Seduction in Regency Society: One Unashamed Night
One Unashamed NightLiving in a grey world of silhouette, Lord Taris Wellingham conceals his fading eyesight from Society. Until, one stormy night, a snowstorm forces him to spend the night with his travelling companion, plain Beatrice-Maude Bassingstoke. Long avoiding intimate relationships, Taris is surprised by the passion she unleashes within him. But can one night change a lifetime?One Illicit NightAfter one uncharacteristically wicked night in Paris, the once reckless Eleanor Bracewell-Lowen now leads a safe and prudent life. Freshly returned to London’s high society, Lord Cristo Wellingham is just as magnetic as he was in Paris. His touch invites passion, but this is a man who could destroy Eleanor’s good name with just one glance…
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SEDUCTION in Regency Society
August 2014
DECEPTION in Regency Society
September 2014
PROPOSALS in Regency Society
October 2014
PRIDE in Regency Society
November 2014
MISCHIEF in Regency Society
December 2014
INNOCENCE in Regency Society
January 2015
ENCHANTED in Regency Society
February 2015
HEIRESS in Regency Society
March 2015
PREJUDICE in Regency Society
April 2015
FORBIDDEN in Regency Society
May 2015
TEMPTATION in Regency Society
June 2015
REVENGE in Regency Society
July 2015
SOPHIA JAMES lives in Chelsea Bay on Auckland, New Zealandâs North Shore, with her husband, who is an artist, and her three children. She spends her morning teaching adults English at the local Migrant School and writes in the afternoon. Sophia has a degree in English and History from Auckland University and believes her love of writing was formed reading Georgette Heyer with her twin sister at her grandmotherâs house.
Table of Contents
One Unashamed Night
One Illicit Night
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
Epilogue
Iâd like to dedicate this book to three wonderful women in my life: Pat Rendall, for her insight into the world of darkness; my mother, Jewell Kivell, for enthusiastically reading the first draft; and Linda Fildew, my fantastic editor, for her patience and belief in all of my books.
Chapter One
Maldon, EnglandâJanuary 1826
The darkness was pulling him down even as he fought to escape it, his eyes widening to catch a tiny tendril of light, the flare of it making him shout out, wanting it, the last colour before complete blackness enveloped himâ¦
âSir, sir. Wake up. Itâs a dream you are having.â
The voice came from somewhere close and Lord Taris Wellingham slipped from sleep and returned to the warmth of the carriage travelling south to London with a jolt. A face blurred before him, but in the dusk he could not tell whether the woman was young or old. Her voice was soft, almost musical, the lisp on the letter V denoting perhaps a genteel upbringing in the north?
With care he turned away, fingers stiff against the silver ball on top of his ebony cane and all his defences raised.
âI would ask for your forgiveness for my lapse in manners, madam.â
The small laugh surprised him. âOh. You do indeed have it, sir.â
This time there was decided humour in her tone, and something more hidden. He wished he was able to see the hue of her eyes or the shade of her hair, but any form of colour had long since gone, leached now even in full sunlight and replaced by the grey sludge of silhouette.
A netherworld. His world. And the ability to hide his disability was all the dignity left to him.
Taking a breath he held it, seeking in silence a path to follow. He pretended to read the watch on the chain at his waist, hating such deceit, but in company it was what he had been reduced toâa man on the edge of his world and in danger of falling off.
âAnother hour and a half to reach our destination, I should imagine.â The womanâs guess was like a gift for it gave him a timeframe, something to hang any suggestion of their whereabouts upon.
âUnless the weather worsens.â Outside he could hear a keening wind and the temperature had dropped sharply, even in the space of the moments he had been asleep. Tilting his head, he listened to the sound of the wheels beneath them and determined the snow to have deepened too.
Unexpectedly tension filled his body. Something was wrong. The whirr of the wheel on the right side was off, unbalanced, scraping against steel.
He shook away the concern and cursed his oversensitive hearing, deeming it far better to concentrate on other things. There were four other people in the carriage, he had counted them as they got in, this woman the only one on his side. One of the gentlemen was asleep, his snores soft through the night, and the other was speaking to an older woman about household tasks and the hiring of servants. His mother, perhaps, for there was a tone in his voice suggesting affection.
The wheel was worsening, the sound underlined by a tremor in the chassis. He felt it easily in the vibration where his palm lay open against the window. No longer able to ignore danger, Taris lifted his cane and banged hard on the roof.
But it was too late! The vehicle lurched to the right as the axle snapped, the scream of the driver eerie in the darkness, the splintering of wood, the quick crunch of the door on his side against earth, the rolling shock of impact as people tumbled over and over. When his head was thrown against metal, a sharp pain followed.
