Lady Beauchamp's Proposal Read online

  LADY BEAUCHAMP’S PROPOSAL

  Amy Rose Bennett

  Erotic Romance

  Secret Cravings Publishing

  www.secretcravingspublishing.com

  Smashwords Edition

  Copyright 2014 © Amy Rose Bennett

  ABOUT THE E-BOOK YOU HAVE PURCHASED: Your non-refundable purchase of this e-book allows you to only ONE LEGAL copy for your own personal reading on your own personal computer or device. You do not have resell or distribution rights without the prior written permission of both the publisher and the copyright owner of this book. This book cannot be copied in any format, sold, or otherwise transferred from your computer to another through upload to a file sharing peer to peer program, for free or for a fee, or as a prize in any contest. Such action is illegal and in violation of the U.S. Copyright Law. Distribution of this e-book, in whole or in part, online, offline, in print or in any way or any other method currently known or yet to be invented, is forbidden. If you do not want this book anymore, you must delete it from your computer.

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  A Secret Cravings Publishing Book

  Erotic Romance

  Lady Beauchamp’s Proposal

  Copyright © 2014 Amy Rose Bennett

  E-book ISBN: 978-1-63105-284-2

  First E-book Publication: August 2014

  Cover design by Dawné Dominique

  Edited by Cassandra Pierce

  Proofread by Rene Flowers

  All cover art and logo copyright © 2014 by Secret Cravings Publishing

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

  All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

  PUBLISHER

  Secret Cravings Publishing

  www.secretcravingspublishing.com

  Dedication

  For Richard…I love you.

  I have so many people to thank for helping to make my dream of becoming a published historical romance author, come true. This story is very close to my heart and to see it come to life as a novel, it truly means the world to me.

  To my wonderful husband—my very own real-life hero—thank you for your endless love, encouragement and support throughout my journey. I could never have achieved this life-long goal without you.

  A huge thank you to my beautiful daughters, Caitlin and Claire, for their love and encouragement, and for putting up with a mother who seemed to be glued to her laptop all hours of the day and night!

  A special thank you to the fabulous Anna Campbell for renewing my love of Regency historical romance and for the most amazing critique I’ve ever had! You and your novels are, and will always be, an inspiration.

  A big thank you goes to my critique partners—Marie, Kaye, Julie-Anne and Heather—for all your support and suggestions that helped me make my story the best it could be.

  Hugs for my wonderful beta readers—Cindy, Rhonda, Michelle and Fleur—for carefully proofreading and loving my story just as much as I do!

  Thank you to Romance Writers of Australia for all of the education, networking, contests, and friendships that come with being a part of this organization! You are the most amazing group of people and I wouldn’t be where I am now if it wasn’t for all the support you provide.

  And finally thank you to the wonderful Secret Cravings Publishing team for taking a chance on this novel! Beth Walker, Ariana Gaynor, Elise Hepner, Sue Toth, Rene Flowers and Dawné Dominque, thank you for all that you have done. And last but not least, I would also like to extend a special thanks to my fabulous editor, Cassandra Pierce, for completely getting my story!

  The Cravings Ebook Club

  The Cravings Paranormal Ebook Club

  Have you heard about the newest idea in ebooks, the ebook club? Secret Cravings Publishing has two ebook clubs, The Cravings Ebook Club or the Cravings Paranormal Ebook Club, and we invite you to become a member.

  As a new member, you will receive Trouble With a Cowboy* by Sandy Sullivan and Blood Kisses** by H.N. Sieverding FREE, just for joining!

  You’ll also receive 4 BRAND-NEW EBOOKS, specially selected by our Editorial Director, every month in a variety of genres for a total price of only $9.99 for all 4. This comes out to barely $2.50 per book, much less than the retail price and you’ll be able to enjoy your books even before they are uploaded to the popular sales sites. One of several privileges of club membership.

  *Trouble With a Cowboy, a western, erotic romance:

  18 wheels had her heart until one hard-up cowboy found her kickin' up her heels and propositions her to take his bull to Vegas.

  Jacie Hawkins drives big wheelers for a livin'. Something not a lot of women do. Littleton Oklahoma is just a dry stopover for a few hours of rest and relaxation at the nearest bar. Jacie needs to find a hot cowboy to release some of her pent up frustrations on for the night, but wannabe's aren't her style.

  Tucker Marshall needs a big-rig driver to haul his prize bull to National Finals Rodeo and he needs one fast. Who would have thought he'd find one shootin' pool at the local bar dressed to kill and takin' numbers?

  Can some slashed tires and an ornery bull bring two hard-headed people together for some fun in the sun and a little more?

