Caught by Darcy: Sinful Secrets, #2

By Emma East

She never wanted to see him again - or so she thought. Until the happiness their reunion creates is broken by the thorns of his trapping embrace.

 

Elizabeth has tried to start fresh in London with her relatives. Returning to her passions, nursing the wounds left behind in her departure from Longbourn. She has her freedom from her overbearing mother, but it comes with a terrible price. Lonely, seeking a new direction, she finds herself caught up in a surprising new form of employment.

 

Yet the little happiness she cobbles together meets with the man who never forgot her, a man who's been searching her with revenge on his mind. Mr. Darcy might not know why the country miss has been haunting his mind these past months, but he'll seize his chance when he has the impertinent woman in his grasp.

 

When the two meet, sparks collide.

This is the second novel in the Sinful Secrets series, a Pride & Prejudice variation. Prepare your smelling salts!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Emma East
• Release date: Jul 31, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201224707

Emma East

Emma East loves three things: Darcy, Darcy, and Darcy. Writing since her teenage years, she delights in putting characters into steamy situations, creating a need for smelling salts for unwary readers.

Book preview

chapter one

It was one of those spring days that made Elizabeth long for the countryside. A finer day could not be had traversing the hills and plains of Hertfordshire where the sky stretched as far as the eye could see. Where she could lift her arms and spin in dizzying circles until she fell, laughing, to the ground with no one the wiser of what a fool she was underneath her poised exterior.

Instead Elizabeth sat in a park in the heart of London, listening to the joyful shouts of her niece and nephew while they played. Trying to spin in a circle here would see her flailing into some innocent passerby and they would undoubtedly fine her or at least ban her from the park if she acted in such a manner.

London was full of people. It was a crowded place in general, the streets dotted with women window-shopping and gentlemen in their hats and walking sticks. Urchins would stand on street corners, shouting about their wares, and the stench of horse flesh was thick with all the carriages for hire on the nicer streets. The park was supposedly a reprieve from all the madness outside the thick hedges and gates; however, most everyone was attempting to escape the riff-raff and commotion, so they ended up bringing it with them when they flocked into the park. Buggies passed by with gentleman and ladies wanting to see, and more initially, be seen. Vendors called out to passerby to see their wares and foodstuffs. Deeper inside the park were performers, musicians, and not a moment of simple peace.

Elizabeth looked about from her spot on a bench in all this commotion, wondering how many of her neighbors on the other benches were dreaming about their homes. Surely, all of these people were not from London? It seemed impossible to be from here. London was not a home, but a destination.

How many of them could never go back home?

Never will you step foot in my home if you do this, Elizabeth! Never!

Even all these months later, her mother’s disappointment rang in her ears. Nightly, her mind spun over those last moments in Longbourn. Her father’s study door closed. Her pale-faced sisters in shock and disarray. Mr. Collins hiding away in the house somewhere, licking his wounds.

And Elizabeth’s lips sealed about what happened, what truly happened, because she could not bear to know her mother would marry her to a man like that knowing what a despicable fiend he was. Let that be one thing she never found out about her mother, because as much as she hated her mother’s actions to see her married off, she loved her mother with a daughter’s ferocity, and she couldn’t bear a world where her mother betrayed her like that.

A shout rang out, distracting her from her musings. A faint smile came to her lips at the sight of her niece and nephew playing with ribbon and sticks by the pond’s edge. It was a rare day she didn’t think about home, but today the memories were more bittersweet than most.

Drat! Deary me, the wind’s caught it now!

Unbound pages flew past her, skittering along the grass. Elizabeth shot up and, along with a harried and harassed gentleman, scrambled to pick them up before they could plummet to a watery death in the pond.

I have them! Elizabeth called, crushing the papers in her hasty scramble to grab three at once. She put them in some semblance of order and turned to find the gentleman chasing after a final rogue page. Elizabeth walked back to the man’s bench, smoothing out the papers the best she could.

The gentleman returned, puffing and carrying a dozen wrinkled pages. She grimaced at the page in her hand, a mess of ink barely discernible under the wrinkles.

I’m afraid this one may be beyond me.

It’s enough you tried, young lady. Thank you for your assistance. The gentleman wiped at his sweaty forehead with his handkerchief, his big, round belly stretching his fine vest and jacket. It’s all a mess now.

I’m sure it’s salvageable, she said, applying herself to putting the pages back in order. Oh, I think whoever proofed this missed an error. It should be ‘whom’, not ‘who’. He peered over her shoulder and she pointed to the offense. See?

You saw that in a moment. You read uncommonly fast.

I don’t know whether it’s uncommon, she said, confused by his interest. It’s just the speed I read.

Do you like to read, then?

Of course.

Then I imagine you subscribe to one of the circulating libraries. Anderson’s is the best. His chest swelled. While she debated telling him that she had little income to subscribe to one of the libraries, he went on, So you like to read and you can spot mistakes at a glance. Tell me, do you write as well?

