A Simple Deception: Westmore Legacy, #1

By Vanessa Grace

A Lord determined to remain a bachelor…

Ten years ago, Lord Garret Lansdale gave up everything to marry the woman he loved, only to be betrayed. Embittered, Garret leads a solitary life punctuated by temporary affairs. When his grandfather promises to reinstate him as the Westmore heir on the condition he marries, Garret comes up with a plan to regain his inheritance without the wedding.

A widow who cannot refuse his offer…

Left destitute by her first husband, then abandoned at the altar by her second, Mrs. Savannah Armstrong wants nothing more than to return to her beloved Boston, except her dire circumstances have left her at the mercies of her ex-fiancé. Lord Lansdale promises to help her but only if she agrees to pose as his wife. Savannah has no choice but to go along with the handsome lord’s plan.

Trapped by their lies…

Returning to his childhood home, Garret is shocked to find his grandfather ill and the Westmore estate on the brink of ruination. Garret and Savannah are forced to prolong their charade as together they work to save his inheritance. His attraction to the feisty widow becomes harder to ignore as Savannah proves to be nothing like the women he’s accustomed to. Savannah’s determination to leave England fades a little every time Garret shows he is not the self-important rake she originally thought.

… and the truth in their hearts.

As their attraction gives way to passion, it is all too easy to believe the lie is real. But revealing the truth will have lasting consequences, and the deception that drew them together could be the very thing that tears them apart.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Vanessa Grace
• Release date: Apr 14, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386210252

Vanessa Grace

Vanessa Grace is a novelist who always loved the lure of any good story. She began writing as a teenager but did not pursue publication until much later in life. Her projects are varied, from the Stella and Jessica books she coauthors with best friend and college roommate Amy Bea to her solo historical and contemporary romance books. She was named a finalist in the 2014 Montana RWA ‘Montana Strong’ writing contest. When she isn’t writing, she enjoys reading, traveling, and spending time with her family. She resides in Central Montana.

Book preview

Chapter 1

––––––––

April 1812

––––––––

It was the wedding catastrophe of the season.

Oh, but the ton would love it. An American heiress marrying the eligible Mr. Clyde Mosley had already caused a stir behind the lacy fans. Whispers the bride was a widow who had set aside her mourning veil early in order to marry had clattered tea cups against their saucers. But this! This would have polite society reaching for their smelling salts.

Savannah Armstrong gripped the cushioned arms of her chair and tried to muster up some outrage. She ought to, for the situation certainly called for it, even demanded it. But displays of high emotion required... emotion.

She stared across the polished mahogany desk at Baron Hampton, Mr. Mosley’s father. Not ten minutes ago she had been upstairs in the guest chambers, attaching a lacy veil to her blonde curls, waiting for her future father-in-law to escort her to the church. Now she was ridiculously overdressed.

I’m so sorry, Savannah, said Lord Hampton, compassion shining in his brown eyes. This is a disaster.

He bore the flushed visage of humiliation, but Savannah suspected his high color had little to do with personal embarrassment. She noted how he avoided speaking to his son at all. Mr. Mosley slouched on a sofa in the corner, a full brandy snifter in one hand and a half empty decanter in the other. Detached boredom twisted his boyishly handsome face. Despite her bleak prospects, Savannah was relieved she wouldn’t be marrying the letch.

Turning her attention away from her faithless fiancé, Savannah focused on the other two people in the library. Sir Vernon Grey, Hampton’s rotund business partner, glared at Mr. Mosley. Grey’s daughter Joelle sat in an armchair beside Savannah’s. Thin, mousy, and spiteful, she wasn’t one of Savannah’s favorite people. The girl’s noisy weeping made it difficult for Savannah to concentrate.

Lord Hampton hissed in frustration. A complete disaster, he repeated. I’m afraid, Savannah, I have no alternative. I don’t blame Grey for demanding Clyde marries Joelle, after compromising her. A baby makes it even more complicated.

Joelle gave a loud sob and buried her face in a fresh hankie. Startled by overt display, Lord Hampton frowned at the girl. Savannah bit her lip at the urge to giggle. Joelle was being a tad dramatic, despite the seriousness of her situation. After all, Joelle wasn’t the one being left at the altar.

