Bedeviling lord coxford, p.1
Bedeviling Lord Coxford, page 1
Bedeviling Lord Coxford
by Tabetha Waite
Copyright © 2021 Tabetha Waite
Cover Design by The Swoonies Historical Romance Book Covers
This title is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to similarly named places or to persons living or deceased is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever, including but no limited to photocopy, digital, auditory, and/or in print, without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations for a review.
Also by Tabetha Waite
Ways of Love Historical Romance Series
How it All Began for the Baron (Christmas prequel novella)
Why the Earl is After the Girl (Book 1)
Where the Viscount Met His Match (Book 2)
When a Duke Pursues a Lady (Book 3)
Who the Marquess Dares to Desire (Book 4)
What a Gentleman Does for Love (Book 5)
Season of the Spinster Series
Triana’s Spring Seduction (Book 1)
Isabella’s Secret Summer (Book 2)
The Spinster’s Alluring Season (Book 2.5)
Alyssa’s Autumn Affair (Book 3)
Korina’s Wild Winter (Book 4)
Novellas
Twelve Gifts by Christmas
Lord Castleford’s Fortunate Folly (Fortunes of Fate #1)
A Lady’s Guide to Marriage
A Promise Beneath the Kissing Bough
Miss Pageant’s Christmas Proposal
The Scot’s Bairn
Bedeviling Lord Coxford
Novels
Behind a Moonlit Veil
The Secrets of Shadows
The Piper’s Paramour
Anthologies
Heyer Society (non-fiction essays)
The Young and the Ruined (Various Historical)
Short Stories
Love’s Frozen Kiss
Love Out of the Ashes
The Magic Shield
The Journey Toward Hope
Thistles & War
Four Calling Cards
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Dedication
For anyone else who has had to deal with their own version of a “mean girl.” And for the men who risk their patience to love them. Remember to dig a bit deeper, because sometimes things aren’t always what they seem.
Chapter One
London, England
September 15, 1812
Lady Honoria Pratt stepped out of her family’s coach and looked at the extravagant Grosvenor Square townhouse before her with a satisfied smile. It was lovely to be home after rusticating in the country for the past month. While her parents, the Duke and Duchess of Ollington, had a lavish estate outside of London, Honoria had missed the excitement and bustle of the city. If it wasn’t for her Cousin Penelope’s upcoming marriage, they might have remained there until Parliament reconvened in the spring.
She shuddered just thinking of it.
“Move along, Honoria,” her mother intoned firmly. “It won’t do to be seen gawking on the sidewalk in broad daylight.”
Honoria resisted rolling her eyes and strode up the steps where the door was promptly opened by the butler. She honestly didn’t remember his name, even though he’d been employed with her family for the past year. Then again, once she was old enough to enter society, little else had occupied her thoughts. And although she had gained any number of marriage proposals during her debut, she had turned them all down.
Only one man of late had interested her, the mysterious Sir Pierce Rutherford, but she rather thought his appeal had merely come from trying to snuff out the competition in Lady Rowena Freeham. Either way, all was lost when her father forbade the union upon finding out that Sir Pierce had been born a commoner. Thus, that had been the end of Honoria’s fun at a particularly staid house party.
The truth was, she didn’t wish to marry and become some man’s brood mare just yet. She had an entire lifetime ahead of her when she could bear children and turn into a dull, domesticated wife. For now, she intended to enjoy the diversion that the city provided.
Honoria was so excited to be back in London that she couldn’t decide what she wanted to do first. She’d seen everything countless times, of course, but she never tired of riding through these cobblestone streets and showing off her latest gown or bonnet, preening whenever she received the envious glances of the girls who were wearing last year’s cast off fashions. She didn’t generally have many friends because of her prideful nature, but neither did she care. Her father was one of the wealthiest men in the peerage, and she was inclined to let him spoil her as long as he wanted. There were advantages to being an only child, after all, so why not take appreciate the life she’d been given?
She headed upstairs to her bedchamber, intent on changing and heading back out to enjoy this rare sunny day. She knew her father would be shut up in his study for what remained of the day, while her mother took to her bed for a nap.
Her maid, Abigail, was unpacking Honoria’s trunks when she walked in. “The ivory day dress if you please. I should like to go shopping for the rest of the afternoon.”
Abigail paused her current task and instantly did as she was bid without a word. She’d learned long ago, when she’d been hired for the position of ladies’ maid, that Honoria didn’t intend for them to babble on and share confidences. Her father had been the one to teach her that the lines of society were drawn for a reason and that servants were hired to do a job, not to be friends.
After Abigail had helped her change, Honoria sat down at her dressing table and waited for her maid to freshen up her appearance, re-pinning a few straggling strands of blond hair that had come loose during the bumpy carriage ride. Honoria frowned at her complexion and pinched her cheeks to regain some of their pink color. She thought it went far to accentuate her blue eyes.
