Since her husband's tragic death, Lady Charlotte Hadley has embarked on a path of careless behavior and dangerous hijinks from which no one can divert her . . . until suddenly, her first-and only-true love reenters her world. Their fiery romance was so scandalous Charlotte had no choice but to marry another, more suitable man. Surely now they are both free to pick up where they left off . . .
Julian West has returned to London a hero after making a name for himself in battle at Waterloo. Every woman is vying for his attention-except the one who stole his heart. No matter, Julian has other obligations. But when Charlotte's sister, Eleanor, charges him with protecting the widow from ruin, what ensues is another kind of battle-one that leads a chase from London's bars and brothels to the finest country estate as Julian and Charlotte untangle a host of secrets, regrets, and misunderstandings. For could it be that the love they've forced themselves to forget is exactly what they need to remember? . . .
|Product dimensions:||6.00(w) x 1.25(h) x 9.00(d)|
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London, July 1816
A scandalous wager, a marchioness in disguise and a notorious London brothel. Julian couldn't deny it had all the makings of an excellent farce.
Off stage, it was rather less amusing.
Bloody hell. One would think a marchioness who gambled with her reputation would choose an anonymous brothel in a quiet part of the city for her whorehouse romp. Instead, the Marchioness of Hadley had chosen this one.
Devil take her.
He peered into the dimly-lit parlor. Despite the muted light and the haze of acrid smoke, he could see the place was crowded with fashionably dressed gentlemen. A man might tend to ignore everything else when he cupped a plump breast or a shapely thigh in his hand, but if one of these drunken dandies happened to recognize him, he'd have a glorious headline in the scandal sheets tomorrow.
Triumphant Hero Returns to London, Frolics with a Whore.
A dark haired doxy sidled up to him and gave his arm a flirtatious tap. "In or out, guv. Wot will it be?"
Julian raised an eyebrow. "In or out? Must I settle for one or the other?"
The doxy blinked at him, then broke into a hoarse cackle. "Aw right then, luv, how's this? In or out, or in and out." She punctuated the feeble jest with a rude hand gesture.
Julian's lips quirked. Ah, there it was. A quick-witted whore. It was something new, anyway.
Encouraged, the doxy rose to her tiptoes, put her mouth to his ear and whispered in what she no doubt imagined to be a seductive voice, "It's wot ye came fer, innit?"
It stood to reason. If a man wanted ale, he went to an alehouse. If he wanted to shoe his horse, he went to a blacksmith. If he wanted a woman and one wasn't readily available, he went to a whore. It was a simple enough matter.
Except it wasn't. Not this time. "No. I came for a marchioness."
The doxy flashed a gap-toothed grin. "'Course ye did. Dinnit I tell ye, guv? I'm a duchess, I am."
Julian rolled his eyes. No doubt this duchess was much like every other — more trouble than she was worth, but he couldn't hover in the entryway all night waiting to snatch a wayward marchioness. He needed a prop, and a doxy in the hand was worth two anywhere else.
Well. Not quite anywhere else, but he wouldn't be here long enough to maneuver her into a more satisfying location. Damn it, it was just like his cousin, Cam, to send him off to a whorehouse in pursuit of a marchioness instead of a whore. But it could be hours before Lady Hadley deigned to appear, and in the meantime ...
He let the dark-haired doxy drag him across the threshold into a shadowy corner of the parlor. The gentlemen around him lounged on sumptuous red velvet divans, glasses of port or whiskey in their hands, many of them with women in various stages of undress perched on their laps. The low, continuous buzz of conversation was occasionally punctuated by a high-pitched squeal or giggle.
"There now," his doxy cooed, "not so hard, was it, luv? Don't ye worry, though," she added with a smirk. "It will be once the duchess gets ahold of it."
Julian felt an embarrassingly quick surge of interest in his lower extremities. He hadn't had a woman in ... well. He couldn't quite recall how long it had been, but long enough so even the doxy duchess held a certain appeal. Every other part of him might rebel at the thought, but his body demanded a woman. The need was like a flea crawling under his skin, and the more he tried to ignore it, the more pressing it became.
