Her Lustful Desires: The Merry Widows

By Jamie Salisbury and J R Salisbury

A daring widow. A determined marquess. A story too wicked for the eyes of the ton…
Lady Georgiana Black, dowager duchess of Ashwood, emerges from a year of official mourning with her next steps firmly in mind. She will retreat to her beloved country estate, play matchmaker to her dearest friends, and write daring romance novels under a male pseudonym. Far from the prying eyes of the ton—and her late husband's odious cousin.

But when her publisher wants to meet "Geoff Parker" in person, she gratefully accepts the help of Jeremy Graystone, heir to a dukedom. The childhood neighbor and friend she might have married.

Years ago, Jeremy had to watch Georgiana's family marry her off to another. Now the timing is finally right. But with Georgiana determined to relish her newfound freedom, he will be patient and plan for the day he will have her in his bed, his hands tangled in her spun-gold hair, her lapis-blue eyes only for him.

And do whatever is necessary to keep her late husband's greedy cousin from destroying her happiness…

Note: Her Lustful Desires is the sizzling first book in J.R. Salisbury's new series, "The Merry Widows".

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jamie Salisbury
• Release date: Jan 4, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215767665

Jamie Salisbury

Writing romance stories with passion and sass, Jamie Salisbury has seen several of her books soar to #1 on Amazon. Her novella, Tudor Rubato was a finalist in the 2012 RONE (Reward of Novel Excellence) awards. The cover won for Best Contemporary Cover. In 2014, her novel, Life and Lies was nominated for a RONE in the Erotica category. Her books are self published . Music, traveling and history are among her passions when not writing. Her previous career in public relations in and around the entertainment field has afforded her with a treasure trove of endless story ideas.

Book preview

Her Lustful Desires

The Merry Widows/Book 1

By

J R Salisbury

All rights reserved.

Copyright 2022 Jamie Salisbury writing as J R Salisbury

Published by Jamie Salisbury

Edited by Linda Ingmanson

Cover Design by Dar Albert – Wicked Smart Designs

This book or any portion thereof my not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded, or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission. Criminal copyright infringement including infringement without monetary gain, is punishable by law.

This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events, or locales, is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

For more information, contact author J R Salisbury

www.jamiesalisbury.com

Table of Contents

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

Chapter Twenty-nine

Chapter Thirty

Coming Soon

Chapter One

London 1886

It all started out innocently enough. It always did...

Her Grace, the Dowager Duchess of Ashwood, sat in front of the massive carved oak desk belonging to Oliver Pickford, solicitor at the well-respected firm of Pickford and Collins. Her gloved hands folded on her lap, she waited for the bespeckled Lord Pickford to open the folder he kept tapping, which sat in front of him.

I apologize, Your Grace. We’re waiting on Lord Martin to join us, Pickford finally said.

Of course.

Derrick Martin was the distant cousin who had the fortune of inheriting the title from her late husband. The duchess was always aware that should something happen to Ashwood, the pudgy, vile man with thinning hair would gleefully take the dukedom and run it into the ground. But there was little she could do. She and Ashwood had no children of their own in the three short years they’d been married. Therefore, no heir.

Georgiana was aware of the provisions Ashwood left for her should something like a premature death occur. And indeed, it had. A group of footpads accosted him as he was returning from a business dinner with a potential investor. At least that was the story Georgiana had been given. She was aware he kept a mistress in that part of town. It was an unspoken subject between them. Most men had mistresses, and Ashwood had not differed from his peers.

It had taken almost a year not only to find Lord Martin, but to get him back to England. Having nothing to do but live off the inheritances bestowed upon him, Ashwood’s cousin was found in France.

As she waited, life went on. Ashwood’s estates were maintained, and Georgiana’s life remained unchanged, other than that she had been in mourning. Three months ago, she began renovations on the two properties Ashwood purchased for her, one a town house in London and the other a lovely country estate in Sussex.

Apart from the properties and money to run them, Ashwood had left her a substantial lump sum, which he’d placed in a trust from which the solicitors would give her a generous quarterly allowance.

