A Lord’s Scandalous Arrangement (Preview)

Chapter One

Marlborough, Wiltshire, England, 1812

“There has to be a reason for it,” Arthur whispered to himself. The carriage rocked him from side to side as he read his father’s letter at once.

His stomach clenched tight as he read the bottom line.

‘You must come home. At once.’

Coming home had not been an easy or simple thing to achieve. After three years of travelling across Europe on his grand tour, this letter had reached him after some delay, being redirected through multiple addresses. In the end, the letter had found him as he had left his lover’s apartments in Venice, about to head to Rome for his next adventure. He’d torn the letter open, knowing he heard from his father so rarely that it had to be important.

The tone of the letter had made it plain that the request was not to be refused. 

Something has happened. Some ill news has occurred. Otherwise, why would I be summoned?

Still unable to make out any more hints in the letter than he could in Venice when he first retrieved it, he stuffed the letter back down into his pocket, his thoughts momentarily distracted by that day.

That was the last day he had lain in his lover’s arms, an Italian widow. With long black hair that curled effortlessly down her back, she had to be the most seductive woman he had ever had the fortune to share his bed with. Buxom, with wide hips and an ample bosom, he’d spent many an hour between the sheets with her, adoring her body, kissing every part of her he could reach.

“Ah,” he groaned aloud and thrust a hand into his hair, pulling on the short blond tendrils with frustration. “I’m in England now,” he huffed. This was the problem with England – here, there were stiff upper lips and so much propriety that every human being might as well be as stuffed full of starch as their shirts were. Under his father’s watchful gaze, he would hardly be able to take another lover or spend any time scandalously in a woman’s arms.

Such things must wait.

The carriage cornered sharply to the right, and the driver called for the horses to take care. Arthur knew this turn in the road, for he had taken it so many times when he was younger. He scrambled towards the window of the small and nimble carriage, his gaze seeking out the view beyond.

Green and rich in its lush wildflowers, the Wiltshire countryside shot past the window fast. Fading daffodil heads swayed in the breeze as growing tulips raised their heads, blooming. The sunshine beat down with unusual heat for this spring day. 

Then, between the green trees, as he knew it would, a grand gate appeared. On either side of the gate were two statues, as if they were guardians from myth, one a griffin, the other a pure eagle with its wings outstretched and its beak turned down, as though it was watching the carriage enter the estate with wariness.

“Home,” Arthur mumbled, with no great joy. He peered a little more beyond the window and the estate opened up before him.

Centuries-old, half of the building was dappled with redbrick and timber, the other half was white plaster and timber, the Tudor origins plain to see. Staff were gathering already to welcome him home. The butler stood on the steps, the housekeeper too, nervously wringing her hands together as she always did.

Some things don’t change.

The thought made Arthur chuckle as the carriage came to a stop. He leapt down before anyone could step forward to open the door for him.

At once, the butler and housekeeper hurried towards him. They had both aged even more in the last three years that he had been gone. Mrs Walter’s face was lined with age, and the butler’s thinning hair was now nearly non-existent.

“Trevor?” Arthur called to the butler. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Wrong?” Trevor frowned, clearly confused, as he reached him and bowed. “We’re delighted to see you home again, My Lord.”

“Yes, yes, delighted indeed,” Mrs Walter agreed, hastening to curtsy.

Baffled, tongue-tied, Arthur stared between them for a minute. He had been certain something had to be gravely wrong. Nothing else could explain the urgency and demand in his letter.

“My father …” Arthur looked to the steps leading up to the front door. “Is he unwell?”

“No, no, far from it.” Mrs Walter smiled and took his top hat from him, along with a swagger stick. “He’s pacing up and down his study as we speak, considering his painting collection.”

Arthur’s jaw fell open. This was not the greeting he had been expecting.

Something must be wrong, perhaps something he is unwilling to share with our staff, even the most trusted staff.

“If you head to the parlour, My Lord, I’ll see tea is brought to you at once,” Mrs Walter continued with that same welcoming smile as Trevor stepped away to organize Arthur’s bags being brought into the house. “You must be tired after your long journey.”

