The Heiress’s Deception by Christi Caldwell

Table of Content

• 1. Unnamed
• 2. OTHER TITLES BY CHRISTI CALDWELL Sinful Brides The Rogue’s Wager The Scoundrel’s Honor The Lady’s Guard The Brethren The Spy Who Seduced Her The Heart of a Scandal In Need of a Knight Schooling the Duke The Theodosia Sword Only for His Lady Only for Her Honor Only for Their Love Heart of a Duke In Need of a Duke For Love of the Duke More Than a Duke The Love of a Rogue Loved by a Duke To Love a Lord The Heart of a Scoundrel To Wed His Christmas Lady To Trust a Rogue The Lure of a Rake To Woo a Widow To Redeem a Rake One Winter with a Baron To Enchant a Wicked Duke Beguiled by a Baron Lords of Honor Seduced by a Lady’s Heart Captivated by a Lady’s Charm Rescued by a Lady’s Love Tempted by a Lady’s Smile Scandalous Seasons Forever Betrothed, Never the Bride Never Courted, Suddenly Wed Always Proper, Suddenly Scandalous Always a Rogue, Forever Her Love A Marquess for Christmas Once a Wallflower, at Last His Love Danby A Season of Hope Winning a Lady’s Heart Brethren of the Lords My Lady o
• 3. Unnamed
• 4. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Text copyright © 2017 by Christi Caldwell All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher. Published by Montlake Romance, Seattle www.apub.com Amazon, the Amazon logo, and Montlake Romance are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates. ISBN-13: 9781542048941 ISBN-10: 154204894X Cover design by Michael Rehder Cover photography by PeriodImages.com
• 5. To Jennifer and Jennifer: Oftentimes being a mom of a child with special needs is lonely . . . but then, if one’s fortunate, one finds friends and fellow mothers who understand more clearly what this journey is. Friends who are there for you and support you . . . who are there to listen through the uncertain times and always cheer you and your child on through the triumphs. I’m so very grateful to both of you for your friendship. Calum and Eve’s story is for you!
• 6. Contents Prologue 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 Acknowledgments About the Author
• 7. Prologue Mayfair London, England 1807 Calum Dabney was dying. And it was even more painful than his former gang leader, Mac Diggory, had threatened it would be. Stumbling along the alley, Calum clutched at his right side; warm blood coated his fingers. His breath came hard and fast in his ears as he crashed against the side of the white stucco townhouse. At fourteen, he’d been beaten, shot, and stabbed more times than even the Almighty himself had a right to survive. But borrowing support from the elegant building, he gritted his teeth through the pain and accepted the truth. I’m dying . . . On his birthday, no less. It was foolish, the staggering intensity, this need to survive. Since his parents’ death when he was a boy of five, he’d lived first in an orphanage, beaten for the pleasure of the nurses caring for him. Then he’d escaped and found a ruthless home among the Dial’s most lethal gang leaders. Calum had had an empty belly on most nights and had been forced to fight boys and me
• 8. Chapter 1 St. Giles, London Spring 1824 In relatively short order, Calum Dabney’s beloved club, the Hell and Sin, had descended into chaos. A fortnight, to be precise. It had taken but a fortnight for it all to unravel. Who would have imagined it wasn’t an outside foe that would wreak havoc on the club but rather their own, ever-shifting inner workings? The piercing screeches of two serving girls, followed by the loud clatter of shattered glass and the clang of a silver tray, cut across the din of the large crowd. Bloody hell. Pulse hammering as it did in any battle, Calum stood surveying the crush of patrons. He instantly located them—the source of the chaos. Tamping down a curse, he rushed through the club. Gentlemen hurriedly stepped out of his way, cutting a path for him. Calum skidded to a stop before the scantily clad women, just as the blonde beauty, a recent addition to the staff, backhanded the other server across the cheek. The crack of flesh striking flesh rose above the rau
• 9. Chapter 2 London, England Lady Eve Pruitt’s breath came hard and fast in her ears; it matched the frantic beat of her heart as she sprinted across the darkened streets of Lambeth. There had once been a time where lectures had been given by stern nursemaids and governesses on the need for measured steps. But that had been before. Before the death of her mother and father. Before her elder brother Kit’s disappearance. Before Gerald’s descent into total evil. Your brother promised you’d be obliging . . . on the shelf, as you are. But I do so prefer a fight, my lady . . . Terror and horror clutching at her insides, Eve quickened her steps. Dashing through an old rain puddle, she headed for a familiar, narrow alleyway. She reached that coveted place and collapsed against the wall. Do not think of it. Do not think of it. If you do not think of it, it isn’t real. She squeezed her eyes tight as the memory of Lord Flynn’s assault gripped her. His searching hands, the whiskey-scented breath as h
