Every Duke has a Silver Lining (The Wayward Woodvilles Book 4) Read online

  Contents

  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

  Epilogue

  Don’t Miss Tamara’s Other Romance Series

  About the Author

  Copyright

  Every Duke has a Silver Lining

  The Wayward Woodvilles, Book 4

  Copyright © 2022 by Tamara Gill

  Cover Art by Wicked Smart Designs

  Editor Grace Bradley Editing, LLC

  * * *

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  * * *

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a database and retrieval system or transmitted in any form or any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the owner of copyright and the above publishers.

  Chapter

  One

  London Season, 1808

  Ashley glanced out the carriage window and frowned, her stomach in knots, her head spinning over what she was supposed to do. She glanced back at her friends seated across from her, their wide, laughing eyes no support or help.

  "I cannot do this. What if I'm caught! If any gentleman who knows my family or recognizes me tells, I'll be ruined."

  "You lost the bet," Anna stated, throwing her a disapproving look. Her closest friend in London, Lady Anna, was always up to no good and seemed to get away with it more often than not. Probably because she was an earl’s daughter, and no one suspected the lady to be as wicked as she was.

  But Lady Anna was not so innocent, and this bet that Ashley lost to her was proof of that. The task was impossible, not to mention dangerous.

  She groaned, looking out onto the darkened street again, seeing several gentlemen enter the premises several houses down the dark lane. A gentleman's gaming club, or supposedly it was, so Anna stated, but Ashley was not so sure. Several women of dubious employment had entered while they had been stationed here, and she was starting to think it was more than a place for men to lose their money.

  Their virginity, too, for those who had it to lose.

  "If you go around the back, there will be an entrance. My brother told me so during one of his nights of revelry when he was still in his cups and told me all he got up to." Anna laughed. "Upstairs, you will find the office and subsequent desk of Grady Kolten. The bastard Duke of Blackhaven, or he will be when he inherits from his father."

  The name sounded as ominous as this dare. “All you need to do is take his quill, and you would have done what we all promised should any of us have lost the bet. Which," she said, raising her brow and looking down her straight nose at her, "you indeed did."

  "I do not believe our little bet on cards is worth my reputation. If he catches me, he could drag me back to Mayfair by the ear and throw me before the duke. Or worse, demand my brother-in-law hand over blunt to release me. There are a million ways this could go wrong."

  Ashley chewed the end of her glove, reconsidering this night and her three friends who would make her do such a thing. How she wished her best friend from Grafton was in town. Daphne would know what to do.

  "Do not spoil the evening," Paisley whined. "I had to steal the quill from Lady Jenkin's desk, and it had a golden tip. No doubt she will be missing it and will demand answers from her staff."

  "Maybe you ought to return that," Caroline interjected. "We do not want to take anything of value from these people. Especially since this is only a game."

  "Come now, Ashley. Go about the back, run upstairs, grab the quill, and be done with it. You will be in and out in five minutes, and we will not leave without you. All will be well, trust me," Anna said, her smile all innocence.

  Ashley sighed, slipping the hood from her domino over her head and jumping from the carriage. Her silk slippers dampened, and she glanced down. The unmentionable puddle made her evening merely more revolting.

  Slamming the carriage door and glaring at her friends, she turned and started down the lane that ran beside the gaming hell. Coming to the yard, she could see many empty wooden pallets stacked neatly around the fence. Empty wine and beer bottles stacked in neat piles. They certainly went through a lot of beverages at this venue.

  She kept to the shadows as much as she could before she came to a solid-wood door. Pushing on it, she prayed it was locked, and her excursion would be over, but surprisingly it was not. It creaked, the sound like a drum as it slowly swung open before she slipped through and into the hell.

  The sound of men laughing, shouts of betting on the gaming tables, and music floated through the building, but far enough away that she hoped she would not be seen. The corridor was long, and halfway down, a staircase led to the second floor. Checking she was alone, she started up the stairs and came to the top to find another corridor with rooms leading off it.

  Which one would be this Grady Kolten's office? For a moment, she stood there, unsure which direction to turn, before taking a guess and heading left.

  The upstairs was eerily quiet, and her stomach roiled with nerves. What would she do if anyone caught her? What would she do if the person who did find her snooping about was dangerous and caused her harm?

  She stilled as a creaking board sounded behind her, and was about to flee from this nightmare of her own making when the startling cold press of metal against her neck halted even her heart.

  Oh dear God, I am going to die.

  "Looking for something?" a deep, gravelly voice whispered against her ear. She dared not move as the pinch of the blade stung. Had he cut her? How would she explain the mark to her family? If she ever saw them again, that was.

