilogue
About the Author
Stay in Touch
Chapter One
July 20, 1820
Delacourte House
London, England
Lady Beatrice Ashdowne-Delacourte bounced her gaze from the collection of envelopes in her lap to her younger brother Edmund. “I rather miss Graham.” Her older brother had married last month and was now enjoying his honeymoon at his estate in Kent, not expected back until the autumn.
Edmund snorted. His blond hair, arranged in a devil-may-care style, shrugged. “I do not. While I don’t begrudge him the wife or the wedding trip, I take exception to him telling us about Mother’s scandal and then leaving Town with us holding the pieces.”
“Leave him be. He deserves all good things in his life right now.” She clucked at him, for Edmund had always been bitter about their older brother.
“To say nothing of Mother’s infidelity, and now our newfound aunt? Stepmother?”—he shrugged, for the relation was rather complicated—“has fled to the Winterbourne property in Brighton to escape the worst of the gossip.” Like her brother, she didn’t mind that Graham had found the love of his life and married, especially after all the personal struggles he’d been through. But the scandal that had been unearthed inadvertently last February by what they now knew as a distant cousin couldn’t be as easily celebrated.
“Yes, that was highly convenient,” Beatrice mused, for she didn’t know how to examine her own emotions let alone speak of them to her brother. “I would have liked to ask the dowager questions regarding her husband—I suppose our real father, we should refer to him as, and why he’d had an affair with our mother.” As always when the conversation made its way to the subject of paternity or whether or not they were truly illegitimate Winterbournes, the muscles in her stomach clenched with worry. “God rest her soul.”
“It’s all such a coil.” Edmund shoved a hand through his hair, upsetting the tresses into disordered waves. “Do you know that my club is buzzing about this? No matter that we have all tried to keep the secret close, it somehow got out. They are also debating whether or not to keep my membership in good standing.” He shook his head. “It’s not bad enough the Winterbourne family has already been hit with scandal and rumor about the antics of those siblings. Now our names are linked with theirs, especially if we are siblings.”
“How can we not be?” Beatrice sighed and organized the envelopes from the post in her lap. “We resemble each other. Why, I saw the earl in passing the other day, and I nearly mistook him for Graham for a few seconds until I remembered Graham wasn’t in Town.” She shrugged. “Hair and eyes are the same—they call the eye color Winterbourne blue—and according to Graham, we bear strong resemblance to the current earl’s father.” At least there was that undeniable proof, but none of it explained why the affair had happened in the first place. “I suspect Graham has more information than he is sharing.”
And what had their father, the marquess, thought of it when he’d discovered the deception of his best friend and neighbor who’d fathered children with his wife?
“It is a rather undeniable issue. I, too, think our darling brother has more facts than he has let on, but in his defense, he has been distracted.” A frown tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Additionally, the ton is still abuzz about Graham’s nuptials. Too many people had wagered he would never marry, let alone land a widow possessing a fortune as Mary does.”
“Don’t be jealous. He settled Father’s debts, and I know that is a weight off his shoulders.” That had been a huge undertaking. When their parents had died unexpectedly in a carriage accident a few years ago, Graham had become the Marquess of Grantley and then promptly discovered exactly how horrible their father had left the coffers. It only added to the terrible story and clues left behind.
“Yes, by selling off two properties. One of which I’d wanted,” Edmund groused. He hadn’t lost his frown. “But no. He had to be pigheaded about it. Didn’t care about my wishes.”
“Pish posh. Leave Graham alone. He had decisions to make that were difficult, that needed to be made with haste.”
“And he got me shot in the process.” He rubbed the meaty part of his left shoulder. “Of course, it’s healed, but it hurts occasionally.”
“At least you are alive.” She sighed. The incident Edmund referred to had been frightening when they’d both had to rescue Mary from a madman. “And he did them while coming to terms with his stutter. I think that is amazing. Why should he hand you a property when you have been nothing but a wayward lord for years? How many times have your escapades made it to Graham’s ears and caused him embarrassment?”
