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    The Pleasure Of His Kiss: Tales From Seldon Park, #15
    The Pleasure Of His Kiss: Tales From Seldon Park, #15
    The Pleasure Of His Kiss: Tales From Seldon Park, #15
    Ebook338 pages5 hours

    The Pleasure Of His Kiss: Tales From Seldon Park, #15

    By Bethany M. Sefchick

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    About this ebook

    Lady Aurelia Tillsbury is infatuated with Lord Hugh Hunt and has been for over a year.  However, so much stands between them and marriage, including his family’s poverty and suspicions that he is a fortune hunter.  Still, she believes those obstacles can be overcome.  That is until her mother, in a fit of madness, demands that Aurelia either wed the man of her mother’s choosing or face the consequences.

    For Lord Hugh Hunt, the future Marquess of Strattfield, it was love at first sight the night he encountered Lady Aurelia, the youngest sister of one of his best friends.  Hugh desires her for his wife, except that as a spy for the Crown, Hugh’s work is too valuable to allow him to simply walk away from his duties, no matter what he desires.

    When Aurelia is sent away from London and from him, Hugh knows that he must act quickly or lose her forever.  However secrets from his past threaten both his happiness and her life.  Can Hugh somehow make Aurelia his forever?  Or will others come between them, costing them everything?

    This 92,000-word novel is written in the modern, Regency romance style for a slightly hotter and sexier read.  It may not be appropriate for younger audiences.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherBethany M. Sefchick
    Release dateMar 21, 2018
    ISBN9781386861980
    The Pleasure Of His Kiss: Tales From Seldon Park, #15
    Author

    Bethany M. Sefchick

    Making her home in the mountains of central Pennsylvania, Bethany Sefchick lives with her husband, Ed, and a plethora of Betta fish that she’s constantly finding new ways to entertain. In addition to writing, Bethany owns a jewelry company, Easily Distracted Designs. It should be noted that the owner of the titular Selon Park - one Lord Nicholas Rosemont, the Duke of Candlewood, a.k.a. "The Bloody Duke" - first appeared in her mind when she was eighteen years old and had no idea what to make of him, or of his slightly snarky smile.  She has been attempting to dislodge him ever since - with absolutely no success. When not penning romance novels or creating sparkly treasures, she enjoys cooking, scrapbooking, and lavishing attention on any stray cats who happen to be hanging around. She always enjoys hearing from her fans at: bsefchickauthor@gmail.com

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      The Pleasure Of His Kiss - Bethany M. Sefchick

      Prologue

      August 1820

      Iniquity gaming hell

      London

      The whore on Hugh’s lap – Bridget he thought her name was – wiggled a bit more forcefully, obviously attempting to both entice and distract him from the cards face down on the gaming table in front of him.  He wished he could toss her off and return his mind fully back to the game, but he couldn’t risk doing so.  Such an action would arouse too much suspicion, and Kirkland was suspicious of him enough already.  Unfortunately, Hugh would also likely have to take this woman upstairs later and bed her, even though the idea of sliding his cock inside of her left him cold.  Not to mention more than a little ill at the same time.

      Hugh would insist upon a French Letter, of course, to prevent himself from contracting the pox – or whatever else she might be carrying.  The woman, with her brandy-tinged breath and begging promises of what he could expect if he married her, would likely refuse him at first, but she would give in eventually when he continued to insist.  In the end, they always did.  If she did not allow him the requested protection, Hugh would not fuck her, and that would displease the club’s owner.  Which would end badly for all concerned, and Hugh was counting on this woman placing some value, at least, on her own life.  He hoped.

      Actually, he didn’t want to bed any random woman just then, or ever again really, for his heart was now fully captured by another, and each whore that he took to his bed during the course of his job made him want to die.  In fact, he did die a little inside each time he bedded one of these soiled doves, for he was cheating on his beloved Aurelia.

      Oh, the fair Aurelia might not be his yet, but in both his heart and his mind, she was.

