An Irresistible Kiss

by Alexa Aston

Genres: Historical Romance; Regency romance; buried secrets; Regency Historical Romance; Alexa Aston; Captivating Kisses; England 1800s

Synopsis

A kiss is just a kiss—or is it?

Three families—the Worthingtons, Alingtons, and Fultons. Ten cousins named for Roman and Byzantine rulers and their spouses. And ten occasions when a kiss which will change everything for the couple involved.

Welcome to the new Regency world created by best-selling author Alexa Aston in Captivating Kisses!

A widow interested in a second chance at marriage. An earl who desires a love match. A meeting at a ball which changes the course of both their lives . . .

Forced to wed a man she loathed to placate her dying father, Sarah Waters, Lady Alton, finds herself the focus of Polite Society’s gossips, her only crime being that she is the widow of a viscount murdered in a fight over a trollop. When she returns to the Season after her mourning period hoping to make a match, she is ostracized. Then a dashing earl comes to her rescue, and her fortunes begin to change.

Hadrian Fulton, Earl of Traywick, has witnessed his two sisters and seven cousins make love matches, which is almost unheard of within the ton. Now, Tray is ready to find love for himself. When he meets the tall, auburn-haired Lady Alton and witnesses how the ton shuns her, his sense of justice has him coming to her rescue.

Family is everything to Tray, and he introduces Lady Waters to his large, extended family and their many children. He also meets Lady Water’s daughter, the delightful Tilly, who steals his heart as much as her mother has.

But Sarah is hiding a secret, one so dark it would cause instant rejection from the man she has come to love, his family, and all of Polite Society.

Will Sarah’s secret keep her and Tray from finding lasting happiness?

Find the answer in bestselling author Alexa Aston’s An Irresistible Kiss, the final book in Captivating Kisses..

Each book in Captivating Kisses is a standalone story that can be enjoyed out of order.

Each book in Captivating Kisses is a standalone story that can be enjoyed out of order.

Series Order:
Book #1: An Unexpected Kiss
Book #2: An Impulsive Kiss
Book #3: An Innocent Kiss
Book #4: An Unforeseen Kiss
Book #5: An Enchanting Kiss
Book #6: An Urgent Kiss
Book #7: An Unforgettable Kiss
Book #8: A Promising Kiss
Book #9: A Possessive Kiss
Book #10: An Irresistible Kiss

Release date: October 13, 2026

Publisher: Dragonblade Publishing, Inc.

Print pages: 243

Sample

PROLOGUE

London—June 1808

 

“Oh, Sarah! You look divine!” cried Lady Martha Waters. “Doesn’t she, Mama?”

Lady Bexford nodded, a satisfied smile on her face. “My daughter is right, Sarah. This shade of blue suits you. Why, I believe you should wear this gown to tonight’s ball. I believe it will be a special evening.” Turning to the modiste, Lady Bexford said, “We will take the gown with us. Have the others delivered if you would.”

“Yes, my lady. Might I help you from the gown, Lady Sarah?” Madame asked.

Lady Sarah Bellows gazed at her image in the mirror a final time, thrilled with the color and cut of the gown. At two inches shy of six feet, she was unusually tall for a woman. Coupled with her auburn hair, she always stood out in a crowd. It had been hard finding hues to suit her complexion, but she felt very pretty in this new ballgown.

“Yes, thank you, Madame.”

“We will wait for you in the carriage, Sarah, dear,” Lady Bexford said.

Her closest friend winked at her, and Martha and her mother left the dressing room.

“Do you have someone special to wear this gown for?” the modiste asked.

“Yes,” she sighed dreamily, thinking of Willoughby.

Viscount Willoughby had been her most faithful suitor since the Season began. He was reserved, as she was, and exactly her height. His hair was a deep brown, while his brown eyes reminded her of a doe’s, dark and trusting. He was more distinguished than handsome, and Sarah believed he would offer for her soon.

Because they had kissed for the first time last night.

It had been a musicale, and the Swedish opera singer had entertained them for an hour. Refreshments were then served, and some couples strolled along the terrace. When she and Willoughby had reached the far, dark end, he had quickly brushed his lips against hers. It was over almost as soon as it began, but it seemed quite nice. She hoped to do more kissing with Willoughby. She could see herself wedding him in a quiet ceremony. Not one at St. George’s. The couples who wed there invited up to three hundred guests. Sarah had a feeling that Willoughby would want a smaller, more intimate affair to celebrate their union.

As the musicale ended last night, he told her he would call on her father this afternoon. She told him of her dress fitting and that she and Papa were to take tea with Lord and Lady Bexford afterward. Sarah only hoped by the time they arrived at the Bexfords’ townhouse that Papa was waiting for her with the good news.

She had not told anyone, not even Martha, who had been her dearest friend since they were in their cradles. They were so close that Sarah had even delayed making her come-out for a year, since Martha was several months younger. They wanted to experience the Season for the first time together. Sarah suspected that Viscount Tunnell would also be offering for Martha by Season’s end. It would be wonderful that they both had found husbands during their come-out Season, because not all girls did.

Madame assisted her into her own gown as an assistant wrapped the new ballgown in tissue paper and placed it into a large box. Essie would need to press it if any creases occurred, but there would be plenty of time to do so once she and Papa returned home after tea. She could imagine the look on Willoughby’s face tonight when he saw her. They would announce their betrothal to those present at the ball, and this magical Season would bring her the happily ever after she had desired.