Her late husband had known his cousin and his nature. Martin would toss Ashwood’s widow out on her ear, granting her some meager cottage on one of Ashwood’s northern estates where she would live out her life alone and away from polite society.

George needed to keep what her late husband intended her to have.

When she left this office, she would move into the London home Ashwood had purchased and left for her. Her bags were already there, along with her lady’s maid, Esther.

Most of the staff would follow her as well, including her butler, Garrett, Mrs. Garrett, the housekeeper, along with Maggie Timms, the longtime Ashwood cook. All had heard stories about Lord Martin, and none wished to remain in his employ. Wilson would take care of hiring any remaining staff. It wouldn’t be as many as usual, but she would be fine.

She would stay in London for a fortnight. Georgiana had sent notes to her four best friends. They’d met at Miss Mallard’s School for Proper Young Ladies, where they had been inseparable, each looking after the others. They’d learned how mean-spirited some girls could be, so they’d made a pact to stick together, and after all these years had remained friends.

The friends included Lady Roxanne Highcourt, widow of the late Daniel Highcourt, Earl of Bath, and Lady Helen Beaumont, who’d suffered an embarrassment no woman should ever have to, when she was left at the altar on her wedding day by John Beaumont, Earl of Chester. She’d gone on to marry the earl’s close friend, Thomas Hastings, Earl of Edgewater. The marriage lasted six months before he died suddenly from a respiratory illness. Lady Pamela Sutton, dowager duchess of the Duke of Middlesex, remained widowed because she found no man who understood her fascination with combustion engines and politics as her late husband had. Or they expected her to give up her passion for engines and politics. Last but not least, Lady Antonia DuBois, daughter of Viscount Bailey, had married a French count, Pierre DuBois, who died under mysterious circumstances two days after they married.

Each was remarkable in her own way, but always they remained true to one another.

She hoped one or two of her friends would follow her to her estate in Sussex, away from the prying eyes of the ton. Georgiana had fallen in love with the property the moment Ashwood had shown it to her. The house sat in the middle of twelve hundred acres, unseen unless one drove all the way up the drive. The house itself wasn’t as massive as Ashwood House, but it was quite impressive nonetheless.

It would be perfect for what she had in mind.

It would also be perfect for her to pursue her other hobby, writing novels. Naughty romantic novels. Soon she would look into seeing them published, but knew men would frown upon a woman writing this type of book. She decided that when she did find a publisher, she would use a man’s name. There was much to consider and many details to work out before she could consider moving forward.

Just then, Martin pushed his way into the solicitor’s office, acting as though he were the most important man in all of England.

She’d never met him before, but he was everything Ashwood had described him to be. An unattractive short man who bordered on obesity, sweated profusely, and had a head of thinning dark blond hair and cutting brown eyes.

He barely acknowledged her as he sat in the chair beside hers.

What’s she doing here? he demanded.

She is your cousin’s widow. This concerns her as well, Pickford replied, looking him in the eyes.

She’s just that—a widow. All she’ll need is some source of income until she can find another man to dupe and a place to live. There must be somewhere we can put her.

Georgiana’s back bristled. Time to put this man in his place. I’m sorry, my lord, but I’m sitting right here. I’m not a book on a shelf you take out to dust off from time to time. I’m a living, breathing human.

Yes, yes. Now, can we get on with this? My bags and such should arrive at the house, along with my valet, as we speak. There’s much to do.

And where would you have me stay, my lord? She knew her misuse of his new title would irritate him, and that was what she intended, wanting to see him blow up like a puffer fish, insulted. Which was precisely what happened next.

I’m sorry, but I’m now the duke and therefore referred to as Your Grace.

And I am the dowager duchess and am referred to as Your Grace as well, she replied smugly.

Your living arrangements are none of my concern. As I said, I’ll be happy to find a cottage or small house on one of the estates. Until one is found, I suggest you go to a hotel. There is no longer a place for you at Ashwood House.

You’d throw a dowager duchess out onto the street? Georgiana said in mock horror. Martin was a miserable man, and she would be sure everyone among the ton knew it. All she had to do was say the word, and invitations would be few.

Pickford interrupted their bickering. May we begin, Your Graces?

Of course, Georgiana said with a polite smile.

