A Return of the Wicked Earl Read online

  Sadie Bosque

  A return of the Wicked Earl

  Copyright © 2021 by Sadie Bosque

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.

  This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

  Sadie Bosque asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

  First edition

  Editing by Tracy Leibchen

  Cover art by Sadie Bosque

  This book was professionally typeset on Reedsy

  Find out more at reedsy.com

  To every person who had ever fallen down hard. So hard, in fact, they thought they wouldn’t be able to get up… But did.

  Contents

  Acknowledgement

  Author’s note

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Love at First Sight

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  The Courtship

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  The Wedding Night

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  The Marital Duty

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  The Wedding Day

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgement

  Writing a book is never a solo effort. My book wouldn’t be the same without my friends, my biggest supporters. So the hugest of thanks to the following people:

  My trusted beta readers, who are also my biggest cheerleaders and helpers: Michelle Lokeigh and Nicole Yost.

  My amazing editor, who is lightning fast and super thorough. I would never meet a deadline without you, Tracy Leibchen.

  My friend and a Regency romance author Fenna Edgewood. Your blurbs rock!

  And my extremely supportive friend, and awesome steamy, military romance author, Bex Dane, who helped me kick it up a notch. And I don’t only mean this manuscript, but my writing career as a whole.

  Thank you, amazing people!

  Author’s note

  This work of fiction contains adult content, strong language, violence, death, bullying, nightmares, miscarriage and other content that might be triggering to some.

  Prologue

  Winter 1731

  Annalise sat on the sill of a lone garret window, looking at the bright, full moon.

  This spacious, albeit poorly illuminated, room was her former nursery. A year ago, when she turned nine, her parents had given her a big chamber downstairs and locked this one away with all her childhood memories. She was now preparing for court and learning to act like a proper lady.

  Annalise was not ready to lock her childhood away. Yes, she wanted to go to balls. She wanted to find a perfect gentleman who would sweep her off her feet and make her head spin. But she also wanted to read her fables and have pretend tea parties. She still had years until her come-out ball. Surely, she’d be able to learn everything faster than that?

  So, she sneaked into a housekeeper’s chambers and stole the key to her “magical kingdom.”

  It had always been dark and dank there. Now all the furniture was covered with white sheets. Annalise had quite a few pleasant memories of the place, however. It still held all of Annalise’s old toys, her favorite Italian fables, and her journal, where she wrote down her daily experiences. It was a place where no one disturbed her—not that anyone paid any particular attention to her anyhow. But this was a magical place, full of promises and possibilities. This was a place to dream.

  The door screeched open and Lavinia, Annalise’s friend, sauntered into the room. She locked the door behind her and dashed to sit next to Annalise.

  It was past both of their bedtimes, but that was the only time the two girls could meet. As much as Annalise’s parents ignored her, they filled up her day with piano lessons, etiquette instructions, French and other languages, and many other things.

  Annalise enjoyed the piano lessons the most. She’d also developed a fascination with Italian culture and language. No other activity kept her interest. During the other lessons, she would look longingly outside at the beautiful weather and sigh.

  The weather wasn’t always beautiful in Essex; sometimes it was rainy and dull. But even on those days, she would be happy to frolic in the rain instead of sitting in stuffy old rooms with stuffy old teachers.

  It was even worse when the guests were in the house, which was almost always. So she was hidden and restricted only to her rooms and the library.

  Usually, she sat in this garret by herself. But when there was a house party, she was lucky if Lavinia’s father brought her along.

  Lavinia’s father mostly didn’t pay any attention to his daughter either. He was busy getting drunk and spent most of his days passed out in one part of the house or another. But on the days he did remember Lavinia’s existence, Annalise knew she wouldn’t see her friend for days. And then, days later, Lavinia would appear by her side again, with fresh cuts and bruises. But her spirit never wavered.

  “There’s a beautiful full moon out tonight,” Lavinia whispered as she sat closer to Annalise. “We can have our tea party outside.”

  Annalise stifled a chuckle. “Our groundskeeper would chase us away. Or even worse, alert our parents.”

  Lavinia shrugged. “It’s rare that the moon is so full in a cloudless sky.”

  Annalise tapped her lower lip with her finger. “I know what we can do. I read it in a book once. An old book of spells and enchantments.”

  Lavinia’s mouth dropped open. “Where did you even find it?”

  “In our library. It was hidden behind other books on the top shelf.”

  “Which you found by—”

  “Perusing the shelves for something on the etiquette of doing boring things with boring people.”

  Both girls chuckled.

  “Anyway, this book says that if you write down your wish on a piece of paper and then burn it by the candlelight on a full moon, your wish will come true.”

  “Truly?”

  “That’s what it said. Do you want to try it?”

  Lavinia’s eyes lit up with mischief. “I’ll look for a piece of paper.”

