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Regency Heat
Regency Heat
Regency Heat
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Regency Heat

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Lady Nicki was headed for her first London Season, and she had what it would take to be a smashing success.
She enchanted, she charmed and she slayed the London Beaus, but, from the start she knew who she wanted, and he was a confirmed bachelor.
She knew what he was. She knew about his women, but, nothing was going to stop her from trying to win his heart.
Would she or was he past falling in love?

LanguageEnglish
PublisherClaudy Conn
Release dateApr 18, 2016
ISBN9781311778277
Regency Heat
Author

Claudy Conn

New York Times and USA Today bestselling author, Claudy Conn is a multi published author who got her start with her bestselling historical/regency romances.She tells us that she fell in love with the fantasy/paranormal genre and created a world of paranormal.She hopes you will read and enjoy and join her on her facebook where she loves to interact with her readers.page.http://www.facebook.com/pages/Claudy-Conn-Paranormal-Romance-Author/135826686471445

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    Book preview

    Regency Heat - Claudy Conn

    REGENCY HEAT

    By Claudy Conn

    Editor: Alicia H. Carmical

    Artist: Dawn Sullivan

    CONTENTS

    Copyright

    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

    Chapter Twenty-Two

    Chapter Twenty-Three

    Chapter Twenty-Four

    Chapter Twenty-Five

    Chapter Twenty-Six

    Chapter Twenty-Seven

    Chapter Twenty-Eight

    Epilogue

    Sneak Peek!

    About Claudy

    Copyright Page

    Regency Heat

    By Claudy Conn

    http://www.claudyconn.com

    Copyright © 2016 by Claudy Conn at Smashwords

    Second edition edited by: Alicia H. Carmical

    Cover Artist: Dawn Sullivan

    All rights reserved

    Published in the United States of America

    April 2016

    Excerpt of Harley-Awakening

    Copyright © 2015 by Claudy Conn

    This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

    Names, characters, and events depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, places, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author.

    No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author.

    ~ Chapter One ~

    "Love Makes Fools of Us All."

    Shakespeare

    1812

    THE LIBRARY IN SUTLAND HOUSE was perhaps not its largest room, but it was most certainly decorated, as was the balance of the mansion, in the first style of elegance.

    One wall of this small but cozy chamber was lined with books, ranging from Shakespeare’s complete works to the collection of poems by Sir Walter Scott.

    The third wall, made up almost entirely of windows, sported dark brown velvet drapes. These windows overlooked a small garden that opened through an arbor, displaying the extensive grounds of the Sutland estate. The effect was very much like a landscape painting.

    A log fire invited warmth, as did the two matched sofas of burgundy damask and the room, thought one of the two gentlemen seated across from another. A large writing desk positioned between them had a much-used and comfortable ‘feel’.

    Lord Arthur Beaumont, Eighth Earl of Sutland, leaned back heavily in his cushioned Chippendale chair and put his hand to his chin. He was in a foul mood and tried in that moment to extinguish it.

    He had felt some mild surprise when just a few minutes before, the butler had announced the Duke of Lyndham. For although they had for some months been working closely together in a branch of the foreign department, they had not been on any social terms. This was due to the fact that the duke, (known to his intimates as Adam Roth), was a bachelor of eight and twenty years and until recently, had been busy acquiring the reputation of being a fashionable rake.

    Beaumont was aware of some of the duke’s history, as it had only been a bit more than a year ago when the duke’s father had died, leaving him the title and a considerable fortune. With his father’s death, the young duke’s libertine activities had slowed down and that was when he and Adam had become acquainted. The duke had turned his excessive energies toward politics, and Beaumont had found he liked him very well.

    Indeed, my boy, what you have just imparted to me must go no further. This is very distressing news, and I don’t at the moment perceive what is to be done. Beaumont pulled at his lower lip.

    The duke said nothing as he considered Beaumont’s answer, although he sighed heavily as he rose, he pushed away from his chair and took to pacing.