Going to the carriage, she allowed a footman to hand her up. The modiste’s assistant then placed the large dress box on the floor of the carriage since that was the only place it would fit.

They chatted happily until they reached the Bexfords’ townhouse. When she alighted, she saw her father’s carriage sitting next to the pavement. Nerves flitted through her, and she wondered if he would tell her of her betrothal in front of their longtime friends or wait until they were alone in their carriage on the way home.

Lady Bexford led them upstairs to the drawing room, where Lord Bexford and Papa were deep in conversation. The two men, who had grown up on adjacent properties about ten miles west of Canterbury, had been close friends their entire lives, and they had been pleased when their daughters also formed a fast, lasting friendship.

Papa still looked ill to Sarah, though. He had experienced pain in his belly about three weeks ago, causing him to take to his bed. Aunt Margulies, Papa’s sister, had taken on the duties of chaperoning Sarah to various social affairs while he recovered. She was not fond of her aunt, who was a vicious gossip, and Uncle Margulies was just as bad as his wife. It had been uncomfortable riding in the carriage with them to and from events. She had learned to keep quiet and make no comments. Since she was shy by nature, they did not expect much conversation from her.

That was why she liked Lord Willoughby so much. They were a great deal alike, and she did not feel awkward in his presence. She could imagine nights in their drawing room, sitting by the fire, both of them with a book in hand. They would not need to prattle on. Simply being in one another’s company would be enough.

She went and kissed her father’s cheek. “How are you feeling, Papa?”

“Much better,” he said, but Sarah feared he lied to keep up appearances. She decided on the way home to ask him about what the doctor had said. He had put her off previously, telling her she did not need to know anything about his medical condition.

Taking a seat beside him, she patted his knee and quietly asked, “Did you see Lord Willoughby today?”

“Ah, here is the teacart,” Lady Bexford said. “Cook mentioned that she had made raspberry tarts for tea this afternoon. And look, I see some wonderful roasted beef sandwiches. Let me make a plate up for you, Brock.”

“Does that mean I may pour out, Mama?” Martha asked excitedly.

“Yes,” her mother said. “You need the experience. Why, I am certain that you will soon be running your own household and hosting tea yourself. We want you prepared.”

Sarah had been pouring out for Papa and her ever since Mama had passed seven years ago. She was only twelve when it happened and still grieved for her mother to this day, but she had taken on the responsibilities of running the household. Papa complimented her on the job she did, saying that Sarah had a deft hand when it came to managing the servants.

She accepted a cup and saucer from Martha, who looked a bit nervous. Still, her friend did not spill a drop of tea, and she smiled at Martha, nodding encouragingly.

Lord Bexford cleared his throat. “We should speak of the matters at hand.”

“Shouldn’t we wait for Alton?” Papa asked.

She hoped Edmund wouldn’t be joining them. While she adored Martha and thought of Lady Bexford as a second mother, Edmund Waters, Martha’s older brother, was unpleasant to be around. At ten years her senior, she thought that he still behaved in a juvenile fashion. He drank to excess—even during the day—and he ran with a fast crowd. Thank goodness, Edmund and his cronies rarely attended ton events. From what she gathered, he spent the majority of his evenings in gaming hells or in a house of convenients. Martha had taught her that phrase, saying that it was a place where women of easy virtue pleasured men.

Sarah hadn’t a clue what Martha referred to, but she committed the phrase to memory. Mama had never talked of such matters and even if she had lived, Sarah doubted she would ever have mentioned something of that nature. While she did worry that she had no knowledge of the relations between men and women, she held out hope that Lady Bexford might share something with her before Sarah had a wedding night.

“Alton is late, as always,” Lord Bexford said. “We should set the stage, so to speak.”

An uneasy feeling settled over her. Anything having to do with Edmund bothered her. He had been mean to her when she was a young child, and she had spent a few years being frightened of him. Fortunately, he had ignored her for the last decade, but she was always wary in his company, always recalling the cruel pinches and yanking of her braids.

Papa turned to her. “This will be hard for you to hear, Sarah, but you must be brave.”

Panic rushed through her. “What, Papa?”

“I am dying.”

His words were like a physical blow, leaving her breathless. She fought to catch her breath.

“Look what you have done, Brock,” chastised Lady Bexford. “You have frightened poor Sarah.” She came and joined them on the settee, placing her arm about Sarah. “Calm down, dear. I am here. You are not alone.”

Gradually, she did catch her breath, but now anguish filled her. She turned to Papa. “How long have you known?”

“The doctor suspected something, but he took his time the last few weeks, poking and prodding at me.”

“How . . . how long do you have?” she asked.

“Another month. Two, if I am fortunate. Then again, Dr. Stone said I will be in a great deal of pain. It’s some kind of tumor growing inside my belly. Hopefully, I will go sooner, rather than later.”

Tears filled her eyes, spilling down her cheeks. “We must go home, Papa. To Brockland.”

He sighed. “If I am being honest, I do not think I could manage the carriage ride home.”

Suddenly, Sarah felt so alone. Mama was already gone. Now, Papa would soon follow.

“I wanted you to be cared for,” her father continued. “That is why arrangements have been made today.”

