A matter of honor and pa.., p.1
A Matter of Honor and Passion: A Historical Regency Romance Book, page 1
A Matter of Honor and Passion
A REGENCY ROMANCE NOVEL
LUCY LANGTON
Copyright © 2020 by Lucy Langton
All Rights Reserved.
This book may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form without the written permission of the publisher.
In no way is it legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document in either electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited and any storage of this document is not allowed unless with written permission from the publisher.
Table of Contents
A Matter of Honor and Passion
Table of Contents
Free Exclusive Gift
A Matter of Honor and Passion
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
Epilogue
Romancing an Alluring Lady
Introduction
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Free Exclusive Gift
Sign up for my mailing list to be notified of hot new releases and get my latest Full-Length Novel “The Enchanted by a Fiery Lady” (available only to my subscribers) for FREE!
Click the link or enter it into your browser
http://lucylangton.com/adelaide
A Matter of Honor and Passion
Introduction
Sir Laurence Jameson was always a successful negotiator and his reward for it was a title and acres of land, ascending him into the stratosphere of the social elite. When an accident during a wild storm renders him amnesiac, with no recall of either his recent or distant past, his life will change forever. Rescued at the last moment, destiny brings Laurence, a seductive lady to his side, to care for him. Why does he feel such an instant attraction though? Was this accidental meeting a coincidence or was it meant to be?
Recently freed from her position due to the death of her employer’s father, Harriet is experiencing first-hand the hardships of being a fiery woman with neither a name nor any prospects of a suitor. Life will bring her to the nursing bed of the dashing Sir Laurence, with the only aim to bring him back to good health. Her task will prove to be unexpectedly challenging, as the sizzling passion between them is undeniable. But when his darkest secret is revealed, will she give him a second chance?
Once Laurence regains his memory, she will find out that he is the notorious Sir Laurence she’s been fighting against for months, petitioning against his land development. Harriet’s own romantic feelings will be thrown into chaos when she realizes who she has been helping. Will Sir Laurence reciprocate the love and kindness he has received? Or will he ignore his chance at true love again over his lust for money and power?
Chapter 1
“I say, Pembroke, let’s call it a night,” Sir Laurence Jameson said to his companion at the other side of the oaken table in the smoke-filled card room.
Lord Alexander Pembroke clicked his tongue and scratched his thick coffee brown hair. “You’ve got to let me win back all you’ve won from me.”
Laurence grinned. “Now, milord, I believe you can hear the rampage going on outside. I believe a storm is brewing.”
As if to collaborate what he was saying, the wind howled and beat against the French windows.
Grinning at his friend’s use of his title, he sighed. “Very well, Laurence. I’ll let you go this time. But next time, you can be sure that not a single penny will come to you.”
Laurence broke out in guffaws. “Aren’t you tired of making empty threats, Pembroke? You say those exact words every time you lose. Perhaps we should stop these card games. I wouldn’t want you to declare bankruptcy very soon.”
Pembroke threw back his head as hearty laughter poured out from his chest.
“A man wins a mere five hundred pounds, and he thinks he has won my whole inheritance. It’s going to take you quite a number of games for you to get me penniless, Laurence.”
His friend chuckled, cocking an eyebrow. “I’m a very patient man. I’ll wait for that day.”
“You might have to wait forever, Laurence. I don’t intend becoming a beggar for your sake.”
Grinning, Laurence replied as he languidly rose to his feet. “Then perhaps you should find someone to take lessons from. Mayhap, Huntington and Montrose might come to your aid.”
Pembroke made retching sounds from his throat, causing his friend’s chest to rumble with laughter.
“Those arrogant bastards? I’d rather take my chances with you,” Pembroke declared and shook with trepidation at the thought of asking those two men for help.
Still grinning, Laurence pushed back his chair. He stood for a moment to throw the remnants of the liquid in the glass down his throat. He always favored the Spanish Madeira ever since his days in the high seas and his only friend, Pembroke provided him with the good stuff, not the watered down imitation that were provided in some taverns.
The liquor brought back memories of when he used to be a successful agent and privateer with the aid of the shipping company he inherited from his uncle.
