A Scandalous Liaison
Six years ago, the rakish Viscount St Austell betrayed his best friend and his own sense of honor by seducing Lionel's sister, Loveday Trehearne. Now St Austell has hired Lionel as an artist and is reunited with Loveday once again. Though she is as beautiful as ever, Loveday lives in poverty. . . and a different sort of mystery seems to be haunting the Trehearnes, too.The scandalous viscount is determined to help Loveday despite her resistance—but his toughest challenge will be fighting the passion that still burns between them. . . .
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Six years ago, the rakish Viscount St. Austell betrayed his best friend and his own sense of honor by seducing Lionelâs sister, Loveday Trehearne. Now St. Austell has hired Lionel as an artist and is reunited with Loveday once again. Though she is as beautiful as ever, Loveday lives in povertyâ¦and a different sort of mystery seems to be haunting the Trehearnes, too. The scandalous viscount is determined to help Loveday despite her resistanceâbut his toughest challenge will be fighting the passion that still burns between themâ¦
This story is for Anne who answered so many questions about painting murals, and for Tony â whose long-standing friendship is unshakeable, even to the extent of answering my very nosy questions about dreams.
And itâs for Smokey, who snoozed by my desk for so many years and stories.
I miss you, old friend.
About the Author
Award-winning author ELIZABETH ROLLS lives in the Adelaide Hills of South Australia in an old stone farmhouse surrounded by apple, pear and cherry orchards, with her husband, two soccer- mad sons, two dogs and a cat. She also has four alpacas and two incredibly fat sheep, all gainfully employed as environmentally sustainable lawnmowers. The kids are convinced that writing is a perfectly normal profession, and sheâs working on her husband. Elizabeth has what most people would consider far too many books, and her tea and coffee habit is legendary. She enjoys reading, walking, cooking, and her husbandâs gardening. Elizabeth loves to hear from readers, and invites you to contact her via e-mail at [email protected] and visit her web site at http://www.elizabethrolls.com.
Other Books By
If you liked this story, look for these other titles by Elizabeth Rolls, on sale now wherever ebooks are sold!
The Dutiful Rake
The Unexpected Bride
The Unruly Chaperon
The Chivalrous Rake
A Compromised Lady
Lord Braybrookâs Penniless Bride
and
âThe Prodigal Brideâ in A Regency Invitation âA Soldierâs Taleâ in Mistletoe Kisses
Enjoy more passion through the ages with the sensual Mills & Boon Historical UNDONE titles on sale now:
Pleasured by the Viking by Michelle Willingham
Arabian Nights with a Rake by Bronwyn Scott
Bitten by Desire by Marguerite Kaye
The Virginâs Pursuit by Joanne Rock
Innocent in the Harem by Michelle Willingham
Taming Her Gypsy Lover by Christine Merrill
The Laird and the Wanton Widow by Ann Lethbridge
The Highlander and the Sea Siren by Marguerite Kaye
Convenient Wife, Pleasured Lady by Carole Mortimer
Craving something a little longer? Find more historical romantic adventure from Mills & Boon Historical at www.millsandboon.co.uk or your local bookstore.
Interested in writing for Mills & Boon Historical UNDONE? Send your submission to [email protected].
A Scandalous Liaison
She glanced back over her shoulder, smiling, face half hidden by the hood of her cloak. No words, just the beckoning smile, part innocence, all invitation. His breath came in hard and fast as he reached for her, touched the billowing cloakâ¦His fingers passed through it like smoke, and with a soundless sigh the cloak dissolved, taking with it the fading vision as he lunged forward. He tried to cry out but could not. And there was nothing except loss and yearningâ¦
He awoke into darkness with a jolt, his breath shuddering as he sat bolt upright. Heâd had a hell of a dream; at least he thought he must have. Sweat cooled on his body and his heart hammered. Yes. Something about a cloak. Onlyâ¦he couldnât remember. Just that he had dreamedâ¦that he had wanted something and it had been taken from him. The cloak had taken itâ¦or had he lost it? He lay down again and closed his eyes. As he drifted back toward sleep the thought flickeredâ¦something? Or someone?
Evelyn Fitzhugh, Viscount St. Austell, stared mutely at the murals adorning the bedchamber walls of his Grosvenor Square mansion. A line from Lionel Trehearneâs letter asking for the commission sprang to his mind: You may find, my lord, that the style of these pictures differs somewhat from your expectations.
Heâd been so shamed by that cold âmy lordâ that heâd scarce noted the content. My lordâ¦from Lionel of all men. And the letter signed with a cool Trehearne. He deserved it, though, for what heâd done, so Evelyn had swallowed it with as good a grace as might be, and gone ahead with the commission. Despite the gulf of class between them, son and heir of a viscount and son of a schoolmaster, Lionel had been like an elder brother to him once, and Evelyn had repaid that with a betrayal of trust so base that even now he burned with shame to think of it. Youth might explain folly; it did not excuse a failure of honor.
Now, faced with the murals he had commissioned, he recalled the content of that letter; Lionelâs style had changed. Fundamentally. Oh, the technique was recognisably his, the same economy of line that suggested shape and bulk with a few simple strokes of charcoal. But six years ago Lionelâs work, while brilliant, had not left Evelyn this short of breath. Yes, it had been erotic, but thisâthis aching sensualityâwas new. He swallowed, looking again at the slender nymph gracing his bedchamber walls. Who was she? Only blocked and roughly sketched in charcoal as yet, even complete her identity would remain a mystery. In each of the five pictures her face was hidden, shadowed by a cloak in one as she looked back over her shoulderâ¦in farewell? Her back was turned in the next as she melted into her loverâs embrace and he bent to take her mouth. A veiling of soft tresses hid her face in the third paintingâhow, with only a few strokes, had Lionel conveyed the silken glory of her hairâ¦? Evelyn swallowed. Lionel had entitled that one
