To Covet a Countess

By Sapna Bhog

Nicholas Delmore, the Earl of Hawksley, was not expecting a snowstorm-sieged London evening to end with a dagger held to his throat. Nor did he anticipate his spirited attacker to have glossy black tresses and lush red lips that might invite a lesser gentleman to steal a kiss. But before he can demand his beautiful assailant to identify herself, she faints dead away in his arms.

Sania Aaryan has no choice but to trust the breathtakingly handsome Earl of Hawksley with both her life and her sister’s. Trusting him with the truth, however, is out of the question. Because fleeing India for the icy shores of England was rash. Impulsive. And it might have saved her life—only to land her into the arms of a man who poses an entirely different kind of danger.

Now Sania is experiencing a world filled with luxury and opulent decadence. But starry nights and fairy-tale balls cannot chase away the shadows of Sania’s secrets. Especially when her terrible past arrives in London with an eye for icy vengeance…

• Language: English
• Publisher: Macmillan Publishers
• Release date: Nov 8, 2021
• ISBN: 9781649372055

Book preview

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Chapter One

All she needed was a sign. Something from the universe to tell her that all would be well.

But what Sania Aaryan got was the howling of wind in her ears and snowflakes falling in a never-ending stream all around her.

A couple of months ago, the mere thought of even getting an opportunity to see snowfall had been out of her realm of possibilities. But as fate would have it, here she was, shivering in the dark, cold, English winter, surrounded by snow and wondering what the fuss was about, especially considering her fingers and toes were nearly frozen.

She secured the strap of her haversack firmly on her shoulder and mounted the stairs of the imposing mansion in front of her, her seventeen-year-old sister, Isha, following close behind. It was late, and the house was shrouded in darkness, the residents most certainly asleep at this godforsaken hour of the night. But she’d been left with no choice. She had no other place to go and no means to rent an inn anywhere for the night. She’d spent the last of her money on the coach that had dropped them in front of the house.

She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. She only needed an audience with her cousin, the new duchess of Wolverton, and all would be well. With that thought on her mind, she grabbed the heavy ring of the door knocker and banged it hard, twice.

Several minutes passed, and still there was no sound from inside.

Is anyone even at home? Isha gave her a worried look, rubbing her bare palms together. Please tell me someone is inside. I can’t stand this cold any longer.

Sania clasped her sister’s chilled fingers and squeezed gently. We’ve made it this far, just a little bit—

She swayed as a sudden wave of dizziness assaulted her.

Isha steadied her. Are you okay?

I’m fine. Just cold.

Sania inhaled and exhaled, waiting for the world to right itself. It was a bit more than the cold. She was sleep deprived and hungry, and her sister fared the same, if not worse. Running away from India had been the most rash and impulsive decision she’d ever taken in life. She refused to believe that they’d made it all the way to London only to die in this cold, bleak weather.

But unless they got indoors and into the warmth soon, that’s exactly what would happen. Their thin dresses and threadbare cloaks hardly offered any protection against the freezing wind and snow.

Her jaw set, she grabbed the door knocker and banged on it again.

Finally, the locks turned. Sudden doubts assailed her, and her heart hammered inside her chest. What if she had the wrong address?

No. The genteel lady on the coach they’d taken in Dover after their boat docked had told them that the Wolverton residence was the grandest house in the corner of Grosvenor. This had to be it.

Would the duke turn them away? What would they do then? Hopefully he was a good man, else the journey would have been for nothing.

She lifted her chin. She would not think negatively. This was their cousin, Lara’s—now the Duchess of Wolverton—residence. Here, they would be protected. They would no longer have to run from the devil they’d left behind in India.

The locks continued to turn until, finally, the door opened and a white-haired man in a dressing gown peered down at them.

We’d like to meet with Lara—I mean, the Duchess of Wolverton, Sania said before he could utter a word.

The wrinkle between the man’s bushy brows deepened. And who may you be?

We’re her cousins from India. Sania shifted from one foot to the other. We urgently need to meet with the duchess.

I’m afraid the duke and duchess are currently not in residence. He gave the two of them a withering glance each, taking them in from top to toe and clearly finding them lacking. Her heart sank. And his next words confirmed his intent. And unless you carry any evidence that shows you are exactly who you say you are, I cannot let you in.

Her hopes dashed upon seeing the man’s rigid expression.

Isha gave her a helpless glance. But before Sania could respond, the man shut the door on them.

Her sister banged on the door. Please, sir. We have nowhere to go.

But it was of no use.

Anger raged through Sania, hot enough to momentarily stave off the chill. Lara had been her only hope of keeping herself—and more importantly, Isha—safe. Sania had spent all her paltry funds to reach her. Now they had no money, no food, and no place to go. She’d be damned if she allowed Isha or herself to die out here because one rude man refused to listen to them.

