Devilish Games 0f A Virtuous Lady (Steamy Historical Romance) Read online

  Devilish Games of a Virtuous Lady

  A Steamy Regency Romance

  Scarlett Osborne

  Contents

  A Thank You Gift

  About the Book

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Epilogue

  Extended Epilogue

  Bewitching the Forbidden Duke

  About the Book

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Also by Scarlett Osborne

  About the Author

  A Thank You Gift

  Thanks a lot for purchasing my book. It really means a lot to me, because this is the best way to show me your love.

  As a Thank You gift I have written a full length novel for you called Seduced by the Brooding Duke. It’s only available to people who have downloaded one of my books and you can get your free copy by tapping this link here.

  Once more, thanks a lot for your love and support.

  With love and appreciation,

  Scarlett Osborne

  About the Book

  He grabbed her in his arms and that's all she ever needed…

  Traumatized by a past she dares not speak about, Letitia Caddy, daughter of the Baron of Mullins, has always been afraid of the outside world. Confronted with her father's decision to wed her to a man she has never met in her life, she decides to run away disguised as a commoner.

  Widowed and a single father, Algernon Fletcher, Marquess of Radcliffe, is the epitome of propriety. When his daughter is rescued by a beautiful young maid, he can’t help but offer her a position in the household.

  But even though their attraction is fierce, Letitia's secret identity is threatening to ruin it all…

  An unexpected guest bears shocking tidings and Letitia comes face to face with the harsh reality: not only are they all but mere pawns in a devious game of power, but the puppetmaster is one hiding in plain sight.

  Chapter 1

  The tale was a fine one. Pirates and mermaids and heroes with swords lashed to their belts.

  Letitia Caddy smiled to herself as she pored over the book, picturing the sailing ship as it bucked across a turquoise sea. She had never truly seen the ocean—or sailing ships or pirates or heroes with swords in their belts for that matter—but she made her own image of them, brought to life by the words on the page. This was a world far more dashing and exciting and beautiful as the one in which she lived. The world that existed between the covers of her book, she was sure, was a place in which everyone lived happily ever after.

  A rap at the door yanked her back to reality.

  “Yes?” she called.

  “I’m sorry, Miss Caddy.” Her lady’s maid, Jenny, poked her capped head around the doorway. “Your father wishes to see you in the parlor.”

  Letitia sighed inwardly. She glanced back at her book.

  Such is the problems with these stories. The real world always manages to find its way back.

  But she gave Jenny a small smile. “Of course. I shall be right down.” She slid a bookmark between the pages and sat the book on her nightstand.

  Letitia found her father, the Baron of Mullins, waiting for her in the parlor, pacing edgily in front of a crackling fire. Her mother perched beside him on the edge of an armchair, her narrow face so serene it was almost expressionless. Her mother seemed to have perfected the expressionless face, Letitia thought. But there was something about her father’s rapid pacing that set her on edge.

  “Father? Mother?”

  The Baron gave a wide smile that seemed a little forced. His cloud of gray hair seemed a little wilder than usual. “Letitia,” he said. “Wonderful.” He gestured to the armchair beside her mother. “Please, sit.”

  Letitia sat, glancing quizzically at her mother for an explanation to her father’s behavior. The Baroness kept her eyes down, her long fingers folded in her lap.

  “We have some news for you, my dear,” said her father. “News I hope you shall find to your liking.”

  Letitia raised her eyebrows. “News?” In spite of her father’s toothy smile, she felt an odd twist in her stomach. A part of her longed to be back in her bedroom, ensconced in her world of happily ever afters. She felt rather sure she was not going to find his news to her liking.

  “Yes, news,” said the Baron. His smile widened. “You are to be married, my dear.”

  Letitia felt suddenly hot. Her heart began to speed. She had not been expecting marriage. Not yet, at least. She was barely eighteen.

  “Married?” Letitia managed, shifting uncomfortably within the confines of the armchair. “Married to who?” Her voice came out thin and shaky.

  “To Ezra Barrington. The Duke of Banfield,” her father announced, puffing his chest out like an angry owl. “A very fine match, I’m sure you’ll agree.”

  The Duke of Banfield?

  Letitia was quite sure she had never met such a gentleman in her life. Was her father truly to do this? Marry her to a stranger? She felt the back of her neck begin to prickle. It was suddenly hard to breathe. Her lungs strained against her corset, her fingers curling around the arms of the chair.