He'd have to mount something other than his horse, and soon, so he may as well scratch the itch here and now. It insisted on being scratched, and it would have its way whether he willed it or not. If he tried to return to his old life with such a burden of lust in his loins, there was no telling how he'd be tempted to satisfy it.
The doxy ran her hands up the front of his chest, unbuttoning his waistcoat as she went. "That's it. Just relax, now, luv."
The burden in question began to swell insistently against his falls, much to the doxy's approval. Her eyes widened with appreciation. "Coo. Yer a duke right e'nuf, eh, guv? Naught but a duchess will do fer that bit — but wot's this, now?" She dove for his waistcoat pocket, her fingers as deft as any thief's, and held up a round, flat object.
Julian grabbed her wrist, hard — much harder than he'd intended to — and held on until her hand fell open. "Don't touch that." He snatched it away from her.
She gave him an indignant look. "I wasna going ter take it, guv."
He stared down at her thin fingers, dumbfounded, a wave of confused shame washing over him. Jesus. He hadn't meant to grab her like that. She'd only reached into his pocket, but he'd reacted as if she'd put a blade to his throat.
"Well, what it is, then?" the whore demanded. "The crown jewels? Must be, fer ye to take on so."
He opened his palm to reveal a pocket watch in a plain, gilded case. He hesitated for a moment, then flicked it open and turned the watch in her direction. "It belonged to a friend of mine, and it's ... Well, I don't like anyone to touch it."
Her nose wrinkled with disdain. "Wot, that's all? Wrong time too, innit?"
Julian snapped the case closed. "Yes. It doesn't tell time anymore. The winding key is gone. Lost for good." The watch was useless now, but he didn't have it to keep the time. Ridiculous, to believe time could be kept. A man couldn't keep it any more than he could catch the sun and balance it on the horizon. He might keep a coach and four, hounds, a mistress — but he didn't keep time.
It kept him.
The whore made a disgusted noise, released her grip on his waistcoat, and turned away from him to screech into the parlor. "Mrs. Lacey! I got's a jumpy one here fer ye." She gave Julian one last offended look, stuck her nose in the air, and flounced away.
Well. Maybe she was a duchess, after all.
A female shape detached itself from a knot of people in the parlor and materialized out of the gloom. A woman, tall, with generous white breasts spilling from the top of a tight bodice sank into a low curtsey in front of him. It was the kind of curtsey that invited a gentleman to ogle her bosom, and Julian obliged.
"Good evening, sir. I'm Mrs. Lacey."
Red. Her hair, her lips, her scarlet-colored gown — everything about her was red except her eyes, which were a watery green. She was attractive in that hard, painted way the better-looking prostitutes were attractive.
She assessed him with a practiced eye and then held out her hand, a small smile on her full lips. "You're a pretty one, aren't you? What's your name, luv?"
"Does it matter?" She might recognize his name. He'd been mentioned in the papers more than once since his regiment returned to England.
She chuckled. "Not in the least. You may call me Evie. What shall I call you?"
He shrugged. "Call me whatever you want."
She gave him a curious look. "I don't want anything, luv. Gentlemen come to me to get what they want. So. What do you want?"
One marchioness. Was it possible she'd already come and gone and he'd missed her? "I'm looking for a woman."
The red lips curled upward. "Are you now? Imagine that."
"No, that is, not a woman, but —"
"Sorry, luv." Mrs. Lacey shook her head. "This isn't that kind of house. Try Fleet Street."
For God's sake. He was going to strangle Cam. "A lady, Mrs. Lacey. I'm looking for a lady."
"A lady?" Her brow furrowed as if she couldn't imagine why he'd want such a troublesome thing. "This isn't Almack's, luv. The gentlemen here don't have much use for ladies. They come for a tumble, not a quadrille. So, do you want a tumble or not?"
The knot in Julian's lower belly tightened and hope creaked to life inside him. Mrs. Lacey looked as if she knew a great deal about fleshly desires. He'd promised Cam, but there was no sign of Lady Hadley yet, and well, this was a brothel.
