Indecent, page 1
Indecent
Darcy Burke
Zealous Quill Press
Indecent
Copyright © 2022 Darcy Burke
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 9781637260432
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Book design: © Darcy Burke.
Book Cover Design: © Erin Dameron-Hill at EDHProfessionals.
Editing: Lindsey Faber.
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the author.
Created with Vellum
For the Hot Sexy Six, my daily dose of sanity, hilarity, and damn good friendship. You are so smart and amazing, and I’m so glad we’re a gang!
Contents
Indecent
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
Epilogue
Also by Darcy Burke
About the Author
Indecent
Society’s most exclusive invitation...
* * *
Welcome to the Phoenix Club, where London’s most audacious, disreputable, and intriguing ladies and gentlemen find scandal, redemption, and second chances.
* * *
If Bennet St. James, the Viscount Glastonbury, doesn’t find a bride with a sizeable dowry, he’ll be in the poorhouse along with his interminable number of female relatives—all of whom he loves but are a drain on the negative fortune his father left when he died of a broken pocketbook. Desperate, he hatches a scheme to snare an heiress only to be foiled by a most vexing and alluring—and unfortunately equally destitute—paid companion.
* * *
Lady’s companion Prudence Lancaster is single-minded about finding her mother and filling in the missing pieces of her life. But a villainous viscount interrupts her plans, and his surprising charm and understanding tempts her in the most indecent ways. Soon, she’s dreaming of the future instead of wallowing in the past.
* * *
But when Bennet shares a dark secret, her hopes are dashed. For he won’t break the promise he made to his family, even if it means losing the greatest love he’s ever known.
Don’t miss the rest of The Phoenix Club!
Do you want to hear all the latest about me and my books? Sign up at Reader Club newsletter for members-only bonus content, advance notice of pre-orders, insider scoop, as well as contests and giveaways!
* * *
Care to share your love for my books with like-minded readers? Want to hang with me and see pictures of my cats (who doesn’t!)? Then don’t miss my exclusive Facebook groups!
Darcy’s Duchesses for historical readers
Burke’s Book Lovers for contemporary readers
* * *
Want more historical romance? Do you like your historical romance filled with passion and red hot chemistry? Join me and my author friends in the Facebook group, Historical Harlots, for exclusive giveaways, chat with amazing HistRom authors, and more!
Chapter 1
England 1815
* * *
Jolted awake as her head banged the side of the coach, Prudence Lancaster mumbled something extremely unladylike. If there wasn’t a sack over her head, she could see where she was going or if it was still night. She assumed it had to be. While she’d managed to doze, the rough road didn’t allow her to rest for long.
She had no idea where she was going or who had kidnapped her, let alone why. That anyone would go to the trouble of snatching her—an unimportant paid companion—was perplexing to say the least. Hopefully, she would have some answers when they got to wherever they were going. She prayed that would be soon.
With her hands and feet bound and a cloth tied around her mouth, she was quite uncomfortable. She’d long ago tumbled from the seat and hadn’t been able to get herself back onto it. Her captors were not the least considerate.
The sound of rain against the roof soothed her, at least.
She rolled to her back and was grateful that her hands were bound in front instead of behind. She’d prefer they weren’t bound at all, of course. Every attempt she’d made to loosen the rope had been utterly futile. She’d given up some time ago.
How long ago was that exactly? She wasn’t even sure what time they’d abducted her because they’d roused her from a dead sleep.
All she recalled was that she’d fallen into a dreamless slumber upon returning to the inn in Croydon after the boxing match. She’d rushed there from London with Cassandra, the duke’s daughter to whom she was companion, so Cassandra could find the man she loved. Lord Wexford had been one of the fighters. He and Cassandra had been happily reunited, then they’d gone to spend the night wherever he was staying.
Since Prudence was not a chaperone, as she’d reminded Cassandra repeatedly, she’d done nothing to stop them. On the contrary, she was thrilled that Cassandra was so happy.
Decidedly less thrilling was the manner in which Prudence had been rudely awakened at some point in the night. She hadn’t seen the face of whoever had grabbed her before a cloth was tied tightly around her mouth and a bag pulled over her head. Shock and terror had quite stolen her senses.
They’d then bound her hands and feet, and the pair had carried her downstairs and out of the King’s Arms. She assumed they were a pair since she’d heard only two voices by that point. They’d joined a third man outside before setting her into the coach saying she’d “be with him soon” and there was “nothing to fear.”