  “Letitia?” Her mother suddenly emerged from her silence. “Is that not a fine match, dear?”

  Letitia tried to swallow. Her mouth was dry. “A fine match,” she managed. “I… Yes, I…”

  She had always known this day would come, she reminded herself. One day, she knew, her father would sit her down and tell her she was to become a wife.

  Letitia had always preferred the world of her books to the harshness of reality. She had always shied away from social events. The thought of dressing up and parading across a ballroom in search of a husband made her head swim with horror. She had been grateful her father had never forced such a thing upon her.

  The Baron had claimed responsibility for finding her a suitable husband. Letitia would never have to set foot inside a ballroom, he assured her. Would never be paraded or peered at, would never be forced to dance gavotte after gavotte in search of a gentleman to marry. Seeing his daughter married well, the Baron had told her, was his duty, and she was to have no hand in it.

  At the time, Letitia had simply accepted it. Her father had been speaking of her marriage since she was fourteen. It had seemed a distant thing. A thing not to bother herself with. Besides, the promise of avoiding the ballroom was enough to make her agree to almost anything. But while Letitia had lived with her nose in her books, the years had passed by quickly. Her eighteenth birthday had come and gone. She supposed her father had seen the event as a signal to start the process of securing her a husband.

  Letitia knew many ladies married at far younger than eighteen. Fathers were always eager to see their daughters make fine match
es, secure the most eligible of young Dukes and Marquesses. Letitia knew the Baron was no different. He had always had high hopes for her to marry well. Nonetheless, a part of her had assumed— or at least hoped— she might have at least a few more years to herself.

  The thought of marrying the Duke of Banfield made her stomach turn over in dread. She had always trusted her father to find a good match for her, but she had not imagined it would be to a gentleman she had never seen before in her life. What if she were to despise him? What if he were to despise her? What if he insisted she attend the balls? What if he forbade her from reading? What if—

  “No,” Letitia blurted, the word spilling from her mouth before she had any thought of it.

  A log in the grate broke apart noisily.

  The Baron’s furry eyebrows shot up. “I beg your pardon?”

  Letitia felt hot and shaky. She had never stood up to her father before. But it was too late to turn back now. “No,” she repeated, pushing on, despite the tremor in her voice. “I don’t wish to marry the Duke of Banfield.”

  She watched her father’s cheeks turn a violent shade of crimson. “What do you mean you do not wish to marry the Duke?” His voice began to rise. “Do you have any idea of what this marriage will mean for our family?” He took a step closer, jabbing a thick finger at her. “You will be a Duchess, Letitia. A Duchess. Does that not mean a thing to you?”

  No. Not a single thing.

  “I don’t know the gentleman, Father,” she pushed. “He’s a stranger.” She looked at her mother, trying for a little support. The Baroness’s eyes were back in her lap, distancing herself from the conversation. Letitia very much wished she, too, could distance herself from this horrid conversation.

  “You will get to know him once you’re married,” the Baron said firmly. “Ezra Barrington will make a very fine husband. He is very well respected among his peers. He has a fine manor in Chelsea.” The Baron tried for a congenial smile. “He is most handsome.”

  Letitia gritted her teeth.

  Perhaps my father ought to marry the Duke, she thought bitterly.

  She turned away, unable to look at him. She felt used. Betrayed. She shook her head.

  “Listen to me.” The Baron’s voice grew stern and unwavering. “I am your father and you will do as I say. I have done everything in my power to secure this fine marriage for you. And you have the nerve to tell me you do not wish to marry the gentleman?”

  Letitia felt tears prick her eyes. She could not remember the last time she and her father had exchanged terse words. She had always been obedient, respectful. But this was different. This was not just about merely accepting the new gowns he had made for her without her input. This was about the rest of her life.

  She stood, feeling a heaviness in her chest. “I’m sorry, Father,” she said. “I know you’re disappointed in me. But I simply cannot marry a gentleman I have never met. I will not do it.”

  She raced from the room before her father could respond. Her heart was thudding against her ribs. She could feel the Baron’s eyes burning into the back of her. She hurried upstairs to her bedroom and threw the door closed. It slammed noisily, a sound Letitia felt inside her body.

  She sat on her bed, blinking back her tears. She glanced at the book sitting on her nightstand. How she longed to dive back into her world of pirates and mermaids and colorful seas. Back into a world in which she was not expected to marry a gentleman she knew nothing of.