    Beaumont watched him and waited. The duke came to stop before the windows. You know, my lord, I…well, I never got along with my father and it led me to…what some called shocking behavior. I, however, find that I have a great respect for you. I believe there is a way to avoid a scandal being attached to the department, and of course to our names, but I fear there is a great deal of risk involved.

    * * * * *

    Oddly enough, what Adam couldn’t do when his father was alive, he seemed determined to do now that his father was gone.

    After his father’s death, he looked back and realized so many of the excessively bad behaviors he had indulged in had been in an effort to shock his father.

    He had gambled at every Hell that St. James Street boasted. He had joined Prinny’s ‘Carlton Set’, drinking excessively and without restraint.

    When his father fell ill, he caught himself mid-stride and returned to the fold, if only to do his duty to his parent, and looked into himself. In spite of his father’s petty cruelties and neglect when he was a boy growing up, he discovered he loved the old man.

    His father’s last request, and in his cold outrageous manner, was that his son marry and produce an heir. He could still hear his father’s words, Just pick out a bride and be done with it. One of good breeding and name. Marry her, then flit about as you like. Do that for a dying man, won’t you?

    Adam had been shocked into silence at those words. Shock had been followed by rage. Had his father ever attended anything that mattered when he grew from boyhood to adulthood? No. Yet, he expected him to tie himself up to another person without any emotional attachment whatsoever?

    Yes, he had been carrying on and going to excess, but he hurt no one and he would not do so now. The very notion of marrying a young woman only to leave her to her own devices while he cheated on her was something he found repulsive.

    No, Father, I will marry when I will.

    Selfish cad, his father had said, and had dismissed him from the room.

    The next morning, he discovered his father had died in his sleep.

    Looking at Beaumont, he felt a wave of affection for a man who was everything he admired and was nothing at all like the parent he had suffered.

    Well, lad, let’s hear your plan out loud, and between us, we will try and minimize the risk, Beaumont offered quietly.

    The duke returned to the desk and pulled up the chair he had previously occupied and sat facing Beaumont. Yes, sir, he said. But the thing is, in order to pull through this muddle, we will have to entail the risk of involving yet another person. He is a good man.

    Beaumont frowned. It’s a tricky business, Adam. Who are you thinking of?

    Sir John Wellesly. I think, in fact, that you are acquainted with his bride, Arabella?

    Arabella? Why yes, she and my daughter are very close. Beaumont nodded. And I like Sir John. Good man.

    Yes sir, I quite agree, and I have reason to believe that young John Wellesly can be trusted implicitly. I should like to take him into our confidence as soon as possible, simply because, at this juncture, I feel we must.

    Beaumont looked away, obviously in deep thought, before he turned back to Adam and said, Right then, as far as trusting Wellesly, I am inclined to agree with you. However, Adam, I should first like to hear what plan you have in mind.

    * * * * *

    Lady Beaumont was, at that moment, looking out onto the drive for a sign of her two wayward offspring. What she saw was her own reflection in the window. She mused that at two and forty she still had her looks, and patted her dusky short cropped curls. She sighed happily as she recalled that she had been considered a Diamond of the First Water in her day, and now she was certain, her beloved, if roguish, daughter was about to be dubbed the same.

    This last week in February had brought freezing cold and rain, until this afternoon when Harry had spotted the sun. He had come rushing in, calling for his sister, Nicole, and so she watched, amused, as they hurried outdoors, calling over their shoulders in a lively fashion that they were going riding.

    Shortly thereafter, the duke arrived. Of all the vexing things. The duke—and her daughter running amok outside in britches!

    Much to her ladyship’s exasperation, her children were overdue. She nervously wrung her hands and ardently wished Nicole would return and hurry upstairs to wash and change her clothes. She actually had no wish for the duke to cast his dangerous glance upon her precious daughter.  However, neither did she wish for His Grace to form an ill opinion of her darling.