Hope filled her. “You spoke with Willoughby then?”

“What? Oh, yes. He called earlier today. I turned him down.”

“You . . . turned him down?” she asked dully. “Why?”

“We have always considered you family, Sarah,” Lord Bexford said gently. “Your father and I are as brothers. You and Martha are like sisters. Lord Brock and I wanted that connection to be formalized.”

Perplexed, she asked, “What? How?”

Lord Bexford smiled. “You are betrothed to Alton.”

“Betrothed? To Edmund?” she spit out. “No. No! I will not go through with it.”

Turning to her father, she pleaded, “Do not make me do this, Papa. I love Willoughby. He is a good man. He will take care of me when you are gone. Tell him you were mistaken. That you will grant permission for us to wed.”

Papa shook his head, not meeting her gaze. “No, a match between you and Alton will be a good one.”

“He is a wild boy,” Lady Bexford said. “You have such a calming way about you, Sarah. You will be good for our son. He will learn to become more reliable. Be on his best behavior.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You knew about this and blithely let me go about trying on gowns this afternoon.”

Guilt filled Lady Bexford’s face. “I thought the one we liked would be quite nice for you to wear this evening. When we announce your betrothal to our son at the ball.”

Anger sizzled through her. “I wanted to wear that gown for Lord Willoughby. He is kind and generous. He will never hurt me, the way Edmund has. I think the world of you, my lady, but your son is rotten to his core.”

Lord Bexford turned his stern glance upon her. “We expect you to help Alton settle down. He will assume my earldom one day. He needs a steady hand to help him mature. We all agree that you will be perfect in assisting him to—”

“I do not agree to any of this,” she interrupted. “Edmund loathes me already. If you force us to wed, he will not become a docile gentleman overnight. And that is if you could get him to agree to a marriage. Why, he beds women left and right.”

Martha and Lady Bexford gasped, and Papa grimly said, “That is enough, Sarah. The decision has been made. A special license was purchased for the two of you in Doctors’ Commons this afternoon. The marriage settlements will be drawn up tomorrow morning. This wedding will take place immediately. I want to see you wed before I am too ill to leave my bed.”

It was all happening too fast. She felt the nausea rising within her. Then she grew light-headed.

The next thing Sarah knew, she was lying on the settee, a cold compress pressed against her brow.

“There. She is coming around,” Lady Bexford said. “She is fine.”

Quickly, she sat up, seeing the others staring at her. For a moment, she hoped everything had been a bad dream.

Then Edmund sauntered into the drawing room.

“Ah, Alton. Come and have some tea. We need to discuss something with you,” Lord Bexford said.

Edmund flopped into a chair, his posture terrible. She looked at him with daggers.

“Do you know about this scheme?” she demanded.

He looked at her as if she were a moldy rind of cheese, his nose crinkling in disgust. “I haven’t a clue what you are talking about.”

“Alton, sit up!” his father commanded.

Grudgingly, Edmund did so. “What is this about?”

“You are to wed Lady Sarah by week’s end,” Lord Bexford announced.

Edmund burst out laughing.

He laughed so long and loud that he wound up in a coughing fit. Sarah watched him, thinking this would be the last man on earth whom she would agree to wed.

“This ceremony will take place,” Lord Bexford said firmly. “You are unruly. Your behavior is totally unrestrained. Your reputation is in tatters. You are undisciplined. Drunk most of the time. In fact, I suspect you are in your cups now.”

“And what if I am?” Edmund shook his head. “You cannot make me wed anyone, let alone this gangly, prudish Amazon. Why, the chit has red hair.”

“She is now your betrothed,” Lord Bexford insisted. “The special license has been purchased. You need to act your age, Alton. You will be thirty next year. Be more responsible. Sarah will be a good influence upon you.”

Edmund pushed to his feet. “And if I do not wed her? What will you do?”

She knew Edmund was calling his father’s bluff and prayed this nonsense would now come to an end.

Lord Bexford swallowed painfully. “I will sell off every unentailed piece of property I have. I will tie up as much of my funds as I legally can. You will be left with a very short rope and only Bexford Manor.”

“You would not dare!” Edmund roared.

Lord Bexford’s mouth set stubbornly. “I most definitely would. You act totally out of control. Sarah will help you present a more suitable picture to Polite Society. Wed her—or I will make certain that when you become the earl, both hands are tied behind your back.”

A long, loud string of curses filled the air. Sarah winced as Edmund went on and on. Finally, he seemed to calm.

“All right. I will do it.”

“No!” she cried. Sarah had thought if their parents would not listen to her, they would surely listen to Edmund’s protests. “You cannot agree to a marriage between the two of us.”

Shrugging, he said, “Why not? I have to wed at some point. You will do as well as anyone else.”

She saw beneath his bravado, he was frightened. Of losing everything he previously thought would so easily come to him.

“Well, I refuse to wed you,” she declared. “I will wed Lord Willoughby instead.”

“You cannot,” Papa said quietly. “Not only did I turn him away today, Sarah, but I told him you were already betrothed to Alton. Lord Willoughby is an honorable man. He would not agree to wed you now, seeing that you are betrothed to another.”

“This is madness!”

Edmund came to her. He took her chin in hand, forcing her to look at him. “Marriage is merely a business arrangement, Sarah. Our parents wish for us to wed, and so we shall. This is no different than what countless other couples have done before us.”