      She had been from the first moment he had laid eyes upon her in Chilton House, only a few months back.  The night he had spent protecting her under the guise of being an ardent suitor escorting her to the theater had been one of the happiest nights of Hugh’s life.

      Well, perhaps the surrounding circumstances had not been so happy.  After all, a madman had been attempting to kidnap one of Hugh’s best friends’ bride to be, and there had been some fear that the man would attempt to strike at Frost’s sisters if he were denied the prize he truly desired.  One could hardly say those were happy circumstances.

      However the carriage ride back to Chilton House that night when Hugh knew everyone was safe, not to mention the days that followed leading up to Frost and Lavinia’s lavish wedding had been among the most cherished moments in Hugh’s recent memory.

      He was, after all, not the sort of man to enjoy those types of days.  Though he was a peer, he was viewed as beyond destitute and that meant that many Society doors were closed to him.  Hugh lived mostly in the shadows of the ton, enjoying a respectable reputation for the most part, along with a warm regard from most matrons.  He was thought to be nice and unfailingly kind.  He regularly assisted elderly Society dragons and danced with wallflowers when no one else would.  But he never, ever won the lady, as his friend Francis liked to say.

      Until Aurelia.  Because for reasons Hugh could not explain, she was as fascinated and attracted to him as he was to her.  That little leap of something more than a mere passing fancy had sparked between them from the moment they had met.  He had felt it.  So had she.

      That attraction had gown ever since, over the course of balls and outings, musicales and nights at the theater until it was a living, breathing thing of its own.  Hugh and Aurelia’s odd attraction – and considered odd not simply because of their age difference – was the talk of gossip sheets and drawing room conversations throughout the whole of England.  They were gossiped about over tea in Mayfair and ices at Gunter’s.  In short, no one who drew breath, it seemed, could understand why Hugh and Aurelia were attracted to each other at all.

      But they were.  And they wanted to marry.  Soon.

      They had spoken about marrying in a round ‘about fashion, though each believing their future happiness lay with the other.  No true specifics had been discussed like a proper courting couple would have done, just a general agreement that they were meant for each other.  However there was one major obstacle standing in their way, and for once, it wasn’t Hugh’s lack of coin.

      It was his job.  The one that Aurelia knew nothing about.

      Because Hugh was a spy for the Crown.  He had been for more years than he wished to remember.  His life was full of danger, not to mention the real risk that one day, he might not come home.  However it was a risk he willingly took.  Or had once.  He no longer wished to take those risks, for he loved Aurelia more than he loved his work these days.

      In general, married men made horrible spies.  Family men made even worse spies.  For them, there was too much to lose.  They lost their edge and became ineffective.  And now that Hugh was considering such a future with Aurelia, he knew that the time had come to choose – marriage or spying.  If Aurelia were to be his bride, then marriage would win every time.

      She and she alone was why he wanted to leave this wearying life of treachery and deceit behind.  He no longer wanted to work for Candlewood.  He no longer wanted to be forced to spend his time in hellholes like Iniquity, no matter how elegantly they were furnished.  He no longer desired harlots on his lap on his bed, their legs spread wide for him.

      In short, Hugh wanted to be free to claim Aurelia as his own.

      There were, of course, other reasons for his wish to depart the spy game, and he made no secret of them either.  At present, it was because Kirkland was suspicious of Hugh and had been for a few weeks now.  Kirkland was also depraved enough to take his revenge not just upon Hugh, but upon anyone associated with him as well if the man believed that Hugh was betraying him in some fashion.  Those were the kinds of risks Hugh no longer wished to take.

      Assisting Frost and guarding Aurelia all of those months ago had been a risk as well, but one that Hugh had been willing to take, was glad he had taken, really.  For it had led him to Aurelia.

      She was worth any price.

      And he wanted her.  No, he burned for her.

      Except that he couldn’t have her.  At least not yet.  Not while he was still playing this role of a dissolute rogue.  This role might have suited him once, but no longer.  He wanted to be free.

