The Baron's Obsession

By Victoria Raven

Damon Thorburn had one goal in life – to find the perfect wife. After two failed attempts, Eve Seymour catches his fancy. She embodies everything he has always wanted in the way of innocence, submissiveness, and physical perfection. Eager to marry his new love, Damon quickly removes every obstacle standing in his way.

Eve, starved for attention, is mesmerized by the commanding Baron of Wentworth, twenty years her senior. After agreeing to marry, she becomes a willing pupil, learning the pleasures of the flesh. Her love for Damon tolerates his controlling tendencies.

Nevertheless, eternal love is not always heavenly, especially when a marriage is built upon the crumbling foundation of secrets and lies. Even though Damon controls Eve, he is unable to contain his haunting past created out of desperation. The very thing he once sought to possess has possessed him in return. It is only through betrayal, tragedy, and murder that Damon discovers perfection is an illusion.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Red Brick Media
• Release date: Jan 29, 2020
• ISBN: 9781733369527

Book preview

Chapter One

The Chosen One

Damon stood in the assembly, eyeing the single female attendees. He wandered among the crowd like a panther in search of a meal. The scornful gazes of the mothers in attendance attempted to warn unsuspecting daughters to stay clear from the baron. He returned their glances with a polite nod and cordial grin, declaring they would not deter his advances. If one of their daughters appealed to his roving eye, no one would halt his quest for another wife.

The Fifth Baron of Wentworth, Damon Thorburn, had been unfortunate in love. Rumors explaining his misfortunes had been the talk of society. He divorced his first wife for infidelity, who later fled the district, so they say, with her lover. The second died from an untimely illness, the nature of which remained undisclosed.

Now in his late thirties, his ability to impress available spinsters had diminished. Due to the oddity of his situation, his considerable fortune and renovated Norman castle no longer held its appeal to single women. Regrettably, the younger female generation that flitted about the dance floor thought him too secondhand for serious consideration. His search would not be easy.

You might soften that expression on your face. You look like Jack the Ripper, rather than a man in search of a wife.

Damon felt a soft elbow jab from Rhys, his younger brother. He relaxed his tightened jaw, replacing it with a grin. The dark streak in his personality had a way of cloaking his admirable traits when not controlled. However, slashing throats and disembowelments had never been his forte.

Quite right, he said, glancing at his brother. He shook his head in frustration. This is the third time I have sought a wife. It is a grueling task, to say the least.

Oh, for heaven’s sake, spare me, Rhys drawled, rolling his eyes. Do not beg for my sympathy. You have a way of making women fall at your feet with a single touch. Exhausting as it may be, once the right one catches your eye, things shall turn in your direction as they always have in the past.

As prideful as it sounded, Damon knew he possessed qualities women found irresistible. Dark shiny hair, chiseled features, toned body, enticing dark eyes, and a voice soft enough to melt the winter’s snow were his best qualities. His controlling mother had done one thing well in life. She birthed a firstborn son who met her standards of excellence. Rhys somewhat missed the mark. As a result, his mother’s affections rested upon Damon, as she thought her firstborn superior of the two.

When their parents tragically died in the Tay Bridge rail disaster while vacationing in Scotland, it had been a shock. The manor house, emptied of an ill-tempered father and manipulative mother, transferred to Damon along with wealth and a dilapidated castle. He shared his good fortune in many ways with his sibling. As brothers, they never competed with one another. As far as their taste in women, they were vastly different. Rhys settled for less than perfection, while Damon only sought the finest.

After strolling around the perimeter with Rhys, Damon came to a halt and made another sweeping glance. His eyes fell upon a young woman dressed in a dark blue evening gown, dancing in the arms of an unfamiliar male.

Who is that? he said, leaning in towards his brother. The young lady in blue with honey-colored hair.

Rhys took a sip from a fresh glass of champagne he plucked from the tray of a server passing by. He cocked his head in the direction of Damon’s inquiry.

Eve Seymour, I believe.

Do you know anything else about her? Damon asked, bringing his hand to his chin and stroking it thoughtfully while he examined a possibility.

Unavailable, as far as I know. Miss Seymour is engaged to the chap that she is dancing with now. His father is a viscount, he replied. Rhys paused, attempting to recall his identity. I’m sorry, but his name escapes me at the moment.

Her family?

Miss Seymour’s father was knighted by Queen Victoria for his service to the crown but is deceased.

You are a wealth of social knowledge, Damon said, turning to him in surprise.

Thanks to your edicts to investigate the landscape of available females for you, I keep abreast of current social affairs. He shook his head. Besides, she’s spoken for.

It matters not, Damon disagreed. The man is of no consequence. His eyes narrowed at his rivalry.