Clutching her sister’s hand, she returned to the sidewalk outside, contemplating her next move.

What are we going to do? Isha cried, tears pooling in her eyes.

Sania studied the facade of the mansion through the thickening curtain of snow. It was a huge edifice, curving down the side of the road. She tugged her sister around the corner and into a back alley.

They were entering this house, no matter what. Even if she had to beg Lara for forgiveness later. But tonight, she needed to get her sister inside and into warmth.

The back gate was locked, but it wasn’t that high. She threw her haversack across. It landed on the other side in a soft thud. She only hoped that the few books she’d carried hadn’t been damaged by that hard toss. Putting a foot on the railing, she climbed up. Her skirts tangled against her legs, but she pushed them and then jumped to the other side, barely making it to the ground without falling flat on her face.

Her sister gave her a look of utter disbelief.

Come on, Isha, Sania urged.

They had no time to lose. The snow was coming down in fat clumps, and the wind was picking up speed. At this rate, they’d die in this blasted blizzard. Her fingers and toes were already numb. Her head felt heavier, too. She lowered the hood on her face, covering her ears.

When Isha finally made it to the other side, Sania pulled her inside one of the sheds she found near the main house. It was dimly lit by the streetlight across. Various gardening tools were lined in a neat stack inside it, along with bags of manure. She wrinkled her nose at the foul odor. It wasn’t nearly warm enough, but it was definitely better than being outside. She peered outside the windowpane to plan what she was going to do next.

Wait for me here, Sania instructed her sister. I’ll find a way to get inside. Watch for my signal and you follow, okay?

This is unwise, Isha muttered.

She grimaced. Do you have a better plan, then?

Her sister shook her head. Just be careful, please.

Breaking and entering was an offense in any country, but doing so in a duke’s house was one of the worst crimes in England. However, this duke was related to them. With that belief foremost on her mind, she left the shed and headed to the back of the house.

…

Nicholas Delmore, Earl of Hawksley—Hawk to his friends—watched the dark, empty London streets pass in a blur through his carriage window. A storm was raging, its effects already in evidence with the blistering cold, and fat snowflakes falling in quick succession. Visibility was almost nil now. The dratted storm was the only reason he’d left Brown’s Gaming hall. Year on year, as it got closer to one particular date, he stayed away from home. He forcefully lost himself in cards, wine, and women—anything to escape the eventual need to sleep.

Sleep. He dreaded that word these days. It was when the ghosts of the past returned to haunt him with wicked proficiency. That’s why he stayed away from home—to avoid those very same ghosts, which came knocking on the doors of his mind every year, closer to that night.

His driver took a shortcut and rounded the alley to reach the house faster. Hawk continued to gaze outside, and something caught his eye.

He banged the roof of the carriage, and the driver halted. Hawk peered into the thickening snow, searching for what had drawn his attention, when he saw it.

A cloaked figure was moving silently across the back wall of his friend, Wolf’s—the Duke of Wolverton—house.

Issuing a quick instruction to his coachman, he stepped out of the carriage. With practiced ease, he scaled the back gate of Wolf’s house and leaped across, landing into the muted darkness. Silently he made his way toward the figure attempting to climb the oak tree.

He caught the intruder and spun him around. His hood fell off, and locks of long, silky black hair tumbled down. The intruder was a…woman. Her dark eyes shone with a mixture of panic and alarm.

His jaw dropped, and shock rendered him mute. This tiny woman was attempting to break into Wolf’s house?

Using his distraction, she pushed him against a wall, and in the next second, she had a dagger at his throat.

The knife at his throat shook before she steadied it. Who are you?

Her accent sounded foreign.

Of all the preposterous things he might have encountered this evening… He stared at the woman for a second before a loud laugh erupted from his mouth.

Her eyes flashed with surprise. "I have a dagger pointed at your throat and you’re laughing? Do you have a death wish?"

Not really and you don’t look like you could kill anyone, he drawled, his lips twitching.

Her chin jutted out, and she stepped closer to him, crowding him against the wall. Her scent wafted over him. Jasmine and oranges—intoxicating and intense.

The sharp tip of her weapon poked the side of his throat.

I’d kill you in a second, she challenged. But first, who are you? And what do you want?

I don’t answer to petty thieves.

She scowled at him. I am no thief.

Says someone who was caught climbing a tree to break into a duke’s home and is now holding a blade to his friend’s throat.

The dagger nicked the side of his neck. He felt the sharp sting.

The woman gasped, and horror crossed her face, as if she hadn’t meant to injure him. Interesting. She stumbled a step back, the dagger still raised high. It took less than a second to catch her hand, pry the knife away, and spin her against the wall.