He bent, his lips brushing against her ear, whispering, “Perhaps your Willoughby will bed you. I will not keep you from having affairs, because I will expect the same courtesy. I will continue to do as I please.”

His words brought an unpleasant shiver. He raised his head and smiled at her.

“When is the wedding to be held?”

“We wish to announce your engagement at tonight’s ball,” Lady Bexford told her son. “Today is Wednesday. Perhaps Friday morning?”

Sarah had no recourse. Willoughby would never even look at her again. He would think she had been stringing him along all the while. The die was cast.

She would become Viscountess Alton in two days’ time.

***

Sarah spoke her vows listlessly, her insides as cold as a wintry day.

They stood in Lord and Lady Bexford’s drawing room. About twenty guests had been invited. Papa had barely been able to leave his bed this morning to accompany her to the ceremony. It seemed now that he knew his daughter’s future was assured, he had relapsed. He had been so weak that he could not even walk her to her groom.

Sarah had gone alone to Alton.

Her betrothed had taken her aside before their betrothal had been announced at the ball. He ordered her never to call him Edmund again. That he was Alton. She had nodded sluggishly. Everything unfolded as if she were underwater, moving slowly, time at a standstill.

She had seen Willoughby just prior to the announcement. Their gazes had met. The hurt in his eyes almost undid her. Sarah had been the one to glance away, knowing even if she tried to explain things to him, it was too late for them. For love. Sarah would be stuck in a loveless marriage. She imagined a union with Alton would be hellish.

The ceremony ended, and her new husband took her arm, leading her into the wedding breakfast. She retreated within herself, speaking little. He drank to excess. She wondered if this would be the pattern of her life now. Keeping all her emotions inside her. Turning a blind eye to his affairs. Tolerating his touch simply to gain the children she longed for.

Finally, all the guests left. She was shown to the rooms she would now occupy while in town since they would be living with Lord and Lady Bexford, to people Sarah no longer trusted. She felt very alone.

Essie, her maid, undid the multitude of pins which held up the elaborate hairstyle she had worn for the ceremony. The maid brushed Sarah’s locks until they shone. Then she plaited them into a single braid, which hung to Sarah’s waist. She dressed Sarah in a silk night rail and placed a dressing gown over it.

With pity in her eyes, Essie said, “Is there anything else you might need, my lady?”

“No.”

Essie left.

Sarah waited.

And waited.

As she did, she worried about what would pass next between her and Alton. She had had such dreams for her marriage. For a life with Willoughby. Now, he thought little of her. And more than likely, Martha would soon leave this household. Viscount Tunnell had danced with Martha twice at the last three balls. It was only a matter of time before he offered for her.

The door opened. Why she would have expected Alton to knock politely now escaped her.

He staggered in, without coat or waistcoat. His cravat was also missing, and his blond curls were mussed. Slamming the door behind him, he came to stand in front of her.

Sarah did not like the look in his eyes.

“Take it off,” he barked.

“Yes, my lord,” she said meekly, unfastening the belt on her dressing gown and slipping from it. She placed it on a chair and turned to face him again.

“All of it.”

She swallowed. “All?”

Did women undress in front of men? Oh, why hadn’t Lady Bexford told her anything to help prepare her for what was to come? Sarah hadn’t any idea what would happen next. Essie had slipped and told Sarah that she should just lie there. Stay still, and it would be over soon. But Essie had not indicated that Sarah was to lie there without a stitch on.

“Do not make me tell you again,” her husband threatened.

With tears filling her eyes, she removed the night rail, gripping it tightly in her hands before her. Alton reached out and took it from her, tossing it to the floor. Sarah stood, her hands crossed in front of her private parts, her arms covering her breasts as best she could.

He stepped to her, roughly taking her elbows and jerking them back so that he now saw all of her.

And laughed.

“Lanky and scrawny. And bloody red hair, even down to your bush.”

She flinched at his coarse language.

Somehow, Sarah lived through the next few minutes.

Alton’s hand was rough, filling her with disgust, but she kept silent. She would not give him the satisfaction of thinking she capitulated to him in any way. When he was done with her, she glared at him defiantly.

“You do not have to worry,” he told her. “I will not be back. My parents think they can control me, but I am the master of my own fate. I wed you as they asked. But I do not plan to touch you again. You are a cold fish, Sarah. Your red hair and small breasts hold no appeal for me.”

He raked a hand through his hair. “You will live your life. I will live mine. I will do as I wish. You will never complain to me.”

She knew he would continue to bed other women. That his reputation would turn blacker than before. And she would either be the object of pity—or part of the gossip which denounced him. Guilt by association.

But at least he would not come to her again. Or mistreat her. When he left, she felt only relief. Yes, she had desperately wanted a child before tonight. Seeing the true Alton, however, changed her mind. She was grateful that he would not lie with her and get her with child. He was a monster. A dragon which no man could slay. At least he would bring no child into this world. Sarah feared if she did birth one, he would take it from her. Or ruin the child, making him or her into a fiend as devilish as he was.

After Alton left, she washed everywhere he had touched her. A bit of blood trickled down one thigh, and she wiped it away, along with her tears.

She had entered the Season with stars in her eyes—and would leave it as a married woman. All the dreams she had for her future with Willoughby were now dashed. Where once there had been hope concerning marriage and her future, now that was gone. Even Pandora had been left with hope.

