The Second Seduction Read online

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  THE

  SECOND

  SEDUCTION

  SHELLEY MUNRO

  Gold Imprint

  Medallion Press, Inc.

  Florida, USA

  Dedication:

  For Paul.

  Your love encourages me to strive for dreams.

  Published 2005 by Medallion Press, Inc.

  225 Seabreeze Ave.

  Palm Beach, FL 33480

  The MEDALLION PRESS LOGO

  is a registered tradmark of Medallion Press, Inc.

  If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware that this

  book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the

  publisher, and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment

  from this “stripped book.”

  Copyright © 2005 by Shelley Munro

  Cover Illustration by Adam Mock

  All rights reserved. No part 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 storage and retrieval system, without

  written permission of the publisher, except where permitted by law.

  Printed in the United States of America

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Munro, Shelley.

  The second seduction / Shelley Munro.

  p. cm.

  ISBN 1-932815-19-8

  1. Arranged marriage--Fiction. 2. Women healers--Fiction.

  3. Nobility--Fiction. 4. Widowers--Fiction. I. Title.

  PS3613.U6926S43 2005

  813ʼ.6--dc22

  2005009729

  THE

  SECOND

  SEDUCTION

  SHELLEY MUNRO

  I

  East Sussex, England, 1720.

  Lucien studied the elderly man standing by the window—

  the man who claimed him as son.

  Th

  e family, the faithful servants, all backed up the Earl

  of St. Clare’s assertion, but the role didn’t feel right. Not to

  Lucien. Living in the gloomy pile of rocks they called Castle

  St. Clare made him edgy. Uneasy.

  Th

  ey were mistaken.

  He was not the Earl of St. Clare’s son.

  Th

  e idea was laughable. Him, the long lost heir, Viscount

  Hastings. He recalled none of what they told him.

  “Hastings, the carriage is coming.” Th

  e earl stepped away

  from the window. “Your betrothed has arrived.”

  SHELLEY MUNRO

  Lucien rose from a square-backed chair and fl icked the

  lace at his cuff s. “My name is Lucien.”

  Th

  e earl ruffl

  ed up like a feisty bantam cock. “Stuff and

  nonsense! You were christened George. If it’s good enough for

  the King, it’s good enough for you.”

  Lucien strolled past shelves of books and paused to fi nger

  an amber fi gurine from the Orient. From what he’d heard

  since his arrival in England, people disapproved of the King

  who hailed from Hanover. Th

  e man didn’t even speak Eng-

  lish. Lucien looked the earl straight in the eye. “My name is

  Lucien,” he repeated, his tone implacable and determined.

  “Lucien. Not George. Not Hastings.”

  “Dammit, boy. You have the look of the forebears.

  Why do you persist with your gainsaying?” Th

  e Earl of St.

  Clare’s voice held a trace of pleading. “Can’t you see it in

  the family portraits?”

  Lucien grimaced. If he studied the portraits with one eye

  shut and the other squinted, certainly there were similarities.

  He replaced the fi gurine and stalked across a blue Persian rug

  to gaze out a window overlooking the courtyard.

  Th

  e study door fl ew open. Lucien whirled then relaxed when

  the honorable Charles Soulden bounded in. “Hastings . . .” He

  faltered as he intercepted Lucien’s glare. “I mean, Lucien! Th

  e

  carriage comes with your betrothed.”

  2

  THE SECOND SEDUCTION

  “So I’m told.” Lucien sauntered toward Charles, his

  newly discovered cousin. “By all means,” he murmured. “Let

  us greet the woman brave enough to wed me . . . the man

  with no memory.”

  Th

  e carriage swayed and bounced over the uneven road.

  With each successive pothole, the driver cursed more color-

  fully. Rosalind gripped a carriage strap, the excessive jolting

  doing nothing for her frazzled nerves. At the completion of

  this journey, she would meet her betrothed — for the fi rst

  time. Questions pounded inside her head. Would he like her?

  And would he accept her, despite her . . . faults?

  Beside Rosalind, her childhood friend and maidservant,

  Mary, pressed her nose to the carriage window. “Oh, miss! I

  think we’re almost there.”

  Rosalind tensed at the news. She forced a smile then bit

  back a cry of alarm as the carriage lurched. Grabbing the seat

  to avoid a tumble to the fl oor, she righted herself and slid

  along the seat toward Mary. “Can you see Castle St. Clare?”

  She peered out the dusty window.

  A snarling gargoyle appeared inches from their faces.

  Rosalind’s breath escaped with a horrifi ed gasp. Beside her,

  3

  SHELLEY MUNRO

  Mary trembled and jerked away from the window.

  She clutched at Rosalind’s forearm, her voice rising to a

  squeak. “Miss Rosalind, do you think we should turn around

  and return to Stow-on-the-Wold?”

