To unleash a ladys hidde.., p.1
To Unleash A Lady's Hidden Desire (Historical Regency Romance), page 1
To Unleash a Lady's Hidden Desire
A REGENCY ROMANCE NOVEL
LUCY LANGTON
Copyright © 2019 by Lucy Langton
All Rights Reserved.
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Table of Contents
To Unleash a Lady's Hidden Desire
Table of Contents
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To Unleash a Lady's Hidden Desire
Introduction
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
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Risking it All for the Sinful Earl
Introduction
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
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To Unleash a Lady's Hidden Desire
Introduction
Roger Egerton, the most wanted Duke in London, was terribly saddened by the loss of his dear parents. Hopefully, his sister’s more romantic and idealistic view of the world dragged him out of his misery. He longed to achieve his own happiness too, but finding a perfect match for his sister, Selina, must come first. While everything seems to go as planned, there is something devilish behind the scenes, ready to destroy their happy reverie. How cruel can fate be to a man who already experienced loss in the most brutal way?
Miss Jessie Jones and Selina grew up together and became best friends for life. In fear that her secret love for the Duke could ruin their friendship, she never expressed her true feelings. But when Selina goes missing, she has no other option than to work along with the Duke to find her. Will she be able to hide her sizzling desire for him? Or will she blow everything up?
The Duke found himself in a battle he could not face alone. But when she gets butterflies in her stomach every time he’s around, will she be able to behave herself, and help him solve the mystery? He will need all of his strength to navigate through this situation, and true love would definitely have to wait for the right and proper time. But what if the Duke feels the same temptation when she’s around, and he can’t wait anymore? Will he risk it all for love?
Chapter 1
The day had been a clear one for the Duke, Roger Egerton. There was not altogether much of a fog in the morning as was discussed earlier in the day with James, his dear, beloved cousin. He had only stayed for the announced visit for a short time, discussing the succinctness of the politics of the new political year. It was a serious conversation, but it was, thankfully, long enough to take in the marvellous views of the small creek and a just a minute hint of the greenness from beyond the eastern pasture view.
Marley had been playing up again, the dark bay that the Duke had ridden that day; a project horse. Walking sideways was his new downfall, a sudden criss-cross trot too. It was a touch like a circus type act, from one of those horses trained to do techniques that were not readily used further afield in the world of richer men.
In reality, the Duke had laughed it off when James had mentioned that the animal be put down for such misbehaviours, but the Duke said he was trialling him in a way he had never tried before. A certain ‘horse whispering’ technique he had read about in the latest gazette, The Starlet, with a refreshing style of adherence that was kinder to the animal, and less fraught with disobedience punishment than was the norm in the current day. It was a stronghold his father had pursued firstly. Now the Duke sat in the garden, thinking of the fruits of the day.
“Roger, I am here now,” said the very smiling Selina as she caught her brother somewhat off guard. His imagination was as creative as her own was in that regard.
The Duke immediately smiled. He sat on the pale white bench seat, a place next to the gorgeousness of the pink rose bushes, a place he liked to reside each and every afternoon.
“Dear sister, Selina. I am so glad to see you. You look radiant in yellow today. It seems that you are competing with the sun’s brightness this day.”
Selina did look beautiful. Her hair was up and placed neatly with well selected pins. Her dress was a bright burst of yellow with the seams embroidered in tiny flowers, a creation of the local dressmaker, and made to fit her ever so succinctly. It was quite literally, made for her.
“I am sorry I missed James today,” she said, still smiling happily from the kindness of her brother’s compliment. “I was writing a letter to Cousin Francine, she and Harry will be wedding later in the year and I wanted to tell her of the dress I imagined her in last night. Oh, it was so very beautiful indeed. I hope I explained it correctly in my writing. I know I can be somewhat impatient as I describe the richness of such exciting things.”
“She will be thrilled that you have given such detailed input, dear sister. How absolutely brilliant of you.” The Duke gave a half smile. “I am so glad we can both move forward after Mother and Father’s passing. I think it is definitely time to grow, you and I.”
The big smile that had gleamed widely on Selina’s face was now a slight frown. Even the mention of her parents was something she found exceptionally difficult to bear. Her demeanour changed too as she shifted slightly in her seat with the uncomfortableness she felt as they were mentioned in (any) conversation.
