Seven Nights of Sin: Seven Sensuous Stories by Bestselling Historical Romance Authors Read online

  Bella rose and walked to where he sat at the end of the table and coiled her arms around his neck, kissing his cheek, as she used to do when she was a child. “I understand, Papa.”

  He patted her hand. “Eat your dinner. You’re being married tomorrow.”

  Bella returned to her chair, her heart singing, and attacked her flummery. Derrick seemed to admire her curves, so she saw no reason to deny herself.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  IMPATIENT TO REACH Eaglestone Park after their long journey, Bella yawned and gazed out the window at the pretty green as their carriage drove through Eaglestone Village. A couple emerged from the haberdashery. The man raised his hand and the woman curtseyed.

  “We’re almost home,” Derrick said as they turned down a lane.

  They’d spent the last two days traveling through pastoral fields and woodlands, the horizon broken by the chalk ridges. Their two nights spent at inns had resulted in very little sleep.

  Derrick took her hand. “Tired?”

  “A little,” she confessed with a playful smile.

  He raised her hand to his lips with that smoldering look, which made her heart thud and her body heat. She adored every inch of this handsome man who was now her husband. She was coming to understand him, bit by bit, as her love for him deepened. She hoped that one day soon he would come to love her. She’d questioned him about his mother as they lay together in bed, spent from lovemaking. Although she’d died when he was a boy, he remembered her well. He’d adored her, as he had his father. Bella saw that as a good sign for the future.

  When the carriage turned off the lane to enter a pair of ornate gates, Bella sat up straight and peered out the window.

  Derrick leaned close. He smiled and pointed. “You can see the chimneys of Eaglestone Park from here.”

  Above the trees, a massive roof appeared. The carriage jounced along a lane bordered by lime trees and turned in a circle before a sprawling Elizabethan house built of warm stone. A footman stood on the gravel waiting to assist them.

  “I had no idea….” Bella was almost lost for words. She knew Derrick was wealthy, but this!

  When they left the carriage, Derrick hefted her up in his arms. Reaching the house, he strode past the butler. “Meet my bride, Lady Eaglestone, Wagstaff.”

  The stern expression on Wagstaff’s face softened into a smile. “I’m very pleased to meet you, my lady.”

  Derrick placed her on her feet. “Welcome to Eaglestone, my love. We’ll take tea in the small salon, Wagstaff.”

  He took her hand, and they crossed a vaulted Great Hall, where oil paintings in gilt frames hung on paneled oak walls. “My ancestors. After tea, I wish to show you my collection of seventeenth century Italian paintings. Tomorrow, I’ll show you the gardens. There’s a deer park. And a lake.” A wicked expression entered his eyes. “We can have a picnic.”

  She gazed up at him, suddenly shy. “And this afternoon, my lord?”

  “From this afternoon until breakfast, you shall become familiar with my bedroom.”

  Two months later, when Bella began to suspect she was pregnant, Derrick became tender and protective.

  At breakfast, she read a letter from Mrs. Armitage. “Oh!”

  Derrick lowered his newspaper. “What is it, my love?”

  “Lord Brookdale has responded to my request and employed Henry to work in his estate gardens.”

  “That is good news. I am pleased for the young scamp.” He sighed. “I suspect you intend to employ several of your orphans in our houses.”

  They shared a smile, and spying the heated spark in his eyes she struggled to regain her focus. “I rather think Jennie, who is soon to turn twelve, would make an excellent ladies’ maid.” She took up her tea cup. “Mrs. Armitage will miss Henry. Might we return to London soon? I must see my orphans. Although these letters I receive from Mrs. Armitage are heartening, there’s more to be done there.”

  “I do need to return soon. You must consult a London doctor.” He raised a brow, as if he didn’t trust her. “Promise me you won’t wear yourself out at Hartnoll House.”

  She laughed. “I’m in perfect health.”

  “And I intend you to stay that way.”

  He had become very bossy. “I shall take good care of your heir, sir.”

  He scowled. “I mean it, Bella. I shall ban you from your orphanage if you defy me.”

  “My lord! I wasn’t aware I had married a potentate.”

  Failing to laugh, he leapt up and set his chair rocking. A teacup rolled off the table and shattered over the floor. Derrick drew her to her feet. “Promise me,” he said, holding her close.

  “I promise.” She could feel his uneven breathing against her cheek. As the knowledge that she was truly loved filled her with joy, she looked down to survey the damage. “My heaven, that teacup was Sèvres. Mrs. Blake will rush in here in a moment. She values the china far more than you do.”

  “Never mind the housekeeper, dammit.” He sighed. “Don’t you know how much I love you, Bella?”

  Bella’s heart swelled with love for him. “I do.”

  Derrick silently swept her into his arms. She smiled and laid her head against his chest as he strode with her from the room.

  END

  MAGGI ANDERSEN

  Maggi lives with her husband a retired lawyer, in a quaint old town in the Southern Highlands of New South Wales, Australia. She has a BA in English and an MA in Creative Writing.

  When not creating stories, Maggi reads, enjoys her garden, long walks and feeding the local wildlife. Her kookaburras (Australian Kingfishers) prefer to be hand fed.