    Lady Beaumont was well aware that His Grace was a confirmed bachelor and his flirts were generally ladies of unsavory reputation. One in particular, whom she referred to as ‘that widow’, even bragged about their liaison!

    Her ladyship was also aware that his Grace usually dallied with women close to his own age, making a wide circle around the ‘fledglings’.

    Nevertheless, these facts did not deter her concern. She was worried that her daughter, young and naïve, might find the handsome duke, with his fashion and easy address, far too attractive.

    She mumbled out loud and took to pacing.

    Chiding herself, she took comfort in the fact that his Grace was only staying one night with them. She moved to the bell and rang for Grudsly and when he appeared, informed him that her husband and his guest should be shown into the salon for refreshments.

    She hurried along there herself to make certain all was in readiness, and that the fire in the small grate of the comfortable salon was still burning.

    Ah, lucky, I am just in time, she said to the empty room as she picked up the poker and jostled the logs around for more flame.

    As it happened, this spacious room was situated at the front of the house and had a panoramic view of the long wide driveway that led to their double front doors.

    She looked up from tending the fire and with a gasp in her throat and a hand to her heart, she felt the color drain from her face. Dear God… she said, poker mid-air.

    Eh…what’s that you say? her husband asked as he and the duke entered the room, and she was certain, also had a very excellent view.

    ~ Chapter Two ~

    HIS GRACE VERY naturally looked in the direction of the window, as did her ladyship’s husband, and they were greeted with two lively young people racing up the drive on horseback.

    Nicole, her black loose tresses uncovered and falling in disorderly fashion to her waist, was dressed in a short brown riding jacket that was more serviceable than stylish. What, however, opened the duke’s eyes wider was the fact that she wore britches.

    His Grace grinned, saw that his hostess’s face was ashen, and curbed the chuckle that sprung to his lips. Though as the young beauty got into position on her horse, he found he could not stop himself from drawing closer to the large window to have a better look.

    The Lady Nicole had her legs tucked beneath her as she rode at a reckless pace. At her side, a fair haired young man, dressed somewhat more fashionably than the lady, and attempting much of the same gymnastics without too much success.

    The Eighth Earl of Sutland slapped his knee and whooped with laughter as he turned to his lady and the duke, to proudly acclaim his children as ‘bruising riders’.

    Her ladyship put on a prim face and he hugged her, all under the duke’s amused observation.

    They vanished from sight, and the occupants of the salon heard the front door open and close and a young woman’s voice greet Grudsly with affection.

    A moment later, Nicole stuck her head in and the duke’s interest was further peaked to find, though absurdly young and a complete hoyden, the chit was exquisite.

    Up to your room and change at once, her ladyship told her daughter.

    Her daughter giggled and a vexed male voice at her back said, Devil take you, Nick, for  you are small enough to maneuver that last with ease, and it was most unhandsome of you to play such a dastardly trick to win a wager.

    The duke heard a magical laugh before brother and sister vanished and he returned his attention to his host and hostess.

    He had thought when he saw the chit on the horse that she was no more than a child, but a glance at her face with that mass of windblown hair, then a quick scan of her luscious body, had definitely shown him it was otherwise.

    She was absolutely enchanting and he meant to keep his distance.

    In that short space of time, he had watched her speaking, laughing green eyes and had been totally intrigued. He immediately shut out such thoughts.

    She was an innocent and he never dallied with innocents, especially when one was the daughter of a man he both liked and respected.

    It didn’t take long and both Nicole and her brother returned, evidently washed and presentable. The duke’s mouth fell open as she entered the room exclaiming, "Oh tea…and my favorite little cakes. Wonderful, I am starving. Harry, look, your favorite custard tart." 

    Aye, he agreed, going towards it.

    She turned to her father and said, Harry wanted to keep riding to the west field, but if I had let him drag me off there, we would have missed this… At which point, Nicole Beaumont’s green eyes came to rest on the duke.

    If he had thought her ravishing in her rags, now, in a day-gown of blue, with her hair brushed and her cheeks still rosy from her adventure, and her green eyes openly scanning him, he discovered she was stunning. He felt the air leave his lungs, and for the first time in his life, he was left speechless.