For heaven’s sake, Rhys spoke with a harsh edge to his voice. The entire room is filled with eligible females, and you set your eyes upon an engaged woman.

Damon slowly turned his head and viewed his brother blubbering at him needlessly. You love the tasks I give you to complete, he cajoled. You’re a boldface liar if you say otherwise.

Rhys’ rigid stance relaxed, and his shoulders slouched. Oh, I’m sure that you will once again assign me a devious chore to carry out on your behalf, he admitted with a Machiavellian grin.

I need an introduction. Damon returned his attention to the young woman who now stood in front of her beau conversing. As he studied her countenance, he perceived a subtle discontent in her facial expression. The posture of her body suggested an uneasiness as she allowed one hand to dangle limply at her left side. She folded the other, bringing it across her midsection as if to protect her vulnerability. Her rigid stance in her fiancé’s presence gave him encouragement.

Without speaking to Rhys, he stepped away and began a slow meandering stroll in Miss Seymour’s direction. Unaware his brother followed him a few feet behind, he halted when her beau abruptly departed with a scowl on his face. Damon shook his head in disbelief. The man left her alone and defenseless. In an instant, he seized the opportunity and filled the unattended space by her side.

Excuse me. I could not help but notice that you appear somewhat lost. Might I be of assistance? Using his smooth tenor vocal cords, the young woman raised her eyes. Her pink lips parted slightly, showing astonishment at his sudden presence.

Damon took advantage of her pause to gaze more closely at her complexion. She exuded a beautiful image of innocent perfection. Miss Seymour’s smooth and flawless skin, the color of fair ivory, brought him pleasure. Every strand of her hair shined, picking up the flickering lights in the ballroom. When she corrected her posture at the sound of his voice, her swanlike neck gave way to tantalizing bare shoulders. His fingers tingled at the thought of drawing his index finger upon her flesh to test its softness.

Assistance? She cocked her head slightly to the right. Thank you for offering, but I am all right. She eyed him annoyingly. I know perfectly well where I am, sir.

Damon’s left brow rose at her sharp reply, but the quivering of her lower lip revealed another emotion. My sincerest apology. He nodded in deference. Apparently, my perception is misguided. I noticed when the gentleman departed in haste, you appeared anxious. He studied her reaction and continued. Frankly, women in distress cause me anguish, he said, displaying a sympathetic gaze.

Her eyes watered. You have not erred in your astute observance, she spoke. My fiancé and I had a brief but inconsequential squabble.

I surmised as much. Nevertheless, here I am, behaving vulgar by intruding into your private affairs without a proper introduction. He took a step closer and peered into her moist eyes. It is inconceivable to me how any man could find fault with such loveliness.

Miss Seymour inhaled a sharp breath, fighting a smile twitching the corner of her lips. His audacious compliment produced results. With any luck, she would allow him to continue the conversation instead of dismissing him for impudence.

Do you always flatter ladies before formal introduction? she asked, scolding him with a playful glare of her blue eyes.

Damon relaxed his stance and answered. I will be the first to admit that I do not always follow strict social protocol.

Obviously, she responded, eyeing him up and down.

Pleased she took the time to inspect him, he continued. Damon Thorburn, at your service.

He bowed at the waist and reached for her limp hand at her side. Without protesting his movement, he brought her fingers to his lips and kissed them softly. He held her gloved hand for a few seconds, allowing the sensation of his touch to linger. In doing so, he saw her brow furrow with apprehension. She pulled her hand away and clutched it with her other as if seeking a place of refuge.

Eve, she replied, lifting her eyes and regarding him warily. My name is Eve Seymour.

Well, Miss Seymour, might I create a distraction for you and have the next dance?

She glanced around nervously, eyeing the crowd. I’m not sure that would be appropriate since I am engaged to another man.

From what I’ve observed in his treatment of you, I doubt he would care. It deserves him right after abandoning you.

The man acted like a heartless cad, and Damon had no problem saying so. He observed no love in Miss Seymour’s gaze but only distress. Did she fear him or society’s disapproval should she take his hand outstretched before her?

Eve stared at his palm while he waited patiently for her to grasp it in return. His eyes enticed her to take it. Do not make me beg, he pleaded. It’s so humiliating for a grown man to grovel.

All right, she replied with an amused grin.

Eve grasped his hand tightly while he led her onto the dance floor. When he placed his hand around her tiny waist, he felt as if he touched a delicate flower. She hesitated to put her hand on his shoulder. In doing so, she peered into his eyes, beseeching him to lead her away from misery. Damon eagerly responded.

Follow me. She surrendered as he whirled her around the ballroom.