  Maggi’s books and novellas are Amazon bestsellers in Regency and suspense. She has published more than 20 novels and novellas and writes in several genres, contemporary and historical romance, romantic suspense and young adult novels.

  Maggi loves to hear from readers. You can contact her through her website.

  Join her News Only Newsletter to learn of new releases: www.maggiandersenauthor.com

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  Books by Maggi Andersen

  ANTHOLOGIES:

  Passionate Promises :Stirring Passions

  Seven Nights of Sin : One Scandalous Night

  Latest Releases

  BAXENDALE SISTERS SERIES - Book Four

  The Seduction of Lady Charity

  At the Earl’s Convenience

  How to Tame a Rake

  Regency Series

  The Baxendale Sisters

  Lady Honor’s Debt

  Lady Faith Takes a Leap

  Lady Hope and the Duke of Darkness

  The Spies of Mayfair

  A Baron in Her Bed

  Taming a Gentleman Spy

  What a Rake Wants

  Stand Alone Regencies

  The Duke’s Mysterious Lady

  The Reluctant Marquess

  Mysteries

  The Folly at Falconbridge Hall

  (Nominated for the RONE Award)

  Contemporary Romantic Suspense

  Murder in Devon

  With Murderous Intent

  Non-Fiction

  Castle’s Customs, and Kings: True Tales by English Historical Fiction Authors

  WHAT HE WANTS Lynne Connolly

  Love hides in unexpected places...

  London businesswoman Annie Cathcart can’t bring herself to enter into another business arrangement masquerading as marriage. When her current landlord demands her hand in exchange for her continued use of the property, there is only one answer—she must find another house. Upon inquiring after a property owned by the dashing Earl of Carbrooke, the last thing she expects is an indecent proposal. Forced to choose, should she risk everything she’s worked so hard for and trust a man she hardly knows —or sink back into her lackluster life?

  Upon unexpectedly inheriting the Earldom of Carbrooke, Gerald Dersingham fears his carefree days are be
hind him—until a sensuous widow inquires after his former residence. Unable to resist the temptation to have one last liaison before settling down with the lovely but boring Lady Elizabeth, he offers her one night of passion in return for the lease, little knowing how explosive and far reaching the consequences will be....

  CHAPTER ONE

  ANNIE SNAGGED A SPOON from her eldest son seconds before he smashed it over the head of son number two. “William, you’ll hurt him.” She restored the flatware to the table.

  “He hurt me.” William was far too advanced for his four years, although his intelligence augured well for his future career. Her youngest, George, smiled beatifically, but at three years old, George was heavily engaged in charming every woman he met.

  Annie grimaced. She would have to engage a tutor soon, or find a school for the boys. Her nurse would remain. At this rate, her children would have more servants than she did.

  She picked up her rapidly cooling coffee and drained the cup before returning it to the deep saucer and reaching for the coffeepot. Sustenance that she needed, since today promised to be a full one.

  “Should I take them to the nursery?” asked her aunt.

  Annie spared the lady a smile. “No, that’s fine, Aunt Matilda. I’d much rather have them here. I have a busy day planned, and I might not get to see them until they have their dinner.”

  Matilda nodded, her mouth set in a thin line. “I will take them out later. The weather is blustery, but I don’t think it will rain, so they may run off their high spirits in the park.”

  Without Matilda Cathcart, Annie would never have managed this last three years. As it was, they made an excellent family. Annie was sure she would be proud of her beloved sons one day. Matilda Cathcart wasn’t everyone’s idea of a maiden aunt. If she was, Annie would have probably sent her packing long before. But Matilda was intelligent, sensible and attractive, with a keen interest in fashion, which she put down to her mother’s family being mercers.

  The door opened to admit her manager, Raymond Petit, a middle aged man with a pleasant countenance, who she would trust with her life. He had come from a French Huguenot family not too far from here, in Spitalfields, and done well for himself. His cousin did many of the designs for Cathcart’s, and Annie was very glad of them both. He dropped some letters in front of her. “These came for you, ma’am. Do you plan to visit the workshop today?”

  “Some time today, but I have other appointments first.” She shot a meaningful glance at her son, who had retrieved the spoon and was studying the surface closely. William was a moody child, like his father was.

  The reminder of her late husband sent a pang through Annie. She missed him, of course she did, although she had to admit life was more straightforward without him. Having to pander to his whims and moods had made her edgy, and while he was in charge the business had declined. Annie had determined to set that straight. With any luck, these letters would help her.

  Reaching for a clean knife, she slit the seal on the first missive. It had been hand delivered from the offices of Mr. Joseph Stephenson, her landlord.

  Dear Mrs. Cathcart,

  I read your letter of the 16th March with interest. Your proposal suggested is possible, under certain circumstances. I would be interested in meeting you to discuss the matter further. I propose tomorrow at ten, at my offices, if you please.

  “He’s not dismissing the idea totally,” she said, reading the lines again. She wanted a longer lease on these premises, and the use of the property next door.

  Matilda raised her carefully penciled brows. “You surprise me. I assumed he’d dismiss your proposal out of hand.”