  Mary’s dread, her frenzied thoughts, bombarded Rosalind

  and she shrugged from her maid’s grip to break the connection.

  “Th

  e earl is expecting us, Mary. We can’t go back.”

  Th

  ey sped past a rundown gatehouse, the carriage jolt-

  ing from one pothole to the next. As they clattered through

  a stone gateway, Rosalind glimpsed the gargoyle’s twin. It

  leered from atop a stone wall and seemed alive, as if it could

  step from its granite prison on a whim.

  Th

  e carriage made a sharp swing to the right, the coach-

  man cursing his team of straining horses as the gradient

  increased sharply. Th

  e whip cracked. Without warning, the

  interior of the carriage turned pitch black. Mary yelped and

  clutched at Rosalind again.

  Rosalind swallowed her gasp, rearranged the skirts of her

  best blue
and gold-trimmed riding habit, and patted Mary

  on the arm.

  “It’s all right,” she soothed, yet the hand hidden in her

  skirts trembled. For a moment, the temptation to turn back

  teased at her, then she recalled the situation she’d return to

  — relations who resented her presence. Th

  e reality pushed

  4

  THE SECOND SEDUCTION

  aside her fears. Ugly gargoyles or not, she silently vowed to

  continue her journey.

  An object scraped along the carriage sides, sending a

  shiver down her spine. Mary’s piercing shriek echoed within

  the confi nes of the enclosed space. Goosebumps rose on

  Rosalind’s arms. Her gaze whipped about the carriage. Th

  e

  noise repeated with an eerie echo.

  “Hush, Mary,” Rosalind snapped, her heart pounding

  so loudly she could barely hear herself think. Mustering

  every shred of courage, she pressed her nose to the cold glass

  of the window.

  Th

  is was meant to be a grand adventure, her last oppor-

  tunity to seize a secure future. Rosalind, the affl

  icted one,

  the one the people of Stow-on-the-Wold whispered would

  never catch a husband. Th

  e cousin destined to stay on the

  shelf. Th

  is was her chance to prove them all wrong. Despite

  her accursed gift.

  Leaves swept against the windows, followed by the same

  scraping sound. Th

  e cold knot of fear in her stomach twisted.

  A fl ash of ghostly fi ngers waved before her startled eyes. A

  branch. Th

  at was surely a branch. Th

  e fear clogging her throat

  lessened, and she relaxed against the plush cushions of the St.

  Clare coach with a tremulous sigh of relief.

  “It’s a branch,” she said to Mary. “We are driving along an

  5

  SHELLEY MUNRO

  avenue of trees. I fear they need trimming to let in the sunlight.”

  “Are you sure, Miss Rosalind?”

  “Of course I’m sure.” Rosalind made her voice fi rm

  and decisive. “Look out the window. You can make out the

  branches if you look hard enough.” As she spoke, the dark-

  ness in the carriage lifted. Th

  en they were in daylight again.

  “Th

  ere, what did I tell you?”

  Mary grabbed her arm. She tugged. Frantically. “Miss.

  Miss. Look!”

  Rosalind turned. Her mouth dropped open. Th

  is was

  where she was to live? She swallowed as she studied the for-

  tress that perched on the cliff top like a menacing monolith.

  Th

  e castle was built of stone, solid and strong to withstand

  the winds that howled across the English Channel. Arrow

  slits glared like malignant eyes. Hardly the welcoming home

  she had envisioned.

  “We’re almost there,” Mary announced. “I can see the

  gate and the courtyard beyond.” She turned to Rosalind,

  her eyes huge brown rounds in her freckled face. “Th

  ere are

  people waiting to meet us.”

  Uncertainties assailed Rosalind, threatening her fragile

  composure. Repeated swallowing did little to clear the lump

  in her throat. Th

  ey said Hastings was mad. Perhaps she should

  have refused to marry him, but she had promised her uncle.

  6

  THE SECOND SEDUCTION

  Th

  e papers had been signed when her cousin, Miranda, and

  she were babes. One of them had to marry Hastings. Miranda

  had fl atly refused so it was up to her to fulfi ll family obliga-

  tions. At least she would have a home of her own. Her hands

  crept up to check that her lacy cap sat straight. Th

  at was what

  she wanted, wasn’t it? A home of her own. A husband, and if

  she was fortunate, lots of chubby, laughing babies.

  Security.

  “Whoa, there!” the coachman bellowed. A horse snorted.

  Harness jangled, then came a piercing screech as the coach-

  man hauled on the brake to halt the ponderous carriage.

  Th

  e door fl ew open, and a footman dressed in green livery

  placed a step down for them to alight. Rosalind pushed aside

  her apprehension, swept up her skirts in one hand and placed

  her other into the footman’s to descend. She released his hand

  instantly. Seconds later, Mary exited and stood beside her,

  blinking in the early afternoon sun.

