My Reckless Earl (The Wayward Woodvilles Book 7) 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

  Epilogue

  Don’t Miss Tamara’s Other Romance Series

  About the Author

  Copyright

  My Reckless Earl

  The Wayward Woodvilles, Book 7

  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, 1811

  Harlow York took a fortifying breath and entered Lord and Lady Craig's conservatory. She prayed she was not about to walk in on Lord Kemsley in the throes of passion with some other random debutante or widow of the ton.

  She closed her eyes a moment, pausing on the threshold of the room, and sent up a silent prayer that her worst nightmare would not come to pass. The scent of the hot house seemed more potent when one took a moment to close one’s eyes to the room's physical beauty.

  The scents of wisteria, roses, and citrus trees filled her senses, and she breathed deep, stepping into the room.

  "I would ask you what you're doing at the doors to this conservatory looking as if you're about to faint, but I will not. Instead, I will merely ask you why do you have your eyes closed and why are you following me, Miss York?" The deep baritone of Lord Kemsley drifted from the shadows of the vast, glass room.

  Harlow swallowed her nerves, ignored his strange commentary on her closed eyes, and started in the direction she believed he stood.

  "I came to speak to you, Lord Kemsley. I hope I have not interrupted you."

  He stepped out of the shadow of a large orange tree, and so too did the widow Randall. The blush on the dowager's cheeks told Harlow without words how they had occupied themselves in their few minutes alone.

  "I apologize. I did not know you were not alone."

  "And nor should you ever know that," Lady Randall cooed, running her hand along Lord Kemsley's chest before sauntering past Harlow. "But do not worry, Miss York. Your secret is safe with me so long as mine is safe with you."

  Harlow nodded and fought not to cast up her accounts. He had a lover? A woman who was not Harlow. Pain shot through her chest, and she fisted her hands at her sides to stop herself from stomping her foot at the unfairness of it all.

  "What can I help you with, Miss York?" he drawled, lighting a cheroot and walking to her, towering over her like the god she had always believed him to be.

  She stopped herself from sighing at how lovely he was, even knowing he had lovers. Of course, a man like Lord Kemsley shared his bed with society women who did not need husbands. Such as the lucky widow Lady Randall.

  He was a man, and he could do as he wished.

  But would he do as Harlow wished?

  "I need your assistance, my lord," she managed, glad her voice came out determined and not shaky with undecidedness. "I've come here tonight to ask for it."

  He breathed deep into his cheroot, his eyes narrowing as the smoke wafted past his eyes. "My help? Really?" He paused, chewing his bottom lip. "What does the Season's diamond require with my help? I would not think you were in need of any."

  "I'm no longer the diamond. Miss Marshall has been named this year's incomparable, and I'm very happy for her. And more than happy to relinquish my title, for it would only get in the way of what I want this year."

  He raised his brow, staring down at her over his straight, aristocratic nose. "Do explain."

  Harlow nodded. This was it, the time she would say her piece and hope for the best. What was the worst that could happen?

  He could say no and laugh you out of this room.

  She pushed the horrible thought aside and promised herself it would all be well. He was not a mean man. He may be one of London's most debauched rogues, but he was never so bedeviled as not to dance with and say pretty words to the young ladies who crossed his path each Season.

  Although she did not know his age, he could not be so much older than her elder sister Lila.

  "You see, my lord, I'm in love with a man who does not love me in return. In fact, there are times when I do not think he even knows that I exist, but I want to change that truth."

  "Really?" he said, his lips twitching and showing the first sign of amusement, and not annoyance, at her interrupting him. "And how is seeking me out going to help you with this love interest of yours?"

  "Well …" She gulped. "I want you to show me how I, as a young woman who has so much to learn, may understand what I need to do to make the gentleman I admire see me."

  "You want my tutelage on the art of courtship?" He frowned, shaking his head. "You want me to help you speak to his lordship? I'm not certain I understand."

  "Well, a conversation is certainly a factor that I shall need to get better at, but there are other things too. Other things that a man may like a woman to be well-versed in that would help his lordship see me as something other than another debutante looking for a good match."

  Harlow stared at him, hoping he would not make her say what she feared he understood but still played ignorant of.

  "Such as?" he asked again, the grin on his lips now a full, wicked smile.

  "Such as," she started, clearing her throat. Heat kissed her cheeks, and she licked her lips, looking anywhere but at Lord Kemsley's smug visage. "Such as in the ways of seduction. How I may saunter near my intended. Coy looks or touches when we speak. Maybe even a kiss or two," she suggested.