      That was why after he won a modest sum with this hand, Hugh would celebrate by going upstairs with the woman currently straddling his lap and doing her best to stiffen his cock.  He had to bed her, or at least try to fuck her, even if meant giving her false hope that he would take her out of this life.  Bedding the whore he had been gifted by the club was required, or if not required exactly, then expected.  There would be consequences if he did not pleasure her.  But he didn’t have to enjoy bedding this trollop, pretty enough though she was, and he most certainly didn’t want to do so.

      On the other hand, if he outright refused to bed her, it might just cost him his life.

      Here, inside Iniquity, the gaming hell owned and operated by Mr. James Kirkland, a man Hugh considered nothing more than Satan’s evil and badly behaved brother, Hugh had a reputation to uphold.  In the eyes of Kirkland and the others that frequented Iniquity, Hugh was poor, so poor that he was just about one step away from debtor’s prison.  Only his father’s failing health – and the fact that Hugh would not inherit the Strattfield title or the marquisate until his father passed – was keeping him a free man.  Or so the rumor went.  Hugh did not confirm such things, of course, but he did not precisely deny them either.

      For a man like him, reputation was everything.  It kept him alive.  Especially in the worst parts of London.  After all, he was a noted marksman, and in general, men who were both desperate and a skilled shot were usually left alone by footpads.  Too much risk of losing one’s life for a few coins, and there were plenty of easier, far wealthier targets to be had in the gutters.  That included wealthy lords who drank too much and had plenty of coin to spare.  And would also likely not know a pistol from a rifle, let alone how to shoot either.

      It was also well known that Hugh did not over-indulge in any fashion, be it with women, gambling, or drink, and that he fought to keep what he already possessed.  Combined with his renowned talents with a firearm, those things made him someone to avoid in general.

      There were also rumors swirling that, despite appearances in London’s finest drawing rooms, the Bloody Duke was not Hugh’s friend and that Candlewood had purchased many of Hugh’s gaming debts.  That rumor was actually true, but not for the reasons that most assumed, and Hugh was not about to tell them otherwise.

      Rumors also swirled that anyone who prevented Hugh from repaying his debts to the duke would have to answer to the duke himself.  That included footpads.  In general, the criminal element might be desperate but they were not stupid.  No one who valued his life to any degree wished to tangle with the Bloody Duke, especially not over whatever scant bit of coin Hugh might be carrying.

      The truth, however, was that the duke was actually repaying a debt he owed to Hugh by buying up the markers and dissolving the debt.  He was also allowing Hugh to keep whatever coin Hugh made at the tables in hopes of refilling his own coffers as part of their agreement.  For Hugh worked for Nicholas Rosemont and had for years.  They were also the fastest of friends, at least in private.

      And therein also lie part of the rub that was becoming more annoying to Hugh as the days passed.

      No one knew who he really was.  No one ever had and while he lived this wretched life, no one ever would.  All anyone knew was that he was connected to the Duke of Candlewood and likely in the man’s debt.  In a place like Iniquity?  That was all anyone needed to know.  But out there?  In London?  Hugh wanted at least one person to know and see him for whom he really was.  He wanted that person to be Aurelia.  As his wife.

      That was yet another reason why Hugh wanted out and he had told Nicholas as much.  To his surprise, Nick had agreed.  After one last mission, of course.

      So Candlewood had sent Hugh into Iniquity to discover if Kirkland was both cheating the Crown out of taxes and selling women to disreputable peers, as well as cheating his clients from their gambling winnings by running dishonest games.  Hugh had, as anticipated, been grudgingly welcomed inside based on reputation alone.  It had been clear from the first the Kirkland did not trust him, but he didn’t have a firm reason to deny Hugh entry either.  And, of course, there was the matter of the Bloody Duke’s temper to consider.

      The gaming hell owner was greedy, if nothing else, and he knew that a man of Hugh’s sterling reputation outside the seedy underworld of London might eventually bring his friends to Iniquity to spend their coin if he was pleased with his treatment.  For Kirkland imagined that all men were like him – greedy, soulless, wastrels who had little concern about cheating, selling women, and generally behaving like the worst dregs of humanity.