  "I'm sorry, sir. I meant no harm. It was merely a lark—a bet. I should not be here. I should not have come," she babbled, closing her mouth to halt the panic she heard in her voice.

  "Hmm," he said, taking the knife from her throat and hoisting her over his shoulder as if she weighed no more than a flour sack. He strode into a room with one window, a large desk, and several walls of shelving and slammed the door closed on her escape. Ashley sent up a final prayer to the heavens to try to get her out of this predicament. She should never have listened to her friends. She should never have come. And now, she would die in the cesspit of East London, and her family would never know why.

  * * *

  Grady slipped the featherlight woman off his shoulder, ignoring the sweet ass he'd gripped to hold her steady, and threw her onto the daybed, which sat beneath his office window.

  He stood back, staring down at the miss, and cursed. She was a lady. The diamond earbobs told him that, if the perfectly unblemished skin and clear eyes did not. He took a calming breath, not needing such
a distraction. Not tonight, in any case. He had a gaming hell to run, a life to lead. A mistress to bed. He did not need this young miss messing up his debauched plans.

  "What are you doing prying about my hell? Do you even know where you are, Miss…" he asked, hoping she would give him her name.

  She raised her chin, setting her hood off her head to sit on her shoulders. She patted at her dark-brown hair, checking the curls were in place while watching him with eyes that were too wide, too perfect to be true.

  Damn, the idiot chit was pretty.

  "I'm Ashley, and what I said upon meeting you, sir, was true. I'm here only as a lark, a game with my friends. I lost a bet, so I was sent on a mission to steal the quill off your desk. I see now the error of my way, so if you'll excuse me, I shall be going now."

  She stood and went to step past him, and Grady clasped her shoulders, pushing her back onto the daybed, not quite ready to let her leave. It had been some time since he had been around such a beautiful woman of rank. He narrowed his eyes, wondering who she really was. She was not just Ashley nobody.

  "And your surname, so I may inform your family of your wayward antics here this evening?"

  Her eyes flew wide, and she strode over to him, taking his hands and squeezing them with more strength than he thought her capable of. "Oh no, you cannot tell my family. I will be sent home, and I'm so enjoying the Season so far. I have many suitors, and although they're as young as me, some are nice and have potential. If I'm sent home, I shall have no options for a husband, and that will never do."

  Grady's lips twitched, and he cleared his throat, reminding himself that this was not an amusing situation. "You could have been raped and murdered in this part of London. Do you know how dangerous it is for a woman of your position to have snuck into a gaming hell? This could have been a dwelling of ill repute, and you could, right at this moment, be under a man who would have your skirts lifted, taking his fill. Did you think of that, Ashley?" he asked her, ignoring the pang of guilt as she flinched at his words.

  He meant to be cruel. She ought to realize how dangerous her being here was. The silly little fool could have lived her last night on earth, not merely London. She could have ended up floating facedown in the Thames.

  And now he had to decide what to do with her, so she did not.

  Chapter

  Two

  Ashley stared up at the behemoth of a man who she assumed was Grady Kolten, but her friend had mentioned him as being the bastard Duke of Blackhaven? He was a gentleman then, and surely that would mean a little of his breeding would keep him from hurting her.

  "Are you truly the future Duke of Blackhaven?" she asked him, her attention snapping to his uncouth dressing habits. The man was an enigma. He certainly did not look like a gentleman. His hair was in need of a good trim, and there was a distinct shadowing of stubble on his jaw. Not to mention his clothing. While clean and respectable, it was certainly not cut from the best tailor in London, but still, his breeches did fit and hug his form very well.

  The man was devastatingly handsome but gave off an air of danger in all truth. A man who ought never to be crossed—the small scar across his left cheekbone proof of that.

  While he may be born noble, she did not think he had always acted so. She gained the impression that no matter how angry he was at her being here or how annoying her presence, he would not hurt her. He may scold her, and deservedly so, but nothing more.

  He frowned, and she got a glimpse of the hardness of the fellow, a man who made his living in the seedier sides of London and did not take fools lightly.

  "I'm not a duke yet," he said, rubbing his jaw, the sound of stubble being stroked all she could hear.

  "You do not attend the Season?" she asked him, hoping just a little that the overbearing, foreboding, and utterly devastating gentleman before her may scuff the boards during her coming-out year. He would certainly make the otherwise mundane Season gain a little levity.

  He threw back his head and bellowed in laughter. She sighed, not needing him to answer to tell her what he thought of that notion.