  His deep, guttural chuckle made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end, and not in a terrifying way. "You want me to teach you how to seduce the man of your heart?"

  Harlow nodded, unable to voice a reply.

  "Well, that is bold of you, Miss York. I did not think a little mouse from Grafton would have such plans for a lord of the realm, but how mistaken I am."

  "I understand if you do not wish to proceed, my lord. And if you do not, I ask that you not share my plans with my family or friends. They would not understand or approve."

  He studied her a moment, and she wondered what he saw when he looked at her. A woman of sun-kissed hair. A woman with a mole above her lip and freckles on her nose after spending too much time outdoors these past weeks after the cold winter. She was not usually one to spend time in the garden, but being back in Grafton during the winter, the few warm weeks before they returned to London, she longed to be outdoors. Freckles,
unfortunately, were an occupational hazard when one sits and plots how to win a rogue's heart.

  Lord Kemsley's heart, to be exact ...

  * * *

  Wes was a little foxed. In fact, for a moment, he thought the delectable Miss York was an apparition sprung from his inebriation that had formed before him, asking him to do all kinds of mischief.

  But how wrong he was.

  She was not a figment of his imagination. She was very real and very much asking him to teach her how to seduce some unknown gentleman in London this Season.

  He thought her antics with his good friend Viscount Billington last Season had been outrageous, but how wrong he was. The woman had no end to her plots and plans.

  "How far will this teaching of mine go, Miss York? You know I'm a rake, which I'm certain is why you've singled me out, but how far do you wish to take your lessons?" he asked, calling the chit’s bluff. She would not go too far. She was a maid, after all. Pure and untouchable, as all of them were. She would not allow him to kiss her, so her teachings would be dull indeed.

  But then he inwardly shrugged. That may still secure her a match. There were certainly enough boring, staid gentlemen in town who did not mind a frigid wife.

  She swallowed, biting her bottom lip, and he took a deep breath. The younger Miss York had always caught his attention. There was something mischievous about her that he had always marveled at. Her escapades with his good friend last Season confirmed those suspicions.

  "As I said, my lord, I will require teachings on what I should speak about when we dance, what touches or looks work on you that may work on my mystery gentleman. I cannot fail at winning the man I want, so I shall need to know if there is any time that a woman, an unmarried woman such as myself, should offer more than light flirtation." She paused, biting that delectable lip again and his vision of her swam. "I would like to know if there is any time I ought to offer my lips to the gentleman."

  Wes swallowed. Hard. This was not the sort of conversation he ought to be having as foxed as he was. "You want me to kiss you?"

  "What!" she gasped, her eyes growing wide. "No, well …" she hedged. "Not yet, at least, but maybe a little into our lessons."

  Wes closed his eyes, his cock twitching at the thought of taking Miss York's lips, even if solely due to lessons in seduction she was asking for. He wasn't sure he could stop at one kiss if Harlow York was in his arms.

  "I do not think it is a good idea," he said, glad that the little bit of gentlemanly caution had stepped forward and forced those words out of his mouth. "I'm a rake, and if you're caught anywhere alone with me, such as you are now, marriage will be to me, and no one else, and I do not think that is what you want. Correct me if I'm wrong," he demanded of her.

  She opened her mouth as if to say something but snapped it closed. "You could teach me in secret. No one needs to know. I trust you because you are my brother-in-law's friend, and my sister holds you in great esteem. I know you will not hurt me or overstep your bounds. I will be safe with you, my lord."

  Wes stared at Miss York, unsure if he wanted to laugh hysterically at her words and prove her wrong or spend a few enjoyable weeks teaching her before walking away once she secured the man she desired.

  He debated the pros and cons of her plan and blinked when she wobbled before him again. He really ought to make a decision with a clear head, not right now when he was foxed.

  "Please, my lord," she said beseechingly, coming up to him and taking his hands, squeezing them in appeal. "Please do not turn me away."

  "It is a dangerous game you play, Miss York. Are you certain you're up for my teachings?" he asked, wanting to give her one last out should she want it.

  Her eyes brightened to a vibrant green, and the pit of his stomach clenched. "I want you and no one else, my lord."

  He pulled his hands free and nodded. "Very well then. Let the teachings begin." And God help them both they survived them.

  Chapter

  Two

  Harlow tapped her foot at the Daniels’ ball and surreptitiously watched the ballroom doors for Lord Kemsley's arrival. The earl was famous for arriving late and leaving early, but he had promised to help her, and they would start her instruction tonight.