As Abigail finished, Honoria turned her lips upward in a satisfied smile. “That will do. Now gather your cloak. I’ve a mind to purchase some jewelry for Cousin Pen’s wedding next week.” She scrunched up her nose. “It will be amusing to show her what she’ll be missing out on when she marries that beggar of a viscount.”
***
“On the count of three!” Royce Ainsworth, Baron Coxford, shouted to the trio of men who were assisting the stranded carriage on the side of the road with its wheel mired in the mud. Thankfully, he hadn’t been the only one riding along the road at this time of day, or the lady and her chaperone might have been forced to walk to the nearest village for assistance. Their coachman was surely in no shape to do so, completely foxed as he was. Even now, he could be heard snoring in the driver’s seat, regardless of the thorough tongue lashing that Royce had offered him upon his arrival.
“One. Two. THREE!” he shouted, and then lifted with all of his strength. His muscles bunched, and perspiration broke out on his forehead, but between the four of them, their efforts weren’t in vain, for they were able to move the carriage out of the muck and back onto solid ground.
Royce set his hands on his knees until his breathing steadied and then offered a hand to each of his companions. Afterward, he walked over to the window of the carriage and addressed the ladies inside. “Mr. Smith has graciously offered to act as your coachmen until you reach your destination.”
The older woman inside nodded her head. “I would be most grateful, sir. Thank you.” With a frown, she added, “And rest assured that scoundrel who is responsible for all of this will find himself without a position or reference upon our arrival in London! That, I promise you!”
Royce didn’t doubt it as he bowed lightly. “Good day, ladies.”
He walked over and gathered his horse, a dappled gray gelding, and flung a leg over the saddle. Taking up the reins, he set out in a gentle canter. He’d set his jacket, waistcoat, and cravat before him, the early autumn sun making him reluctant to don them just yet. He was perfectly content to remain in his buff trousers, white cambric shirt, and black boots, but then he was generally found in such casual dress at his modest estate. In truth, he hadn’t ventured into the city in more than two years, content to take care of his tenants as their squire and local magistrate. He was here now at the behest of his good friend, Marcus Abram, the Viscount of Hollingham. Since they had been close acquaintances from the time they were in short pants and all through Harrow and Cambridge, he couldn’t very well deny a simple request to attend his upcoming nuptials. And since he was going to be in London, he decided that he might as well attend to a few things while he was here, such as meeting with his solicitor.
He glanced down at his mud-splattered attire and thought perhaps a visit to the tailors wasn’t out of the question either. No doubt, at the moment, he resembled a vagrant rather than a baron. However, since he’d never cared about impressing anyone from the ton, he merely hummed a tune and enjoyed the lovely day.
***
After only two hours on Bond Street, Honoria had purchased an emerald necklace and earbob set, a new bonnet, some ribbon, bobbin lace, and even ordered a new gown for the wedding. She had spent a small fortune, and while it should have given her great satisfaction in doing so, as usual, there was nothing but an empty void of enjoyment. No doubt she would feel revived once she was able to show it off amongst the ton, where the envious side glances would bring back her complacency.
Once her maid and coachman were both weighted down with her purchases, she instructed, “And now to Piccadilly, if you please. I’d like to make a stop at Fortnum Mason to take afternoon tea.”
Unfortunately, tragedy struck just as she was getting ready to cross the street.
A gust of wind caught the brim of her bonnet and threatened to rip it from her head, even though it was tied securely beneath her chin and held in place with a pin. Nevertheless, Honoria was so fixated on making sure the item stayed in place that she didn’t notice the man walking toward her on the sidewalk–until they effectively collided.
“Oh!” she cried out, as he immediately reached out to steady her with a gentle hand on her arm.
A deep, apologetic voice intoned, “I do beg your pardon, madam, I didn’t see—”
“That was apparent!” Honoria broke in crossly. With a disgusted huff, she ripped her arm from his grasp and turned to glare him down — but froze when she saw his face. He was positively handsome, with his golden hair and direct silver gaze, like some Greek Adonis who might have descended from atop Mt. Olympus. She was quite sure that she’d never seen him before, so who was he? A distant relative of a viscount? Or the nephew of a marquess, perhaps?
The wheels in her head started turning with interest — until she noticed his state of
lackadaisical dress and frowned. No self-respecting gentleman would be strolling along Bond Street clad only in his shirt and trousers. And with mud-splattered boots, no less. Obviously, he was nothing more than a common laborer, and she was horrified at the very prospect of being seen speaking with him. If her father were to learn of it, she would no doubt be chastised thoroughly, considering the last man she’d expressed interest in had been a former servant.