  **Blood Kisses (Nightwalkers 1), paranormal erotic romance:

  Ashleigh Brown, the author of the popular Nightwalkers series, lives a quiet life free of the limelight. She keeps her real identity secret by writing under the pen name, Victoria Allure. She soon finds herself in a bind when she's kidnapped by a group of handsome vampires seeking Victoria. She then agrees to meet their Master, who's a huge fan of her books. But instead of meeting him, she accidentally crosses paths with her rock star crush. He is the sexy muse behind Nightwalkers and the man she based the hero in the series upon. She would do anything to meet him but little does she know her crush has a secret...

  We will try to match your books to your preferences, however, if you’re a major paranormal fan, we suggest you join the Cravings Paranormal Club. Everything is the same except that three of your four books will be paranormal. The remaining book will be of a different genre.

  As a club member, you will also receive:

  our monthly newsletter

  sneak previews of new books

  exclusive interviews with your favorite authors

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  To join, visit the Secret Cravings Publishing website. At the bottom of the page you’ll see a button for the club. You can sign up there and share your preferences for genre, format and heat level with us. You will be charged, automatically, through PayPal, only $9.99 every month. Your books will be shipped within 1 day after PayPal payment has cleared. You may cancel at any time by clicking on the “unsubscribe” button located on the Cravings Club tab at the bottom of our website and keep the FREE BOOKS as our gift.

  We hope our Secret Cravings books will delight you each and every month.

  Best wishes,

  Beth Walker

  LADY BEAUCHAMP’S PROPOSAL

  Amy Rose Bennett

  Copyright © 2014

  Prologue


  Harcourt House, London, September 1815

  Elizabeth sat before her cherrywood dressing table, determinedly brushing her hair with slow methodical strokes, trying in vain to relax. The simple routine always used to be soothing, a balm to her taut nerves.

  But not anymore.

  Especially not tonight.

  The grandfather clock in the hall outside suddenly heralded the hour. Midnight.

  With a shaky sigh, she placed the brush upon the silver tray and glanced at her candle-lit reflection. A grave young woman stared back at her; shadows as dark as bruises marred the usually pale skin beneath her grey eyes. She was so tired. And so anxious, she felt as brittle as a dried-out birch twig that was going to snap at any moment.

  But she couldn’t break now. All going well, in six hours she would be gone from here in a hired cab that was scheduled to arrive in the mews behind the servants’ entrance where her travelling trunk had been carefully stowed. Despite her fatigue, she doubted that she would be able to sleep at all between now and then.

  There was too much at stake.

  The unexpected sound of her bedroom door opening made her start. In the dark shadows behind her, the reflection of her husband’s tall, lean frame appeared. He paused on the threshold and by the way he leaned against the door frame it was obvious that he was drunk—not an unusual circumstance for this time of night. Elizabeth knew that he’d probably spent the best part of the evening at his club or some gaming hell. But what was unusual, what caused her heart to hammer against her breast, was the fact that he had come to her room at all.

  Hugh hadn’t entered her bedchamber for more than a year.

  She tried to read his expression, judge his mood. Desperately tried to fathom what could have prompted this unexpected nocturnal visitation. But Hugh’s blue eyes, indeed the sculpted planes of his entire face, were hidden in shadow.

  “Elizabeth.” Pushing away from the door, he prowled toward her bed, then sank onto the pale blue silk counterpane with a heavy sigh. The lingering odor of port and stale cigar smoke assailed her, but she forced herself to remain still, as she watched—and waited, her stomach cramping with fear. It made no sense at all that he had come to her, instead of seeking out the more titillating company of his latest mistress or at the very least a prostitute—his usual custom at this late hour.

  Unless…Does he know what I have planned?

  Despite her rising panic, Elizabeth was suddenly struck by the realization that her husband was uncharacteristically maudlin. Turning to face him, she was acutely conscious of the fact that she only wore a thin, white cotton nightrail. Although it buttoned all the way to her throat and had long sleeves, she felt vulnerable. Exposed. It bothered her that her feet were bare.

  But she couldn’t afford to show any weakness.

  “Are you all right, my lord?” she asked carefully, forcing the words past her tight, dry throat. It seemed safer than asking—what do you want?—or—are you here to stop me leaving you? She hoped to God he hadn’t uncovered her secret. She must tread carefully. Her life depended upon it.

  His gaze travelled over her, but quickly returned to her face. Grimacing, he then ran a hand through his golden blond hair, ruffling it into messy spikes. At the age of twenty-eight, he still looked boyishly handsome she supposed, although she had long since ceased to think of him in that way.

  “To be honest, I don’t know,” he replied at last.

  Honest. That was a word that Elizabeth no longer associated with her husband, Hugh de Lancey Harcourt, the Earl of Beauchamp. Strangely enough, she did believe him tonight. He was in a peculiar mood indeed.