  The fact his lordship did not know his teachings were aimed to win his heart and no one else's was a precious little secret just for her, and for him to find out.

  In time.

  Nerves fluttered in her stomach, and she fought to keep her features poised and not bursting with excitement at being able to spend the evening with his lordship. To have him guide her, pretending to make the man she admired jealous of their association. To help her hone her seductive wiles for the use on the man teaching her instead.

  The plan could not be any more perfect, but she dared not share it with anyone, not even her sister, whom she was staying with this Season. Lila was beyond helping with any more scandalous ideas that Harlow came up with, and she would be determined to stop her plan should she know of it.

  Her heart lurched at Lord Kemsley entering the ballroom, his tall, athletic build catching the eye of herself and other debutantes. Not to mention several widows, the widow Randall no exception to his charms.

  Harlow ground her teeth, hating the idea of any competition for Lord Kemsley's attention, not to mention affections. She wanted him to be hers and no one else's. And thanks to his agreeing to help her secure her imaginary gentleman, she would be able to occupy his time more than anyone else.

  He strode through the throng of guests, oblivious to the dreamy expressions of the women he passed. His wavy blond hair made him look like a sun-kissed god, and her fingers twitched, eager to run through those golden locks.

  He caught sight of her, and his expression changed to one of determination, and she sucked in a breath, having not expected to feel all at sea when his attention settled on her.

  "Miss York," he said, bowing before her. He picked up her hand and kissed the top of her silk glove before meeting her eyes.

  Harlow swallowed and fought to find words that would not come out like a squeaky mouse caught in a trap. "Lord Kemsley, how delightful it is to see you this evening. What brings you to my side of the ballroom?" she asked, keeping the conversation light and respectable.

  A wicked light flickered in his blue eyes. "I thought you may like to dance with me, Miss York. Please tell me your card is not full, and I have missed my opportunity already?" he asked, loud enough for others to hear.

  She chuckled, handing him her wrist so he could write on her dance card. "Of course not, my lord. There is always room for you," she replied, grinning.

  He smiled as he wrote his name on two different dances, and Harlow fought to school her features so as not to look like a woman who wanted to holler and bounce before the ton.

  She thought that he may make his excuses and leave her until their dance, but instead, he came and stood beside her, looking about them to ensure their privacy.

  "So, you wish to learn how to ensure your chosen gentleman finally notices you and makes the appropriate moves to win your heart."

  Harlow nodded. "Yes, that is right. But then I need to know what I should do when he does to ensure he knows that I'm interested and welcoming of his suit."

  "Very well, that should be simple enough." He cast his attention on the room. "Is he here this evening?" he asked her.

  "Yes, and not far away, so do be your charming self and help me make him notice your interest."

  "That I'm standing beside you and I'm not in the gaming room with several gentlemen friends makes it obvious I'm interested in you," he quipped, meeting her eyes.

  A delicious warmth spread through her body at his words, and she had to remind herself this was all a game. His being his charming self. Not that he really thought the things he was conveying.

  "Thank you for assisting me, my lord. I'm hopeful that your lessons will not be in vain."

  "So do I, and I hope you shall invite me to the wedding," he asked her,
a teasing note in his voice.

  "I should imagine your attendance will be necessary after all of our efforts," she returned. And if her little plan worked, he would not only be at the wedding, but beside her when she was before the priest.

  "Very good, for I do enjoy the wedding breakfasts afterward," he stated, taking two glasses of champagne from a passing footman and handing her one.

  "What would you like your first lesson to be, Miss York? I'm yours to command."

  "Well," she said, taking a fortifying sip. "We shall dance, and I think you ought to hold me close, maybe a little closer than is proper, but not so much that you cause offense or talk about the town. Although I'm sure the talk will come no matter what since you're to single me out more over the next few weeks before I secure my offer of marriage."

  His attention slid over her body, and Harlow felt his inspection of her like a physical caress. His eyes lingered on her bosom before dipping to her hips and then right down to her silk-slippered toes. The man was a walking lure of everything sexual and naughty, all things a woman such as she was ought not to know but did. She knew a lot more than he would ever believe.

  Since her sister's marriage, Harlow had access to Lord Billington's libraries here in London and at his country estate. Those libraries were filled with books not meant for innocent young lady’s eyes, such as herself, but upon finding them, she had devoured every one.

  Lord Kemsley's tutelage would be a confirmation more than the instruction of what she had learned, and she could not wait to begin. To feel alive, wanted, and experience the desire she had read of in its physical form, manifested within her own body and soul.