“You might be more cautious of where you’re going, sir,” she snapped. “Or you might find yourself without a position.”
He promptly lifted a curious brow at her set down. “That would be… regrettable,” he murmured.
She sniffed, tilting her chin upward, as she made a show of fixing her glove. “You should be lucky that I don’t find out who you work for to report this careless incident.”
He bowed lightly, and placed a hand over his heart. “In that case, I beg your forgiveness, my lady.”
If Honoria didn’t know better, she might have detected a slight sense of mockery twinkling in that glittering gaze, but after one last meaningful stare in his direction, she disregarded his presence like she did any other commoner who crossed her path and stalked off.
***
It’s nice to know that London hasn’t changed in my absence, Royce thought dryly, as he watched the lady climb into her coach. He didn’t miss the fact that the Duke of Ollington’s crest was emblazoned on the side as it rolled away.
He snorted, and shook his head as he continued on his way. He was already starting to miss the serene silence of the country, where he could walk across his estate without the discomfort of a cravat to choke him, and the snide glances that were sent his way for not donning a proper waistcoat. He’d most certainly had his fill of these spoiled debutantes when he was last in London, preferring to spend most of the time in his own company riding in Hyde Park in the early mornings before the fashionable set even rose from their beds. Either that, or he tended to explore the British Museum or visit Miss Salmon’s Waxworks where he could enjoy the false company of others without their loud and vocal opinions.
He thought of the lady he’d just encountered, the unfortunate scene replaying in his mind. With her expressive blue eyes and elegant blond hair, she might have been rather pleasing to look at — if only she had kept her mouth shut. It was the sting of her tongue that ruined that outward innocent affect. But since she was obviously the daughter of one of the highest ranks of nobility, it was no wonder she preferred to keep her nose in the air. She likely thought she had the right to look down upon others.
How he would love to take her on a tour of the East End, to show her how the poor struggled, or even to his modest hamlet where the villagers were grateful for something as simple as a good fall harvest. Perhaps then she might come down off her throne for a time to see what humility looked like. But then, he doubted it would even make a difference.
However, it was this reminder of the upcoming reaping that had Royce striding down the sidewalk a bit faster. Once Marcus’s wedding was concluded, he had to return to his estate with all due haste. His tenants would be counting on him to help bring in the wheat, as he did every year. He wasn’t shy when it came to physical labor. In truth, he enjoyed the opportunity to do something out of doors, rather than spend his time bent over an estate ledger, or lazing about the manor. And since his tenants were good enough to keep their rents paid, he thought the least he could do was lend a hand to help ensure that they made it through the winter with food in their bellies. Besides, wasn’t that the point of true human nature, to assist your fellow man?
He thought of the pert blonde he’d just left and felt quite sure that she’d never done anything to inspire kindness. The quantity of her purchases told him that she was more concerned over outward appearances.
Royce reminded himself that the lady didn’t matter, since he would likely not be crossing paths with her again during his brief sojourn into the city, but he couldn’t shake the idea that it would have been rather interesting to agitate her a bit, to unnerve that confident exterior and see if there really was a true lady beneath it all.
Chapter Two
“I hope you will try to keep your transgressions to a minimum this evening, Honoria.”
She glanced up at her father’s stern voice and encountered his firm expression on the other side of the carriage, the one that had always caused her courage to shrivel up inside when she was a child. Thankfully, she’d grown old enough to withstand his intimidation.
“I wouldn’t care for another repeat of what happened in Standon,” he continued. I daresay it was hard enough to silence the scandal in the country. In London, it would be even more catastrophic.”
“Of course, Papa,” she returned with a sweet smile. “I shall be the model of propriety.”
He didn’t reply, only turned his head to stare out the window. Honoria glanced at her mother, who sat beside him, but was looking in the opposite direction. Not for the first time, Honoria wondered if they had ever loved each other. Then again, she had always been taught that sentimentality was considered a weakness one shouldn’t waste time trying to obtain. Wealth and position was what mattered in society.
The carriage rolled to a stop in front of an affluent townhouse on the other side of Mayfair. While her aunt and uncle’s residence wasn’t as grand as theirs, it was still rather impressive with its set of Palladian columns near the entrance.
Once they had given their outerwear over to the butler, they were shown into the parlor where the rest of the guests had assembled before dinner. It was the first time that Honoria and her parents would be introduced to Penelope’s future husband, Lord Hollingham. Of course, Honoria had seen him among various ton events, but this was his first official introduction to the family before the upcoming wedding.
Her cousin was standing with her intended, but when she spied them, she glided over to Honoria with her arms outstretched in welcome. After giving her a slight kiss on either side of her cheeks, Penelope said, “I’m so glad you were able to come this evening.” She turned to offer a curtsy to the duke and duchess. “Your Graces.”