Oh, dear, she said, lowering her head.

He sensed it too. Every eye in the assembly turned upon them. Pay no attention to their stares, he admonished her, pulling her slightly closer. Surrender to me and not to pointless guilt.

Eve’s eyes widened. He returned a soft smile of reassurance, which she took as comfort. The tenseness in her shoulders relaxed as she yielded to his wooing. For the remainder of the dance, he captivated her attention, shutting out the surrounding distractions. After the music had ended, they held hands. Seconds later, a middle-aged woman grabbed Eve’s arm and pulled her from his grasp, tearing them apart.

For heaven’s sake! You are making a scene.

The intruder who Damon concluded must be her mother, literally dragged the young woman away. Eve glanced over her shoulder, conveying an apologetic frown. The perfect ivory complexion turned ruddy with embarrassment as she obediently followed, reuniting her with her fiancé. The man glared at her in scorn with flared nostrils. Eve lowered her head, appearing to accept his reprimand. When he wrapped his fingers around her upper arm in anger and squeezed it tight, Damon nearly lurched forward to punch him in the jaw. Thankfully, Rhys arrived at his side.

Well, you have succeeded in causing the young lady humiliation, his brother said.

She’s being forced into this marriage, he spat, glowering at the scene.

How can you be so sure?

Oh, I am certain. Damon eyed his brother with conviction. There is only one thing to do.

And what’s that?

Break the engagement.

Is this your latest decree? Rhys replied, glancing over at the couple.

I don’t care how you do it. Make sure it gets done.

She’s different from the others. Young and innocent, Rhys commented.

Pliable, Damon added. I am attracted to her simplicity.

Well, you needn’t worry. If Miss Seymour has captured your desires, I’ll take care of it.

Damon did not care how Rhys managed the task. If the young lady turned out to be as delightful as he imagined in courtship, he would make her his next wife as soon as possible.

Chapter Two

The Broken Engagement

Eve tolerated her mother’s scolding speech as she crudely directed her back to Edmund, her fiancé. Her mind remained upon the gentleman who came to her rescue earlier. The fact he perceived her turmoil from wherever he had been standing beforehand exhibited his keen awareness.

Shameful behavior, her mother ranted. Do you know who that man is?

Damon Thorburn, she answered.

I don’t mean his name, you silly girl, his reputation. You will be the talk of the town thanks to your imprudence for dancing with the baron.

He’s a baron? Eve asked, glancing back over her shoulder.

As they reached Edmund’s side, her mother ceased ranting. Eve flashed an annoyed glance. On the other hand, when she saw the ire in her Edmund’s eyes, she clamped her hands together in front of her waist. A twitch of contempt lifted the corner of her right lip.

What did you think you were doing? he barked, grabbing her upper arm. You are my betrothed, and I expect you to act with decorum while in public settings.

It’s your fault if you wish to point fingers. You are the one who stormed off and left me standing there alone like a fool. The gentleman witnessed my distress after you stormed away like a child.

The gentleman? Edmund balked with amusement. The man is the laughingstock of society.

Tell her, her mother prodded.

He’s been married twice. The man divorced his first wife for infidelity. Rumors swirl that the baron had been a brute, and she disappeared from society after their separation. His second wife is in a cold grave on his estate, and no one knows what happened to the woman. It appears he is on the prowl again for number three. Edmund pulled his mouth to one side in disgust. I need a drink, he groaned, stepping away to fetch another glass of champagne.

The explanation caught Eve by surprise. The baron’s past sounded tragic and not disagreeable. Unlucky matches happen. After all, look at her, standing by a man she agreed to marry for convenience’s sake. The baron, at least, sent a shiver of electricity through her body. When his eyes captured her attention and bid her follow, she felt helpless to say no. Gazing at Edmund’s disgruntled face made her want to vomit at his feet.

You owe your fiancé an apology, her mother demanded.

I owe him nothing, she said. It is you who demands that I marry him for money.

Angry at her mother, Eve retreated in a huff and headed for the powder room for a moment of reprieve. The impossible situation she found herself in had been her mother’s doing. Since her father’s death, their financial status necessitated that Eve wed a man of fortune. When the firstborn son of Viscount Randall showed an interest, Eve’s mother pressured her to reciprocate, or they would be ruined and doomed to the workhouse. Not wishing for poverty herself, Eve acquiesced to her mother’s demands.

At the onset of their courtship, Edmund appeared to be a respectable catch who rapidly gained her mother’s approval. However, he possessed as much patience as a gnat, and Eve hated that part of his personality. Often, Edmund would scold her and storm off at the least provocation, leaving her dumbfounded at his behavior.

To make matters worse,