Yes, it’s time Clyde owns up to his responsibilities, continued Lord Hampton. But this leaves you without the husband and future I promised you. And a sticky legal tangle, because of your wedding contract. So unless you agree to break it, Grey will leave the company and we’ll be forced to dissolve our partnership. The company will be sold, and quite honestly, it is the only positive venture within my holdings these days.

Which will leave Mr. Mosley without the means to support any wife. Savannah’s calm voice sounded odd to her. Why wasn’t she more upset? She tugged on the edge of her glove and focused on the one thing that did matter. What am I to do without a husband?

If you break the engagement, I am willing to negotiate a nice settlement- Lord Hampton broke off when his partner gave an indiscrete wave. I am sure there is something we can work out.

Savannah almost sneered at the pathetic attempt to placate her. Instead she chose a polite, if brittle, smile. The sale of her cotton mill to Lord Hampton hadn’t been enough to cover the debts left by her late husband. When the Baron learned of her predicament, he increased his offer on the condition she marry his son. Having no other alternative, Savannah agreed.

While she braced herself for another loveless union, she hadn’t anticipated the marriage not occurring at all. If she was correct about Sir Grey’s gesture, she wouldn’t receive any additional funds to establish a home of her own. Savannah doubted she would have any legal recourse. What English court would side with an American woman who has no one to speak for her? Once again penniless, and now stranded in England, Savannah had no family or friends to assist her.

Savannah tugged on her gloves, determined to make the Baron see reason. I’m afraid, my lord, money is not all at stake here. The damage done to my reputation will be significant.

Sir Grey cut her off with a loud sniff. "Polite society will forget about this little scandal with the birth of the next. Give them a year and you’ll be a distant memory. My daughter also has her reputation at stake and her circumstances are far worse because of the child. His child." The sneer Sir Grey directed at Mr. Mosley attempted to convey his protectiveness of his daughter. It failed.

Savannah pressed her lips together in disgust. Sir Grey was a social-climbing snob and she would not be surprised to learn he orchestrated the whole scene. He had been upset when the Baron returned from the colonies with Savannah in tow.

After all, Sir Grey carried on, she’s English and a woman of means, where you are- He broke off, prudence cautioning him from saying anything damning.

Too late. Where I am poor and an American. Do you honestly believe word of this scandal won’t reach Boston? This will ruin me there just as it will ruin me here. Savannah stared hard until a guilty flush covered Sir Grey’s face and he looked away.

Savannah would savor the small victory another time. Instead she glanced toward Miss Grey, who peeked at Savannah through the lace edging of her handkerchief. I am well aware your daughter has a greater need of Mr. Mosley’s name than I, although why you insist on marriage instead of pistols at dawn, I can only speculate. She sensed it had something to do with the greedy glint in Sir Grey’s eye. His daughter’s marriage to Mr. Mosley would strengthen his standing in the shipping firm.

As for her situation, there was one way to resolve it and still keep her dignity. I relinquish my right to his name. She accepted the dripping quill from Lord Hampton and scratched her signature by the added lines on her wedding contract.

Excellent. I have already acquired the special license. Sir Grey clapped together his bejeweled fingers. Joelle’s tears dried to mere sniffles and she allowed her father to help her to her feet. We will meet you at the church, Mosley. Do your father a favor and be on time. The wedding is in three hours.

Shocked, Savannah watched Mr. Mosley trail Sir Grey and Joelle out of the library. Today? They’re getting married today?

Lord Hampton gave a sheepish shrug. Aside from those related to me, the other guests are Grey’s family and a few people associated with the firm. It would be ridiculous to ask everyone to come back at a later date. They’re here for a wedding, and a wedding we’ll have. The sooner this business is concluded, the sooner this whole mess will be forgotten.

Savannah shook her head. She hated how the concept of marriage had been reduced to a business transaction. Her first marriage had been one, as well as the thwarted second. If anything, Savannah knew just how unfulfilling such a union was.

She wasn’t a fool. She understood quite often little affection existed between a husband and a wife, if any at all. Long ago, Savannah resigned herself to making the best out of any situation, be it an empty larder or an emotionally empty marriage.