“I am alright, yes, brother. I am trying to move forward with the thought of the future in mind. I feel as though we have both done such a tremendous allowance of mourning now. It is time to be happy, or at least yearn for the goodness of such a feeling inside. Without you and Jessie, Ms. Jones I mean, well, I fear I may have lost myself. Dear Jessie, yes, oh how much I love the kindness of her bountiful heart. She has made my days easier, like you, and when we go to the next ball we will both be wearing the colour that is said to be the season’s winner.”
The Duke laughed as he listened to the vibrancy of his sister’s words, knowing full well she too had been reading the gazette for intelligence on such modern subjects. He too had gotten caught up in the whirlwind of the writings each and every week. It was an affair in itself, the excited feeling from the sheer gossip and magnificence of the time.
“You will both be the most beautiful belles at the ball. It seems reasonable that this ball will see you wed. Yes, that would be a lovely change in the wind, and I do believe it is a highly likely circumstance that you will endure very soon, sister.”
“Endure? Whatever do you mean, brother?” asked Miss Egerton, questioning the unusualness of the word as given by her brother.
“Well, men can be... Let me see, I am trying to think of the word I am meaning. Is it logical, perhaps?” he asked, beaming a wide smile.
“Yes, I guess they are that, definitely. Oh, how I want someone who is interesting though. A man who loves to read and who discusses the modernisms of the day.”
“Yes, I suppose you do,” said the Duke. “And I dare say you will have it, darling Selina.”
“Oh, I do hope so, brother. I long to find a husband I can share my life with. London can be so... No, I dare not say it so as not to sound ungrateful.”
“Say it if you like. You are talking with me now, and in the utmost privacy. Only the birds can hear us, and they have better things to do than to gossip about our whining.”
“Well, the word I wanted to use was tiresome. London can be tiresome sometimes.”
“Yes, my dear, it definitely can be. I think you definitely need a husband to override the sheer boredom of it.” The Duke laughed loudly and Miss Egerton giggled slightly, still remaining in her upright position, the product of being a lady of the household, but still the true essence of hear dear mother; now passed.
It was the similarity to his mother, with the cover of his sister’s right hand over her mouth, just as she giggled that made the Duke feel happy. He wanted only the best for his beautiful sister, the kindness in her could beat that of twenty women, and her loveliness was something far beyond what the imagination could even fathom or unfold with in the best poetry ever written. For whoever would get her hand in marriage would be blessed in every way. He knew it from when they were children. Her golden hair and those deep blue eyes, it was like looking at a goddess with a mystery to behold. The treasure within Selina was something unmatched; he had never seen it in another, except his mother, of course.
Leaning forward, Miss Egerton caught her brother’s attention. She had a distinct look of naughtiness, a glint of mystery in her eye. The Duke knew she was about to say something forward thinking, or maybe, perhaps, something to tease him. The familiarity in her look made it more than evident to him.
They were interrupted by Dudley, however, the upper servant butler who now discreetly walked through the garden archway, the one which was married with lilies and petunias, an executive thought given to the gardener by the late Agatha Egerton, Roger and Selina’s kind-hearted and very creative mother.
“Yes, Dudley, what is it?” asked the Duke, keen to understand the impromptu interruption.
“I am delighted to say that Ms. Jones has arrived, and is sitting in the parlour awaiting Miss Egerton’s arrival, Sir.”
“Oh, it must be three o’clock already,” said Ms. Egerton excitedly. “Oh, may I be excused, please, dear brother?” she asked quickly.
The Duke looked kindly to her and then to Dudley, who was standing like a bean pole and awaiting the chance to be dismissed. “Yes, of course, sister, go now. The time flies by so wistfully these days. Thank you, Dudley. I am grateful for your adapt reminder. And please, Dudley, call on Mr. Dutton to have me measured for the ball this coming Saturday. I do hope it is not too short notice for him to come tomorrow at nine.”
“I am sure he will be contented to make his way here to fit you out, Sir. He has been inundated with orders of late, but has been awaiting your need for his duties.”
“Good, I will be ready to see him then. Is there anything else?”
“No, Sir. I mean, well...”
