The Beast Who Loved Me: Love for a Lady, #3

By Samantha Holt

Isabel has spent her life being scolded for having her head in a book. If only she could find a way to help everyone around her understand her love of reading. Even if that means braving the wrath of the Beast of Blackmoor. If Isabel is ever going to get her subscription library running, she must risk the ire of the infamous man—and the owner of one of England's best libraries—and demand he help her build her book collection.

 

But the Beast of Blackmoor has little intention of anyone gaining access to his precious library. This demanding young woman will not be getting her hands on his books…or anything else for that matter. Particularly not his heart…

 

However, when Isabel finds herself confined to this mysterious duke's house, with only the knowledge of his dastardly deeds for comfort, she begins to find that it is not only his library that interests her. Aided by his kindly servants, she learns of the circumstances behind his beastly reputation. Maybe, just maybe, he is not so beastly after all.

 

When danger in the form of Isabel's unwanted suitor darkens his doorstep, the duke must choose. Is he truly a beast or can he be the man worthy of love after all?

 

A hero who believes he is beyond redemption matches wits with a warm hearted and a quick minded heroine in this sweet Regency novella.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Helstone Press
• Release date: Dec 20, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223682646

Samantha Holt

USA Today bestselling author Samantha Holt lives in a small village in England with her twin girls and a dachshund called Duke. She has been a full-time author since 2012, having gone through several careers including nurse and secretary. 

Book preview

Chapter One

H o there.

Isabel winced. She had made it out of the village without anyone paying attention to her. What rotten luck to be caught by someone now. More than a someone, really.

Garth Legore, the heir to the Viscount Thorndale seat.

She kept her head forward, gaze fixed on the rather bland scenery of tree after tree. The woods were dense and dark. Grey clouds hidden by a thick canopy ensured barely a trickle of light seeped through. Her father would not be impressed if he discovered she was here.

But he was away for two weeks in Bath on business. She would be returned by dusk and what her father didn’t know could not hurt him. Unless, of course, Garth decided to tattle on her.

Isabel, he called again.

She pretended not to hear. Perhaps he would turn around and give up. Boots squelching through rotten leaves and mud left behind from the recent rain, she picked up her pace.

Horse’s hooves neared, signaling that Garth had not given up. She drew in a breath, pasted a smile upon her face and twisted to view him as he brought his elegant steed to her side.

You were in a world of your own, he declared, flashing what Isabel knew he thought was a dashing smile.

Truth be told, there was nothing dashing about it. Garth was an utter fop. Even her father said as much. His lips were narrow, his chin barely existent, his eyes were too close together and his ears were large. To make up for it, Garth dressed in the highest of fashions. From his padded calves to his tight cinched in waist—and she hardly wanted to think about what he wore underneath his shirts to create such a waist—this man was a fop of the worst kind. Preoccupied with nothing else other than wearing the best and most expensive clothes.

Even if they were ridiculous.

Forgive me, she said, suppressing a smile as she recalled the time he had worn shoes with such a high heel that he could hardly walk in them. Garth Legore walking down the village street, nearly toppling over had been quite the sight.

He brushed a strand of hair from his face and tugged on the reins to ensure the horse kept pace with her. Isabel wished he wouldn’t. She wished he’d leave her be.

At least once a week, he approached her—and had been doing so since she turned eight and ten. There was only so much of Garth’s company one could take, and two minutes was too much, let alone two years.

Where are you off to, then? Does your father know you are out in the woods alone?

He spoke with a strange intonation. Loud and deep but it sounded forced, a little like when she tried to mimic a man. There was only so long one could listen to that voice, too.

She drew in a breath. I am off to Blackmoor Abbey.

He drew the horse to a dramatic stop and peered down at her. Blackmoor Abbey? Whatever the devil for?

Isabel kept walking. It has a wonderful library. As you know, I am trying to put together a library for the village, she said patiently, in spite of feeling decidedly impatient.

If Garth held her up much longer, she would be walking back in the dark and while she might not be frightened off by tales of beasts and dukes who killed their wives, she did not much fancy coming across any ruffians.

So, you are what? Going to ask for some books? Garth laughed. You think the Beast of Blackmoor would give you books?

She lifted a shoulder. He has a vast collection, I am told. I do not see why he cannot spare some.

A vast, vast collection according to Mrs. Umbridge in the village store. A library so big that one could get lost in it for days. One so huge that it would take many lifetimes to read every book in there.

Isabel sighed and smiled. She could only imagine such a place. Papa spoke of the libraries in London but she had never had occasion to visit and he did not like her travelling. The six-hour journey from Northumberland to London could be treacherous and Papa was utterly convinced she would catch some sort of malady covering the distance.

But to see a library like that...oh it would be worth the time and the illness.

Perhaps the duke would let her in to see his library. He might even let her choose a few titles herself.

You are serious, are you not? Garth had stopped again.

Though tempted to keep walking and ignore him, it would make her life more difficult than necessary. She might think him a ridiculous fop but he was heir to the viscountcy. With the exception of the so-called Beast of Blackmoor, he was the highest-ranking man in the area, and thus, Garth was treated as though he was royalty at times. Mrs. Umbridge had tutted at her only yesterday morning, scolding her for not paying more attention to him as she had ducked into her shop to avoid Garth. 

You could do far worse than a viscount, Mrs. Umbridge had told her with a wagging finger.

Perhaps she could, but she could also do far better. Not that there were any high-ranking men in the area after her hand but, as far as she was concerned, a life alone, managing a library was much better than a marriage to Garth Legore.

Hands to her hips, Isabel finally faced him. Yes, I am serious. My subscription library consists of all of four books. I have more coming back from Bath with Papa but it’s hardly enough. Our entire village seems to have only a handful of books except for the bible.

A good read, he concurred.

She doubted Garth had ever read through the entire bible but now was not the time to point that out. We need more books, Garth. For the sake of our children, we must be better read.

Garth snorted. Nonsense. I hardly read one book as a boy and look at me now. Can’t find a better catch in the whole of Northumberland.

Drawing in a calming breath, she pasted that smile across her lips once more. Of course. But we cannot all be as lucky as you.

A grin slanted across his lips. You could be, Izzy. He leaned down. You could be lucky indeed.

She glanced at the sky, barely visible through the trees. Oh dear, it looks like it might rain any moment. I had better hurry.

Rain? Damnation. This beaver felt is brand new. He tapped his hat. All the way from London. Only the best.

Naturally.

You could have the best too, Izzy. If only you would consent—

Goodness, I felt a drop. I had better dash. So should you, if you do not want your new hat ruined.

You’re right. I had better make haste. I shall call on you once your father has returned. We can finish our conversation. He paused. You’re really going to visit the Beast of Broadmoor?

Isabel lifted her chin. Yes.

He shook his head. You know what they say about him, Izzy.

She was really starting to loathe the nickname he had given her. Yes, I know.

He considered her for a moment. I should force you to return.

Lifting her chin higher, she eyed him. No one had ever forced her to do anything she did not wish to do, nor had they ever dissuaded her from doing something she wished to. Garth was certainly not going to be dragging her home anytime soon.

A drop of rain landed on the brim of his hat. Isabel hadn’t really thought it was going to rain so she was