But she desired more. Craved it.

Her parents had a happy marriage, or at least she suspected they did. Her childhood memories were of shared struggles, frequent laughter, and long conversations over supper. She wanted the same kind of companionship.

The kind of relationship she suspected Lord Hampton once shared with his departed wife, for a soft, wistful expression came over him each time he spoke of her. Even now, a far-off look stole over him despite the upheaval requiring his attention. The dreamy onset of memories came more and more often at the expense of the present.

I am very sorry about this, Savannah. I did want you for a daughter-in-law. You are strong and resourceful, intelligent and rather fetching.

Thank you, Lord Hampton.

A match between you and Clyde may have been advantageous. I was little better when I met his mother. But I changed for my Bridgette. You remind me of her. I had hoped you were the woman for my son.

Savannah‘s frustration softened as the elderly man drift away into memories. She pitied the aging lord, who was kind and generous when he didn‘t have to be. If Mr. Mosley had been anything like him, she would have fought harder to prevent the dissolution of their marriage contract.

There is nothing you need to apologize for, my lord. I harbor you no ill will. Indeed, his son should be the one apologizing.

Still, she knew the necessity of being practical. As a woman, she had few acceptable options.

Placing her fragile future into the hands of others had resulted in disappointment and heartache. No, she needed to formulate her own plan for her future and carry it out. My lord, if I may, I believe I have an acceptable alternative to our previous arrangement.

Don’t worry, my dear. I’m sure you will find a suitable match elsewhere. The London season is long, after all.

Savannah blinked. Pardon me, my lord, but I’m not sure staying in London is a good idea. I have no home, no family. The tale you told of me being an heiress is simply that, a tale. The money from the sale of the mill has already gone to the creditors. While it was kind of you to pay for my lodgings before the marriage, I cannot continue to intrude on your hospitality now. No, it is better if I return to Boston as soon as possible.

Lord Hampton appeared puzzled, as if he didn’t remember her Boston roots. His mind had deteriorated far more then she had suspected. Before she could say anything, he brightened. Clyde will take care of you, my dear.

What? The spoilt, overgrown child responsible for this mess? Are you sure he’s the best choice?

Of course! I’m sure you remember Clyde will be taking over the family holdings after today. He will handle the details of your renegotiation.

Details? Her life was a detail? My lord-

My dear, did I ever tell you of the time Bridgette and I went horseback riding on her family’s estate and we discovered the old cave? Without waiting her reply, Lord Hampton launched into the tale, and Savannah watched as the man she believed to be her savior and protector faded into a feeble old man.

She held back her distress and thought frantically how she would get out of this mess without his help. No plausible solution presented itself. Anxiety clawed at her, and the walls closed in.

Suffocating, Savannah stood and her wedding dress rustled. Excuse me, won’t you, my lord? Given the circumstances, I believe I should to find something more appropriate to wear.

In the cool foyer, Savannah gulped in air. If she had more time... but her hope slipped away from her. Dear God, how she had arrived at this point? At the stairwell opposite the townhouse’s front door, she collided with Mr. Mosley.

Savannah, you are exquisite. Being the blushing bride suits you. He grasped her arms, preventing her from backing away. I cannot tell you how sorry I am we won’t be man and wife, he murmured, boldly assessing her body, his gaze lingering on her breasts.

Savannah recoiled. How simple it was to hide one’s true nature. She knew many women thought Mr. Mosley a handsome and charming man. His light blonde hair curled just a little, his features regular, his dancing was exquisite, and his compliments never failed to solicit delighted blushes. His body, soft due to his rich lifestyle, could be kept hidden under the fine cut of his coat.

Not one of the many of the ladies who proclaimed her fortunate knew the real Mr. Mosley. How shocked they’d be to learn he was nothing more than a careless, selfish cad who cared for no one but himself.

At first, she had hopes. When they’d first met three weeks ago, Savannah had found him pleasing to the eye, but the attraction faded as he revealed himself to be unlike his father in every way, content to live off his title and indulge in a frivolous lifestyle. Trapped without recourse, Savannah shrugged off her disappointment as she had in the past with her late husband Paul.