  “So did I,” Annie confessed. “That is why I offered him a price below market value. It gives me room to offer him more. I would like you to accompany me, Aunt Matilda, since he does not take kindly to women roaming London alone, as he puts it.”

  “You will be asking a man of business, will you not?”

  “I can ask Mr. Simpson to accompany us, or one of his representatives. He knows my ways.” Simpson was her financial advisor, and had known her for years. He did not take the same hard line as Stephenson, who firmly believed women had no business running enterprises on their own. Stephenson was an influential man in the City and Annie needed him on her side.

  “Your practicality is admirable.” Matilda plucked the last slice of toast from the rack and pulled the butter-dish to her place. “You will leave your sons a great legacy. But what will you do when they are old enough to control the business? Will you retire gracefully?”

  Annie spluttered over her tea. “I have no intention of doing any such thing. Why would I? Part of this enterprise is mine, given to me at the time of my marriage.” Her father had taught her how to conduct business so she knew it as well as any man.

  All she wanted was the lease on the premises next door and a longer lease to this establishment. She resented the necessity of going to Stephenson cap in hand, but if it would get her what she wanted, she would sing and dance for him, if he required it of her.

  The premises next door was doing nothing other than becoming a breeding place for rats and mice. Until ten years ago, it had belonged to a family of printers, but they had gone out of business. One day the whole house would come tumbling down and take half the street with it.

  She would have to play the meek widow doing her best to preserve the company for her sons. She would bear their faces in her mind while she was talking to Mr. Stephenson.

  She left the letter open and paid attention to the next one. She’d located a nearby property that would suit her needs as well as the one she lived in now, and this must be the response to her initial enquiry.

  Unwilling to leave her fate in the hands of one person, she had merely made queries about the house on Bunhill Row. The place was very much secondary to her principal aim of getting the one she lived in now, but she wanted the alternative, if only as a bargaining chip.

  Dear Mrs. Cathcart,

  The Earl of Carbrooke thanks you for your interest in the property on Bunhill Row. He finds it unusual that a female should consider a lease on a property. At this time, his lordship is engaged in other matters, and cannot attend to the matter personally. I am sure you will understand that he wishes to defer his decision until he has more leisure to study it.

  Yours etc.

  E. Smith, pp Gerald, Earl of Carbrooke, etc etc.

  This note left her open-mouthed. Fury rose to choke her. How dare he dismiss her perfectly civil request so high-handedly?

  She should drop the matter, but the effrontery of the reply had put her dander up. She tossed the letter on the table, where it fell with a dull clunk, due to the heavy seal on the back. Matilda poked at it and turned it so she could read it.

  She glanced up and shrugged. “The aristocracy.”

  “What gives him the right to talk to me like that? How dare he?”

  Entering the room, the nurse took one startled look at her and muttered something about taking the boys upstairs. Annie waved at her irritably, giving her permission, then turned back to Matilda. “I cannot see why he would dismiss me like a—like a maid!” Although she didn’t mean that. “Or like a whore standing under Seven Dials!”

  Matilda closed her eyes, while William shrieked “Whore! Whore!” in delight as the nurse led him from the room.

  Annie cleared her throat.

  “If you use language of that nature around Stephenson, it will give him grounds for refusing your request,” Matilda said mildly.

  Annie was trying hard to calm herself, but it wasn’t working. The more she considered the pompous, stuffy earl, the angrier she became. How dare he brush her aside? She read the letter several times, but it didn’t help. After Stephenson’s condescending response, she’d had enough of being disregarded and overlooked.

  Scraping her chair back, she got to her feet. “I’m going to see him.”

  Matilda sighed. “Then I am, too. I can see there’s no talking to you no
w, so I will take my leave and get ready. Fifteen minutes, that’s all I ask.”

  She wanted Annie to calm down, but Annie wasn’t about to do that in a hurry. “I will go alone. I see no reason to inconvenience you. I’ll get a cab there and back.”

  Matilda sighed. “Put on your mother’s pearls. You don’t want to appear before him like some kind of—hoyden.”

  Fury had her by the tail. It took Annie five minutes to locate a shawl, hat and gloves, and to change her soft indoor slippers for sturdy outdoor shoes. Recalling Matilda’s request, she located the pearls at the bottom of her petticoat drawer, and put them on, tucking the necklace roughly under her shawl. She wouldn’t bother to put on pattens to keep off the dirt and mud of a potential shower. If it rained, the mud would have to take her as it would.

  She stormed out of the house and strode down the street to the main road to find a cab or a chair.

  CHAPTER TWO

  GERALD STIRRED THROUGH HIS MORNING MAIL with the end of his teaspoon. “Everybody wants us,” he said gloomily.

  His oldest sister Damaris lifted her attention from her plate. Her blue eyes met his guilelessly. “Everybody? Isn’t that an exaggeration?”

  Gerald heaved a huge sigh. “Probably. Who’d have thought a title made such a difference?”

  Damaris scoffed. “Please, Gerald, be realistic. We’ve gone from comfortably circumstanced to vastly wealthy in six months. Why do you think people want to know us?”