Although the occupation had been derisible and of questionable character to him, he enjoyed it wholeheartedly. The feel of the wind on his face, the thrill of a voyage, the fear when he and his crew encountered a wild and raging storm in the seas made his mouth run dry.
All that were in the past now—ever since he was commissioned by the Regent’s navy to execute a delicate extraction and negotiation of a political prisoner from Algiers, a permanent guest of the Ottoman Empire. The pirates were known for plundering ships in the Mediterranean as well as kidnapping wealthy people for a huge ransom. They were also adept at taking slaves and merchandize.
His successful negotiation and subsequent plunder of the Algiers fleet meant a knighthood and reward of both title and land, as well as a substantial annuity from the crown ascending him as Sir Laurence into the stratosphere of the social elite, but never quite on par with the true aristocracy. He was seen as something of a social rebel, but no misfit. He was tolerated only for his cunning, forward planning, and most of all, his desire to aid those far richer than himself to succeed further, for a nominal fee, of course.
Laurence was a self-made man, and what the ton called new money, but he didn’t mind. He had worked very hard to get to where he was. However, sometimes he wondered if it had been worth it, taking the commission.
He missed going on voyages. He longed to captain a ship again. The image of him standing in his office on his ship surrounded by ship journals, plans, navaltomes, maps, sketching tables, canvases of ships, and liquor flashed through his mind.
The thrill of seeing his cargo hauled in containing cotton, rum, sugar, tobacco, and clothing flowed within him.
He let out a deep sigh, causing his friend to raise a brow. That was his past now. Although he still had the shipping company, he had relinquished control to his next in command. A knight couldn’t be seen in the Mediterranean, accosting pirates and taking their merchandize, which he did just for the thrill of it sometimes.
Now, he conducted his business on land, and with respectable gentlemen, not pirates with dirt of the sea on them or farmers who couldn’t string a complete sentence of English together.
Some considered him fortunate to have received the commission which changed his life and introduced him to aristocracy. Sometimes, he didn’t think so.
His mind drifted back to the present. He realized then that he had been standing there, staring at the empty glass cup. Shaking off his past from the recesses of his mind, he looked at the lord who had been staring at him with queer eyes.
“Please ring for your butler to get my belongings. I’ll see you in the morning,” Laurence instructed his friend as he placed the glass on the table.
Pembroke rose, settling incredulous eyes on his friend. “Surely you don’t mean to go out in this terrible weather.”
With a smile twisting his lips, Laurence nodded and said, “That’s exactly what I mean to do.”
Pembroke shook his head. “You always have been a stubborn mule, Laurence.”
“You know me well, Pembroke.”
“However, in this happenstance, I beseech you to stay here for the night. You can return to your hotel first thing in the morning,” Pembroke suggested mildly.
Laurence shook his head and stubbornly said, “I will do no such thing.”
Although Pembroke’s London apartments were very cozy, Laurence sought privacy. Whenever they were both in London for business, he usually stayed at a hotel. He didn’t want that to change.
“Be reasonable, Laurence,” Pembroke pressed, “t he storm will break out any minute now.”
Laurence listened to the whistling of the wind outside and grimaced. “I’ll be fine, Pembroke. My hotel, I believe, is less than a mile from here if I’m not mistaken.”
“Even if it were just next door, I wouldn’t advise you to go out in that terrible weather.”
“Stop being a worrisome sot, Pembroke. I’ll simply walk down to the hotel before the storm breaks.”
“What about your winnings? It’s dangerous carrying such a sum about. Miscreants will be about at this time of the day.”
“I’ll deposit it in the bank first thing tomorrow morning,” he informed his worried friend, “and as for any scoundrel who comes my way, he will get a bullet in the head for his troubles.”
Pembroke grinned at that. Laurence returned the smile. His revolver was in his coat pocket, and he wouldn’t fail to use it at the first sign of trouble, though he believed it was highly unlikely to encounter a brigand in this weather. There were desperate ones out there, though. He was certain that he could handle himself.
When his friend continued to look at him with concern, Laurence grinned and said, “As they say in the colonies, ‘I wasn’t born in the woods to be scared by an owl.’” For his friend’s understanding, he said, “It means that after my life in the sea and facing many challenges including the threat of death, I’m not afraid of anything. Better to war out than to rust out.”