Now, explain yourself, he ordered, staring her down. Who are you and why are you trespassing?

Are you really the duke’s friend? she asked, swaying.

He caught her arm, steadying her.

She wet her lips. They were red from the cold. They were also full and lush. Something slammed against his ribs. Hard.

Ignoring that, he asked, Answer me first. Who are you?

My name is Sania Aaryan. I’m from India, and I’m Lara’s cousin.

And I’m supposed to believe that? He ran his eyes down her and frowned. The woman was alarmingly pale. I just caught you trying to slip inside.

I swear I am who I say. I have nowhere to go, and the man at the door refused to listen to me. Desperation coated her voice. I’m not lying. Please h…help us.

He frowned. Us?

She swayed again. Steadying herself, she whispered, Please, if you’re the duke’s friend, help us. My sister…

And then her eyes rolled back in her head.

Hawk caught her before she could fall.

Bloody blazing hell.

What was he supposed to make of her, and more importantly, what was he supposed to do with her? And where was this sister? He glanced around but saw no one. Was she telling the truth or was she lying? To think of it, her accent did remind him of Lara’s. What if she was indeed Lara’s cousin?

He swept her up in his arms. She was light as a feather.

No sooner had he turned around than another black-cloaked figure rushed toward him, wielding a pitchfork.

A pitchfork?

He sighed. He’d descended into utter madness.

Put my sister down! the young voice commanded, holding the makeshift weapon aloft.

Ah, so you’re the sister. He scowled, appraising the girl. She appeared several years younger than the woman in his arms. No matter that. She’s fainted from the cold. Come with me.

The girl blocked his path. I don’t know you. You could be a murderer or worse.

Do I look like a murderous criminal? He clucked his tongue. Your sister needs help, and you do, too. Come with me. I’m Lara and Wolf’s friend.

He swept past the girl. She hesitated for a moment before she followed him. Rounding the house, he crossed the front gate and went toward his carriage at the back. He looked at the woman he was carrying. Snowflakes had drizzled on her face, her thick, dark lashes a crescent against her cheeks. She felt fragile in his arms and cold. So cold.

He opened the door to his carriage and climbed inside with her. He wrapped her with a blanket and handed another to her sister, who now sat across him, watching him carefully. His lips curved as he noted that she’d pulled out a knife, which she kept pointed at him.

He nodded at it. I applaud your concern for your sister and your safety. However, allow me to put you at ease. I’m the Earl of Hawksley. You have no reason to fear me.

Let me be the judge of that. I have yet to determine whether you have our best intentions at heart.

If rescuing you and your unconscious sister doesn’t count as good intentions, I don’t know what will. He grimaced. Nonetheless, I live close by. I promise no harm will come to either of you while you are under my roof. You’ll see.

The girl remained silent, her gaze steady on him. Hawk had to appreciate her bravado and her vigilance. What had these two women endured that this young girl was filled with so much distrust and cynicism, even when faced with the prospect of protection from a peer? He’d find out soon enough, but first he needed to get them in the warmth and into the safety of his home.

He banged on the carriage roof, and the driver took off.

These girls looked lost, and whether they were telling the truth or not, they needed help, and he was in a position to do so. He’d have his housekeeper keep an eye on them for the night and ascertain in the morning who they really were. Until then, they were under his protection.

Chapter Two

Sania was dreaming. That could be the only reason she was enveloped in a warm cocoon, floating on the softest cloud she’d ever had the pleasure of laying in.

Weak light hit her closed eyelids, and she blinked. Her heart sped as she looked around the strange, unfamiliar, but lavish room. She had barely taken in the stunning green-and-gold velvet decor when the events of the previous night crashed into her mind with startling clarity and she jolted upright.

Her stomach pitched as fear for Isha and her own safety swept through her. Where were they?

Isha?

When there was no response, she hurriedly pushed the blankets aside and climbed out of the bed, gaping at the plain cotton night rail that she was clothed in.

She pressed a shaking hand to her forehead. Where was Isha? Whose house was this? Where was her dagger?

Isha!

Sania, I’m here! a happy voice responded.

Isha strolled inside the room, her arms overflowing with clothes, looking fresh as spring sunshine.

Sania rushed to her. Are you okay? Where are we?

I’m more than okay. Calm down, she said, laughing.

Calm down? That was highly improbable, considering. Sania appraised her sister from top to toe. She seemed unharmed and smiling, but—

Where did you get all those clothes? Sania frowned, noting the new frock Isha was dressed in. She shook her head. Never mind that. Whose house are we in? Is it Lara’s? Where is she?

