Stranded with the Earl: Gentlemen of Honor, #3

By Charlotte Russell

CW: Physical and emotional abuse

 

Thomas, Lord Trent, was once the one bright spot in Lady Vivienne Denton's dark life. But when she's pushed to the brink of danger by her father, Trent is nowhere to be found. Instead, Lady Vivienne must accept the protective offer of his best friend.

 

Three years on, Vivienne, now Lady Worley, is a widow and once more vulnerable to her father's abuse. Taking matters into her own hands, she regretfully vows to leave England behind and start a new life. But first she must deliver her late husband's final words to his old friend—Lord Trent.

 

Wrecked by his friend's betrayal and stung by Vivienne's humiliating rejection, Trent buried his love for both beneath a thick layer of cool aloofness. That detachment is sorely tested when Vivienne shows up at what was meant to be a peaceful retreat on the Dorset coast. His resolve is shattered completely when he and Vivienne are stranded by a fierce storm and then must confront the monster who calls himself her father.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Charlotte Russell
• Release date: Jun 7, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201723729

Charlotte Russell

Charlotte Russell didn’t always know she wanted to be a writer. At one point she had grand plans to be an architect, until she realized she couldn’t draw anything more complicated than a stick figure. So, she enrolled at the University of Notre Dame and studied her first love—history. Now she puts all that historical knowledge to good use by writing romances set in Regency England. When not pounding on the keyboard or tending to one husband, two cats, and three children, Charlotte is privileged to serve the people of her community at the local library.  She's resided in numerous, varied locales, including Indiana, Mexico City, Phoenix, and Seattle but currently calls the heartland of the USA home.

Book preview

Also by Charlotte Russell

Gentlemen of Honor

One Wicked Weekend

Under the Kissing Bough

Stranded with the Earl

His & Hers

His Duchess

Her Rake

His Diamond

Her Rogue

His Damsel (Coming Soon)

Standalone

Beholden

Watch for more at Charlotte Russell’s site.

Table of Contents

Also By Charlotte Russell

Stranded with the Earl (Gentlemen of Honor, #3)

Stranded with the Earl | Charlotte Russell

Stranded with the Earl

Prologue

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

Sign up for Charlotte Russell's Mailing List

Also By Charlotte Russell

About the Author

UNFORESEEN CIRCUMSTANCES DROVE LORD TRENT AND LADY WORLEY APART THREE YEARS AGO. NOW A FORCE OF NATURE GIVES THEM ONE FINAL CHANCE TO MEND THEIR BROKEN HEARTS TOGETHER—FOREVER.

Thomas, Lord Trent, was once the one bright spot in Lady Vivienne Denton’s dark life. But when she’s pushed to the brink of danger by her father, Trent is nowhere to be found. Instead, Lady Vivienne must accept the protective offer of his best friend.

Three years on, Vivienne, now Lady Worley, is a widow and once more vulnerable to her father’s abuse. Taking matters into her own hands, she regretfully vows to leave England behind and start a new life. But first she must deliver her late husband’s final words to his old friend—Lord Trent.

Wrecked by his friend’s betrayal and stung by Vivienne’s humiliating rejection, Trent buried his love for both beneath a thick layer of cool aloofness. That detachment is sorely tested when Vivienne shows up at what was meant to be a peaceful retreat on the Dorset coast. His resolve is shattered completely when he and Vivienne are stranded by a fierce storm and then must confront the monster who calls himself her father.

Stranded with the Earl

Two Hearts

Charlotte Russell

Stranded with the Earl

Copyright ©2018 Charlotte Russell

All rights reserved. Unless specifically noted, no part of this publication may be reproduced, scanned, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the author. The scanning, uploading and distribution of this book via the Internet or by any other means without the permission of the author is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

Cover Design by Forever After Romance Designs

PUBLISHER’S NOTE: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

To library staff everywhere—thank you for supporting people and books

Prologue

London, May 1814

Lady Vivienne Denton danced on the balls of her feet as a maid carried a bountiful bouquet of red, yellow, and white roses into her bedchamber. Already arranged in a vase, the colorful blooms bobbed and bowed in her direction as they were conveyed to the bedside table. She clasped her hands behind her back in an attempt to be patient as the maid turned the flowers so they’d receive the best light. Then finally—finally—the servant pulled a folded note from her apron pocket and held it out.

Thank you, Vivienne said as she took the heavy vellum and clasped it to her chest. Did...did anyone see you bring up the flowers?

Mrs. Jones says t’tell yer she’s pretty sure as Mr. Simmons didn’t see them, my lady. The girl curtsied and took her leave.

The only person who would tell her father she’d received flowers was the butler, Mr. Simmons. If Mr. Simmons hadn’t witnessed the bouquet’s arrival, all should be well. The servants all knew how Lord Acton treated his daughter, but they were powerless to help as he’d threatened to turn each and every one of them out without a reference if they betrayed him.

Vivienne dragged in a calming breath to banish the niggle of unease crawling up her spine. She would not let her excitement be so easily overridden. She was almost one hundred percent certain she knew who had sent the flowers and she was not going to wait another minute to find out what he’d written.

With the roses now seducing her with their heady perfume, she flipped the paper and rubbed her finger over the ornate letter T set into the red wax.

T for Thomas.

T for the Earl Trent.

What Vivienne wouldn’t give to become Lady Trent. Not only did she long to be the cherished wife of the dashing young earl but she also positively ached to be free of her father. Still, she had no intention of marrying just anyone, even if it meant an escape from her father’s home.