I’ve actually submitted to Anderson’s publishing house before, but I never heard back.

Our backlog is enormous. So you do right. Romance, I imagine?

The vagaries of love have made an appearance in my work, she said, a blush stinging her cheeks at the way he scrutinized her. But I prefer to think my work captures the essence of humanity’s passions and follies.

He looked over her with a narrow, considering look. Hmph. A lot of money to be made telling fanciful stories about the vagaries of love. Frankly, Anderson’s needs more girls like you. A quick read, a discerning eye for errors… are you looking for employment?

I… are you doing this for a lark? She looked about for anyone who might be watching and giggling, but everyone seemed to be ignoring the two strangers huddled over a stack of papers. I say I’m a writer and now you’re asking—

For an assistant, he said, picking up his papers, disheveled though they were, and pushing them into a canvas bound portfolio. Bring your work tomorrow, and I’ll look at it. If it’s marketable, if I can get subscribers, if if if… what I need, however, is someone to edit. There’s a boom in publishing, dear woman, and not near enough people to put books in the hands of the hungry masses! Here’s my card. Arrive at nine o’clock sharp. Or don’t, he added, seeing her expression.

She laughed to hide how flustered she was. You don’t even know my name!

He puffed out his chest. What is it then?

Elizabeth Bennet.

Well, I am Gregory Davies, and now we are acquainted. Come to the publishing house tomorrow and we’ll see if you are a good fit. And bring your novel, too, if you’re so inclined, but I make no promises. Now I must be off or else the missus will claim I’m dallying.

Watching the odd Mr. Davies hurry down the path, mopping his brow with his handkerchief while he clung to his portfolio with the other hand, Elizabeth felt like she watched the moment from outside herself. What a strange encounter. What an even stranger gentleman.

Elizabeth took her niece and nephew back home in an odd mood. She helped the children bathe and eat, and by the time her aunt returned from visiting friends, she had picked up and put down the card so often that the edges of the card were bent and curling from the oils on her fingertips.

What is it?

It’s… well… Elizabeth explained in halting tones, not sure why she brought it up at all and aware of the way her aunt stared at her in rapt attention. An amusing encounter, but it couldn’t be real, could it?

Her aunt leaned forward, eyes sparkling as they so often did with Elizabeth. I think it could be very real. He makes a good point about publishing. It is all my friends talk about nowadays, and I’ve debated a subscription before with your uncle. It does make reading so much more accessible and I understand some of the circulating libraries will hold raffles and teas for their members. She looked at Elizabeth, looked at her in a way her mother never had. You should do it.

"But employment?"

Think of it as pin money.

My mother—

Your uncle will be thrilled, just you watch, Mrs. Gardiner said, and at dinner time, she proved correct. Mr. Gardiner went beet red with pride and toasted to his niece, the newest author to come to society.

Elizabeth hurried to set his expectations. Mr. Davies wants an assistant. He only said he would read my novels and if they’re good, he’ll consider taking them on.

At least, that was her understanding when she left the park. It was all a blur now. A hurried rush to grab papers, an invitation, and offer of employment… was this real?

Mr. Gardiner put down his glass and shook his finger at her. When this Davies reads your work and loves every word, I want you to come fetch me at once to read the contract he puts in front of you.

Elizabeth took to bed in a queer mood. Her post had been left in the hall and she brought it with her, a bubble of disappointment in her throat when she didn’t see the familiar hand of her father on any of the letters. He’d written once since her arrival to make sure she was settled, and since then had been silence. Her mother had written once as well, and she kept the letter in her writing desk to take out and reread when she got too homesick.

You are never allowed into Longbourn again as long as you continue resisting your parents’ wishes.

Tonight, she ignored the temptation to read her mother’s letter again and instead opened her sister’s most recent letter. Their correspondence was weekly and Elizabeth diligently kept it alive, not only because it kept her abreast of the latest happenings in her sister’s marriage to Mr. Bingley, but it remained her only connection to Longbourn now. Her other sisters wrote sporadically or not at all, and Elizabeth had finally given up writing them regularly. Jane, however, eagerly returned her letters and Elizabeth imagined the postman hardly received any rest between the two of them alone.

Today’s missive was a thick one, detailing plans to hold a spring games day for the neighborhood, new renovations to the bedroom suites, and even the possibility of an indoor water system that confused Elizabeth but seemed to greatly excite Mr. Bingley, and

Reviews for Caught by Darcy

[Janeen Watson · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

I would have given it a higher rating but it did not really resolve at the end. Is there more coming?
I like Emma East's writing style. Darcy and Elizabeth aren't necessarily accurate to canon but they are engaging and I am always drawn into the story. That said, Darcy here is basically a jerk, not at all likeable.