  Th

  e earl, much older than she recalled, bowed before

  her. Tall and thin with stooped shoulders, his clothing hung

  loosely while his powdered wig drew attention to his extreme

  pallor. “Lady Rosalind, it is good to see you again.”

  Rosalind sank into a deep curtsey, her eyes modestly low-

  ered to hide her sudden nervousness. Her betrothed was here,

  standing right behind his father, but she was too frightened

  7

  SHELLEY MUNRO

  to look. Her cousin’s frenzied words rang through her mind.

  Viscount Hastings was an ogre. A beast.

  Th

  e earl interrupted her panic. “Child, let me look at you.”

  Rosalind straightened and met the frank gaze of the elderly

  earl. “Lady Rosalind, you have the look of your grandmother.”

  She smiled. “Th

  ank you, my lord. I count that a compli-

  ment indeed.”

  Certainly, her grandmother had been the one person

  who understood how Rosalind felt, since she suff ered from

  the same family affl

  iction. Rosalind had found the past three

  years since her grandmother’s death diffi

  cult and lonely.

  Th

  e earl urged her forward. “Let me introduce you to my

  son and nephew. You will meet my sister, Lady Augusta, later.”

  A chill swept through Rosalind and her lashes lowered to

  screen her fears. Th

  e moment she had both looked forward to

  and dreaded — the fi rst meeting with her betrothed.

  “May I present my son, Viscount Hastings, and my

  nephew, Charles Soulden?”

  Viscount Hastings thrust out a hand, and Rosalind

  placed her trembling one in his, wishing she had remem-

  bered to pull on her gloves. It was too late to worry now.

  She sank into another curtsey, too nervous to look up at his

  face. She registered his size fi rst and then a number of erratic

  pictures fl ickered through her mind. She shoved them away,

  8

  THE SECOND SEDUCTION

  concentrating on the tangible man. He towered above her by

  a good ten inches, making her acutely aware of her own lack

  in that area.

  Th

  e calloused hand that held hers tightened, and Rosa-

  lind looked up, startled. Her breath caught when she saw her

  betrothed clearly. Clad in a somber black jacket and breeches,

  and dark as she imagined the devil, he disdained the fashion-

  able wigs and powder the other men wore. Instead, his hair

  tumbled in loose, disheveled curls about his head. His face

  was tanned, as if he spent many hours outside under
the sun.

  But what really caught her attention was the angry scar that

  slashed his face, running from just below his left eye to his

  jaw. Puckered and red, it drew the eye.

  Rosalind swallowed and looked away, but her gaze

  clashed with that of her betrothed before she could politely

  withdraw. His eyes were a mahogany brown, so dark they

  were almost black, and they openly mocked her reaction.

  Confusion and embarrassment fought within her. She

  tensed under his sardonic gaze. She’d known the viscount

  had suff ered an injury while on Grand Tour in Italy. Th

  e

  gossip of his miraculous return from the dead had spread rap-

  idly through the ballrooms of London. Her stomach churned

  uneasily, and she averted her eyes to the weathered gray wall

  that surrounded the courtyard.

  9

  SHELLEY MUNRO

  “Lady Rosalind, enchanted I’m sure.” Hastings’ low,

  gravelly voice sent a surge of alarm through her veins.

  She inclined her head and valiantly tried to hide her agi-

  tation, but she suspected few fooled Hastings. “Th

  ank you,

  my lord.”

  Sensations bombarded her mind, fragments of pictures,

  pieces of a larger puzzle. Th

  ey were faint at the moment, but

  she knew from experience more details would come with

  time. A frustrated scream lodged in her throat. She tugged

  to free her hand, but he held fast. Why now? Why her be-

  trothed? She’d thought — hoped — her betrothed would be

  one of the people for whom her accursed gift did not work.

  She had felt nothing when she touched the Earl of St. Clare.

  Th

  e picture of a woman formed in her mind. Dressed

  in a fl owing white gown with a tumble of dark curls about

  her shoulders, she walked arm in arm with a man. Rosalind

  gasped. Her left hand clutched her skirt, and she yanked her

  right from her betrothed’s grasp. Th

  e man she saw in her mind

  was her betrothed, and the woman with him was heavy with

  child. She fanned her face vigorously, fi ghting for control. “It

  is hot today.”

  “Come inside, Rosalind,” the earl said. “You must be

  tired after your long journey.”

  “Yes,” she said, still aware of the viscount’s mocking

  10

  THE SECOND SEDUCTION

  countenance. Her chin rose. “I am a little weary.”

  “Allow me.” Hastings off ered his arm. Rosalind caught

  the beaming smile on the earl’s face as he and Charles Soul-

  den turned toward a fl ight of stairs leading inside the castle.

  “It’s not too late to call off the wedding,” the viscount