A mottled flush rose over his cravat. “I suppose, knowing what we do now, it’s in my blood.” Bitterness dripped from his voice. “Apparently, I can be nothing else.”
“You could if you tried, but being a rogue is easier than being proper.” Beatrice huffed.
“Ha! There are times when it’s deuced complicated and takes planning.”
For the space of a few heartbeats, she pointed her gaze to the ceiling. “Don’t do something stupid merely because you want the attention back on yourself.” He had recently affected an uncaring attitude ever since the family’s reputation had begun falling apart. Whether that was truly how he felt, she couldn’t say. Not a stranger to scandal himself, she feared he might try to be extra salacious a
I have a daughter and her future to think about.
“Give me more credit than that.” He shot her an annoyed glance. “I might seek out gossip regularly, but none of it is foolish. I work hard to make certain the beau monde takes notice of me, not my circumstances.” His shrug was an elegant affair. “Besides, it works well enough to bring women into my circle. Once they see me, they throw themselves at me.”
Clearly, there was no hope for her younger brother. “You are too old for such nonsense. Seven and thirty should have already seen you married with a nursery. You need to take yourself in hand and move into respectability.”
“A nursery. Don’t make me shudder.” He snorted. “That is why I take lovers, dearest sister, so I won’t have to take myself in hand. Speaking of which, I haven’t had a lover for a few weeks. Perhaps I should make inroads into finding a new mistress.”
Belatedly, she realized what she’d said and how he’d twisted it. Heat slapped at her cheeks, despite her widowhood and having enjoyed the carnal side of married life. At the age of nine and thirty, she had assumed she was well past embarrassment regarding such things. “Don’t be lewd, Edmund.”
“You have to admit, it makes life more interesting.”
“Perhaps.” Beatrice smiled, for it was nice to have him drop in for a visit. Ever since her husband had died, much of her social life had revolved around her brothers, and with Graham unwilling to circulate as much as he should as a marquess, she never wanted for attention or conversation. She shuffled through the envelopes once more. “There are plenty of people remaining in Town this summer if these invitations are any indication.”
“I would rather be anywhere than in London just now. Town has grown stale with additional scrutiny, thanks to Graham.”
“Then take yourself off.” She waved an invitation at him. “But if you might wish to find yourself in the same married state our brother is, perhaps you should come with me to one of these society events.”
Edmund rolled his eyes, the same cornflower-blue hue as hers. “No, thank you. I am not interested in proper young ladies nor being leg-shackled. That is too much commitment, and at my heart, I am lazy.”
Before she could reply, Beatrice’s daughter came into the room, looking like the perfect picture of a young society miss. At nineteen, Eliza was already a darling. Her sandy-blonde hair was tied back with a light blue ribbon that brought out the darker blue ring around her ice blue eyes. Not quite the Winterbourne looks, but if Beatrice stood next to her daughter, the resemblance was noticeable. Willowy and tall, the girl would certainly break hearts once she was launched into society that autumn.
Dear lord, that time is rapidly approaching. So much yet to do!
It was one reason Beatrice lingered in London during the summer months. There was much to prepare for the Come Out, especially since Graham’s whirlwind romance and subsequent wedding had delayed things.
“Oh, Mama!” With a letter clutched in one hand, Eliza greeted Edmund, bussed his cheek, and then flounced onto the sofa cushion next to Beatrice. “You will never guess what this is.”
“Whatever it is, I can see it’s made you incredibly ecstatic.” Though Beatrice’s daughter’s looks took after her, the strong features and stronger opinions had come from her father. He’d been a third son of a viscount, and oftentimes a vocal opponent of various laws or trespasses titled men had committed against the seemingly powerless. When he’d died from a particularly bad bout of pneumonia five years prior, many people in London had felt that loss, said they’d lost a supporter for equal rights.
