Earl Of Passion: A Steamy Historical Romance (The Wicked Rakes Book 1), page 1
Earl of Passion
A Steamy Historical Romance Shirley Shadow
Shirley Shadow
The Wicked Rakes series - Book One
Copyright © 2023 Shirley Shadow
All rights reserved
Published by Shirley Shadow
Cover Art by Forever After Romance Designs
This book or any portion thereof may not be used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotation in a book review.
The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded, or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is punishable by law.
This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to person, living or dead, or places, events, or locales, is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.
For more information contact author Shirley Shadow.
To my husband, who dared me to writing an historical romance instead of only read them.
To granny White.
Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
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
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Tristan’s Answer
Historical Note
Want more Helena and Alastor?
My Dark Duke
Chapter 1
About the Author
Chapter 1
Sycamore Hill Estate, Hampshire, late summer 1880.
Water.... swish swish.
Sun on the wet skin...
Hold the breath and dive in, head under the water.
Silence.
Peace.
A relaxing feeling.
There were few things Lady Helena of Pembroke liked more than swimming in the small lake owned by the family of her friend Lady Evelyn Claremont.
The two girls had grown up together, almost as sisters, because Helena’s father, the Marquess of Pembroke, didn’t want her to cross his affairs and almost always left her with his best friend, the previous Earl of Claremont.
Evelyn’s father accepted her almost as if as she was his own daughter. Helena was only one year older than Evelyn and they were great friends. Though of quite different characters, they were able to complement each other. As much as Helena was exuberant, Evelyn was equally shy.
Lady Evelyn and Lady Helena were two different sides of a knife, one blunt and sharp and the other not so. Lady Evelyn was the one who fussed about how unladylike every action was, carrying herself with candor and grace. Lady Helena, on the other hand, was extremely audacious, brave, and against any kind of rule.
This was one of those occasions when Helena's audacity got the better of Evelyn's wisdom.
Thanks to the intense heat, the two friends had decided to swim in the nearby lake as they did when they were little girls.
They giggled the whole time, splashing each other with water, laughing out loud, and now they stopped swimming and just relaxed by floating side by side, staring at the blue sky in silence, while the birds chirped from the nearby ancient trees.
The lake and its surroundings so happened to be one of the most peaceful in Sycamore Hill Estate and the ideal place to occasionally hide away to lounge around with no one in sight.
A well-trimmed garden, with a great variety of flowers, and bushes, surrounded part of the lake and on the opposite shore, in front of the manor, stood a folly of a Roman temple that the late Countess of Claremont, after a trip to Italy, wanted to build.
Not far from there, the orchard, with its various fruits, spread joy, colour and aromas in the air. And then there was the wood, solid and mysterious, which started from there and extended for hectares on the estate and which, given the heat, was a real blessing for human beings and animals who could find refuge there.
The fragrance all around the lake was a mixture of wood, musk, and ripe fruit that had fallen, in addition to the scents of flowers from the garden. This made for a relaxing, almost heavenly smell. Warm and not overly sensitive, relaxing, it almost put the ladies to sleep, save for the coolness of the water.
“What the hell are you two doing?”
The two girls stood up, surprised, trying to figure out who had spoken.
When Evelyn recognized her brother Alastor, the Earl of Claremont, with a handsome stranger, riding their horses, on the edge of the lake, she knelt down in the water, to hide herself as much as possible from their sight, as she was wearing only her chemise, which, once wet, had become mostly transparent.
Her eyes were wide open, as if she were mesmerized.
“Are we perhaps swimming?” said Helena with a defiant expression and definitely without any shame, proudly standing to show her luscious curves to Alastor.
Her best friend’s brother. The one who always saw her as a sister, too. She hoped that seeing her in that way he would see her as a woman and not anymore as an almost sister.
Lady Helena of Pembroke had been in love with Alastor for the longest time since the first night she’d gotten dropped off permanently at Sycamore Hill at just seven years old by her father, the Marquess of Pembroke, and even though Alastor had acted blindly to all of her attempts to get noticed by him and treated her just as he treated Evelyn, a sister, it just made her love for him increase.
She remembered very well the first time she saw him as she walked onto the estate tail between her legs.