      Hugh wasn’t that man.  He had never been.  But he pretended to be.  In fact, he had pretended to be two vastly different men for as long as he could remember.  And he had pretended so well over the years that the people outside of places like Iniquity assumed him to be the perfect gentlemen, while those inside believed that Hugh was utterly debased, just like the rest of their ilk.

      Play your hand, Hunt.  I think my fair Bridget has plans for you already and it seems she is growing quite anxious to get on with things.  That came from Kirkland whose gaze raked over the whore still on Hugh’s lap with lascivious hunger.  The woman had undone the top of her corset, freeing her breasts with their oversized nipples.  Her tits held little interest for Hugh, but he pretended to give them a slow, sensual perusal before flicking his eyes back to the hell owner.  He was close to being free.  It would not do to over play his hand.

      Eyes locked on Kirkland’s, Hugh took one of the woman’s nipples and rolled it between his fingers as if sampling her wares.  She moaned a little too loudly and Hugh grinned a little too wickedly.  Then he leaned down and suckled at her tit for a moment as if he could not wait to indulge in more of what she had to offer.  And Hugh hated himself for every action, right down to the depths of his soul.

      In due time, Kirkland.  In due time.  For the sooner Hugh played this hand, the sooner the game would be over.  And the sooner he would have to take this whore to bed, and that was something he didn’t want to do.  Not just now but ever.

      In short, Hugh was stalling. 

      And at that moment, from the gleam that crept into Kirkland’s eyes, the other man knew it.

      Perhaps Hugh’s time as a spy was ending sooner than anticipated.

      Chapter One

      December 1820

      Highburn Castle

      Yorkshire

      Aurelia Tillsbury, the youngest sister of Viscount Chilton, wasn’t even certain why she and her family had received an invitation to the renowned dowager Duchess of Winterset’s annual Night of A Thousand Stars Christmastide ball.  Perhaps it was because Aurelia’s aunt, Rose Stockbridge, the dowager Viscountess of Hambly, lived nearby and Aurelia’s brother Robert had been visiting in the area only a few months prior.  Or perhaps it was because Aurelia’s late – and truthfully not much missed – father had been friends with Lady Winterset’s late husband and somehow, ties between the two families still remained, thin and fragile though they were.  Or perhaps it was even because the widowed duchess was rumored to be going a touch mad and could no longer remember who her friends were and who were not – so she invited most everyone in the ton to her balls so as not to offend anyone.

      Whatever the reason, Aurelia was overjoyed to be here at Highburn Castle because it meant she was able to spend time with Hugh again.  Hugh, the man who had swept her off of her feet over the late spring and early summer months when he had essentially functioned as her bodyguard under the guise of being a suitor during a particularly trying time for her family.  A time when Aurelia’s brother almost lost the woman who had eventually become his wife and Frost had wished to make certain he did not lose any of his beloved sisters as well.

      Except that what had begun merely as a ploy to keep Aurelia safe from harm had turned into a true romance.  For she had never met a man like Lord Hugh Hunt during the course of her two and twenty years, and she was certain she never would again.  Despite all rational thought and knowing that he was likely too old for her, Aurelia had fallen in love with Hugh.  She believed he had fallen in love with her, though he had never said so.

      He was enamored of her, and he did care for her greatly.  Aurelia knew that much.  She also knew that he desired her.  How much she wasn’t certain, but it didn’t matter.  When they looked at each other, they felt a deep connection running between them.  They had spoken of it in private many times, each of them feeling this inexplicable pull toward the other.  They had spoken of a future together, a future that thrilled Aurelia to the bone when she even dared to contemplate it in the safety of her bedchamber.

      Hugh wanted to marry her.

      She wanted to marry him.

      And she would.

      Eventually.  When the time was right.  Whenever that would be, for Aurelia still didn’t know when Frost would approve of their marriage.  If he ever would.  He said he approved, but he had done nothing to further the pursuit of marriage contracts.  However for the moment at least, her brother approved of her courtship with Hugh, knowing it was very, very real and no longer the sham it had once been.  Aurelia had that much at least, even if she could not yet have Hugh as her husband.  But she would, in time.