Now freed from having to pretend indifference, Savannah struggled against his hold. Forgive me if I doubt your sincerity, Mr. Mosley.

He chuckled. Oh, but I am sincere. I am disappointed we will not be able to acquaint ourselves more intimately tonight.

In a matter of hours you will have a wife. Perhaps she can sooth your disappointment.

Not the wife I wanted.

Savannah gritted her teeth at his attempt to be charming. God in Heaven, the man was a cad. How can you be so heartless towards Miss Grey? She’s having your child.

He shrugged. I doubt it’s even mine. Miss Grey and I have an understanding. I provide a name for her children and she ignores my proclivities.

I suppose I am to be one of your proclivities? She yanked her arms free. You have my heartfelt refusal.

His voice lowered, his eyes feral. I don’t believe you have a choice.

Wary, Savannah took an instinctive half-step back. What are you talking about?

Your future. Marriage is the only thing saving you from the gutter. You have no home, you have no family. Where will you go? Back to America in shame and poverty? Or stay here and become one of the working class?

There is nothing wrong with providing for myself. She ignored his salacious innuendo. I am a very capable person. I will be just fine without you or your money.

Ah, such spirit. One of the many admirable qualities you possess. Of course you will find work, perhaps as a governess, but do you have the time? It can take weeks to find a suitable position without references, and in the meantime, where will you live? How will you eat?

Savannah hated he made sense. Still, she refused to show him any fear. In light of all that has happened, I‘m sure your father will grant me a small loan.

My father is a doddering old fool who will do what I tell him. I’m surprised you haven’t guessed how ill he is.

Her eyesight dimmed as he confirmed the truth of her suspicions. Don’t you care for your father at all?

He smirked. Does it matter? He won’t be able to help you. I’m afraid, my dear, the gutter will be your next home. Unless...

Unless what?

You become my mistress.

Savannah gasped. You’re insane.

Tut, tut, darling. Is that any way to speak to someone who is trying to help you out of your dire circumstances?

You put me in these circumstances!

And in an effort to rectify my part in this, I offer you everything a woman wants. An apartment with servants of your own. A wardrobe a queen would envy. A spending allowance. All I ask is exclusive access to your delectable body.

You expect me to willingly submit to-

Oh, why bring willingness into this? It can be so much more fun when you are not.

The prurient desire in his eyes churned the bile in her belly. Had she thought he was just a selfish, spoiled brat? Something much darker lurked inside him. It froze her to her core. You’re a monster, she whispered.

He stepped close and slid a hand down her arm, caressing her breast with his palm. Savannah shuddered in abhorrence, and his lips curled. Yes, I will make you shiver, Savannah. He leaned in, his whisper hot in her ear. Over and over again.

Mr. Mosley’s mouth slid across her cheek and claimed hers for a brief, brutal kiss. Releasing her, he stepped back and winked. We’ll discuss my offer on the morrow in your apartment, where we can have some privacy. But first, I have a wedding to attend. Whistling a jaunty tune, he ascended the steps to his quarters.

Shaking, Savannah scrubbed at her mouth. Fear and helplessness curdled in her gut. Why hadn’t she seen how evil her fiancé was? She had nothing except her dignity and self-respect, and Mr. Mosley meant to take them as well.

The stink of orange blossoms permeated the air, suffocating her. Finding her legs, she walked to the small table across the entryway from her. The flowers arranged on it were for her hair and to decorate the carriage.

Hateful blossoms. She preferred roses, anyway. She should toss these flowers off the nearest bridge.

Maybe I will, Savannah declared to the empty entryway. Picking them up, her fingers brushed a leathery object. She stilled.

Mr. Mosley’s wallet lay inches from her hand.

The leather was butter soft as she slid her fingers over it. Picking it up, Savannah recognized the heft of several hundred pounds. Despite his family’s strapped finances, Mr. Mosley always carried a small fortune on his person. Who knew when a good game of chance would present itself or any other amusements, wedding night or not.

It could pay to further Mr. Mosley’s debauchery, or...

Savannah stared at her reflection in the gilded entryway mirror. The woman reflected shocked her. She recognized the heart shaped face, the wild blond curls refusing to remain in the confines of a bun, and the stubborn chin. But the fearful desperation was foreign.