With whom? And how in the bloody hell could she remain unafraid given their careless handling of her? Many parts of her ached from bouncing about the floor of the coach, and there was a thoroughly disgusting taste in her mouth from the cloth they’d used to gag her.
But Prudence refused to break. She’d eventually get free.
And then what?
She supposed that depended on whom she’d be with soon. Since they’d said she had nothing to fear, Prudence clung to that. Perhaps there was a good explanation for her abduction.
The dread that had lived in her spine these many hours said otherwise.
The rain increased to a heavy staccato, and she hoped it wouldn’t slow their passage. She wanted to get wherever they were going. The thought of stretching her body and taking a deep, unhindered breath was incredibly appealing.
Eventually, she closed her eyes and was again lulled into a half sleep where she remained aware of the bump and rustle of the coach. Then the coach stopped. That catapulted her into full wakefulness.
She sat up just before the door opened—behind her, she realized.
“Oi! She’s on the floor!” one of them called out.
“Just pull ’er out!” another responded.
Large hands hauled Prudence from the coach into the rain. At least my head’s completely covered, she thought wryly. She was also glad for the cloak they’d thrown over her night rail before dragging her from her room.
The man tossed her over his shoulder and carried her some distance. She was cold and wet by the time they walked into a building. Warmth suffused her, and she closed her eyes in a mixture of relief and gladness.
The emotions didn’t linger, however, as she realized she was surely about to meet the “him” she wasn’t supposed to be afraid of. Tension knifed through her, and unease swirled in her gut. Bouncing against the brigand’s shoulder as they climbed stairs didn’t help matters.
A door opened, creaking softly, before they moved inside. She heard it close behind them. Then they set her on the floor, but the one who’d carried her kept his arm around her. As much as she would have preferred that he erupt into flames instead of touch her, she needed the support.
“What the devil have you done?” a fourth gentleman, who sounded vaguely familiar to Prudence, not that she could place him, asked with a mixture of shock and anger, his voice low.
“We brought ’er ’ere just like ye said. Where’s the money?”
“You were supposed to bring her, not truss her up like a pheasant after the hunt!”
A pheasant after the hunt? This was a gentleman, but she would have guessed that based on his refined speech alone.
“We don’t take chances when there’s this much blunt involved,” the same brigand responded. “Now give us what you promised, or we’ll take the chit and go.”
She heard a thump and wondered what that noise could be. How she wished she could speak!
“I hope you didn’t wake the innkeepers.”
“We came in quiet, just like you said to. Now give us our blunt.”
“Fine,” the gentleman said caustically. There were footsteps and some shuffling. “Here.”
“Count it,” the brigand growled.
“It’s all ’ere,” ano
“Pleasure doing business with you, m’lord.” There was no mistaking that the brigand was smiling as he said this.
Then the arm around her was gone, and Prudence wobbled. Another set of arms came around her, along with the scent of pine and bergamot. This was the gentleman.
The sound of the door closing filtered through the sack covering her head just before it was whisked away.
“My apologies, Lady Cass—”
Prudence blinked into a face she knew. Bright blond hair and stunning blue-green eyes, chiseled features with sculpted lips. Lord Glastonbury?
He recoiled in horror. “You aren’t Lady Cassandra!”
Prudence’s response was muffled by the gag. He’d planned to kidnap her employer? Not that Cassandra was her employer, but Prudence was her paid companion.
“Oh my God.” He reached behind her head and untied the infernal piece of fabric.
As soon as it was loose, she spit it from her mouth. “A drink, please.”
“Yes, of course.”
“Perhaps after you untie me,” she rasped, her body suddenly screaming of thirst, but not as loudly as it was for freedom.
Glastonbury hastened to pluck the rope from her wrists, then bent and did the same at her ankles. When she was free, she contemplated sending her foot into his chest and knocking him back on his arse. Instead, she rubbed her wrists and glowered at him as he stood to fetch her a glass of whatever was in the bottle on the table.
He handed her the glass, his brow deeply furrowed. “I don’t understand what happened.”
Prudence drank half the glass—it was ale—before pausing. “You had me kidnapped, it seems.”
“Not you. Lady Cassandra.”
That he’d planned to steal Cassandra, the daughter of a duke, from her very bed was beyond astonishing. “As you can see, they nabbed the wrong person.” And Prudence could guess why.
“I don’t know how. I told them where she would be and what she was wearing—a purple cloak.” His gaze dropped to the purple cloak draped around Prudence.