Martin nodded and grunted. Oh, very well, though I strongly protest to this woman being present.

Duly noted, Your Grace.

The next hour was painful. Martin challenged every point of Ashwood’s will where Georgiana was included, but Pickford persevered and finally finished. She rose, ready to take her leave.

Would you be so kind as to send a copy of all this to my solicitor, please? she asked. She and Pickford had already gone over it. Because of Martin’s attitude, she had decided long before meeting the new duke to have her affairs handled by the prestigious firm of Kingsley and Kingsley.

Pickford nodded as he rose. I will make sure a copy is forwarded to Kingsley and Kingsley. I’m sorry to lose your business, Your Grace, but I understand. I look forward to perhaps doing business with you again in the future.

Nothing had been lost on Martin, and though he didn’t utter a word, his eyes never left her.

I assume the carriage you use belongs to me now, he challenged. Have it sent back to Ashwood House as soon as you’re finished. You’ll have to purchase your own or hire one. He snorted, thinking himself funny. Such a vulgar sound.

No, Your Grace, I purchased the carriage and four you saw. If there’s nothing else, I bid you both good day.

Chapter Two

The Marquess of Dorset has arrived, Your Grace. Would you like to receive him in the drawing room? Garrett, the tall, hawknosed butler, asked.

No, here is fine, Garrett, Georgiana replied without looking up, still reading the document in front of her.

Hearing the door close behind the older man, she rose from her desk and smoothed her skirts with her hands. She moved across the room to a dark blue divan placed in the center of the library and sat.

She didn’t have long to wait. Jeremy Graystone strode through the door, followed by Garrett. His muscular, bronzed frame reminded her of how little time her old friend spent sitting inside.

That will be all, Garrett, though tea would be appreciated.

The older man nodded and backed out of the room.

Georgiana, I hate to arrive unannounced, but this couldn’t wait. I have something to decide, and I need your expert opinion. Graystone sat in a tall leather chair across from the divan.

You know you’re always welcome, Jeremy. Now, what can I help you with?

Baron Thigpen has offered to sell me the five hundred acres that run along the west side of Sky Brook.

Sky Brook was Georgiana’s new Sussex estate.

What’s the problem? It will enlarge Graystone Hall and make us neighbors.

There’s no real problem. I wanted you to know before I accepted.

Georgiana and Jeremy had known each other since childhood, their parents’ close friends. Even after her marriage to Ashwood, she and Jeremy had continued their friendship. He had been a comfort to her after Ashwood’s untimely death. He had not only consoled her, but Jeremy had helped oversee her affairs while she was in official mourning, all of which had brought them closer together.

Garrett followed a footman who bore a tray of tea. If I could borrow Your Grace for a moment, there is a household matter of utmost urgency.

She rose and turned to Graystone. Forgive me. My housekeeper is away for a few days to attend her brother’s wedding...

I’ll be fine. Go, he said.

Lifting her skirts, she exited the room.

Graystone went to the tray and made himself a cup of tea. Once he finished, he strolled around the small, comfortable library, teacup in hand. He approached a desk, as something about the stack of papers on that beckoned him. Peering at the top page, he recognized Georgiana’s handwriting. He realized it wasn’t personal correspondence, but a manuscript of some sort. Curiosity overcame him, and he set his cup down on the edge of the desk, picked up the top page, and read. Intrigued, he picked up the next. What he read was a novel of some sort, and quite naughty. Georgiana had never mentioned she was writing a book, let alone one like this. He knew she loved to write, but she had never mentioned she was serious about it.

As he was halfway through a third page, Georgiana reappeared. There was no turning back; he’d been caught red-handed.

This is quite good, he said, hoping to ease any anger she might bear toward his action. Is this your first?

No, it’s my third.

It’s really quite...unusual for a woman to write.

She smiled sardonically. Yes, it is. Which is why I will publish under a man’s name.

You plan to publish these? he asked in disbelief, not sure if he’d heard her correctly.

Yes, I’ll publish under a man’s name. Geoff Parker.

Geoff Parker. That has a nice ring to it.

Thank you. But you still don’t approve, do you?

It is not my decision. If you’re found out, George, the consequences could be great.