But not Sarah.

She would now have to put on a false face to the world. Lady Alton would appear calm and serene in public. She would never speak ill of anyone, including her husband.

And a piece of her would die every day until she was no more.

 

 

CHAPTER 1

Bexham Manor, Kent—April 1812

 

Sarah walked through the dower house, which had been her home for much of the past year.

Because her husband had been murdered.

She had not been told much at first, but she had insisted upon learning the whole truth regarding Alton’s death the previous March. It was rare for a peer to be killed, much less in such a brutal fashion, and her husband’s death had, in effect, killed his own parents. Lord and Lady Bexford had suffered from deep melancholia after their only son’s death. Lord Bexford caught a chill, which turned into a fever. Lady Bexford soon had it, and Sarah had gone between their two bedchambers, nursing them. The local doctor had told her that it was not her fault when both slipped away in their sleep, assuring her she had done all she could.

Sometimes, she felt they had died of shame. Ironically, she was the only one still living. Innocent of any wrongdoing, yet she still caught the servants whispering about her and knew others would be doing the same, no matter where she went.

Instead of Alton becoming the new Lord Bexford, a third cousin who was next in line for the title was located. He came to Bexford Manor, unsure of himself in the new role he was to play. He had never expected to hold the title and had never even set foot on the estate. Sarah did what she could in getting his household into working order for him, and then she had retreated to the dower house in order to give him his privacy.

Unfortunately, her marriage settlements were written with the notion that Alton would have passed as Lord Bexford, having access to his father’s wealth. Subsequently, she did not have nearly the funds she would have wished to gain. Some was better than none, however. At three and twenty, she was hopeful that she might start a new life.

Her father had passed less than a week after her marriage, leaving Sarah with the sum of one hundred pounds. Her cousin had assumed the earl’s title and moved to Brockland. They had never been close, and she had not seen nor spoken to him since her father’s funeral four years ago.

Essie joined her. “Going through the house a final time, my lady? I promise you that I have everything packed.”

The loyal Essie would accompany Sarah to town, where she was renting a very small house. She would serve as its housekeeper, and Lord Bexford had allowed her to take one of his housemaids with her. Essie knew that beyond her lady’s maid duties, she would have to help maintain the household, as well, but Essie insisted upon going with Sarah, regardless in what capacity.

“No, Essie, I know you are most efficient. I am simply . . . saying goodbye to my life here in Kent.”

“Things will be better in town, my lady,” the maid said brightly.

Sarah did not know whether that would be true or not. She had every intention of attending the upcoming Season and looking for a husband. One of her own choosing this time.

A dull ache filled her, Willoughby coming to mind. She realized now that she had not loved him—but she could have, in time. The potential had been there. She had gone to town for the Season the first few years of her marriage, sitting amongst the matrons, watching the dancing take place.

Watching Willoughby as he went about finding a wife.

She could not help herself, watching him dance with other young ladies. She knew probably before he did which one he would wed. The girl was Sarah’s exact opposite. Short. Small-boned. Blond and pretty, with a laugh which drew others in. The young lady became Lady Willoughby at the end of that Season. Sarah had never spoken to her, nor Willoughby himself. She doubted she ever would.

She knew she took a tremendous risk, coming back to town, supposing the gossip had raged about Alton and the manner of death since his murder occurred in the weeks leading up to it. Sarah had been preparing to leave when word came of his death, and she had stayed in the country to pretend she was mourning. The loss of her in-laws had bothered her, but she had never truly forgiven their betrayal in forcing her to wed their son. They should have known Alton, the wildest rake in town, would not change overnight into an angelic, devoted husband.

Essie interrupted her thoughts. “My lady, Lord Bexford is here to say his goodbyes.”

She murmured her thanks and left the dower house, knowing she would never return to Bexford Manor again. Stepping outside, she found the Bexford carriage waiting for her, along with the earl.

He took her hands in his. “My dear Lady Alton, I am sorry to see you go.”

“It is most kind of you to allow me the use of your carriage to travel to town, my lord. And I do hope you will change your mind and attend the Season. After all, you will need to find your countess,” she reminded him.

He flushed, clearly uncomfortable with that topic. “I think I will stay in Kent until next Season, my lady. I am still learning about this role thrust upon me. I do wish you the best, however.”

“Thank you. That means a great deal to me. You have shown me kindness when so many others have turned away.”

Sarah only hoped she would not be a pariah once she did return to town and the Season. Yes, there would be gossip about her. How could there not be, especially when she was the widow of a man who had been stabbed to death in a house of convenients?

“Safe travels,” Lord Bexford wished, handing her up into the carriage.

“I will write to you of my new address,” she told him. “If you change your mind, I will help you in any way I can to navigate the waters of Polite Society.”

“Thank you again for all your efforts on my behalf, my lady.”

She had spent the first few months after his arrival teaching him how to be a member of Polite Society. He had formerly been a solicitor in Maidstone and knew nothing about how to be an earl. Sarah had taught him proper etiquette. Which fork to use and how to address someone with a title. She knew that she would always have his support and friendship.