For the first time in her life, Savannah’s belief in her capabilities faltered.

She needed to get far away from Mr. Mosley as soon as possible. However much was in the wallet, it more than enough to pay for passage back to Boston and cover her expenses until she located work. Maybe it was time she sought opportunities elsewhere. Perhaps in the Carolinas, where no one knew her name or her story. Or someplace further west.

Anywhere but London.

Her grip tightened against the soft leather. Stealing was wrong, a crime. Her father may be dead, but he had raised her right. She had her morals, even if the rest of the world appeared to have a decided lack of them.

But, Savannah reasoned, it was all she had. Her morals weren’t going to feed her or shelter her or protect her from men like Mr. Mosley. And after today, he owed her this much.

She had no time to think, to create any other plan. Savannah swept out the front door, clutching both the wallet and the bouquet. Robert, the Baron’s groom, waited just outside with Tybalt, Mr. Mosley’s prized stallion. Her skirts billowing, Savannah descended upon the gaping man.

I have need of Mr. Mosley’s mount, Robert.

But...but...Miss!

Now, Robert.

He handed over the reins.

It was a gentlemen’s saddle, but Savannah wasn’t about to wait for Robert to change it to a side saddle. Gathering up her skirts and showing a scandalous amount of leg, she mounted the startled horse. After taking the reins from the equally startled groom, Savannah tossed Robert the orange blossoms, took the stallion in a firm hand, and cantered away from the townhouse.

Chapter 2

––––––––

"Would you like to set a new departure date for the Pearl? If we delay a week, Hodge’s arm will have healed and we won’t have to hire on a new cabin boy. Garret? Blast it, Lansdale, if I bore you so much, wait for the newspaper report like everyone else."

Lord Garret Lansdale gave his irritated cousin a rare grin and tossed aside the letter he had crumpled. Sorry, Anthony. My mind was on other things.

Ah, that edgy exasperation means only one thing. You have women trouble. Lord Anthony Ashby cocked an amused eyebrow. A pretty but misguided lass has set her sights on the uninterested future Duke of Westmore. We all should be so cursed.

If only it were so simple. Restless, Garret shoved a tanned hand through his black hair, still long from his recent trip. Seven days back and he remained restless, as he always did after captaining one of his ships. Being in London brought him too close to memories better forgotten.

So it’s not a young marriage minded miss? Anthony tidied the invoices. He paused, his expression fearful. It’s not my mother, is it? Bloody hell, hasn’t she given up on finding you a wife?

No, she is still determined to carry out his Grace’s wishes. Yesterday I escorted Phoebe to the Art Museum and my adoring aunt ambushed me with Lady Amherst and her trio of unmarried daughters.

All...three? gasped Anthony. Didn’t Phoebe warn you?

No. Aunt Agnes has decided to stop including your sister in her matchmaking schemes. She must have realized Phoebe helped us avoid these sticky social encounters.

Anthony paled. The financial reports in his hand shook with good reason. When his mother stopped focusing her matchmaking attempts on Garret or when a lady failed to capture Garret’s interest, Anthony inevitably took his place. Blast! Now I’ll have to forgo visiting Mother altogether.

Garret almost chuckled, but his cousin was one of the few people who made him laugh. Rather drastic, Anthony. For the meantime it appears she’s more focused on me.

Anthony’s horror lessened as he contemplated Garret’s words. Quite right. You will inherit the dukedom, after all.

Garret winced. And because of this I must entertain every female in the kingdom for the rest of my life?

No. Not after you marry. Once you do, I’m sure Mother will...move back to me. Garret, be a chum and stay a bachelor forever.

This time, Garret did laugh. Don’t worry, Anthony. I’ve no plans to marry any time soon.

Still, mused Anthony as he studied a ledger, one would think there has to be one lady who can catch the fancy of the Duke of Westmore’s heir.

Garret’s humor faded and he picked up the letter again, smoothing out the crumples without Anthony seeing. He couldn’t share the latest missive from his grandfather with his cousin without a great deal of explanation.

Something he was still unprepared to do, even after a decade.

No one knew Westmore had all but disinherited Garret ten years ago after a horrific argument resulting in Garret leaving