• 10. Chapter 3 St. Giles, London She stank. More specifically, Eve smelled of dates, figs, blackberries, and mulberries. Cooked, ground, and mixed into a heavy paste, she’d applied it to her hair for four days consistently. Given those particular fruit-based ingredients, one would expect a person might present with a tolerable scent, at least. Alas, the concoction, when cooked, had left her with inky-black hair and a pungent odor. The offended looks she’d received from her hired driver had proved just how noxious she, in fact, was. Of course, it certainly hadn’t helped Eve’s mixture that she’d been unable to drum up any of the requisite cypresses called for in the ingredients and had instead substituted the missing item with vinegar. She wrinkled her nose. Yes, she offended even her own senses. Then, mayhap that wasn’t altogether a bad thing. Mayhap it would prove quite useful in going about her business inside the gaming hell. After all, she’d difficulty enough tolerating her own smell. Sh
• 11. Chapter 4 The woman would never do. Nor had that been the immediate, initial opinion he’d reached. At first glance, with her tart tongue, Mrs. Swindell had shown some mettle. Mettle, when every other woman who’d held or interviewed for the post had cowered and blubbered at the pressure of the assignment. His reservation did not come from the stench of vinegar and Cook’s dinner gone wrong that filled his office. Rather, it came from the same intuition that had saved his arse too many times for a cat to live through—and the spectacles. It was also the young woman’s spectacles. The ones that had slipped free of her shaking fingers and now lay forgotten at her feet. The woman was weak. More than a foot smaller than his own six feet, five inches, her cloak hung big on her, giving her the look of a child playing dress-up. However, it was not her diminutive size that gave him leave to question her courage. Calum had known children who’d demonstrated a courage some grown men didn’t possess and
• 12. Chapter 5 Not even twelve hours after sending away Mrs. Swindell, with her horribly unfortunate-for-a-gaming-hell name and odd odor, Calum felt like hell. Only this time it was not solely guilt for turning out that faintly pleading young woman. Seated at the breakfast table in the kitchens, Calum took a sip of his coffee and winced. Ignoring that sting of discomfort, he proceeded to read the front of the Times. Where most men attended those pages for the gossip contained within, Calum over the years had taken to studying them for their clients. A proprietor of any establishment was best served knowing when one of his patrons was on the brink of desperation. It always paid to stay a step ahead of them. He skimmed the useless stories and names, then stopped abruptly when his gaze collided with one familiar nobleman mentioned at the front and center of the page. The Duke of Bedford remains bereft at the loss of his sister. Calum started. Little Lena Duchess. He’d not allowed himself to th
• 13. Chapter 6 He knew. Calum Dabney had determined that Eve was, in fact, the girl who’d once sneaked him food, and then on a night of fear, betrayed him in the worst way . . . There was no other accounting for the burning fury in his eyes that scorched her skin. Only—she puzzled her brow—all these years she’d believed he’d been hanged. Her brother Gerald had taunted her with the truth of Calum’s death with a regular frequency, until she’d become a master of her emotion and deprived him of the tears that admission had always rung. Calum winged a chestnut brow. Blinking back the haze of sleep and confusion, Eve followed his stare to the stacks of books littered about the too-small desk she’d commandeered last evening. And remembered. Being turned out. Stealing his books. “Oh,” she said lamely. “That.” With a languid grace that stirred warring parts warmth and unease inside her, Calum shoved away from the door. He started forward. “That?” he echoed back, his smooth, deep baritone rousing fur