Wordlessly, Arthur headed towards the house. He now felt sick to his stomach; his confusion mingled with his fear that something was gravely wrong indeed. Could his father be ill? Could he be hiding such a sickness from the staff? Yet would he even be able to hide such a thing from Mrs Walter’s eagle eyes?

Stepping into the house, Arthur took in the dark panelled corridor with the ancient paintings on the walls. Not much had changed in these last three years. It was still the same Tudor manor, the history practically pinned to every wall. He turned and strode into the parlour where he awaited his father.

This room was the lightest in the house, dappled with bright white cushions and chairs in a rococo style. The hearth was empty of a fire today, thanks to the heat outside. Arthur stood by the window, absorbing the heat of the sun’s rays as he waited for his father to appear.

Eventually, a door across the room opened, and his father’s heavy footsteps came inside. Arthur jerked his head up, not daring to breathe, as he stared at his father. The Duke of Manton always held a distinguished appearance, but now, Arthur could see more likeness between them than he had noticed before. They had similarly long faces and the same strong jawline, though their eyes and hair differed. Arthur had inherited his mother’s fair hair, whereas the duke had light brown hair beginning to whiten with his advancing age.

“Ah, there you are,” the duke said as if Arthur had only been gone for a short walk.

“Father.” Arthur stepped forward, his hands hanging loosely at his sides. “Is all well? What has happened for you to call me back home with such sudden insistence?”

The duke cleared his throat and stepped forward. With a casual flick, he brushed back his coattails and sat down in the grandest armchair in the room, pinning his gaze on Arthur.

“There is something we must speak of –”

“Here we are.” A sudden voice from the doorway cut him off.

Arthur jumped in surprise as Mrs Walter hustled in, carrying a tea tray. She clearly had no idea she had interrupted a rather tense conversation. She smiled with ease and placed the tea tray on a small table before the duke.

“Thank you,” he said with an easy smile in her direction. The moment she turned her back and retreated, that smile vanished.

As the door closed behind Mrs Walter, Arthur practically leapt forward. He sat in the armchair opposite his father, leaning forward, his elbows on his knees.

“What is it? What’s happened?” he asked, restless to have an answer after a week’s worth of travel.

“You seem intent to believe some danger has befallen,” the duke murmured, a frown creasing his brow.

“Hasn’t it?” Arthur shifted, fidgeting in his chair. “The tone of your letter was insistent. You made it plain I could not refuse your request to come home.”

“That I did, but not because anything wrong has happened, merely because it is time you stopped playing the adventure boy and time you acted a full gentleman. At the age of twenty-eight, you are certainly ready for it.” The duke didn’t even look him in the eye as he said these words. Instead, he busied himself with reaching for the teapot and pouring out two cups.

For a few seconds, Arthur could say nothing. His lips opened and closed, but the words would not come. The insult was plain, but worse was how his father had clicked his fingers and Arthur had come running accordingly.

“You think learning of our world is a boy’s game, do you, Father?” Arthur asked coolly. “You believe one can learn everything about culture from that fine armchair?”

“I didn’t ask you to return just to hear your snide comments.”

“Then why did you ask me back in such a way? I have been tense this last week, fearing I will come back to something dreadful. I thought the house might have burned down or that you had fallen ill.”

“Worry not.” The first sign of warmth flickered in his father’s face, though the smile was brief. “I simply want you to marry.”

Arthur didn’t take the teacup proffered his way. He glared at his father, praying he had heard him wrong.

“Marry, Arthur. You are looking at me like it is a death sentence.”

“It is a life sentence, isn’t it? Much the same thing.”

“Arthur.” The duke put down the cup he had been pushing towards Arthur and sat back in his chair. Ever the regal and distinguished man, with cool and calm poise, he lifted his teacup to his lips and took a sip. “Marriage is a necessity for any heir to a title and lands. You know that. I impressed the truth of such a thing on you when you were young.”