You mean I’ll be snubbed by the ton? Since most of those women have secret stashes of books such as what I write, I don’t fear them. In fact, I dare say that some would applaud me for having the nerve to try.

You could be right, but don’t forget how unforgiving some of them can be.

She sighed and picked up her tea. Only until the next scandal comes along. Then what I did will be forgotten, and everyone’s attention will be on the latest gossip.

Her and Jeremy’s history went back years. She had loved him for as long as she could remember, and the two had shared a special relationship until she was married to Ashwood. Their marriage was what her parents had desired for her. She was a business offering, though in fairness, Ashwood had turned out to be a most loving and caring husband. Jeremy, at the time, had been courting another.

Eventually, Jeremy found and married the daughter of a viscount. Elizabeth had been a vivacious young woman, full of life, though she had a particular fondness for drink and other men. She goaded Jeremy by having countless affairs with men of the ton. She berated him no end, constantly reminding him he was not half the man she needed.

Jeremy took it in stride until one day he returned home to find her dead from a fall down the stairs. She had been drinking, as she often did during the day. That was all it took to end a promising young life.

That part of his history was over, and here they were—both unattached. She knew he still loved her. He had told her as much after he visited her after her marriage to Ashwood. But did she dare act on knowing how they both felt? Would he change once he had her?

Fortunately for them both, they were comfortable with the current arrangement between them. There was no pressure for it to be anything more, and for that, she was grateful.

Let me know when you’re ready to publish. Perhaps I can be of help. I know a couple of publishers who might be interested and who I know would keep your identity a secret.

That would be wonderful, but I want to finish this one before I decide. This isn’t some whim, Jeremy.

You do nothing on a whim. He smiled and sat back while she picked up his cup and poured.

Thank you. I knew you of all people would understand.

He accepted the fresh cup of tea and set the cup down to cool. On another matter, has Martin been quiet?

Other than when he wrote saying he was going to have a thorough inventory done of all the properties because he feels I’ve absconded with furnishings belonging to the dukedom? Yes, he’s still rattling his sword to let me know he’s in charge, or thinks he is. Of what I do not know.

He doesn’t like that Ashwood left you financially independent. He was hoping to displace you, make you grovel for anything you needed.

She smiled. You know as well as I that I never grovel.

Give him some time. He’ll tire and lose interest in harassing you soon enough.

I hope so. It’s quite exhausting.

Jeremy smiled. He was a handsome man, handsomer than a gentleman should be allowed to be with his warm brown hair and golden-brown eyes always shining with mischief. Fortunately, Jeremy wasn’t vain. Young women had thought him the perfect catch for a husband and were quite disappointed when he’d married. She knew from what her friends told her that women were waiting for him to enter the marriage mart once again. He needed an heir. One day, he’d become Duke of Leeds, and becoming his duchess was quite appealing.

When do you depart for the country? he asked with a lopsided grin.

Soon. I’m thinking of inviting my good friend, Lady Roxanne Highcourt, to accompany me. I think it would do her good. Lady Highcourt and Georgiana had been friends since they attended Mrs. Palmer’s Finishing School for Young Ladies. Roxanne had married Daniel Highcourt, the late Earl of Bath. Happiness wasn’t to be theirs, as the earl had taken ill weeks after their wedding. Consumption took him quickly.

Are you planning on leaving London soon? she asked.

God, yes! I look forward to being able to see the stars at night and to ride and hunt.

She smiled wickedly. Why don’t you invite one or two of your friends to join you? Invite them, say, in a fortnight?

What are you up to, George?

Nothing, nothing at all.

His body shook before he gave in to a fit laughter. He ran a hand through his thick hair. I smell matchmaking going on. Who is it you would like me to invite? Who would you like to pair Lady Highcourt with?

What of your friend, the Earl of Dover. Andrew Bailey, I believe?

Andrew might be an excellent choice. I know he’s made a mention or two of wishing to meet her.

Then let’s invite them both.

Jeremy nodded. Very well. I need to work out the details, then I’ll extend an invitation to him. Perhaps one more so Dover doesn’t figure it all out as soon as he arrives.

"No, they’ll both figure out what’s going on if there are others. Besides, I