• 14. Chapter 7 Eve’s back ached, and her eyes hurt. Neither of which were attributed to the miserable spectacles Nurse Mattison had insisted she don. She was fairly certain with the constant work she’d done on the Hell and Sin’s ledgers, she’d be dreaming numbers until she drew her last breath. But the following morning, winding her way through her new, temporary home, Eve felt a thrill of triumph. She smiled. She’d done it. Not only had she secured work inside the Hell and Sin—albeit an interim post—but she’d also managed to complete the daunting, near-impossible task set before her less than four and twenty hours ago, by Calum. A task that she was more than certain he designed to see her fail. As she’d explained to him in their meeting in her temporary chambers, Eve had never been one to crumble under the weight of a challenge. She’d not done it when her father fell ill, and then eventually died. She’d not done it when her brother had at last remembered her existence and sought to force h
• 15. Chapter 8 The following morning, Eve stared at the bevel mirror of her temporary chambers. Her wide brown eyes stood stark among her even paler than usual cheeks. He was looking for her. But one glimpse of that page yesterday on Calum’s desk had revealed that truth—he’d begun his search for her. What did you expect? That he wouldn’t look for you? She balled her hands. Gerald was in need of a fortune, and he would not rest until she was located. And of all the places she could have gone, she’d unknowingly chosen the home of Calum Dabney—the friend she’d once brought hurt and suffering to. A man who’d not hesitated to grant her an advance and who’d also, without any questions asked, allowed her to coordinate deliveries of food to the foundling hospital. Weighted by guilt, she briefly closed her eyes. She’d no right being here. What choice do I have? The truth rang clear—none. Eve had no options. None that were feasible. With one brother missing and the other a reprobate who’d sooner see
• 16. Chapter 9 Indiscreet servants could less than discreetly destroy a lady. It was a foolish adage her stiffly proper governess had ingrained into Eve’s head early on . . . a reminder to always be cautious and on guard. Now Eve saw that old saying in an altogether different light. One that reminded her a lady could learn much by simply listening to the men and women who knew the inner workings of a household. Or in her would-be case now—a gaming hell. It was how Eve knew Calum had a meeting planned with his sister, the Duchess of Somerset, and when and where that meeting would take place. She’d even gleaned some of the speculation of what brother and sister would discuss. Eve, however, had been far less interested in the personal discourse shared by a brother and sister than in the duration of said meeting. From the elegant chambers she now called home, Eve stared out her small, lone window into the streets below. Just as she’d been staring for the better part of an hour. Calum was to vis
• 17. Chapter 10 Oh, God. He is here. Why is he here? “Mr. Dabney,” she greeted. How was her voice so steady when inside her panic mounted? He was a wall of immovable granite, unyielding, revealing not a hint of thought, emotion, or that he’d so much as even heard Eve. At the protracted silence, her heart threatened to beat a path right outside her chest. “A moment alone, Mrs. Swindell.” The baby in Eve’s arms squealed and yanked hard on her hair. Lightening her hold, she made soothing words meant to assure both of them. Nurse Mattison wrung her wrinkled hands together. “That would not be appropriate. I . . .” He quelled the woman with the flinty stare that had terrified Eve as a girl. Until she’d come upon him whispering to her horse, Night, one day and seen past the gruff facade to the gentle, kind young man underneath. Oh, how she adored that life had not left him that often-unsmiling, snarling boy. “It is fine, Nurse Mattison,” she said calmly. In her accounting of where she’d been, and
• 18. Chapter 11 It had been a week. Seven days had passed since Calum had followed her to the foundling hospital and sat down beside her to work on Nurse Mattison’s worrisome books and records. In that time, he’d not only accompanied her back each day but also continued to assist her. And somehow, even with the impending threat of doom that hovered and the breathless fear of discovery, when she was with Calum, there was no terror or worrying about being found or harmed. As such, given how Eve now worked tirelessly on the accounts for two establishments, she should be exhausted. And yet, late that evening, with the early-morn hours looming and her work for the Hell and Sin waiting, Eve lay abed, restless, unable to sleep. Her forearm draped atop her forehead, she stared overhead at the naughty mural painted in vibrant jewel tones. In the past, where she’d been riveted by the wickedness of that tableau playing out, now her mind ran amok. “I’m going to hell,” she said. Even spoken in quiet ton