Thomas, Lord Trent was the only man for her.

Eagerly, Vivienne slid her thumb beneath the flap of the note and broke the seal. The sight of Trent’s bold, confident script sent a shiver up her spine. He could sometimes be restrained in person but his notes—she’d received two others—were always surprisingly expressive. Holding the paper in one hand, she plucked one of the roses from the vase and stroked its velvety petal against her cheek as she read.

My dearest Lady Vivienne,

I hope these roses bring as much joy to you as you do to me.

I give you yellow roses not only for the delightful and (hopefully) eternal friendship we share, but also for the laughter you bring to my life. A day without one of your teases is like a day without sunshine.

I give you red roses not only for the deep abiding love I have for you but also for the richness of our passion. A day without your touch is like a sennight without sustenance.

I give you white roses not only for the unity of our minds and souls but also for the peacefulness you bring me. A day without your presence is like a lifetime without hope.

So, what do you think? Will I rival Mr. Robert Burns someday?

I am most sincere when I say, Lady Vivienne, you are my everything and I hope one day soon we will be as one. Though, I know our love will never be complete since I do not share your enthusiasm for Bonnie Prince Charlie, I am forever and always

Your devoted servant,

Trent

Vivienne laughed. She laughed through the tears coursing down her cheeks. She laughed for the warmth of his sentiment and the honesty of his words. She laughed because, at long last and contrary to her father’s oft repeated words, she’d found someone who loved her.

Vivienne, Lady Trent I will be, she whispered. There could be no greater honor given to her.

She began to read the letter again, committing every syllable to memory.

The bedchamber door slammed open with a familiar violence.

You putrid little whore. Her father, the Marquess of Acton, raged into the room and snapped his hand around her wrist. His fingers crushed her bones as he shook her arm and set the note from Trent flapping in her hand. Who’ve you been gracing with your vile favors this time, eh?

Vivienne grit her teeth against revealing any sign of pain. Doing so would only encourage him to hurt her further. In her experience, every wince, every cry stoked an unholy light in his brittle blue eyes and provoked him to even greater violence.

Her father was a man of average height, but he was built of wiry muscle and possessed a strength she could never match. His peers considered him a master orator with a brilliant political mind. To Vivienne, and to her mother before her, he was simply an unpredictable monster who wanted to control every word, deed, and thought that occurred under his realm.

Still gripping her wrist like a vise, he ripped the letter from her fingers and glanced at the bottom. Trent? Ha. That paltry fellow won’t even take a piss without his uncle’s permission. He’ll never offer for you. Her father’s pupils shrank to pinpoints as he sneered at her and twisted the skin around her wrist.

He will. Vivienne hated the tremor of pain lacing her voice but she recklessly continued on. "He will. Trent loves me."

Her father laughed, a deep, ugly sound that caused Vivienne to shrink in upon herself even as she ignored the stinging pain in her arm.

"He loves me. That’s rich. What’s to love? He crumpled the letter and let it fall to the floor. Then grabbed her hair in a hard yank that brought tears to Vivienne’s eyes. Your whorish red hair? He drove her back against the wall then moved to pin both her arms. Your scrawny figure? Your weak character? You are worthless, girl. Just like your mother. No one will marry you unless I beg them to."

Trying to anticipate the next blow, Vivienne held herself stiffly. Her wrist throbbed and her arms ached where he anchored them with his cruel hands. But she turned a deaf ear to his words. They meant nothing to her. Trent loved her. He’d plainly written so. Trent would rescue her.

Vivienne closed her eyes and imagined his face. The lean lines, the dark slightly curly hair, the brown eyes always full of kindness.

Trent will marry me. Her eyes flew open when she realized she’d said those words aloud.

Her father pressed harder, grinding her back into the wall, nearly lifting her feet off the ground. His face was so close to hers she could see the malevolence shadowing his eyes and the perspiration beading on his forehead. Even if Trent did work up the courage to ask for you, I’d never allow it.

Flares of pain radiated through Vivienne’s upper body but what hurt her more was the inkling of despair that wiggled beneath her skin. She was of age, twenty-one, to marry without her father’s consent, but such a trivial matter meant nothing to the mighty marquess. He’d find a way to prevent her marrying.

I alone will decide who gets to marry the daughter of Lord Acton, and trust me, it will be someone of more use than Trent. With a final shove, he pushed himself away from Vivienne.

She knew better than to think him finished with her, and so she was able to throw herself to the floor as the vase of flowers came hurtling through the air and shattered against the wall where she’d just stood. Droplets of water and shards of pottery rained down upon her as the flowers fell in a sodden mess.

Her father stalked back to where she leaned awkwardly against the wainscoting.

You’ll marry when and who I tell you to.

Flecks of spittle landed on her face but Vivienne ignored them, too intent on curling herself into a tight ball and shielding the ribs that still ached from last week’s blow. A booted foot loomed above her for a half second then his heel slammed into her side.

I decide your future. I decide your fate. If you try to gainsay me, like your mother did, I might decide to kill you. Do you hear me, daughter?

Gasping with pain, Vivienne couldn’t respond.

Answer me.

Agonizing spasms radiated up her back but somehow she found her voice. Yes, Father.

We leave for the Penningtons’ ball at nine o’clock sharp. You’d best be smiling and presentable by then.

Vivienne let her head fall against her arm as his footfalls echoed arrogantly across the floor. Come what may, she would attend that ball. Not because her father wanted her to, but because Trent would be there.

A red petal lay crushed a few inches from her face. She reached out and curled her fist around the downy velvet.