    Nicole’s green eyes immediately found and locked with his, and he drew in a long breath of air as he watched those eyes openly flash with amusement.

    * * * * *

    Nicole’s first thought when her eyes came to rest on the duke was, la, oh my--handsome. Beyond that, thought—all thought became suspended.

    She would then have dismissed him from any further consideration as he was clearly more than five and twenty-five. She didn’t, because she found his smiling blue eyes.

    He stood and she became aware that he was tall, even taller than her six foot brother, and he was muscular in build. Somewhere in the background she heard her father introducing her to the Duke of Lyndham.

    She managed a slight incline of her head and was suddenly shy. She was never shy and the fact that she now was, surprised her. She was then spared the necessity of making conversation as her mother took her hand and urged her to sit with her and have some tea.

    Oh yes, and…this. Nicole reached for and plopped a small cake into her mouth. She saw her mother’s reproving glance and giggled. Mama, I am famished.

    She glanced at the duke and saw his lips twitch and was emboldened to laugh. She liked his blue eyes. They sparkled with humor and his open laugh was infectious.

    She happened then to note that her brother stood spellbound as he gazed raptly at the duke’s neckcloth and bit her lip before she said something untoward. Indeed, it was at this juncture that Harry could no longer contain his admiration. He cleared his throat and ventured, I say, Your Grace, that is a splendid cravat. I don’t believe it’s one of Brummell’s. Is it your own style, Duke?

    A slightly bored look crept across the duke’s face and his answer was mechanical, which immediately got Nicki’s temper tickled. However, he answered politely enough. Yes, Viscount Beaumont, in fact, I call it the Lyndham Fall.

    Nicki giggled. The fact that men gave neckcloth arrangements titles was amusing to her and she told the duke this, but Harry interrupted and dismissed her remark.

    By Jove, Duke, if you are staying the night, I would feel privileged if you would allow me to watch you at it. Harry’s animation lit his youthful countenance.

    Harry! objected his mother.

    Amused, the duke smiled indulgently. No, no, Lady Beaumont, I do not mind. Yes, Viscount, you may come by later when I dress for dinner, and watch if you like.

    Like? Yes, indeed, and please, call me Harry.

    The duke grinned and inclined his head. And I, Adam.

    Nicki rolled her eyes, then engaged the duke’s attention. Was that your grey we saw in the pen, Your Grace? He is one of the finest animals I have ever come across.

    Stap me if he isn’t! agreed Harry enthusiastically. Tell you what, Nicki girl, Ginger has met her match at last.

    Nicki turned a surprised face to her brother. Why, Harry, how can you say so? You know Ginger has never been beaten, and for all you know, the duke’s grey may be all show and no go.

    True, she has never been beaten, Harry mused out loud. But that big boy just might be the one to do it.

    Nicki glared at her brother. Well, you cannot say such a thing for you have never seen the duke’s grey run. Out of the corner of her eye, she once again witnessed the duke’s lips twitch. He was amused, she thought, and her brow went up.

    Harry threw up his hands. "Don’t set your bristles up, Nicki. I didn’t say the grey will beat her, though with his sleek lines, I’m inclined to think he has a good chance. Look, I only said that she might have a match…"

    Nicki cold-shouldered her brother by bouncing round where she sat, effectively giving him her back and addressed the duke, Well, Your Grace, my Ginger against your grey?

    "No!" her ladyship interjected violently.

    The duke regarded Lady Beaumont with what Nicki was sure was a disappointed expression as he said, I am afraid I must decline, for I could not lend myself to anything that would find disfavor in your mother’s eyes.

    Nicki rounded on her mother. Fie, Mama. The duke is our guest, and I am persuaded he would greatly enjoy a little race with me. After all, we shan’t leave Sutland grounds. We will only race down the drive and back to the house. Where is the harm?

    Oh… her mother answered doubtfully.

