Deceived & Honoured - The Baron's Vexing Wife (Love's Second Chance #7)
Bree Wolf
To my Devoted Readers
Denise Boutin
Tricia Toney
Avis Wright
Candy Briggs
Angie McCain
May You Never Leave Me
Acknowledgements
In this crazy and hectic world, I am always amazed when people take time out of their day in order to share their thoughts with me and help me organize my own. Sometimes I get too lost in the world of my characters, and it helps to have others point out the difference between what I'd written on the page and what lived in my head. Here and there, I do wonder whether I had written something down or whether it had only been a thought passing by.
Thank you all for reading early drafts and sharing your honest feedback. What would I ever do without you?
About the Book
A simple man. A vexing lady. And an unforgettable night.
LADY MADELEINE has vowed not to marry below the rank of an earl. Using her clever wit and fierce determination, she has passed up several marriage offers as well as successfully sidestepped the occasional scandal. Ultimately, her choice falls on the Earl of Townsend who is handsome, rich AND an earl and thus everything she’s ever desired in a husband.
Until one night when her plans go horribly wrong, and she is compromised by the wrong man.
DEREK MCKNIGHT, BARON AINSWORTH, is a self-made man. As a farmer’s son, he gained glory in the war and was given a run-down barony for his service to the crown. Now, he only wishes to keep a safe distance from the peers he despises and rebuild his estate to see his family and tenants well settled.
Until one night when he sees a raven-haired lady on the arm of a man from his past.
Determined to protect her, he takes a wrong step, dooming them both.
Will Madeline ever be able to see past his title? Can Derek come to love a woman of high standing?
Prologue
London, spring 1806 (or a variation thereof)
Doing his utmost to ignore the slight quiver in his muscles, Derek McKnight, Baron Ainsworth, drew in a deep breath as his fingers adjusted the simple, black mask covering the upper half of his face. He squared his shoulders, refusing to allow his unease to be visible to those around him, as he climbed the steps to Lord Radcliff’s towering townhouse.
Beside him, his friend chuckled. “This is a masked ball,” Tristan Turner, Viscount Elton, observed, amusement tinging his voice. “You’re not meeting the hangman at dawn.”
Clenching his jaw, Derek glanced at his friend, annoyed with Tristan’s obvious delight at this evening’s festivities. “At least one of us is amused,” he observed dryly, his lips thinning below the lower rim of his mask.
As they proceeded inside, Derek once more felt his muscles tense as he was met by the sheer volume of the ton, dancing and laughing and enjoying themselves without a thought for those less fortunate. The noise was deafening, and for a moment, Derek felt compelled to cover his ears. Never in his life, not even on the field of battle, had he ever felt so overwhelmed by the sheer presence of a large crowd. If he could have, he would have turned on his heel and left.
“Would you smile?” Tristan prompted, shaking his head. “No woman will ever agree to marry you if you scowl at her all the time.”
Grumbling under his breath, Derek willed his muscles to relax, which was not an easy endeavour. As they stood off to the side, watching couples twirl around the dance floor, Derek focused on controlling his breathing while listening to his friend’s voice as he prattled on.
Unlike himself, Tristan had always been a buoyant and vivacious man, seeing only the good and doing his utmost to ignore the bad that he encountered. Still, he dreamed of true love and finding the woman who was his other half.
A part of Derek admired that, his perseverance in the face of his own miserable life. Maybe it was a blessing. Maybe it was a curse. For hope often led to disappointment, did it not?
Derek had learnt this time and time again. He knew very well that few people could be trusted, that most only saw to their own advantage, especially those who had been born to privilege. Gritting his teeth, Derek inhaled deeply through his nose, realising that now he was one of them.
Derek McKnight, Baron Ainsworth.
Once, he had simply been Derek McKnight, a farmer’s son.
Now, he was a peer.
His scowl darkened at the thought as he could not help but consider it an insult.
For his deeds during the war, he had been awarded the title of baron and received a small, run-down barony not two days from London. But what did that say about him? What kind of man did that make him? Would he now join his peers and ignore the plight of those he used to call his equals?
Oh, how he loathed the ton and their ability to turn a blind eye to the miseries of the common people! People like him. People like his family.
Only now, he was not one of them any longer, was he?
Shaking his head, Derek inhaled deeply, feeling a slight throbbing behind his left temple. Unable to flee the room, he returned his attention to his friend, hoping that their conversation would prove enough of a distraction from his gloomy thoughts. However, all the while, his gaze swept the crowd before him, amazed at the lightness with which they seemed to exist. Beaming eyes and smiling faces flew past him in an endless sea of ornate masks, their colours giving this evening a more cheerful note.
And then he saw her.
Her raven-black hair swept up and piled on top of her head, here and there a curled tendril dancing down to touch her bare shoulders, she twirled past him in the arms of a gentleman he all but ignored. The golden glow of her gown shimmered in the soft candlelight of the vaulted room, matching the intense green of her dark eyes, almost hidden behind an ornately designed mask. Her full lips drew up into a smile as her eyes drifted from her partner the moment their steps drew them apart.
Derek sucked in a stuttering breath, shocked by the sudden inner turmoil that assaulted him. What on earth was going on?
Unable to avert his eyes, he watched her laugh and smile, exchange a few words here and there as she continued her rounds through the large ballroom, and he wondered what it was that drew him to her. Was it her beauty? She certainly was a vision, a sight to behold, almost without compare. And yet, Derek doubted that mere beauty would have touched his heart the way she had.
“I’d advise against her.”
Derek almost flinched at the sound of his friend’s voice. “What?” he croaked, then cleared his throat, reluctantly turning his gaze to Tristan.
Once more, an amused grin decorated his friend’s features. “That is Lady Madeline, daughter of the Earl of Carlton. She certainly is a vision,” he echoed Derek’s thoughts; “however, unfortunately, her expectations regarding her future husband are not easily met.”
Although he knew he ought not to ask for it would only encourage more teasing from his friend, Derek could not remain silent. “Expectations?” he asked, momentarily ignoring his long-standing decision not to marry…
…or at least not for years to come…
…or not to a woman considered a peer.
As expected, Tristan chuckled, his eyes aglow with delight as he watched Derek. “She’s already quite famous for refusing marriage proposals. As the daughter of an earl, she has vowed not to marry below her station, meaning anyone below the rank of an earl need not bother to ask for her hand.” Shaking his head, he laughed. “There are a number of bets held at White’s about whether or not she will marry at all, and if so, who will be the lucky…or maybe unlucky…sod.”