“As it should.” Eliza pressed the letter into Beatrice’s hand. “I have been invited to a summer house party at the country home of Miss Diana Cloverfield.” Her eyes rounded as if Beatrice should know who that was. “The Cloverfields are in banking, Mama, and quite well-respected. That they should invite me is quite a feather in my cap.”
“Well, you are the granddaughter of a marquess, dear. It’s not as if your pedigree is anything to sneeze at. Did you meet her at finishing school?”
“I did not, but my friend Patience—from the school—is her close friend. She recommended me, and now we are both invited!” A squeal of delight issued from the girl. “How wonderful is that?”
“It is certainly interesting.” Though a tad alarming. Since her daughter did enjoy elevated bloodlines, there was always that niggle of doubt as to why people wished to be connected to her. Quickly, Beatrice scanned through the letter, and it appeared quite respectable. “According to this, the house party will go on for a week in Wiltshire. And they have invited twenty young people?” Both girls and boys. Apprehension went down her spine at the prospect. “That could be quite the sticky wicket.”
“Yes, and I do so want to go. Please say you will let me!” The girl fairly bounced in her seat. “I feel quite grown up and this is the first invitation of the kind.” Her cheeks were flushed with excitement and her eyes sparkled with all the unrealized dreams every young lady had. “There will be young men there and many activities including an outdoor fete with dancing in the evening. Parlor games. Walking parties. Perhaps swimming—not in the boys’ company, of course.” Eliza glanced between her and Edmund. “All of it will end with a grand ball. Can you imagine how wonderful everyone will look in formal clothes? My first society event!”
“Oh, I very well can.” Of course Beatrice had attended many a ball in her day, and she well-remembered some of her first ones. It had been a heady moment, indeed. However, she also recalled the tricky emotional waters those types of events brought with them. Throw in young men who were on the prowl and wanted nothing more than to sow wild oats, and there were problems waiting to occur that would bring potential scandal to everyone involved, and could ruin a young girl’s life. “It is quite an interesting dilemma. You have never been away from home outside of finishing school. Add to that the fact I have never met the family—”
“Does that mean you won’t let me attend?” Horror filled her daughter’s voice and reflected in her eyes. “You will truly deny me this? When I have asked you for nothing over the years?”
Ah, well, that wasn’t quite true. There had been plenty of requests for gowns and fripperies, especially the latest from French modistes. Trips to the British Museum and other sites of interest. More than a few outings to Gunter’s and other such amusements. And for her birthday that followed the death of her father, there was even a pony procured… that the girl lost interest in after a few months.
“I am not certain—”
“Come off it, Bea,” Edmund interrupted as he sent Beatrice a glance brimming with amusement. “You might as well let her go. It’s not as if the family name is sterling any longer. And as long as people are still inviting her, you should take advantage of that. Besides, having her out of London just now might be a wise decision.”
While what her brother said held merit, she still hesitated. With a frown, she rested her gaze on her daughter. “You are growing up so fast, darling,” she said in a voice that wobbled. Never did she think she would need to launch the girl without her husband at her side. “When I was your age, I had just married your father. Not long afterward, you were born. I didn’t have much time with him before responsibilities of a family came upon me, and while that was a wonderful part of my life, I cannot help but feel there was more I could do.” She still felt that way now, which was unsettling in a different sort of way. She grabbed Eliza’s hand and squeezed her fingers. “I want you to do everything you wish before you settle down into what society demands of a woman.”
It was one of the things her husband had campaigned so heavily for with the members of both the House of Lords and Commons, that giving more rights, opportunities, and privileges to women so marriage and childbearing wouldn’t be their only lot in life.
“Of course I will, Mama. I am not in the habit of doing things without thought, and I certainly don’t wish to do something scandalous.” A bit of a haughty note entered Eliza’s voice. “Everyone has instilled in me how to conduct myself as a proper miss. I won’t ruin that.”