Sania, you must slow down, Isha chided. We’re not in Lara’s home. Don’t you remember meeting the earl last night? He’s friends with the duke and Lara, and he graciously brought us to his house when you fainted.

Her brows marred as she recalled her conversation with the stranger last night.

And then her stomach pitched further.

We’re in his house? Sania shrieked. Had he brought them there to exact revenge because she’d nicked him with her dagger? She’d almost killed him when she’d had another dizzying spell and fumbled her grip on the damned knife. How could you allow him to bring us here? We don’t know him. What if he’s not who he says he is? What if he’s dangerous? How could you have trusted him so?

Isha scowled. I may be young, but I’m not an idiot.

Sania glared at her. Isha was young, a mere seventeen and a tad bit fanciful.

You fainted. Isha dropped the clothes on the bed. "What should I have done? Dragged you back to that miserable shed where we both would have died from the cold? And I did hear you begging him for help last night, or have you forgotten that, too?"

Yes, I asked him for help—to get inside Lara’s house. Not for him to bring us to his.

Isha clucked her tongue. Might I remind you again that you fainted? The earl was my only hope to get us to safety, and I did keep my knife pointed at him throughout the time he carried you to the carriage and brought us here. Only once he showed me his family crest and insignia and the housekeeper confirmed his identity as an earl did I believe his intentions to be true. And we are safe and sound, aren’t we?

Oh, her sister was so naive. A title meant nothing and her meager knife couldn’t have kept them safe if the earl had been a dangerous man. He could still be dangerous. Sania remembered how he’d so casually divested her of her own knife last night. She took a slow, steadying breath, deliberating the situation.

If the earl was really the Wolvertons’ friend, perhaps she could let down her guard a little bit. At least long enough to ascertain his intentions and how quickly they could be reunited with Lara.

Stop overthinking, please, Isha begged. Look at me. Don’t I look nice in this dress?

Her sister did look rather lovely in the blue-and-white printed gown. It was a bit short on Isha’s tall and slender frame, but it was fresh and clean, and that’s what mattered.

Sania tucked a strand of her sister’s hair behind her ear. You do look pretty, my darling.

Isha beamed. Once he settled you in this chamber, the earl ordered his housekeeper to find some clothes for us and to get some food and hot tea for me. I was so famished, I ate everything, but I did leave some cake for you in case you woke up hungry. She pointed to a plate on a table covered with a white napkin. We can trust him, Sania. He seems like a good man.

At Sania’s continued silence, Isha grasped her hands. We need to trust someone, and for the first time since we ran away from home, I feel safe. I’m not wrong about him, you’ll see. He’s not like that awful—

"Do not say that man’s name, Sania bit out. I don’t want even a whisper of him." They’d fled their country on a long, arduous journey and left him behind. And that’s where he, and memories of him, needed to stay. She exhaled a harsh breath, gentling her tone. But you’re right. I’ll agree to reserve judgment on this earl until I meet with him.

Isha squealed in delight and pulled her in for a hug.

Sania breathed in her sister’s familiar scent.

I know I’m right about him, Isha said on releasing her. And he is so very handsome. Didn’t you notice last night?

Sania shook her head. She’d barely been able to see him in the dark. Unfettered by Sania’s silence, Isha ushered her to an adjacent chamber where there was a waiting tub filled with hot water.

Look, Sania, such good soap! Isha gushed once Sania was settled in the tub of the strangely tiled room which looked like a wash room. She’d never seen something like this before.

Smell this. It’s divine. Isha handed her the bar. You’ll love it.

Sania accepted the soap and sniffed. Orange. Her favorite, indeed. She rested her head against the back of the tub, soaking in the warm water. This was a luxury she’d not experienced after her parents had died, leaving her and Isha in the care of their shrewd uncle. For the first time in months, the burden that she’d been carrying on her shoulders for so long receded a tiny bit.

She sighed. Much as she wanted to remain in the tub, she needed to get ready and speak to their benefactor. So, while her sister chattered merrily, Sania completed her ablutions and quickly dressed herself in the light green gown Isha had laid out for her. It was long, loose, and had a funny little flounce around the chest, but it was warm and thick, and she was grateful to be wearing it.

Chewing on the cake Isha had left for her, she stepped out of the room assigned to them and found a footman waiting outside to guide them to the dining room.

Oh my God, Isha exclaimed as they moved deeper into the house. Her eyes were wide as saucers as she took in everything around. I didn’t get a proper look last night, but this is spectacular.

Sania barely managed a nod as she took in the magnificence around her. The corridor in front of them was endlessly long and concluded in a huge set of double doors. In between, there were a number of doors on the left and right—more chambers, she assumed. In between each door, set high on the wall, was a crystal-and-bronze