      As for now?  Well, for now, they would dance at this marvelously romantic ball and Aurelia would relish every moment of their closeness.

      Are you enjoying yourself, love? Hugh whispered in a silky voice as he pulled her just a little closer than propriety dictated, making her shiver involuntarily.  I could not believe my good fortune when I arrived and found you already here, standing by the Christmastide tree.

      I could not believe my good fortune to be invited, she replied, looking up at him and wondering once more what he saw when he looked at her.

      She knew he cared for her, but did he see her as she truly was?  Did he see her as a woman with her own mind, one that was far clever than she was often given credit for being?  Did he realize that she knew about his work for the Crown?  Likely not, but he should at least suspect.  After all, she was Frost’s sister and her brother was an occasional spy for the Duke of Candlewood.  Thus, it likely followed that Frost’s friends were as well.  It was not that hard to figure out the truth.  At least not when one looked at things with a bit of logic.

      What Aurelia truly wished to know, however, was why she, of all the London debutantes, had captured and held his attention.  She was hardly a beauty and had enjoyed little success during her multiple Seasons.  True, she was considered to be sweet-natured and friendly, but those were hardly outstanding qualities when a man was seeking a wife.  Generally, she was considered to be little better than average in a world populated by true diamonds of the first water.

      On the other hand, though impoverished, Hugh was undeniably handsome with his well-muscled frame, lean body and soft-looking brown hair that she would have loved to have caressed at least once by now and perhaps twice.  Hugh was also well regarded by all who knew him, and typically sought after for dances and as an escort to various entertainments by ladies far and wide.  He was likely sought after for other things as well but to Aurelia’s knowledge, he turned down those sorts of requests.  Or at least he had since he had met her.

      Hugh was also handsome and charming, but he was no rogue, unlike her brother, Frost.  How the two of them had come to be friends in the first place, she still did not know, but she suspected that their friendship was somehow linked with the Bloody Duke of Candlewood.  All roads in London seemed to lead back to him these days.  Especially when one undertook activities for the Crown.

      But those thoughts were for later.  For now?  She was here.  Hugh was here.  It was time to enjoy the gift she had been given.  It was time to enjoy this magical night, and it was, indeed, magical.  In all respects.

      Hugh smiled at her then, the expression reaching all the way to his gorgeous cognac-hued eyes.  Well, my family is friendly with Lady Winterset, and my parents and I do attend this ball every year.  For a brief moment, his face darkened with sadness.  Well, every year save for this year, of course.

      It was common knowledge throughout the ton that the current Lord Strattfield possessed an ailing heart and had for some time.  His on-going ill health was the reason the marquess and his usually emotionally overset wife, along with their daughter Abigail, lived in the country nearly all of the year.  It was only their son, Hugh, who lived in the family’s tumbledown town home in London.

      It was also common knowledge that the whole of the Hunt family was likely one step away from complete and abject poverty, at least according to the gossip that swirled around Aurelia as of late.  And given that she and Hugh were known to have an attachment, Aurelia had heard quite a bit of gossip at nearly every entertainment she had attended since June.

      However having been in the same financial situation once herself – though she did not truly remember the time at all – Aurelia could hardly hold the Hunts’ supposed poverty against them.  Or rather Hugh in particular, for she had never met the rest of his family.  Besides, Aurelia was an heiress of enormous wealth with an obscenely large dowry.  Her brother had made certain enough of that when he had finally righted the family fortunes.  She had no need of money and if, when she choose to wed, her husband was in need of coin?  Well, she had plenty enough for both of them.

      Aurelia’s fingers flexed on Hugh’s well-muscled shoulder, not that touching him there was easy given that there was nearly a foot difference in their heights.  It was not that she was so very short but rather that he was inordinately tall, towering over her by nearly a foot.  I am sorry to hear about your father.  I knew he was ill, of course, but not so very ill that he could no longer leave Kentwell Abbey.  Do the physicians say how long he might still enjoy his time with his family?