  “I’ll find us a quill and an ink!”

  The girls scattered about the dusty garret, searching for their treasures. Once they found them, they sat back, their legs dangling from a windowsill.

  “What are you going to wish for?” Lavinia asked.

  Annalise frowned in thought. Then her features cleared, and she shifted closer to her friend. “I am going to wish for a grand love. A handsome prince to fall in love with, who will take me to his faraway castle. He will, of course, fall in love with me at first sight. He will be kind and caring and buy me everything I ever wished for. He will shower me with attention and not look at anyone else but me.”

  Lavinia let out a chuckle. “His neck will be craned to one side then.”

  “I shall be considerate enough to move around,” Annalise said with a smirk, and both girls laughed. She dipped her quill into the inkwe
ll and started scribbling as she spoke. “I wish for a love so grand that my beloved will carry me around in his arms so as not to dirty my golden slippers.”

  Both girls laughed. Annalise blew on the ink to let it dry. “Your turn. What do you wish for?”

  Lavinia craned her neck and stared at the ceiling as she thought. She then turned to the window and looked at the moon. “I don’t need a prince. A duke will do.”

  Annalise chuckled and nudged Lavinia with her shoulder. “Oh, you mean Dane, of course.”

  Dane, the Duke of Kensington, was a young man from a neighboring estate. Orphaned too young, he took on the responsibility of the dukedom when he was thirteen. Now, at seventeen, he was running the estate almost without the help of his guardians. He often visited both Lavinia and Annalise’s households to talk to their fathers.

  Lavinia became infatuated with him the first time she saw him.

  It might have had something to do with the way they’d met. Lavinia didn’t divulge all the details. She’d just said that her father was in one of his moods when Dane came one day. He intervened and stood up to him at that moment, sparing Lavinia a worse fate.

  Ever since. He’d made sure to visit her household more often, and he always asked after her well-being.

  Lavinia smiled. “Yes. He is the perfect gentleman for me. He is strong, quiet, and kind. He will save and shelter me from my father and his bad moods.” She dipped her quill in the inkwell. “I wish for a love that will take me away from all the pain.”

  Annalise brought her piece of paper to the candle and pictured a beautiful, tall, strong young man as her note burned. Lavinia bit on her lip as she repeated the action until only a charred corner was left of her piece of paper. She shook her hand as the fire caught up to her fingers and dropped the charred piece, the embers flowing as the paper hit the floor.

  Chapter 1

  Winter 1741

  Blake heard a clink of metal as he tried to move his hands. Right, he was shackled. He’d almost forgotten. His head lolled forward as if it was too heavy for his neck to hold upright. He opened his eyelids and saw his bare chest was covered in dirt and blood. Slash marks and burns dotted his flesh, and his breeches were likewise torn and frayed. At least they were still keeping him modest.

  “Passed out again, mate?” A hoarse, accented voice made Blake’s head snap up.

  A huge, broad-shouldered man, over six feet tall, stood before him. His long hair was dirty and covered with blood, his clothing filthy and in disarray. He held a small hammer and a rusty nail in his hands.

  “I need you awake,” the man growled between his brown, crooked teeth. “So you can tell me what you know about them shadows. Otherwise…” He looked appreciatively at his nail and shrugged his enormous shoulders. The action brought the nail and hammer into the thin line of light cracking through the veiled window, making the instruments glint ominously.

  Blake felt sweat running down his forehead and the back of his neck. The sight of that rusty nail alone would make Blake blab all the secrets in the world, even if he hadn’t already endured hours of torture.

  The trouble was, Blake had no idea what the foul-smelling ruffian wanted from him. He was prattling on about some covert group of criminals called The Shadows. Blathering on about how nobody knew who their leader was and where they were based. And somehow, he thought that Blake had answers to these questions.

  Well, Blake didn’t.

  He’d tried pleading ignorance. He’d tried professing innocence, denying any knowledge of The Shadows and anything related to them, but it hadn’t done any good. In fact, it only made things worse, since his captors enjoyed making him cry and beg. The nail and hammer were only the latest additions to other cruel implements the thugs had used on Blake’s body. He’d already been starved and showered with ice-cold water. There were three or four bandits, and they came in one after another, each with his own ideas of torture.

  Blake had quickly learned that keeping silent was the only way to lessen the abuse inflicted by his tormentors. That knowledge, however, didn’t prevent his limbs from trembling and his throat from making small, pathetic mewling sounds in terror. He shut his eyes tightly, so he wouldn’t see his knees shaking in trepidation.

  “You’re not speaking again,” the thug continued his monologue. “Which means only one thing.”

  He advanced on Blake, kneeled in front of him, and Blake felt the nail being placed right below his kneecap. Blake tried to pull his leg away with a whimper, but he was shackled to the floor by the ankle, and the movement only caused him pain. He gritted his teeth and started breathing frantically in panic.