"Such a fine, strapping young buck you are." Mrs. Lacey's green gaze lingered for a moment on his shoulders and chest, then moved lower, and lower still. "It's not healthy, luv, for such a vigorous gentleman to deny his urges."
Urges. Yes. He did have those. "No, not at all healthy."
Mrs. Lacey's eyes gleamed in the muted light. "That's right. Now come with me, luv, and we'll find you just the right lady to satisfy those urges. What do you fancy?"
Anything in skirts. "Blond with blue eyes." It was as good a choice as any.
"Ah. That's easily done." Mrs. Lacey glanced around the room, then crooked a finger at a young woman who stood by the fireplace, chatting up a scrawny lad with a lopsided cravat. "Mary. Come here, my dear girl."
Mary abandoned her young man without a backward glance and hurried across the room to Mrs. Lacey's side. "Yes, mum?"
Mrs. Lacey urged the girl forward into better light so Julian could get a look at her. "This gentleman would like a companion for the evening. Do you suppose you could entertain him?"
Mary's eyes went wide when she got a close look at Julian. "Oh yes, indeed, mum." She gave Mrs. Lacey a sidelong glance that made the older woman chuckle, and added, "Thank you, mum."
Julian studied the girl. She was young, but not too young, with fair-skin, light yellow hair, and dainty lips, faintly pink. Everything about her was pale and indistinct, like the sun hidden under layers of haze and London smog, pretty in its way, with a wan kind of beauty.
She wasn't perfect, but she was here, and that was good enough for him. He nodded once at Mrs. Lacey. "She'll do."
Mrs. Lacey smiled. "Then I wish you an enjoyable evening."
Julian watched her go, her lush, wide hips swaying, then turned back to Mary, his eyebrows raised expectantly.
"Fancy a drink before we go up?" Mary jerked her head toward a group of gentlemen who staggered about the center of the parlor, groping at females and guffawing loudly. Julian watched with distaste as one man stumbled to his knees and grasped at a whore's skirts to try and drag himself back up. "Sometimes the gentlemen like a drink or two first. To relax, I s'pose."
Julian shook his head. There was only one thing that would relax him, and it wasn't drink. "No, I don't care for —"
His words were drowned out by a sudden explosion of catcalls and whistles behind him. Gentlemen who were still lucid enough to stand lurched to their feet and crowded into the front of the room, craning their necks to see what fresh new mayhem was on offer. Whatever they saw caused the low din of conversation to rise until it reached a fever pitch of male voices raised in shouts of approval.
Julian growled with frustration as sweaty bodies surged against him. He took Mary's arm and tried to disappear up the stairs, but men pressed against him from all sides and blocked his path to the second floor. Jesus. He'd anticipated sweaty body parts pressed together, but his fantasies hadn't included foul male odors and coarse body hair.
After a great deal of scuffling and good-natured shoving the crowd parted, and four ladies in masques swept into the room, emerging from the chaos of eager male bodies.
"Come here, love, I've got something special for you!" One of the gentlemen made a clumsy grab for the lady closest to him — a tall, slender blonde with a jeweled black masque obscuring the upper part of her face. She dodged him, stepping neatly out of the way of his groping hand.
The crowd roared with laughter. "Looks like she doesn't want what you've got, Dudley!" shouted one delighted onlooker.
"Can't say I blame her," yelled another. "All the doxies in London know what you've got, my lord, and there's nothing special about it!"
The crowd erupted with laughter again. The four ladies took no notice of the heaving herd of rogues on either side of them, but made their way down the center of the room as if they were on a promenade through Hyde Park with the pink of the ton, not in a west end whorehouse with shrieking men ogling them from all sides.
They were rather too much like the pink of the ton, in fact.
Julian watched with narrowed eyes as the ladies made their way through the crowd to a corner of the room and settled gracefully onto two divans near the fire. A footman leapt forward to attend them, and one of the ladies — another blonde, this one petite and curvy — spoke to him. He rushed off at once to do her bidding, leaving the four ladies alone.