Arthur scratched his jaw, his stomach even more tense now than when he had first arrived. Yes, he knew as a marquess he would someday have to marry so he would have a duchess and an heir on the day he became duke after his father had died. Yet he had always thought that day would be some indeterminate point in that future. Surely that future didn’t have to be today? 

The duke rested his teacup in his saucer on his knee, fixing his grey eyes on Arthur’s face.

“I wish you to marry Lady Maria Cotswold.”

Arthur had reached for the teacup when the words struck him. Instead of picking up the cup, he knocked it over, spilling the tea across the tray. Neither one of them made an effort to mop up the tea. They both just stared at one another.

“Lady Maria?” A sudden image filled his mind.

He saw the lanky fifteen-year-old girl he had last met five years ago. She had been as irritating as ever, a girl who never ever stopped talking. She was so bothersome that he had teased her mercilessly until she was red in the face. Thin, lanky, with little beauty to her face, her appearance had been as unattractive as her personality. 

“You must be in jest,” Arthur said, his voice suddenly seething. “You wish me to marry Lady Maria? She’s just a girl!”

“She’s very much a woman these days,” his father replied with perfect calmness, taking another sip of his tea. “You forget, her parents were my good friends.”

“How could I forget? I remember all the more the scandal that befell her family. I remember the way they fled London. The accident that happened to her parents and took their lives –”

“Yes, thank you, Arthur,” the duke answered tartly. “We do not need to repeat the scandal sheets in these four walls.”

Arthur rubbed his face, so certain this couldn’t be happening. Lady Maria was now tainted because of the scandal involving her parents. As far as he knew, Lady Maria hadn’t been seen in London or by the ton in five years. She had retreated to live with her uncle, far away from the eager eyes of the ton who liked to gossip.

Arthur sat back in his chair. The young and annoying Lady Maria would not make a good wife. How could he possibly take a woman who had annoyed him so much as his bride? Besides, his tastes were altogether very different.

He saw the Italian widow who had been his lover in his mind again. He still remembered firmly the feel of her curves beneath his touch, the way she had risen to him, wrapping her long legs eagerly around his hips as he took her.

I will not share my bed with a girl I cannot stand.

“No.” The words escaped his lips sharply.

His father lowered the teacup an inch, his face like thunder.

“You will do this, Arthur.”

“No, I will not. I’m not a boy you can order around.”

“You will do it.” The loud clink of the teacup being returned to its saucer disturbed the air. “I may not be able to disinherit you from the title of duke, but I can certainly disinherit you from the fortune if you refuse.”

“I beg your pardon?” Arthur sat so far forward that he was in danger of falling out of the chair. 

“I will invite Lady Maria, along with her aunt, uncle, and cousin here to the estate in Marlborough. You two will have the chance to court then before you are betrothed.”

“Father, you have not given me a chance to reply –” Arthur was on his feet, but before he could say any more – before he could even launch into the fully-fledged outrage bubbling inside of him, the door had opened. 

“Oh, my apologies, Your Grace.” The man who had stepped inside practically jumped back in alarm at the sight of Arthur. “I did not realize your son had arrived back yet.”

“Not to worry, Thorne.” The duke smiled and waved a hand at the steward in forgiveness.

Arthur glared at the steward. He’d never had any liking for the man. Tall, thin, with salt and pepper hair dappled across a high forehead, he was an intensely uncomfortable man to be around. This feeling grew all the stronger as Vincent Thorne bowed to Arthur in greeting but said nothing. There were no words of welcome or recognition. 

“I’ll leave you to your meeting, Your Grace,” Thorne said in his deep, gravely tone. “We can discuss business later.”

“Yes, of course. Thank you, Thorne.”

The steward retreated out of the room again, the door closing behind him. Arthur glared at the closed door, anger coursing through him so fast now that he was restless, moving around the armchair.

“He’s always everywhere,” he muttered under his breath. “He’s like a mouse in these corridors.”

“He’s a fine steward,” the duke reminded him with a sigh as if he were acting like a child. “Now, back to business.”

