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Deception in Regency Society: A Wicked Liaison / Lady Folbroke's Delicious Deception
Christine Merrill
A Wicked LiaisonConstance Townley, Duchess of Wellford, has always been impeccably behaved, until she surprises a mysterious gentleman in her bedroom late at night. Her first instinct is to call for help, but when the thief apologises and kisses her for good measure, Constance knows that won’t be the last she sees of this intriguing rogue…Lady Folbroke’s Delicious DeceptionLady Emily Longesley married the love of her life and hoped that he would learn to love her. Instead, he upped and left their country estate for London. Three years on, needing an heir, Emily confronts her errant husband, to find that Adrian, Earl of Folbroke, has been robbed of his sight and doesn’t even recognise her!
SEDUCTION in Regency Society August 2014
DECEPTION in Regency Society September 2014
PROPOSALS in Regency Society October 2014
PRIDE in Regency Society November 2014
MISCHIEF in Regency Society December 2014
INNOCENCE in Regency Society January 2015
ENCHANTED in Regency Society February 2015
HEIRESS in Regency Society March 2015
PREJUDICE in Regency Society April 2015
FORBIDDEN in Regency Society May 2015
TEMPTATION in Regency Society June 2015
REVENGE in Regency Society July 2015
CHRISTINE MERRILL lives on a farm in Wisconsin, USA, with her husband, two sons, and too many pets—all of whom would like her to get off the computer so they can check their e-mail. She has worked by turns in theatre costuming, where she was paid to play with period ball gowns, and as a librarian, where she spent the day surrounded by books. Writing historical romance combines her love of good stories and fancy dress with her ability to stare out of the window and make stuff up.
Deception in
Regency Society
A Wicked Liaison
Lady Folbroke’s Delicious Deception
Christine Merrill
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Table of Contents
Cover (#u9fd6e29a-ed82-5a80-991a-2de461175954)
About the Author (#u96344bf2-1973-5a57-80ba-eb8477fb9d0c)
Title Page (#uc3cf5f28-0f07-5f40-8db6-fd4994f366ea)
A Wicked Liaison
Dedication (#u29dc3018-71dc-546d-b53a-e8bac8c0d5ba)
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
Lady Folbroke’s Delicious Deception
Dedication (#litres_trial_promo)
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
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
A Wicked Liaison (#u4548911d-0f76-5e3a-baae-9b424e4dcc2a)
Christine Merrill
To Maddie Rowe, editor extraordinaire.
You make this so much fun that I forget I'm working.
Chapter One (#u4548911d-0f76-5e3a-baae-9b424e4dcc2a)
Anthony de Portnay Smythe sat at his regular table in the darkest corner of the Blade and Scabbard pub. The grey wool of his coat blended with the shadows around him, rendering him almost invisible to the rest of the room. Without appearing to—for to stare at his fellows might prove suicidally rude—he could observe the other patrons. Cutpurses, thieves, petty criminals and transporters of stolen goods. Rogues to a man. And, for all he knew, killers.
Of course, he took great care not to know.
The usual feelings of being comfortable and in his element were unusually disconcerting. He dropped a good week’s work on to the table and pushed them towards his old friend, Edgar.
Business associate, he reminded himself. Although they had known each other for many years, it would be a mistake to call his relationship with Edgar a friendship.
‘Rubies.’ Tony sorted through the gems with his finger, making them sparkle in the light of the candle guttering on the table. ‘Loose stones. Easy to fence. You need not even pry them from the settings. The work has been done for you.’
‘Dross,’ Edgar countered. ‘I can see from here the stones are flawed. Fifty for the lot.’
This was where Tony was supposed to point out that they were investment-grade stones, stolen from the study of a marquis. The man had been a poor judge of character, but an excellent judge of jewellery. Then Tony would counter with a hundred and Edgar would try to talk him down.
But suddenly, he was tired of the whole thing. He pushed the stones further across the table. ‘Fifty it is.’
Edgar looked at him in suspicion. ‘Fifty? What do you know that I do not?’
‘More than I can tell you in an evening, Edgar. Far more. But I know nothing about the stones that need concern you. Now give me the money.’
This was not how the game was to be played. And thus, Edgar refused to acknowledge that he had won. ‘Sixty, then.’
‘Very well. Sixty.’ Tony smiled and held out his hand for the money.
Edgar narrowed his eyes and stared at Tony, trying to read the truth. ‘You surrender too easily.’
It felt like a long hard fight on Tony’s side of the table. Tonight’s dealings were just a skirmish at the end of the war. He sighed. ‘Must I bargain? Very well, then. Seventy-five and not a penny less.’
‘I could not offer more than seventy.’
‘Done.’ Before the fence could speak again, he forced the stones into Edgar’s hand and held his other hand out for the purse.
Edgar seemed satisfied, if not exactly happy. He accepted the stones and moved away from the table, disappearing into the haze of tobacco smoke and shadows around them, and Tony went back to his drink.
As he sipped his whisky, he reached into his pocket to remove the letter and his reading glasses. He absently polished the spectacles on his lapel before putting them on, then settled his chin in his hands to read.
Dear Uncle Anthony,
We are so sorry that you were unable to attend the wedding. Your gift was more than generous, but it does not make up in my heart for your absence on my most happy of days. I hardly know what to say in thanks for this and so many other things you have done for my mother and me over the years. Since Father’s death, you have been like a second father to me, and my cousins say the same.
It was good to see Mother finally marry again, and I am happy that Mr Wilson could be there to walk me down the aisle, but I cannot help but think you deserved the position more than he. I do not wish my marriage or my mother’s to estrange me from your company, for I will always value your wise counsel and your friendship.
My husband and I will welcome your visit, as soon as you are able.
Your loving niece, Jane
Tony stopped to offer a prayer of thanks for the presence of Mr Wilson. His sister-in-law’s discovery of Mr Wilson, and marriage to same, had stopped in its tracks any design she might have had to see Tony standing at the altar in a capacity other than loving brother or proud uncle.
Marriage to one of his brothers’ widows might have been expedient, since he had wished to involve himself financially and emotionally in the raising of their children, but the idea always left him feeling squeamish. Not an emotion he sought, when viewing matrimony. Seeing the widows of his two elder brothers well married, in a way that did not leave him legshackled to either of them, had been a load off his troubled brow.
And the wedding of young Jane was another happy incident, whether he could be there to attend or no. With the two widows and only niece comfortably remarried, all to gentlemen that met his approval, he had but to worry about the boys.