There was a brief silence — a breathless pause, the room frozen in a ludicrous tableau as everyone waited to see what they'd do.
The petite blonde waved a casual hand at the lady across from her, this one a redhead, her fair skin an unearthly white in the dim light. The entire room seemed to hold its breath as the redhead reached into the reticule in her lap. She took out a lacquered case, slid it open, and drew out —
"Cor," Mary breathed at his side.
She offered one to each of her three companions. The other ladies accepted and held the thin, brown cheroots between gloved fingers as they turned to their fourth companion.
And she ... Julian went still, every muscle in his body drawing tight. Mary giggled nervously at his side, but he ignored her, his gaze fixed on the fourth lady.
She wore tight elbow-length black gloves and carried a tiny bag on a string around her wrist. She dipped her long, satin-covered fingers into the bag, took out a small bundle, smoothed the wrappings aside, and withdrew a bit of cloth. Every eye in the room was on her as she rose, crossed to the fireplace, and knelt down to touch the cloth to the fire. It caught at once, and more than one man in the crowd drew in a quick, sharp breath, as if the sight of that tiny flame had snapped them from a collective trance.
The lady held the lit cloth to one end of her cheroot and sucked gently on the other end until the tip glowed red in the dim room; then she tossed the cloth into the fire, resumed her seat, and handed her lit cheroot to the petite blonde next to her. One by one, each lady passed their lit cheroot to the next, until all four tips burned like identical red eyes.
"The way's clear now, guv."
Julian started, then turned to Mary in surprise. "What?"
She jerked her head in the direction of the stairs. "Don't ye want to go up?"
"Not yet." Julian let his gaze wander back to the fourth lady. "I think I'd like a drink, after all."
Mary shrugged. "All right, then."
He led her to a dark corner of the room, to another red velvet divan where they were cast in shadows, but which still afforded a clear view of the four ladies, who now sat, as prim as a quartet of governesses, sipping at the whiskey the footman had delivered and occasionally touching their cheroots to their lips. No one approached them despite the earlier burst of excitement at their arrival, for by this time it was obvious they weren't here for the gentlemen's amusement.
Why precisely they were here — well, that was anyone's guess. They weren't whores. They were ladies — ton, if one could judge by their fine gowns and jeweled masques.
Julian's lips stretched into a mocking smile. Four bored aristocratic ladies out on a whorehouse adventure. It wasn't unheard of — more than one titled lady had set out to test the ton's limits for scandal — and yet a clandestine visit to a west end whorehouse was more than enough to leave a lady's reputation in tatters. Nothing but four silk masques stood between these four and social ruin.
Quite a risk for a bit of fun.
Julian leaned back against the divan, let a healthy swallow of whiskey burn a trail of fire down his throat and studied the fourth lady. Her masque covered the entire upper part of her face, just as the other ladies' did, and yet ...
A masque couldn't cover everything.
She had dark hair, coiled into a mass of heavy curls at the base of her long, slender neck, red lips, an elegant body, too slim, but still curved where a man wanted curves. No wan, indistinct beauty here, but a lush, glorious explosion of warmth and color, like a blazing sun in a pure blue sky.
The kind of sun it hurt to look at.
Masque or no masque — it made no difference. He'd have recognize her anywhere.
No, not Sutherland. Not anymore. She was the Marchioness of Hadley now.
Excerpted from "Lady Charlotte's First Love"
Copyright © 2017 by Anna Bradley.
Excerpted by permission of KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP..
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
Most Helpful Customer Reviews
Lovers reunited, what is better than that!! Julian and Charlotte fell in love pretty quickly (we see this in the previous book, Lady Eleanor's Seventh Suitor), but things didn't work out. Charlotte marries another, but it doesn't end well. She ends up trying to drown her memories in adventures in London. Her sister is not happy about this, so ask Julian to help keep an eye on Charlotte and get her to come home for the holidays. Of course nothing is as easy as it should be and Julian can't get Charlotte to agree to go home. But during this time, they fall back in love with each other. But they have both changed since they first fell in love and what is between them may keep them apart. Another great read by Bradley!! Love this series so far and can't wait for the next book in the series!