  The silence between them stretched. Surely he could hear her frantic heartbeat. She was unsure what to say or do next. She just wanted him to leave.

  Please, God, make him leave.

  He started to speak again, his words slightly slurred. “It has been a long time since I...since we...” His gaze dropped to her chest, concealed beneath her chaste night attire.

  She noted he couldn’t bring himself to complete the thought. Perhaps he was going to say—since I fucked you—or—since we made love. The latter statement would have been grossly inaccurate of course. In three years of marriage, Elizabeth did not believe that they had ever truly made love.

  Though what he had intended to say mattered little. What mattered was, it was not like Hugh to be inarticulate, or melancholy, or in her room. His behavior was troubling. And it disturbed her that she could not predict what he would do next.

  Elizabeth didn’t know what to do either. Terror trickled an icy trail down her spine and rendered her mute. All she knew was that regardless of his mood, she could not let him touch her. If he did, she would be damned just as much as he was.

  Hugh didn’t seem to notice her petrified silence. Perhaps he was distracted by his own personal demons. She knew all too well that he had many. But there was one in particular that plagued her. The words of the letter her husband’s lover sent to her a mere fortnight ago had tainted her mind as surely and insidiously as the contagion Hugh now undoubtedly carried.

  Your husband has the great pox, my lady.

  Elizabeth did not doubt the veracity of the writer, anonymous though she was. She had already seen traces of the telltale sore on the ring finger of Hugh’s left hand—the lesion was so inflamed, he no longer wore his favorite sapphire-set signet ring. Dr. Morton had called the sore a chancre, after she had described it to him.

  She could not see it now because Hugh still had his gloves on.

  Her husband drew in a deep breath. “I’ve been thinking…” he began then trailed off as if the attempt to clarify where this out of the ordinary encounter was heading, was a struggle for him. “Elizabeth…” He at last met her gaze. “I think it is time that I got you with child.”

  She stifled a gasp and somehow managed to stay upright. Her hands gripped the sides of her velvet covered seat. Surely he jested.

  But no—he was deadly serious. He took off his gloves and removed the sapphire pin from his cravat. From this distance, she could see the mark of the pox—the chancre. Didn’t he know that he had the disease? How could he not know?

  Elizabeth suspected he must know yet did not care. And what scared her most at this particular moment was that she believed he was fully capable of acting with depraved indifference toward her. He had always been selfish. It obviously mattered little to him that he would be exposing her to the infection in the attempt to conceive an heir, a namesake. Dr. Morton had warned her that any child resulting from their union would also be inflicted with the pox. She could not countenance such a diabolical act.

  She had to get away, now more than ever. If only she could make it through the next few hours without Hugh touching her.

  Strange to think she’d once longed for his touch…

  As he stood and moved toward her, she summoned what she hoped was a convincing smile. “As you wish, my lord.” Her voice was husky but not with desire. She prayed he couldn’t discern the difference.

  He laid a hand upon her shoulder. His touch was hot, heavy.

  Deadly.

  She smiled up at him. “Hugh, it has been such a long time, and clearly you have taken me by surprise. I feel at a…disadvantage. If you would indulge me, I would like to change into something more...pleasing to the eye. I know how you loathe these nightrails.”

  Hugh’s eyes locked with hers. Speculation, perhaps even interest flared in the sapphire blue depths. A corner of his wide mouth lifted in a sensual smile. “Of course, my lady.”

  He brushed the pale curtain of her hair aside and dropped a hot, open-mouthed kiss onto her neck. She struggled to suppress a shudder. She couldn’t even recall the last time he’d kissed her. He didn’t even kiss her goodbye before he left for Belgium to serve in Wellington’s army in April. It was now September.

  She swallowed and dredged up her voice again. “Give me a few minutes. I will come to you in your room.”

  He drew back. She could clearly
see his erection, pushing impatiently against the fall of his navy blue superfine breeches.

  “I look forward to it, Elizabeth,” he said with another slow smile.

  Then, thank the Lord, he left.

  She hadn’t much time. Opening the top drawer of her dresser, Elizabeth retrieved her household keys before slipping out of the door leading to the hallway. She didn’t bother to close it. She was afraid he would hear it. Picking up the hem of her nightrail she rushed down the hall, grateful that the plush Aubusson carpet deadened her footfalls.

  Where to hide, where to hide, that was the question? She headed for the servants’ quarters. She knew there was a spare room. One of the footmen had left their service just recently.

  By the time she reached the fourth floor, she was breathless. She paused for a moment, trying to control her ragged gasps. It wouldn’t do to wake the servants. She recalled that the spare room was at the beginning of the corridor, adjacent to the landing where she now stood.

  Fumbling, she pulled out her keys, trying to find the right one. The only light she had to work by was a frail shaft of moonlight that spilled through a small window at the head of the stairs.