“The matter of marriage is not business,” Arthur hissed, leaning on the back of the armchair. “I will not marry her.”

“You will if you want your inheritance.” The simple threat made Arthur stand tall. This was far from what he had been expecting. Maybe he and his father had never seen eye to eye in many matters, but he had thought there had always been respect between them. Not now, though. That respect had vanished in an instant. “Good, I’m glad to see you are coming around to my way of thinking.”

Arthur continued to glare at his father. Evidently, his silence had been taken for an agreement.

What do I do?

He turned away and scratched his jaw once again, his habitual sign of stress. He had to avoid this outcome, somehow avoid being married to that bothersome girl, or he’d be pestered with her annoying ways for the rest of his life. Then an idea struck him, one so strong that a bolt of lightning might have as well hit him.

“Let us meet at the London estate instead,” Arthur said, his tone cool, showing he was still wary. He tried to hide the sudden excitement as best as he could.

The duke at once wrinkled his nose.

“You know I am not fond of going to London.”

“You do not have to be there.” Arthur shook his head. “A better thing, I’d say, if you want me to consider Lady Maria as a wife. That way, we can get to know one another without your watchful gaze.”

The duke smiled a little, acknowledging this would be irksome with a small nod.

“Let her family come to the London estate, and I will reintroduce them to the ton as well.” Arthur kept his true thoughts to himself. In London, he could introduce Lady Maria to society and arrange for her to find another suitor. He even planned to write a letter to Sir Oliver Sinclair, a good friend of his, a man who might suit her much better as a husband. If Oliver could come to the house, too, Arthur would have ample opportunity to thrust the pair together.

If Lady Maria could fall in love, then even my father would not deny the woman marrying another for love.

Despite his father’s stern and strict manner, Arthur knew the library held romance books. His father was no stranger to reading them. 

He has a romantic heart hidden very deep inside him.

“Well …” The duke’s brow wrinkled. He did not look enamoured by the idea, but he weighed it up for a minute or two as Arthur stared at him in expectation. Eventually, he sighed and nodded. “Very well. I suppose a young woman like Lady Maria may be diverted by the attractions of London. Yes, you can invite her there.”

Arthur tried not to look too pleased as he returned to the tea tray and mopped up the spilled tea from earlier.

If everything goes according to plan, I will not be marrying Lady Maria after all.

---

“A Lord’s Scandalous Arrangement” is an Amazon Best-Selling novel, check it out here!

Shunned by society’s scorn, Maria Cotswold is thrust back into London’s high society when an unexpected invitation arrives from the man she once despised, Lord Ryson. After her past debut’s downfall by rumors over her mother’s secret affair, her return reignites old wounds, desires, and the ton’s malicious gossip. Yet, the allure of forbidden passion with her childhood acquaintance surfaces and tensions burn stronger than ever. Unable to resist his sinful seduction, she must find a way to survive this scorching season.

Beneath their shared animosity lies a burning flame too potent to ignore…

Summoned by his father’s decree to marry, Arthur is taken aback to learn that the chosen bride is none other than Lady Maria. Remembered as a mere girl from his past, Arthur plans to divert his father’s intentions by orchestrating Maria’s match with another. Yet, when she re-enters his life as a bold, captivating woman, Arthur’s resolve begins to crumble under the weight of forbidden passion. As he succumbs to their undeniable attraction, he risks scandal by daring to explore the depths of lust in the dead of night.

Will he surrender to the desire that threatens to consume them both?

Caught in a sinful game of love without their will, Maria and Arthur realize there’s more than meets the eye. As they steal forbidden kisses and embrace scandalous moments, the shadows of their past threaten to engulf them. Will their mysterious liaison be their driving force to a future together or will preserving their reputations prove to be more important? Can fate’s passionate bond be extinguished after all?

“A Lord’s Scandalous Arrangement” is a historical romance novel of approximately 80,000 words. No cheating, no cliffhangers, and a guaranteed happily ever after.

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