Bexford motioned to the coachman, and the carriage began to move, rolling down the lane and picking up speed. Essie was sitting next to the driver, and Linnie, the maid, would follow in a wagon bearing the trunks carrying Sarah’s clothes and personal belongings in the next few days. She had so many clothes left from her debut, gowns which must be worn again this Season because she could not afford an entire new wardrobe. Essie was doing what she could to make over as many gowns as possible, dyeing some and adding lace and trimmings to others, but there would still be talk about what she wore. Sarah must stiffen her spine and disregard it if she were to find a husband.

The task would be near impossible because of Alton’s notoriety. Her height and auburn hair would also be a drawback, but she was determined to make the best of things. True, she had no dowry and only access to a small amount of funds, but surely there might be one gentleman who could overlook her situation.

Perhaps her goal should be to wed a widower, especially one who might have children. He would need someone to run his household and help in raising his offspring. Yes, she should look for an older gentleman, one in his thirties or forties. She did not care about looks or a title. She merely wanted to find someone who would treat her with kindness.

The horses were changed out at the halfway point, and a new team was attached to the vehicle. She arrived in town an hour after that switch, having missed the great city. While she preferred the country, she did enjoy walking through London’s many parks and visiting its numerous museums. One thing she was determined to do was go to Gunter’s for an ice. It was something she had missed doing. She and Martha used to go there with their mothers. After Mama’s death, Lady Bexford continued to invite her to go with them.

Sarah wondered how her friendship with Martha might have changed after the death of her brother. Her friend had wed Viscount Tunnell at the end of her come-out Season. He had not been fond of Alton, but Sarah and Martha had continued visiting between their households, Martha coming to see Sarah and her parents often when they all were in town, while Sarah enjoyed time with her friend at her new home.

They had kept up a regular correspondence even after Alton’s death. Sarah did not have any idea how much her friend knew in regard to her brother’s death. What Martha had been told—or what gossip might have reached her ears.

Yes, she was taking a chance returning to town, but Sarah was desperate to live again. The marriage settlements had assumed that by the time Alton died, he would have held the earldom, and they were based upon that premise. The settlements did not favor her in any way, and she could not help but blame Papa for that. True, he had been gravely ill, but he should have paid better attention to what was written in them. She had learned Papa did not even seek his own solicitor’s representation in the negotiations, trusting everything to Lord Bexford and his solicitor to draw up the marriage contracts.

Today, she would be arriving at Mr. Evan’s offices, Papa’s longtime solicitor in town, where she hoped to establish a good relationship with Mr. Evans and learn more about her financial situation. She had also tasked the solicitor with renting a house for her.

The streets bustled with vehicles. Food stalls were scattered about, and she found her mouth watering for the taste of a meat pie. The neighborhoods became more familiar to her, and they arrived at Mr. Evans’ building. A footman handed her down, and Sarah made her way toward the entrance.

Just as she reached it, the door opened. Out came a man a half foot taller than she was, which made him very tall. He possessed broad shoulders and brown hair kissed by the sun. Smiling at her, he held the door open for her.

“Thank you, my lord,” Sarah said, her heart fluttering slightly.

But she knew not to be taken in by the stranger’s good looks. Alton had been a fine-looking man, with curls spun of gold and azure eyes. Yet within him lay a heart of darkness and an empty place where his soul should have rested. She hoped if she did have the opportunity to wed, her next husband would be plain of looks and kind of heart.

“Have a lovely day, my lady,” the gentleman said, tipping his hat to her.

Sarah smiled in response. It was nice to see that some men were mannerly.

“Stop it,” she muttered under her breath, telling herself to quit dwelling on Alton and the past. Today was a new start for her. A break from all she had known. A new life lay ahead of her.

She gave her name to the clerk and took a seat. Ten minutes later, Mr. Evans appeared and greeted her.

“Lady Alton, it is a pleasure to see you. I have so enjoyed our correspondence. If you would come with me, we will talk of your future.”

She accompanied him to a room with a large table, six chairs placed around it. Several stacks of paper sat upon the table. Sarah took the seat he indicated, hoping he would have good news for her.

“The first thing I wish to do is offer my condolences to you, my lady, for the death of so many dear to you in such a short amount of time.”

“Thank you,” she said politely, knowing that was the expected response.

“I want to speak first of the one hundred pounds left to you by Lord Brock. Your father was shrewd when it came to investing, and he asked me to take these funds for you and follow instructions which he had left for me. I have followed them to the letter and am more than pleased to inform you that those one hundred pounds has grown close to almost four hundred since his death occurred.”

Relief filled her. “That surprises me, Mr. Evans, but it is marvelous news. I am more than grateful to you. As you know, my marriage settlements did not leave me with much.”

She had requested a copy of the settlements upon Alton’s death and read through them herself, shocked at how little would be provided to her. Sarah had forwarded the copy to Mr. Evans, asking him to represent her in any future matters, and he had agreed to do so. Through Papa’s former banker, she had arranged for Mr. Evans to have access to those funds and invest those for her.

“I took what you received after Lord Alton’s death and invested it for you, as well. As you might recall from our prior correspondence, you were not to be awarded an annual income, simply a lump sum. While I have sent a small portion of that to you each quarter for your personal needs, I invested the bulk of it.”

He smiled. “Together, along with what Lord Brock left to you, you now have close to twelve hundred pounds to your name.”

She became almost giddy. If she lived carefully, the sum would last her for years. Worry had filled her, thinking she must wed this Season. Now, she would not have to rush into matrimony. She could take her time in choosing a husband.