      It was, perhaps, a slightly indelicate question, but given that Hugh knew all about her family’s closet full of skeletons and indiscretions, Aurelia felt she was able to ask it anyway.  They were friends after all.  Friends – and perhaps one day more if he truly felt the same as she.  He said he did.  She would have to place her trust in that.

      Hugh’s eyes took on a slightly vacant stare just then as if he was seeing something she could not.  A year if he is fortunate we are told, but likely less.  Dr. Hastings is uncertain and has called Dr. Longford to consult on the case.  We hope to have an answer by Twelfth Night, if not sooner, though perhaps that is being far too optimistic.

      Aurelia nodded, resisting the urge to bite her lip.  What a ninny she was!  Here she was, dreaming of romance with this man while he was worried about his dying father.  And if the current Lord Strattfield passed in the near future, well, then it would be some time before Hugh could even consider marrying.

      Perhaps, though, the situation would change for the better and they could wed sooner than she anticipated.  Perhaps her slightly girlish dreams really would come true.  After all, Christmastide was a season made for those sorts of pretty, fanciful dreams.  Wasn’t it?

      Lord, she is lovely.  And mine for the taking, I suspect.  And I do long to take her.  So very, very much.

      Those were the primary thoughts swirling about in Hugh’s fever brain as he waltzed with Aurelia under the glow of a massive, candle-filled chandelier.  The first thought was appropriate.  The rest were not.

      Except that Hugh didn’t mean to sweep her off to one of Highburn Castle’s many bedrooms – there were over a hundred or so of them, he had once been told – and have his wicked way with her.  No matter how much he might like to do just that.

      He was a gentleman, after all.  Or he was trying to be now that he was leaving the spying life behind him.

      He would not defile the woman he cared for in such a coarse and base manner.  At least not before they were properly wed, though he was uncertain how much longer he could wait for that happy day.  If that day did not come soon, he might lose his patience and take her anyway.

      But, no.  Hugh meant to marry Aurelia.  Soon, he hoped.  Preferably before his father passed and he would be unable to take a bride for some time due to blastedly foolish rules of propriety.  There was, however, a little matter of funds.  Or rather a lack of funds.  Or to be more specific, funds that he could use as he pleased.

      For Hugh was not poor.  Oh, he was not as wealthy as some of the gentlemen he associated with, but he was hardly destitute –despite Society believing otherwise - and could provide very well for a wife.  If he was able to.  If the Bloody Duke and Frost both approved.

      After all, Hugh was one of the duke’s most valuable spies, often frequenting the gaming hells in the less-than-savory parts of London, his admission granted because he was believed to be desperate for coin.  There, in those darkened, smoke-filled rooms filled with the worst sort of humanity, Hugh could learn things that others of his station in life could not, only because the lowborn filth that frequented those rooms though him too poor to really take much notice of his presence.  It was funny how a man’s social standing could be ignored if it was believed he did not have two shillings to rub together.

      And Hugh hadn’t had even one shilling at one point in his life.  Once, he had been as poor as Society still believed him to be.  No longer, however, but then Society didn’t need to know that particular truth either.  Nor did the hell owners who traded not just markers for coins but traded for flesh as well, the flesh of those unable to protect themselves.  That was why the duke had sent Hugh into the hells, seeking information that could be obtained no other way.

      However, over the summer, Hugh had nearly been caught out by one particularly suspicious hell owner after Hugh had been seen assisting Lord Chilton and his sisters.  In particular Aurelia.  After that, the Bloody Duke wisely thought it was time to end Hugh’s spying activities, something that Hugh welcomed more than he had thought possible.  It meant that he could have a life again, could take a wife if he wished.

      However such things did not happen overnight, the duke – and Frost, of course, since Hugh wished to marry the man’s sister – had cautioned him.  Hints needed to be dropped that perhaps the Hunt family fortunes were improving, that fate was once again smiling upon the Strattfield marquisate.  And that was happening

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