The Dark Viscount

Book 1: Regency Lures

by Deborah Simmons

Genres: Romance; Historical Romance; Regency Romance; Romantic Suspense; Second Chance Romance

Synopsis

Sydony Marchant is suspicious of the maze behind her new home, an old manor house with a sinister history. She’s even more suspicious of darkly handsome Bartholomew Hawthorne, and when he arrives on her doorstep, she doesn’t know whether to run to him—or away from him.

Viscount Hawthorne hasn’t traveled to Oakfield to gawk at a garden maze, no matter how eerie it is. He’s there to solve a mystery of his own, and he won’t be distracted by lovely Sydony Marchant—even if she could be his one weakness.

But Sydony and Samhain may change his mind.

Release date: April 3, 2021

Publisher: Bennett Street Books

Print pages: 227

Sample

Sydony peered into the gaping dark as the smell of cool, damp air greeted her. But just as she leaned forward, something else rushed out of the blackness, and she fell back with a shriek. Even as she told herself that the thing was probably only a bird, her dislike of the other distinct possibility—that it was a bat—sent her running as far away as possible.

Uncertain whether she was being pursued, Sydony raced through to the front of the house, flung open the door, and, without even pausing, launched herself at the man who was standing there. With only a moment to register the fellow’s familiarity, she did not hesitate to bury her face against his soft lapel.

“Barto!” Sydony breathed his name as a vague memory of security blossomed into a reassuring sense of safety. And it was no wonder, for the tall, hard body she clung to was as strong and solid as an oak.

It smelled good, too, like horses and leather and something else, as though a whiff of warmth and comfort from the past had returned to delight her. She had never noticed Barto’s scent before, but then, she hadn’t been this close to him in years.

And with that thought, Sydony realized just how stiffly her rescuer was standing, his chin lifted and his arms rigid at his sides. Far from giving her comfort, he was uncomfortable himself, a discovery that sent embarrassment knifing through her. Sydony stepped back, away from him. Yet even as she loosed her hold, she felt a pang, as though she were letting go of something vital and precious.

Or perhaps one night in the old manor had completely unhinged her mind. It certainly had affected her behavior. Trying to regain her good sense, Sydony drew a deep breath of autumn air that bespoke recent rain and dead leaves, instead of Bartholomew Hawthorne.

“Pardon me,” she said, though her behavior was unpardonable. It might have been accepted, or at least tolerated, when she was a small girl tagging after her brother and his best friend. But that friend had drifted away and had grown into a man. And not just any man, mind you, but a lord of the realm: Viscount Hawthorne.

Sydony could feel her face flame. “Something gave me a fright, a bird probably,” she muttered. But even as she spoke, she knew how ridiculous that must sound to someone who had known her in her younger years. Then she had been resolutely fearless, and now she was running from a bird?

Barto’s gaze flicked over her, making Sydony raise a hand to her hair. Something had flown at her, for it was in disarray that no amount of surreptitious smoothing could remedy. Under her visitor’s impassionate scrutiny, she realized just how unkempt she must appear.

Her simple day gown was mussed and dirty, and smudges marred her skin. All she needed was an apron to complete her impersonation of a scullery maid. Still, there was no need for Barto to look at her in such a condescending fashion. Stung, Sydony raised her chin.

“What are you doing here?” she asked baldly.