“We switched cloaks.” Prudence glared at him. “They woke me, gagged me, put a bag over my head, tied my hands and feet, and dragged me who knows where in the middle of the night. But you intended for that to happen to Lady Cassandra?”
His face flushed red. “I didn’t intend for them to do any of that. I paid them to bring you to me without being seen.” He frowned, his gaze dropping to her reddened wrists. “It seems they took things too far.”
“You think so?” she asked with razor-sharp sarcasm. She finished the ale and thrust the glass back at him. “Do you have anything stronger?”
“I do not. Would you care for more ale?”
“If that’s all you have. Though, port or madeira would be preferable,” she muttered darkly.
He flinched, then refilled her glass. “Miss Lancaster, I am terribly sorry for all this.”
She was shocked he recalled her name. Most gentlemen wouldn’t.
Though Prudence might have preferred a fortified wine to ease her pains, she was grateful for any flavor, even ale, to wash away the taste of the last hours. She took several more sips before lowering the glass. Then she walked to the hearth, where a low fire burned, and held one hand out to the warmth. “Your apology is inconsequential. I am glad they took me instead of Lady Cassandra. To think of her suffering what I have…” She shuddered.
Turning, she pinned him with a furious glare. “Why would you do this?”
He hesitated, frowning more deeply than before. His gaze flicked to the floor. “We were going to elope.”
“I’m fairly certain elopement involves both parties’ agreement and consent.”
His head snapped up. “How do you know she didn’t give them?”
Prudence scoffed. “I’m her companion. I know precisely what we were doing in Croydon, and it had nothing to do with you.”
He exhaled. “Not an elopement exactly, but I feel confident she would have been amenable once she arrived here and saw me.”
“Amenable after being dragged through the night trussed, as you say, like a pheasant after the hunt? Tell me, Lord Glastonbury, how many pheasants have you trussed?”
“None. Others take care of that.”
“Of course they do,” she whispered through a sneer. “Your kind don’t do anything for yourselves. Mustn’t soil your hands when you can have someone else do it for you.”
“My kind?”
“Entitled gentlemen.”
Wincing, he extended his hand toward her, but promptly dropped it to his side again. “You clearly think quite poorly of me, and you’ve every right, but let me explain.”
“Explain what? How you would have ruined Lady Cassandra with your actions? You’re despicable. And that isn’t just my opinion. Anyone would objectively think that after what I’ve been through and upon learning you orchestrated the entire ordeal.”
He had the grace to look pained. Remorseful, almost. Actually, he did look as if he regretted his actions, but Prudence wasn’t going to forgive him. “I was desperate. I thought this would work—Lady Cassandra and I like one another. I was certain she would accept my proposal. But then her father meddled. I just needed to explain to her—”
Gripping her glass, Prudence took a step toward him. “What would you have explained?”
He said nothing, his features a mixture of obstinance and regret, the latter of which was beginning to annoy her.
“You would have stolen her choices—her entire future. She’s in love with Wexford. I expect they will be married.” Which meant Prudence would need to find a new position, and her sudden disappearance could greatly endanger her prospects. Her outrage increased.
The viscount’s face didn’t register surprise. There was resignation. And anger.
Prudence went on. “You would have stolen her from the man she loves, and for what? To refill your empty coffers?”
He opened his mouth, then snapped it closed, his lips whitening.
“There is nothing for you to explain and certainly nothing to excuse. And I think you know it.” She took another long drink, her gaze glued to his.
His jaw worked, and he finally looked away from her. “I regret my actions. As I said, I was desperate. You can’t possibly understand. I’ll return you to London in the morning.”
“Where are we?”
“Hersham. About twenty miles southwest of Mayfair.”
“I can’t begin to imagine the extent of your nefarious plot—where you were going, what you planned—but I hope the shame remains with you the rest of your days. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I would like to sleep.”
“Your bag is there.” He pointed to her case, which must have been the thump she’d heard when the sack was still over her head.
“I’m surprised they brought that,” she said before tossing back the rest of the ale.
“I asked them to.” He blinked at her. “I’m not completely horrid,” he added softly.
She set the glass on the table and curled her lip toward him. “You can tell yourself that as much as you like. Just know it isn’t true.”
Lifting her arms, she stretched, and it felt glorious. What would feel even better would be to wash up. She glanced toward a dresser with a ewer and basin on top. “Is that water clean?”
“It is.”
“Good. I don’t know where you’re sleeping, but it’s not in that bed.”