  She shoved the book from the nightstand and it spilled open on the floor. She couldn’t bear to read it. Couldn’t bear to read about all those princesses who married the gentlemen of their dreams. Not when she was being tossed at the Duke of Banfield like some prettily-wrapped prize. Bitterness welled up inside her.

  How could her father do this to her? She had not just been an obedient and respectful child, Letitia realized. She had been docile. Pliable. Had always gone along with her father’s wishes. No doubt such a thing made it easier for him to drop this news at her feet.

  Letitia will accept it. Letitia always accepts it…

  A knock at the door. “Letitia? My dear?” Her father’s voice had softened slightly. Still, he was the last person she wanted to see.

  She sighed, climbing from her bed. However much she wished to do so, she knew she could not simply ask the Baron to leave. He was her father, after all.

  She pulled open the door. It was a strange thing to see her father standing outside her bedroom. He rarely ventured up here to her bedchamber. He seemed out of place.

  He looked at her squarely, his eyes dark with regret. “May I come in?” he asked gently.

  Reluctantly, Letitia nodded. She perched on the window seat and glanced out into the garden. A childish thing, she knew, to avoid her father’s gaze. But there was too much anger in her. Too much disappointment. She was sure if she looked at him, she would either cry, or raise her voice. She couldn’t bear to do either.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she could see him pacing. The floorboards creaked beneath his feet.

  “I’m sorry this news has upset you,” he said. “I’ll admit, I had hoped it might bring you excitement. Happiness, even.”

  Letitia lowered her gaze. She hated disappointing her father. How she wished the thought of marriage filled her with excitement. How she wished she might manage a scrap of enthusiasm at the thought of becoming a Duchess.

  The Baron stopped pacing. He knotted his fingers together and cleared his throat. “I’m afraid I’ve not been entirely honest with you, my dear.” His voice was trapped in his throat.

  Letitia looked up at him, frowning. “What do you mean?”

  Her father sighed. He nodded at the window seat. “May I?”

  Letitia nodded. She shuffled across the seat to let her father sit at her side. She could smell his familiar brandy and tobacco scent. A smell she had known her entire life. A smell that was purely and solely her father’s.

  She felt his wide shoulder pressing against hers. “I’m afraid I…” He let out his breath and stared into his hands.

  Letitia’s stomach knotted. Her father was always so strong. A quiet, unassuming gentleman, but a strong one. Seeing him uncertain like this was rattling. She pressed a gentle hand to his arm. “You what, Father? It’s all right. You can tell me.”

  The Baron sighed heavily. “I’m so afraid you’ll never forgive me, my dear. I’ve let you down terribly.”

  The knot in Letitia’s stomach tightened. “Tell me,” she coughed. “Whatever it is. Just tell me.”

  Finally, the Baron turned to face her. His round cheeks were red. “I’m afraid I owe the Duke of Banfield a great deal of money. I’d made some business dealings with him that unfortunately fell through. I was left in a great deal of debt.” He drew in his breath, forcing himself to continue. “I spoke to the Duke about writing up terms of repayment. I promised him he would have his money, though I admitted it would take some time. But this wasn’t enough for the Duke. He wishes I repay him in another manner.” He looked into his hands. “He wishes your hand in marriage, Letitia. He says it is the only form of repayment he will accept.”

  His words fell heavily into the silence. Letitia felt suddenly hot and sick.

  “Oh,” she finally said. “I see.” What else was there to say?

  Her father turned to look at her, his gray eyes large and mournful. “I’m so sorry, my dear girl. More than you could know.” His voice wavered. “I wanted so much better than this for you.” He sniffed. “Ever since you were a child, I’ve dreamt of finding the finest of husbands for you. I always saw it as my most important task as a father. To find someone to care for you and keep you when I’m gone. But I’ve failed you. I’ve failed you so spectacularly.”

  Letitia tightened her grip around the Baron’s forearm. How she hated to see him like this, aching and full of guilt. It was not her father’s fault. She wished she could make him see it. This was all the fault of the money-hungry Duke of Banfield. The gentleman to whom sh
e would soon be wed. “It’s all right, Father,” she found herself saying soothingly. “It’s all right.”

  But it was not all right. It was not even close to all right. Things would never be all right again.

  Chapter 2

  Colin Caddy, Baron of Mullins, trudged down the stairs from his daughter’s room. Letitia’s heartbroken words were echoing in his ears.