• 19. Chapter 12 For a long, never-ending moment built on wanton hope, Eve had believed Calum was going to again kiss her. And having been caught leaning out the window and listening in on his personal discussion like a naughty child, she should be awash in proper humiliation. Except, everything had gone right out of her head—including logic, order, and reason—the moment he’d sneaked into her office and taken her about the waist. Then he’d looked at her mouth in a way that made her believe he was about to kiss her—again. And how she ached to know the feeling of being in his arms, with the heat of his solid body pouring off his muscled frame and burning her from the inside out. Instead . . . he’d left. Not before he’d issued a heap of work for her to complete by tomorrow night. The door opened, and she wheeled around. MacTavish entered, his arms near overflowing with books. Favoring her with the same glower he had since she’d deceived him and then set up residence here, he emptied his burden
• 20. Chapter 13 She’d never gone to bed. The dark circles under her bloodshot eyes and the rumpled garments she’d been wearing hours earlier marked her exhaustion. When he’d taken leave of her, he’d meant to refocus her on her task inside this club. She was here to serve in the capacity of bookkeeper: oversee the ledgers, provide reports, meet with vendors, and that was it—matters strictly pertaining to business. Leaning out a window and teasing the lady while she teased back went counter to every purpose she served. It recalled Adair’s thinly veiled accusations and roused Calum’s own inherent guilt. Now he stood there, talking of his past and learning her interests, and with every exchange his existence became more and more muddled. “You should be resting,” he finally said, removing the brush from her long, ink-stained fingers. They were the hands of a woman unafraid of real work. Callused digits that served as a window into the life she lived. She leaned into the stable wall. “Are you bei
• 21. Chapter 14 “Mr. Dabney wants ya in the Observatory.” Engrossed in her work with the month’s liquor expenditures, Eve glanced up. The surly guard MacTavish glared back . . . just as he’d been glaring since she’d secured the post with some trickery fourteen days earlier. After she sat for countless hours in the same position, her neck muscles screamed in protest. She winced and rubbed the tight tendons at the base of her skull. “I’ll be but a moment,” she promised, and resumed tabulations in one of her final columns. “’e said now.” When she’d first arrived, MacTavish’s pronouncement would have set off warning bells of terror that she’d been found out and that Calum intended to toss her out. But that had been before. In the time since she’d been here, she’d come to appreciate that not all meetings represented impending doom. Rather, he summoned her regularly to discuss the club’s business and share parts of the inner workings of his establishment. “He also advised me to complete a report
• 22. Chapter 15 Eve should have been thinking about her upcoming meetings on Lambeth Street. She should have been filled with a deserved terror at being outside the Hell and Sin. The only news now written in the newspapers pertained to the Missing Heiress. The tale of a devoted brother, a powerful duke, doing all within his power to locate his cherished sister, had fed the ton’s need for gossip. According to those columns, Gerald had also taken to hiring Bow Street Runners to have her found. And yet, the following morning, seated on the bench of Calum’s well-sprigged coach, Eve sat in breathless anticipation thinking of only Calum Dabney. As a young girl, she’d had a reverent awe for Calum. He’d been fierce and unafraid, despite the peril he faced every day, but he’d never treated her with unkindness for her birthright. He’d treated her with more kindness than even Gerald, her own brother, had ever shown her. More, he’d treated her not as a duke’s daughter, not a wealthy heiress . . . just
• 23. Chapter 16 He’d wanted to accompany Eve on her appointments. Calum’s wish to join her had nothing to do with overseeing those meetings and certainly was not because he questioned her judgment. He’d simply . . . wanted to be with her. Instead, at this given moment, he stood precisely where he should—just not where he wished to be. Calum assessed the crowd at the Hell and Sin. This was for the best. He rolled his shoulders. It had been wise to not accompany her. Distance between them was safe for the both of them. She would be free to focus solely on the club’s business, which is what she’d been hired to do, and he wouldn’t be tempted to abandon his morals again, just for the feel and taste of her. He tamped down a groan and, not for the first time since she’d entered the Hell and Sin, cursed himself for this growing attraction. Only this was a need that moved beyond the physical. Rather, it came from an even more dangerous place than mere lust. It had to do with who she was as a woman:
• 24. Chapter 17 For all the horrors he’d witnessed and taken part of in the streets of St. Giles and all the darkness he’d known, there had been but two moments in his life when Calum had been so wholly lost—at sea. The first being when his parents had died and he’d found himself inside a cold, lonely foundling hospital. The other when he’d been carted off to Newgate and slated to die. Calum stared emptily at the small woman across from him. The slightly crooked teeth worrying her lower lip. The dusting of freckles along the bridge of her nose. “When I was a girl, my father would tell me of the great Greek stories contained in the night sky . . .” The memories continued coming fast and furious, tumbling over one another, confusing his muddled mind. “Nothing is more useful than silence . . .” “That’s your favorite saying, Calum . . .” “Tau.” “It means immortal . . .” No. The air exploded between his tightly clenched teeth in a noisy hiss, and he stumbled back a step. His stomach lurched. Eve
• 25. Chapter 18 With her valise packed, her gown changed, and her hair neatly brushed and plaited, Eve sat staring at her reflection in the dresser mirror. She cocked her head. She’d always hated her hair. Most English girls were born and blessed with golden curls. Eve, on the other hand, had been saddled with limp, dull-brown strands that couldn’t manage a curl if the Lord set himself to the task of it. Yet, since she’d blended that noxious recipe and painted her hair, she’d mourned the loss of her natural coloring . . . and not simply because of the odor that clung to her. She’d donned a disguise and lost so many parts of herself. Her name. Her existence. Even those once lamentable tresses. She touched a reverent hand briefly to the crown of her head. It was an odd thing to sit here contemplating in the time since Calum had stormed out of her rooms. Particularly given that he’d stationed a guard outside her door. “A guard,” she whispered into the quiet. Like she was a thief who could not
• 26. Chapter 19 Over the course of that week, everything within the club continued on as it had been. Standing at the mahogany table in the Observatory, Calum alternated his attention between reviewing the reports Eve had drafted and watching the patrons on the gaming floors. For all intents and purposes, it was any other day inside the hell. For all of Eve’s staggering revelations, there had not been any dramatic scandal to rock the club. There’d been no raging duke to storm the hell and lay the final deathblow to their success. Nor had there been any of the other shared tender moments between them. Damn him for being weak, Calum missed them. He missed the teasing discourse, and their working together at the foundling hospital. Instead, Eve had become the perfect employee. A barrier of formality had been erected between them where she was his bookkeeper and he her employer, and but for business meetings and topics pertaining to the club, nothing further was discussed. Her footsteps sounded
• 27. Chapter 20 Calum had faced down devils in the street. He’d shared a roof and answered to one of the most ruthless killers and gang leaders in both St. Giles and the Dials. But of all those monsters whose paths he’d crossed, none had he ever wanted to end more than he did Eve’s brother. A short while later, features schooled into a comfortable mask, Calum entered his office. The tall, elegantly clad Duke of Bedford reclined in the chair closest to Calum’s desk. Legs sprawled before him, hands resting on his slightly rounding belly, he personified ducal power. In his very repose, he was a man who acted as though the world was his due and he would expect nothing less. He’d also been the bastard who’d dunked Eve under freezing water when she was a child and arranged to have her raped when she was a woman. And Calum, who’d always prided himself on his control, was proved wholly inadequate in an altogether different way. A muscle twitched at the corner of his eye, and he fought to repress th