That is, if anyone bothered to offer for her.

“I have acted as your financial advisor, Lady Alton, but I understand if you wish to have your funds managed by someone else.”

“No, Mr. Evans. I am most pleased with what you have done for me. I thought my situation dire before speaking with you, and you have saved me from that. I know you have taken a small fee for the work you have done on my behalf. Please, in the future, take a more healthy amount, starting now.”

“Thank you, my lady. I will only take what is necessary since this is the only income you possess.”

He went through the remaining documents with her, then he pulled a set of keys from his pocket and handed them over.

“These keys are to the house I have rented for you in St. John’s Wood. I know you would have preferred being in Mayfair, but that was far beyond your means to live in the most fashionable part of town. St. John’s Wood is a lovely area, however, and I found something cozy which I hope will suit your needs. I signed a six-month lease on your behalf, the shortest term the landlord would agree to. If it is to your liking, we may extend the lease. If it is not, I will assist you in finding something more suitable.”

Sarah hoped she would only be at the house for six months. That once the Season ended, she would be wed. If that did not happen—and she had to be realistic because that might very well not occur—she would reevaluate at the end of those six months. See if she should move to something cheaper or even leave town altogether for a cottage in the country. Perhaps something near to town, such as in Surrey.

Their business now completed, Mr. Evans gave her the address of her new home, and she provided it to the coachman. Essie winked at her cheekily, and Sarah spent the entire coach ride to St. John’s Wood with excitement building inside her. This rental might be small, but it would be hers. When they arrived and she disembarked from the carriage, she saw the house rested on a quiet street. Two wooden barrels filled with spring flowers sat on either side of the front door, giving the place a cheery look. Using the keys, she found which one unlocked the front door and went inside.

As she walked the place with Essie, the Bexford footman and coachman brought in the lone trunk she had brought with her, taking it upstairs. Sarah had them leave it in the larger of the two bedchambers, the only two rooms on the upper level. She accompanied the two men downstairs, thanking them for bringing her to town. They would spend the night at a local inn, allowing the horses to rest, and then return to Bexford Manor tomorrow.

“I will be the one driving Linnie to town,” the footman told her. He pointed to his temple. “I’ve got your new address here in my head, my lady. I will see Linnie and your things safely brought here.”

She thanked the pair. After they left, she and Essie explored the downstairs. It consisted of a good-sized parlor, a small dining room, and a kitchen. A tiny room off the kitchen served as a bedchamber.

“This will be for the cook we hire,” Sarah told Essie. “You and Linnie will share the bedchamber across from mine.”

Her maid embraced Sarah, something she did not mind in the least. Essie had been a part of her life since her birth, having served as her mother’s lady’s maid before becoming hers.

“This will be right fine, my lady. You’ll see. And you’ll find yourself a husband. I just know it.”

“Let us hope so,” she said, her confidence not nearly as apparent as Essie’s. “I know of an employment agency which Mama used to use. I will go there tomorrow and see about finding us a cook. In the meantime, we will have to depend upon the food stalls to feed us.”

“I know a few things, my lady,” Essie told her. “I can boil or fry eggs, as well as toast bread and brew tea. We shan’t starve.”

She laughed. “Well, we are better off than I thought. Would you like to go out and see if you can purchase some bread and eggs for us at a local market? And perhaps some butter and jam?”

“I’m happy to do so.”

Sarah gave Essie a few coins and began unpacking while the maid was gone. Then she heard a knock at the front door. Thinking it might be a neighbor wishing to greet her, she hurried down the stairs to answer the door.

Opening it, however, she decided this was no neighbor. A man stood before her, lean as a whippet and bald as a newborn.

“Might you be Lady Alton?” he inquired.

“Yes, I am Lady Alton,” she replied, curious as to his identity.

He sighed in relief. “I have been chasing you down all day, my lady. The name’s Mr. Tabor. I’m a Bow Street runner.”

She accepted the card he handed her, seeing his name, along with Bow Street and an address. Knowing runners usually went about solving crimes, she asked, “What business do you have with me, Mr. Tabor?”

“The private kind, my lady. News you would not wish your new neighbors to overhear. Might I come in?”

While she wasn’t of a mind to let any stranger inside, Mr. Tabor was dressed decently and displayed good manners. She doubted thieves had cards printed up and took a chance.

“Yes, please come in, Mr. Tabor.”

Sarah led him to the parlor. Thankfully, the house had come with furniture, else they would now be sitting upon the floor.

“State your business,” she told him.

“I was hired by Annie Prescott.”

She frowned. “The name means nothing to me, I am afraid. I am not acquainted with any Prescotts.”

“Miss Prescott is the woman your husband was fighting over when he met his untimely death.”

Sarah gasped. Alton had not only bounced from the beds of women in Polite Society, but he also frequented places housing convenients, calling the women light-skirts. He had made no secret of it, bragging to her of the many women he bedded. She knew it had been one of these light-skirts who her husband had gone to visit the night of his death. Apparently, he had an arrangement with her not to service any other gentlemen—and she had broken their agreement. When Alton found her with another man, a fistfight had broken out between the two men.

And when he had been bested, her husband had not walked away. Instead, he had pulled a blade from his boot and gone after the other man with a vengeance. Alton had stabbed the other man once, and that man had pulled the knife from his belly and returned the favor, stabbing Alton multiple times. Both men died of their wounds, though the other man was a dockworker, and little fuss was made over his death.