    Mama, Harry, your son, has created the challenge. It is not just, not at all, to let it stand without putting it to the test. My Ginger must be defended, Nicki argued.

    No, it is most unseemly, her mother returned, one brow very high.

    Honestly, Mama, Harry interjected. It is on our own property after all.

    His mother glared at him.

    I don’t see the harm, stuck in Nicki’s father.

    She wrung her hands and met her husband’s eyes. Yes, but, started her ladyship, I am sure it is unseemly.

    My dear one, her husband offered. "There is not the least imprudence connected with a little race on our grounds and under our supervision."

    Lady Beaumont looked from father to daughter and threw up her hands. Very well.

    She was immediately enveloped in her daughter’s arms before Nicki turned to give her father a bear hug. She then faced the duke. Well then, Your Grace?

    How can I now refuse? The duke laughed and appeared genuinely amused.

    Ah, you cannot, she answered merrily. She put a finger to her nose before she dropped it and added, I suppose it will have to wait ‘til morning, though, for my Ginger has been about all day. Is that convenient, Your Grace?

    * * * * *

    His Grace, much diverted by all of this, nodded his consent. He found himself intrigued by the hoyden. She was on the verge of womanhood and for a fleeting moment, he wondered what it would be like to be the one to bring her through that moment.

    As soon as the thought meandered into his brain, he chided himself. He did not dally with innocents. It wasn’t right and it wasn’t fair, and lastly, it could end with him being forced to the altar. All three possibilities sent an involuntary shudder through him.

    Still, watching her animated face as she drank her tea and exchanged quips with her lively brother, he found he liked her. He didn’t often like the ‘missy’ chits, forever going on about this or that, but this one? Yes, he liked her.

    Harry caught his attention and engaged him in amiable conversation about hunting. The lad was a decent young man…also an innocent. He wore his hair in what Brummell would call ‘windswept’, and it suited his bright smiling green eyes, so much like his sister’s. His nose was straight and fine, and his nature was blessed with the same sweetness of disposition reflected in his parents.

    Only been to London a few times as a boy, Harry said after one of the duke’s comments regarding the city. "But you know, I turned one and twenty recently and now that my studies, thank the saints, are at an end, wish to kick up a lark in London."

    Do you? And leave all your equestrian sports behind? His Grace inquired, and immediately grinned as the smile vanished from the young man’s face.

    "Leave them? Harry asked horrified. What…don’t you ride in the city?"

    The duke chuckled. We do, but not like…er…the sort of riding you and your sister enjoy here.

    Harry blushed. Oh well, stands to reason, no, of course not.

    London will be insipid, Nicki stuck in.

    No, you don’t mean that, Harry returned. She doesn’t mean that. She has been saying what fun it will be to go to Vauxhall Gardens and the theatre and…

    Yes, that will be fun, but to ride in Hyde Park as they do—sedately, is not my idea of riding, Nicki answered. Do you?

    Do I what? the duke answered carefully.

    Like riding sedately? From your Corinthian cut, I doubt it, Nicki said.

    Nicole! objected her mother.

    The duke laughed and winked at her. You are quite right. That is why now and then I take to the country and have a good gallop.

    Oh…well then, we shall do the same. She turned to her brother. Right, Harry?

    Her brother said superiorly and as though it would explain everything, She is only nineteen.

    Nicki put up her chin. I will be twenty in a month’s time!

    It was some moments later when Lady Beaumont ushered her daughter to join her in the kitchen to decide the menu for dinner.

    Nicki allowed her mother to pull her along, laughing as she left the room and whispered to her ladyship, Ah, you are concerned that I am the lamb and the duke is the wolf from Aesop’s Fables?

    Nicole!

    Nicki laughed. "Mama, do I still shock you? I am nearly twenty. That is not so very young, and I am very knowing. You needn’t worry. He is very handsome, but I see that he is quite a rogue. Though I do like his speaking eyes."

    Lady Beaumont stopped and looked

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