The first thing she saw of him were his blue eyes, of that intense blue as she imagined the blue of the ocean to be. Their expression was benevolent, welcoming.
Then she noticed the colour of his hair, a dark blond that looked like burnished gold, with some lighter undertones.
Just perfect, she thought.
Then she saw his smiling mouth, his happy expression of one who was loved and knew his place in the world.
She looked at him as a whole.
He was a very handsome young man.
Just perfect, she thought again.
But that first smile he gave her made her spellbound, and she had been hopelessly in love with him since then.
That first smile he shot at her as she tried to hide between her dad’s huge frame that stole her heart. Or it may have been the mere sight of him and all that handsomeness.
She remembered thinking how he was the absolute finest young man she had ever seen.
Save for freckled bent over old men who were mostly business associates of her father, a manservant who had the ugliest stomach ever, and the gamekeeper with a bald head, she had not had the opportunity to meet many men until that fateful day.
She remembered that back then, when their eyes locked, she smiled unashamedly, not minding that some of her teeth had fallen out.
When she thought about that, she still felt embarrassed now.
Years had passed, and that knotting in her stomach every time he smiled at her had not stopped. Instead, it was now accompanied by a barrage of emotions that threatened to burst open her heart.
∞∞∞
Alastor Claremont, Earl of Claremont, swallowed and his eyes wandered over the generous curves of Helena's figure.
He could clearly see through the thin fabric of her chemise the pink shade of her water-hardened nipples.
Looking down, he saw her perfect waist and beautiful hips, and in the upper part of her thighs, the red tuft of her pubis, the very same colour of her hair.
Alastor closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
Helena had been with his family since she was a child. She had grown up with them.
He had always regarded her as a sister, but in recent years she had become a woman, a truly remarkable woman indeed.
Alastor tried to keep thinking of her as a sister, but he couldn't.
And now ... he had seen her naked ... how could he not think about her beautiful curves?
His cockstand was instant.
Riding now would be very uneasy.
Nick, Nicholas Trent, Duke of Norfolk, cleared his throat.
“What are you doing? Don’t look at them! Look away!” Alastor shouted to his friend.
“I’m not looking.” Nick said, raising his hands to clear himself, alarmed by the edge in his friend’s voice.
r /> “Evelyn, Helena, retrieve your clothes and go home without being seen by anyone. You are not little girls anymore! I will ask your maid to prepare a bath for you.”
His heart was thudding aloud in his ribcage, and he was having trouble coordinating his thoughts and movements, but he forced his eyes away from that naked Helena, that sight of beauty that was like Venus emerging from the waves.
Then he directed the horse towards the stables without turning around.
Norfolk followed him.
∞∞∞
Helena waited until the two men could no longer hear her voice and then started laughing out loud. Evelyn couldn't help but laugh with her.
“Did you see your brother’s face? My Lord! Probably the most amusing expression he has ever had!”
“Poor dear! Surely, he did not expect to find us naked in the lake, considering that the Dark Duke was with him!”
“Was the stranger the Dark Duke?”
“Helena! Didn’t you notice his blue-black hair and dark eyes? His almost giant size? His... behaviour?”
No, Helena did not notice anything but Alastor looking finally at her as a man looks at a woman, as a man looks at a woman he desires.
She’d been in love with him from the very first time she’d seen him, but he had always seen Helena as a sister…until today.
Chapter 2
Tea.
Tea fragrance.
Tea colour.
There is nothing better than teatime to enjoy the company of interesting people.
The former Earl of Claremont and his countess, Alastor and Evelyn’s parents, loved each other deeply, and they were splendid parents.
They took great care of their children, respecting their opinions and their talents.
Unfortunately, a few years earlier, they’d had a naval accident, and the world lost two bright stars; Alastor and Evelyn lost their beloved parents suddenly.
Alastor became the young Earl of Claremont, trying to match his father's value.
Sycamore Hill manor held a special place in the hearts of the Earl of Claremont and his sister, Lady Evelyn Claremont.
Apart from being their favourite place, it also reminded them of the love their parents shared as they spent more time here, and it was filled with memories.