Sarah had never learned the identity of the woman they had warred over. She had wondered how that poor woman must have felt, watching two men fight to the death over her, as she was trapped in circumstances she could never escape.

“I have no interest in Miss Prescott,” she said abruptly. “You may leave now, Mr. Tabor.”

“She wishes to speak with you, Lady Alton,” the Bow Street Runner said. “She is dying.”

Shaking her head, Sarah firmly said, “It is no concern of mine.”

“I think you should see her, my lady. For the child’s sake.”

Child?

“Speak plainly,” she ordered.

“Lord Alton had a child with Annie Prescott,” Mr. Tabor informed her. “That was why he wished for their relationship to remain . . . exclusive.” His gaze bore into her. “And now Miss Prescott is dying. She has no one to take in the child.”

“And . . . she wishes for me to do so?”

“Yes. Else the girl will go to an orphanage.”

Sarah had heard those could be dreadful places. A part of her wanted to hate this child.

And yet something told her she must see the girl.

“I will go and visit Miss Prescott and the child tomorrow,” she said brusquely.

“That may be too late,” Mr. Tabor informed her. “Miss Prescott is dying of consumption. When she discovered this, she scraped together what coin she could and hired me to find you. I went to Kent and tracked you down at Bexham Manor, only to learn you had come to town early this morning. I managed to miss you by only a few minutes at Mr. Evans’ offices. I explained the situation to him in private, and it is Evans who gave me your address. He said it would be up to you whether you went to see the girl or not.”

Essie entered, spying Mr. Tabor. She hurried to her mistress’ side. “What is going on, my lady?”

“This is Mr. Tabor, a Bow Street Runner. I am going to go with him to see someone.”

“I forbid it!” the maid said.

Sarah placed a hand on Essie’s arm. “I will tell you why when I return. Time is of the essence. I promise I will return soon.”

She accompanied Mr. Tabor outside, and they walked a few blocks before he found a hansom cab to hail. Though she pressed him to give her more information, he told her that he had told her all that he knew.

When they arrived in a mean part of town, she was glad of his presence. He accompanied her into a dilapidated building, and they went up a rickety staircase. Sour smells filled the air, and she pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve, placing it over her nose, as she began breathing from her mouth. He rapped lightly on a door and then entered before his knock was acknowledged.

“Miss Prescott will be abed,” he explained. “She cannot answer her door, but I wanted to let her know we are here.”

They crossed the small room. Lying on the floor, a blanket wrapped about her, was a gaunt woman, her body shivering with chills. Next to her lay a child, fast asleep, her face smudged with dirt. She had the golden ringlets of her father, as well as his nose. It was obvious the girl belonged to Alton.

Annie Prescott gave them a weak smile. “You came,” she said, her voice raspy. “Thank you, my lady.”

Sarah removed the handkerchief, slipping it into her sleeve again. “Mr. Tabor shared with me that you have consumption.”

“Yes. Nothing . . . can be done.” Annie glanced to the sleeping child. “I know it’s wrong to ask you, but . . . would you think of taking Tilly? I cannot pay you.” She began weeping. “She will be an orphan once I am gone.”

She swallowed, not knowing what to say, torn by the situation.

“You do not know this world, my lady,” Annie continued. “It is cruel. Tilly is so young. She is a fighter, but an orphanage is a terrible place. I know. I grew up in one.”

Annie’s hand shot out, clutching Sarah’s. “What will happen to her there is unspeakable. And bad men go there. They pay for girls as young as my Tilly. And do . . . unspeakable things to them.”

Her mind flashed to her wedding night. How cruelly Alton had treated her. How he had violated her. Sarah could not imagine the same being done to a child. Though she wanted to walk away, her conscience would not allow her to do so.

“I will take her,” she said, her voice firm.

“Thank you,” Annie said, releasing Sarah’s hand. “She is Mathilda, after my grandmother, but I have always called her Tilly. I know she cannot be raised as a fine lady, such as yourself, but if you could at least teach her her letters. She could become a housemaid. Or even a lady’s maid. Anything to get her away from this life.”

“Shall I tell her the truth when she is old enough to understand?”

Annie shrugged. “I will leave that to you, my lady.” She leaned down and brushed her lips against the top of her daughter’s brow. “Take her. I am too weak to say a goodbye.” She gazed sadly at Sarah. “And my heart aches too much to do so.”

Mr. Tabor lifted Tilly in his arms, wrapping the blanket snuggly about her. Sarah looked about, wondering if the girl had any clothes or toys to bring and saw neither.

“I will do my best with Tilly,” she promised.

“God bless you, my lady.”

Sarah followed Mr. Tabor down the stairs to the waiting hansom cab. They rode home in silence.

When they arrived again at St. John’s Wood, he said, “Burn what she wears and also the blanket. Have your maid scrub her in the hottest water possible. I only hope the child is not infected by what the mother has.”

Sarah glanced at the girl still sleeping in the runner’s arms. She looked healthy, if a bit thin.

“I will do as you ask.”

Mr. Tabor carried Tilly inside. The girl awoke and sleepily asked, “Mama?”

“She has gone to be with the angels,” Sarah said. “I will be your mama now.”