  Ashley looked about the room, surprised now that she was right-side up how comfortable and opulent the space was. Nothing like she had assumed upon first arriving there. She had thought it would be drafty, without comforts, and hard like the man himself.

  She waited for his amusement to subside before she would bother to ask him any more questions.

  "Come, you're leaving, and if I see you wandering the halls of this hell again, you will not like the punishment, Ashley," he said, pulling her toward the door.

  She wrenched from his hold, lifting her chin. "I can leave without your assistance. I have a carriage waiting."

  He raised his brow, striding to the door and ripping the greatcoat off the brass hook, slipping his muscular arms through the coat and distracting her a moment.

  Ashley licked her parched lips.

  She followed him and ignored the fact he did not wait for her but merely believed she would follow him like a puppy. The man was infuriating. What future duke did not know proper manners toward a lady? Even one who lived most of his time in gaming hells.

  "If you're to be a duke, what are you now? Do not men of your ilk have a courtesy title until they come into their inheritance?"

  His shoulders stiffened, and he shook his head. "You're very meddling for a debutante. Is this why you're not yet married? No husband willing to put up with your incessant chatter? It grates on my ears, if you want any sort of truth."

  Never in her life had she been spoken to with such little respect, and she glared at his back. "You're very rude, my lord as well," she said. "I was merely trying to start a conversation."

  He scoffed, starting down the stairs. "Tell me who you are, Ashley, and I may be truthful in turn. Not that I do not have an inkling…"

  "Inkling, my lord. Please enlighten me," she said.

  He stopped on the stairs, turning, and his height, even two steps before her, made him still higher than herself. Her mind blanked as to what they were talking of for a moment. She stopped, almost colliding with his chest. This close to him, the scent of sandalwood and lavender teased her senses. Her attention snapped to his lips, full and mocking as he stared at her.

  Ashley swallowed, the pit of her stomach twisting into delicious knots. Who was this man? So mysterious, dark, and foreboding. How could a lady not be affected?

  "A duke's daughter or some peer of the realm, I would guess. A woman used to getting everything she wishes without a thought to others. Your little escapade here this evening reeks of privilege and stupidity. The thought you're invincible, and nothing bad will happen to you because of who you are. Am I right?"

  Ashley gaped before shutting her mouth with a snap and glaring at him for the hundredth time. The man was impossible. "I'm not nobility like you, my lord. My father is a gentleman, gentry, but not titled. Growing up with my four sisters, I shared a maid and knew all the servants by name at my parents’ home. I do not think the same could be said of you, future duke," she said, knowing her use of the title was incorrect but wanting to make a point of it in any case. Especially since the man refused to tell her his current title and who he was known by now.

  Something flickered in his green eyes, respect perhaps, but certainly disapproval. "I had no servants growing up, so it seems we're both wrong, in a way," he added as if an afterthought.

  Ashley said not another word, merely followed him out the back of the hell where the empty pallets of beverages sat. "Where to now?" she asked him. "Are you going to let me leave?"

  He clasped her arm, dragging her along the shadowy lane. "No. I'm taking you home, and I'll tell your family what you did this evening. They will know what to do with a hellion like you."

  Ashley's heart faltered. No, she would not be sent home. The heathen would not get away with this. This was her time in London, and she’d be damned if she would miss it simply because she bested him and his pathetic security at the hell.
br />   "The hell you will," she said, wrenching his hold on her before she ran as if the devil himself were after her. Which she wasn't certain was not the case.

  Chapter

  Three

  Grady allowed her to think she had escaped before with a few quick steps, he hoisted her over his shoulder for a second time. He strode to the carriage that waited at the top of the lane, three pairs of wide, fearing eyes stared at him as he made his way toward them.

  The driver tipped his hat to Grady, and he nodded in reply. "Mayfair if you please," he said, opening the carriage door. He hoisted Ashley inside the carriage, ignoring her gasp of offense when his hand slid down her leg. He followed close behind, sitting beside her, more than aware of her presence.

  He took a calming breath, wrenching his greatcoat into place and ignoring his body's response to the menacing chit.

  "You three," he growled, taking in the three women looking at him as if he were about to chop off their heads from their swanlike necks. "Where in Mayfair do you reside? I will see each of you home and hope that I do not see you here again. I will not be so accommodating next time."

  The three girls nodded, mumbling their addresses—all but one. Ashley remained mulish and quiet at his side. Her presence made his skin prickle in awareness, and his idea to see her home now seemed a foolish error.

  The scent of jasmine wafted in the vehicle, and he breathed deep. So long since he had smelled such sweet air. His hell often reeked of sweat and sex when his customers made use of the ladies who plied their trade behind his doors.