Marriage Made in Shame
Secrets of the marriage bed… Heiress Adelaide Ashfield lost her trust in men years ago. She spurns the advances of society's most eligible bachelors, but time is running out. Forced to make her choice, Adelaide accepts the hand of Gabriel Hughes, Earl of Wesley.Despite his debauched reputation, Gabriel shies away from intimacy. But his marriage to Adelaide awakens a desire he never thought he'd feel again. Maybe his beguiling new bride is the key to shaking off the shame which has haunted him for so long…
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In want of a wealthy wife
Meet Daniel, Gabriel, Lucien and Francis Four lords: each down on his fortune and each in need of a wife of means.
From such beginnings, can these marriages of convenience turn into something more treasured than money?
Donât miss this enthralling new quartet by Sophia James
Read Daniel and Gabrielâs stories in
Marriage Made in Money Already available
Marriage Made in Shame Out now
Marriage Made in Shame is the second book in The Penniless Lords quartet, and Gabrielâs story has been a delight to write.
I took his problem to the book club I have been in for twenty years, with twelve of my closest friends, and we had such a great time discussing just exactly how he might be cured.
Heâs a complex, enigmatic hero, who needed an interesting and unusual heroine for his happy-ever-after.
Lady Adelaide Ashfield is a wealthy bluestocking with her own particular demons and a desperate need to be loved.
Daniel (Book 1 Marriage Made in Money), Lucien (Book 3), and Francis (Book 4) are also part of the storyâand so is Christine, Lucienâs sister, who keeps popping her head in everywhere.
I hope you enjoy Marriage Made in Shame.
I love any feedback, and can be found on sophiajames.co.
SOPHIA JAMES lives in Chelsea Bay, on Auckland, New Zealandâs North Shore, with her husband, who is an artist. She has a degree in English and History from Auckland University and believes her love of writing was formed by reading Georgette Heyer in the holidays at her grandmotherâs house. Sophia enjoys getting feedback at sophiajames.co.
Contents
Londonâ1812
The familiar sense of nothingness engulfed Gabriel Hughes, the fourth Earl of Wesley, taking all breath and warmth with it as he sat with a glass of fine brandy and a half-smoked cheroot.
Willing women dressed as sprites, nymphs and naiads lounged around him, the white of their scanty togas falling away from generous and naked breasts. A dozen other men had already chosen their succour for the night and had gone one by one to the chambers fanning out from the central courtyard. But here the lights were dimmed and the smoke from dying candles curled up towards the ceiling. The Temple of Aphrodite was a place of consenting lust and well-paid liaisons. It was also filled to the brim.
âI should very much like to show you my charms in bed, monsieur,â the beautiful blonde next to him whispered in a French accent overlaid with a heavy, east London twang. âI have heard your name mentioned many times before and it is said that you have a great prowess in that department.â
Had... The word echoed in Gabrielâs mind and reverberated as a shot would around a steel chamber. Downing the last of the brandy, he hoped strong alcohol might coax out feelings he had long since forgotten. Memory. How he hated it. His heartbeat quickened as he swallowed down disquiet, the hollow ache of expectation not something he wanted to feel.
âI am Athena, my lord.â
âThe sister of Dionysus?â
She looked puzzled by his words as she flicked the straps from milky white shoulders and the warm bounty of her bosom nudged against his arm as she leant forward. âI do not know this sister of Diana, my lord, but I can be yours tonight. I can pleasure you well if this be your favour.â
He hadnât expected her to know anything of the Greek gods, but still disappointment bloomedâa woman of beauty and little else. Her tongue ran around pouting lips, wetting them and urging response, dilated pupils alluding to some opiate, a whore without shame or limit and one whom life had probably disappointed. Feeling some sense of kinship, Gabriel smiled.
âYou are generous, Athena, but I cannot take you up on your offer.â
Already the demons were arching, coming closer, and when her fingers darted out to cup his groin, he almost jumped. âAnd why is that, monsieur? The Temple of Aphrodite is the place where dreams are realised.â
Or nightmares, he thought, the past rushing in through the ether.
Screams as the fire had taken hold; the stinging surprise of burning flesh and then darkness numbing pain. The last time he had felt whole.
Gabriel hated it when these flashbacks came, unbidden, terrifying. So sudden that he had no defence against them. Standing, he hoped that Athena did not see the tremble in his fingers as he replaced his empty glass on the low-slung table. Run, his body urged even as he walked slowly across the room, past the excesses of sex, passion and craving. He hated the way he could not quite ingest the cold night air once outside as the roiling nausea in his stomach quickened and rose.
He nearly bumped into the Honourable Frank Barnsley and another man as Gabriel strode out into the gardens and he looked away, the sweat on his upper lip building. He knew he had only a matter of minutes to hide all that would come next.