  “The Shadows, mate.”

  Blake opened his eyes and saw the thug looking up at him. Then he suggestively placed the hammer to the bud of the nail and raised his eyebrows.

  “No?” The thug lifted the hammer, preparing for the swing, not taking his eyes off Blake.

  “No!”

  Blake awakened from sleep with a start. Cold sweat ran from his forehead and temples and down his face. He was breathing heavily as if he’d run for miles. His hand immediately moved and caressed his numb knee. He looked around the dark room. The sounds of the waves crashing against the outer walls soothed his raw nerves. He was lying on the floor, his limbs swaying intact with the ship.

  It was just a dream. He was safe.

  Blake ran his hand over his sweaty forehead, then scrubbed his palm down his face. As he moved his hand even lower, he encountered the old chain around his neck. He tugged on it until he reached a small locket pendant. He opened the locket and peered inside.

  Blake couldn’t see well in almost complete darkness, but he didn’t have to. He knew what he’d find there. A portrait of a beautiful young lady, his wife.

  If it were light enough, he’d see her innocent face staring directly at him. He’d see her golden locks collected at the top of her head in a neat chignon, her lush mouth in a sensual pout.

  Blake closed the locket and held it protectively in his tight fist, clutching it to his chest. He’d be back soon. He’d be reunited with his beautiful Annalise, and everything would be all right once again.

  * * *

  Annalise sat on the bed in her white chemise, staring into the fire. The flames danced in the hearth, licking at the walls, crackling softly, and bathing the room with a faint glow. A light smile played about her lips. It was the day of her betrothal ball. The second one in her lifetime and, she hoped, the last. The thought of going through it all again—the wedding, the wedding night—made her shiver.

  “Are you cold, my lady?” her lady’s maid, Ruth, called out and moved to stand beside her. “Here, we better clothe you quick.” The maid handed Annalise her stockings, and she diligently put them on. The white silk was cool against her warm skin, but the sensation was not unpleasant. She took the garter from her maid’s hands, wrapped it above her knee, and tied it in a knot.

  Ruth had dressed Annalise for her first betrothal ball too. She was also the one who’d readied her for her wedding day and wedding night.

  Goosebumps crept up her hands as Annalise remembered her first betrothal ball and how excited she was that day. Hopping as if on clouds, happy, starry-eyed, young, and oh, so naïve. She shook her head at the memories.

  This time would be different. At the very least, she knew what waited for her on her wedding night. And this time she knew the man she was marrying.

  Kensington was a nice, reliable gentleman. She had known him her entire life, and he’d always been there for her. He was her friend. After the previous disaster of a marriage, this was exactly what she needed.

  Ruth brought the stays. Annalise stood and placed her hands on the back of the chair as Ruth helped her into them and started vigorously tightening up the knots at the back. The new gown Annalise had ordered for the ball had a tiny waist, and she needed the stays to be tightened stiffly for her to get into it successfully.

  As Ruth worked her stays, Annalise pondered that she sho
uld feel suffocated and out of breath, but the more layers of clothing she put on, the lighter she felt. As if each piece signified the next step in her life, carrying her away from the sordid memories of the past.

  Ruth brought the petticoat, and Annalise stepped into it, staring blankly into the hearth. She’d loved Blake, she still did, and perhaps she always would. But the marriage to him hadn’t turned out the way she’d hoped, and this time, she had a chance at a quiet, comfortable life with her good friend.

  Tears gathered at the corners of her eyes, thinking of Blake’s fate, but she blinked them away. Blake was her past now. She needed to concentrate on the future.

  She wanted children. After the fiasco of her last marriage, this was the only reason she’d agreed to marry at all. If she’d had Blake’s child, the state of her finances would probably have forced her to remarry anyway. But at least then, she needn’t lie with her husband. The thought of sharing a bed with Kensington made her stomach tie in knots.

  Ruth brought her the bodice, and after Annalise donned it, Ruth helped her into a beautiful coral gown with golden embroidered ornamentation. The sleeves hugged her arms up to her elbows and then flared and ruffled at the ends.

  She closed her eyes. The icy blue gown she wore for her first betrothal ball flashed before her eyes. She remembered how her eyes shone with happiness in the looking glass. Annalise had to shake her head again. There was no need for these memories to invade her tonight. She opened her eyes and forced herself to smile at her reflection.

  “Will that be all, my lady?” Ruth asked from behind her.

  “Yes, Ruth, thank you.” Annalise swallowed, still regarding herself in the looking glass. Her maid curtsied and hurried out of the room.

  Annalise slowly ventured toward her vanity table. She picked up her white gloves and slowly drew them on. Her fingers trembled as she fastened her gloves over her arms. Soon, she would officially become the Duchess of Kensington.