Their dad’s love for riding horses in the woods. Their mom’s love for flowers, and her desire to have a perfectly flowered garden and the most exotic orangerie around.
They continued to keep the garden, the folly, and the orangerie as their mother would have wanted them and their stable abounded with fine horses, just as it was when their father was alive.
The manor was of remarkable beauty, having retained its original appearance and grace even after undergoing renovations to modernize it. Amidst the rolling hills of Hampshire, the Baroque-style manor boasted an imposing symmetrical facade that spoke of the era in which it was built, with balance and harmony and that was precisely the feeling that invaded the guests: harmony and peace.
The towering columns and elaborate mouldings with intricate carvings gave a sense of grandeur, explaining how wealthy the Claremont family was. The manor, of course, was surrounded by beautiful scenery: woods, gardens, the orchard, and the lake where they swam as children.
When the Claremonts were in Sycamore Hill, they used to have tea in the orange parlour, a cute small parlour on the west side of the manor, where it was possible to catch the sunset when the sunlight took the same colour of the parlour walls.
During summer, teatime was not at sunset, however they were all gathered there.
“Now that we are in a more civilized situation,” Alastor began, “let me properly introduce you to Nicholas Trent, Duke of Norfolk, one of my best friends since my Oxford days.” Alastor continued, “My sister, Lady Evelyn Claremont, and our friend, almost another sister to us, Lady Helena Pembroke.”
The two young ladies bowed to him.
“Your Grace,” they said.
“Please, do not ‘Your Grace’ me! Just call me Nick,” he answered.
“Should we call you ‘Dark Duke’?” Helena asked, smirking.
Nick frowned a little. “If it pleases you,” he said dryly.
Alastor glared at her with an illegible look. “Just call him Nick.” He cut it short.
“I didn’t expect to find your sister and her friend here,” said Nick looking at Alastor with a knowing look while they took a seat.
“Aunt Jane wanted to spend some time in Brighton before autumn. I could not leave them in London, at Claremont House, with nobody looking after them.”
Nick slowly shook his head, looking at his friend.
Mrs. Doughfire had prepared her famous cinnamon biscuits, possibly the most delicious cookies of the entire Hampshire.
The teapot was hot, and the scent of tea wafted in the air, only those present were a little too quiet and uncomfortable.
Alastor could not help but watch Helena Helena was pretending to look out of the window, Evelyn was looking at her hands, and Nick was looking inside the fireplace, which was clearly empty, given the rare hot temperature that day.
Helena was thinking that this was one of the moments in which she missed her other friend Kitty, Lady Catherine Mortimer.
She was one of the wittiest girls she knew. If she had been there, surely, she would have known how to avoid this moment of tension.
She sighed.
Evelyn said, “I miss Kitty, too.”
Helena gasped, surprised, wondering if Evelyn could read her thoughts.
“I invited her,” said Alastor. “But she is in mourning. She is Wiltshire’s sister,” he said, explaining to Nick. Nick's eyebrows rose a little.
“As far as I know, her mother is suffering great pain in her loss. She loved her husband tenderly, and now…Kitty cannot leave her alone at this moment,” said Helena.
“But if she were here now, I know she would have said something like: What a joyful moment! And she would have laughed.”
Putting down his now empty cup and raising from his seat, Nick said,
“I beg your pardon, but I have some correspondences to write.”
Evelyn rose as well. “I will leave too and spend some time in the library.”
Chapter 3
Tasting you for the first time.
I finally found my favourite taste.
They were alone.
Helena smoothed her olive-green gown a bit.
The colour suited perfectly the colour of her cheeks and her red hair.
The gown was simple, but it enveloped her bust, highlighting her curves, the delicate lace on the neckline barely hiding the valley between her breasts.
She still looked away from him, thinking that all she ever wanted was the handsome man who sat next to her, still looking at her.
She could sense his gaze on her.
How many times had she dreamed of being alone with him?
It had happened before, but this time was different, as he was aware that she was a woman, no longer a child, not a “sister” in any way.
How many times had she dreamed of being held in his strong arms, of being kissed by him?
Almost every night of her life.
She turned to him, meeting his gaze.
Looking him directly in his eyes.
∞∞∞