An indiscernible expression crossed Pembroke’s face. The lord shrugged. “Alright, Laurence. If you say so.” Then he rang for his butler to get his guest’s coat, hat, and gloves.
Laurence strode out of the card room to the impressive vestibule. After adorning his pieces of clothing which were handed to him by the butler, he turned to his friend.
“Thank you for an entertaining evening, Pembroke. I’ll see you in the morning.” He slightly tilted his hat at his friend.
Pembroke nodded at him. A massive draught of wind burst into the house immediately the butler opened the massive oaken door. Laurence cursed audibly as the waft almost upset his hat. Nevertheless, he obdurately strode out the door.
Lord Pembroke stood in the hall, staring at the closed door. He couldn’t believe that Laurence had bolshily gone out into the storm. He shouldn’t be surprised, though. Laurence had always courted danger and laughed at the face of death.
Truth be told, he was slightly in awe of the tall, dark and handsome man, which was a novelty to him. Laurence had genuine strengths as a competent seaman and explorer, businessman, landholder, and gentleman. Something that he, Pembroke knew nothing about. He could only pride himself as a businessman, but he didn’t think he was as astute as his neighbor and friend.
They had become very good friends over the years, consoling each other when they both lost their spouses to scarlet fever around the same time. They also shared a few vices except cards. Both of them were in a constant ebb and flow of debt and credit to each other, with them seeking refuge from the disturbing quiet of their privileged lives in the turbulent harbours, risk and potential loss.
They were also allies in their shared business projects to clear a section of the countryside for a new housing development, seeing a few hundred villagers moved on, and a deer park, with suitable and opulent country houses established for the social elite for when they visited Sussex, giving even the lowest of the ‘well-to-do’ a little country estate to call their own.
Pembroke couldn’t wait for the project to start. It was the reason they were in London. Although they had witnessed a small drawback in their plans, he believed it would be sorted out soon.
The lord turned away to retire to his room, hoping his friend would make it in time before the storm finally released its wrath.
Chapter 2
“Dammit!” Laurence cursed heavily.
He wished now that he had listened to his friend because he had miscalculated the severity of the storm. He hadn’t thought that it would be this disastrous. Although he had experienced a great many storms in the seas, at least he would have gone under. But there was no escaping this one. He toyed with the idea of going back to Pembroke’s place, but when he turned around, he couldn’t make out anything or the direction from which he had come.
It was pitch dark, and things were flying in the air from every direction. Ahead of him, he saw people scuttling for cover and shelter of any kind. The wind howled all around him as if trying to tell him it served him right for not listening to his friend.
He had since lost his hat despite the fact that he had tried to hold on to it. Now, his head was bare and his hair was plastered to it as showers from the rain bathed him.
The frustrated man cursed again as he tightened his coat around his body. He could hardly see in the violent wind. A newspaper covered his face, and he tore it off and glared at the offending piece of paper with annoyance. He threw it away and forged on in the dark, determined to get to his destination whether the storm liked it or not.
Laurence stood for a moment and tried to get his bearings. The blasted tempest had blighted the entire city, eliminating any landmark he could have held on to. He gritted his teeth at where Pembroke’s London home and the hotel were situated; almost in the outskirts of the city.
If it had been positioned in the main streets, he would have commissioned a carriage to take him to the hotel. Alas, that wasn’t the case. Even though it would have been dangerous since vagabonds went about at this time of the day, his revolver, which he knew how to use very well, would have given the man or men second thoughts.
Laurence sighed. Unfamiliar with the area, he decided to trace back the direction from which he had come. Although there were no landmarks to guide him, he trudged forward.
Feeling the weight of being stranded with no houses in sight except dilapidating sheds that several people had already taken shelter in, he walked on against the wind. It would be very dangerous of him to continue walking in the storm for a long time because he was sure to catch his death of cold. He was already soaking wet as it was; his hair clung to his head, and his clothes clung to his body.
It was useless trying to go back to Pembroke’s residence. Besides, he had come too far to go back. It was better he continued forward with the hope of eventually finding the hotel than walking back there and getting further lost.