• 28. Chapter 21 Calum had but five hours until the Duke of Bedford returned to the Hell and Sin. In the end, it was not Ryker, Niall, or Adair who could help him from his situation. One of his uniformed servants handed over the reins. “’ere ya are, sir.” Accepting them with a murmur of thanks, Calum pulled himself astride. He nudged Tau into a quick trot, and then as he reached the end of the street, Calum gave the restless mount his freedom. Tau bleated his appreciation and thundered onward. The night’s cold still hung in the air, and Calum welcomed the wind as it slapped against his face. His pulse accelerated, pounding a frantic beat in time to Tau’s hooves as they struck the cobblestones. Any other time, he would have found calm in this. Riding had always filled him with the same exhilaration as securing a fat purse, and then racing off from those unsuspecting lords and ladies. Not now. Five hours. He had five hours before Bedford returned. The same bastard who’d put a knife in Calum’s
• 29. Chapter 22 Eve hadn’t slept, but oddly, as she’d gone through her morning ablutions and started from her rooms, her entire body stirred with a panicky wakefulness. It was time. Or rather, it soon would be. Gerald would return, and somewhere between his departure last evening and this moment, she’d accepted the truth—she could not let Calum make this decision. Because knowing him as she did, the boy in the mews who’d become an honorable man worried after those on his staff would never bow to Gerald’s threats. She stared blankly at the wood-paneled door. Before her courage deserted her, she jerked the door open. Calum’s brother stood there waiting. Eve shrieked and slapped a hand to her breast. “Oh, you startled me.” A gentleman of the ton would have replied with his apologies; Adair, however, met her with only seriousness. “My lady? May we speak?” he asked somberly. Gone was the frosty anger he’d directed her way last evening. She eyed him a long moment, then nodded. Adair spun on his h
• 30. Chapter 23 Her brother had a townhouse. It was a peculiar detail to fix on given the fear she’d lived with these past weeks, and yet she hadn’t known Kit had been in possession of a London townhouse. Seated on the window bench overlooking the streets of Grosvenor Square, her knees drawn up, Eve skimmed her gaze over the well-stocked library. She took in the floor-length shelving and leather button sofas. Kit was her brother and she loved him, and yet she couldn’t even venture to imagine what books he’d have placed upon those shelves. She didn’t know what dreams he’d had or who his friends were. Since Papa had died, and letters upon letters had been sent and been unreplied to, she’d gone from hope to despair to eventual acceptance. For the whole of her life, Kit had been devoted—when he was around . . . The truth had always been that he’d been gone more than he’d ever been part of her life. Oh, she loved him and always would. But he’d represented the closest dream she had to family, and
• 31. Epilogue Eve had never spent her life dreaming of a fortune, but seated inside her office at the foundling hospital and evaluating the food reports, she had a great appreciation for just all that money provided. Eve frantically scraped her pen over the page, completing the monthly reports for the Salvation Foundling Hospital. In the weeks since she’d wed Calum and secured her dowry, those monies had been put to use inside this institution that had come to mean so very much to her. One number upon the ledger, however, commanded all her notice. Fifty children. Pausing, she reverently stroked that now dry number she’d inked earlier that day. Only this was solely the beginning. Those children who’d found homes in the expanded space inside the foundling hospital were just the first. Discussing it the night they’d been reunited, Calum had proposed they expand the help they provided . . . to other hospitals and establishments around England. A quivery smile turned her lips up. With their moni
• 32. Acknowledgments To Alison, Lauren, and my entire team at Montlake Romance, I’m so very grateful for all your support. Thank you for trusting my vision as an author and for allowing me to bring the Sinful Brides world to the page.
• 33. About the Author Photo © 2016 Kimberly Rocha USA Today bestselling author Christi Caldwell blames Julie Garwood and Judith McNaught for luring her into the world of historical romance. When Christi was sitting in her graduate school apartment at the University of Connecticut, she began writing her own tales of love. Christi believes even the most perfect heroes and heroines have imperfections. Besides, she rather enjoys torturing them—before the couple earn their well-deserved happily ever after. Christi makes her home in southern Connecticut, where she spends her time writing, chasing after her courageous son, and caring for her twin princesses-in-training. For free bonus material and the latest information about Christi’s releases and future books, sign up for her newsletter at www.ChristiCaldwell.com.