London - 1816 Captain Julian West has arrived at a brothel searching for Charlotte Sutherland, the Marchioness of Hadley. Charlotte was widowed after a short marriage. Soon, four well-dressed, masked women enter the brothel and sit on a sofa where they proceed to drink whisky and smoke cheroots. The women would be ruined if their identity was found out. Lady Charlotte is one of them. The others are Lady Annabel, Lady Elizabeth, and Lady Aurelia, all widows. They have come here tonight as part of a wager they made with Lord Devon. Now, it appears that they have won that wager. As the ladies attempt to take their leave, Julian grabs Charlotte and takes her upstairs where he proceeds to begin undressing her. She recognizes him as the man she has always loved. They had fallen in love some years back but he ended up going to war and she married another man. As they verbally spar with one another, her friends interrupt and Julian then vows to return Charlotte home before her reputation is ruined. Evidently, Lord Devon is a dangerous man who will even resort to murder to get what he wants and he wants Charlotte. This story is about a bored young woman who wants some excitement in her life but is not interested in following the rules of the ton to do so. I enjoyed Charlotte’s character in “Lady Eleanor’s Seventh Suitor” as I felt she was a sweet young woman. Perhaps her not being able to marry Julian at one time has made her bitter. I have had a difficult time with some of the characters in this series. There is too much angst and unhappiness displayed which is real turn-off to me when reading a book. I hope that other readers will enjoy the story. Copy provided by NetGalley in exchange for a fair and honest review.
Get your tissues out, especially towards the end. This is a well written story about a marchioness and a captain. The marchioness was Charlotte Suntherland, at the time and the captain was Julian West. When the captain came back from Waterloo, he had changed but then so had Charlotte. The descriptions aided in setting the background. The characters were realistic and that I could associate with and possibly be friends, especially the Wicked Widows. The dialogue was authentic, humorous and sad. The plot had so many turns that it would take an exceptional author to keep them all straight and she did. It is even paced, easy to read and moves smoothly. I love where the Wicked Widows went into the brothel to have a smoke, it was funny. I am sure you will enjoy this book, it has some great moments. I received this from Net Galley and voluntarily reviewed it.
Lady Charlotte’s First Love by Anna Bradley The Sutherland Sisters #2 Charlotte and Julian parted on bad terms at the end of the first book in this series and I looked forward to finding out what would become of them. I was sad to read they had both gone through rough times while apart with Julian at Waterloo and losing a good friend and Charlotte married to a man she could not love. When they meet again they may still care for one another but all they seem to do is hurt rather than help when together. Julian says vicious things and Charlotte isn’t much better. I liked Devon, another person that showed interest in Charlotte, but as she never loved him and had lived in a marriage without love understood why she was not sure she could marry and be happy with him. As with most stories of this genre there is eventually a HEA ending but the two will only be happy if they are open and honest with one another…and give up their anger and pain and meanness going forward. Thank you to NetGalley and Kensington Books – Lyrical Shine for the ARC – this is my honest review. 3-4 Stars
Charlotte Sutherland was in love with her brother-in-law’s cousin, Julian West, but when he joined the army to fight Napoleon, she married the Marquess of Hadley. She didn’t love Hadley as she did Julian and feels guilty over his accidental death from a fall off his horse. She avoids her family by staying to herself and her 3 widowed friends. Her sister and brother-in-law, Ellie and Cam, are very concerned over the places she and her friends go and don’t understand why she won’t come with them to the country estate. Julian returned from war with survivor’s guilt and pain. His best friend died in battle and Julian thinks he should have saved him. He wants to make it up to his friend by taking care of his sister, which he thinks includes marrying her. When Cam asks him to help Charlotte, he reluctantly agrees as he still hurts over her marrying another man. They still love each other, but won’t admit it. The rest of this very good story is for you to read. I enjoyed it very much and can easily recommend it. I can’t wait for the next book, Twelfth Night with the Earl, about Lord Devon, one of the secondary characters in this book (Nov. 14th).