“What is it, Dudley? You don’t need to be shy with me, man,” said the Duke, becoming more and more agitated by the waiting for words from his butler. It seemed to be something that was becoming a habit of late.
“It’s Mrs. Barker, the cook.”
“Yes?”
“She cannot find the recipe for the chicken dish you asked for. I’m afraid her memory is not what it used to be, not at all.”
The Duke gave a half smile, still semi-serious but secretly laughing about the entire breadth of the character of the curious woman his mother had hired over a decade ago. She was the most hilarious woman the Duke had ever come across.
She was matter of fact, entirely forgetful, astonishingly ingenious in the kitchen, and the biggest drama queen, for want of better words; he had ever known. In truth, she had the sass of Cleopatra and the mystery of Joan of Arc, a striking combination when mixed with cookery, and one hell of a thing to listen to as she bossed the other servants around, as if she were a queen from some distant land, needing things quickly and wondering why on earth no-one could ascertain her meaning. And yet, she was also fiercely kind, a woman of integrity and fairness, but not someone to argue with, especially over the cutting techniques of potatoes.
“It will show up eventually. I am sure Mrs. Barker will enlighten us with some other chicken creation, something delightful and mystifying, I am certain of that. You are excused, Dudley, I mean, if there is nothing else at hand.”
Dudley cleared his throat, obviously trying to not be nervous, although coming across as more so than when he had asked about the plight of Mrs. Baker’s unfound recipe. “Well, there is one last happenstance that needs your approval. It seems that Mr. Waverly, the gardener, he is asking for a week’s leave so he can visit his brother in Yorkshire. The funeral for their father is...”
“Yes, of course. Please make sure Mr. Gregory does his share of the work so that my mother’s roses do not become unkempt. It pains Ms. Egerton when the garden becomes unruly. This is our haven away from the hustle and bustle of the city centre, and so please remind Mr. Gregory of the importance of such a task and make sure it is within his grasp. I expect that Mr. Waverly will exact him to the cause of the garden’s tending.”
“Yes, of course, Sir. He has already begun the instruction of it.”
“Excellent. Thank you, Dudley. I will have some tea in the dining room and read the gazette at four. I am sure I will need some fodder of thought before dinner time. I truly cannot wait to see what we shall be served up this time. It always intrigues me so.”
“Yes, Sir. Thank you. I shall ensure your afternoon tea is ready for four.”
The Duke sat alone for a while longer, and after a time he could hear the voices of his sister and Ms. Jones in the garden. He carefully noticed the maroon fabric of Ms. Jones’ day dress. She looked altogether radiant and her face was slightly flushed from the walk. In truth, he had not noticed her like that before. She too, had become a woman, like his beautiful sister.
He noticed, quite instantly, her long black hair, and it was the colour of a raven’s feathers. It was half tied up and the rest flowing down the back of her dress, with slight curls bouncing as she moved, walking gently alongside of his sister. He was taken with how wonderful they looked together, sharing ideas and talking about their love of going to the ball. He could not quite make out what they were saying, but was still ever so eager to watch their happy and allowing natures.
It seemed so natural the way they were together, similar to how he and his cousin James were. They each gave each other time to speak and would actively listen to the other. In his mind, it was exactly how great friends, kindred spirits should be.
Chapter 2
The Duke had looked at the women for long enough, and when doing the checking of his own fob watch, realised that it was getting close to afternoon tea time, a time where he would thoroughly enjoy reading the new instalment of the gazette news. He imagined for a moment that his cook was a feature in there, telling stories about her own servants and how each of them might get in the way, right before dinner time and at the most crucial of moments.
The thought of it made him laugh out loudly, and then he began walking through the colourful archway that was his late mother’s piece de resistance, as the French would call it. Her love for the French language was something she had savoured, like the books about flowers she had brought from her travels throughout England, always buying them as she visited delicate shops that stocked such beautiful and inspiring writings.
At times, his father, Albert had thought it somewhat ludicrous, reading about flowers and their histories in encyclopaedic terms. He had scorned her once, but seen the avid look in her eye for her want of knowledge for such things, and from there he had allowed it. Albert knew only too well that she longed for knowledge, just like his beautiful daughter, Selina also craved.
