The Dark Regent Read online

  THE DARK REGENT

  A Dark Victorian Romance

  §

  CATHERINE LLOYD

  Copyright 2017 Catherine Lloyd

  Electronic Edition 2018

  Writewood Creations

  261 Lac Bernard Road

  Alcove, Quebec

  Canada J0X 1A0

  [email protected]

  ISBN 978-1-988003-52-8

  All rights reserved.

  This publication remains the copyrighted property

  of the author and may not be redistributed for commercial

  or non-commercial purposes.

  Cover by Swoon Worthy Book Covers

  Table of Contents

  Copyright Page

  From the Publisher

  Also by Catherine Lloyd

  THE DARK REGENT

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Victorian Villains Saga

  Mandrake Falls Four Seasons Series

  Dark Redeemer Historical Romance

  My Guilty Pleasure Titles

  From the Publisher

  Eighteen-year-old Fawn Heathcote has resisted her uncle’s advances for as long as she dared. Captain Crispin Wolfe, the rakish half-brother of Fawn’s aunt, became obsessed with his niece-by-marriage from their first meeting. From the moment he moved into the London mansion, he’s had one aim in mind—to bed her. Night after night, the captain visits her bedchamber, in the hope of being admitted. Fawn has always refused. Until one night, Wolfe arrives to deliver a devastating message and she realizes only her tormentor can save her. Fawn’s resistance to Crispin’s seduction gradually breaks down under his protection and, caught in his web, she soon discovers a secret side to her captor.

  ♦

  The Dark Regent is the second title in Catherine Lloyd’s My Guilty Pleasure series, standalone historical romances of emotionally-charged dark forbidden love. The novel contains scenes, language and themes intended for a mature audience. Sensitive readers are strongly cautioned.

  Also by Catherine Lloyd

  Mandrake Falls Four Seasons Romance

  Romantic Comedy

  The Jilting ~ Summer

  Lie for Me ~ Autumn

  The Way Home ~ Winter

  Love Rising ~ Spring

  Dark Redeemer Historical Romance

  Medieval Adventure

  Wanton

  Wastrel

  Traitor

  Soldier

  Christmas Rose

  Victorian Villains Saga

  Gothic

  Windemere Hall

  Mark of Caine

  The Master of Cliff House

  Wracker’s Cove

  My Guilty Pleasure Titles

  Standalones

  The Pirate Lord

  The Maiden Bride

  The Dark Regent

  The Tudor Prince

  THE DARK REGENT

  §

  Chapter One

  London, England 1875

  FAWN HEATHCOTE was certain she heard wrong. She must have misunderstood her uncle’s meaning.

  Crispin Wolfe, her aunt’s half-brother, had been deep in discussion with Lord Drake when Fawn crossed the drawing room to fetch Aunt Jocelyn a glass of wine. Their conversation halted immediately, but before that moment, she’d heard a puzzling exchange.

  “I will have my way. The fawn will lay down with the wolf.”

  “You are a brute, my randy friend,” Drake chuckled under his breath. “Why she is barely out of girlhood! You’ve landed yourself in a pretty situation; your sister is a rich widow with rich widow friends. Why would you want to jeopardize your future prospects for a tumble?”

  “Do you imagine I haven’t told myself the very same thing?” Captain Wolfe snarled. “It is taking every ounce of my strength to behave. Only look at her!”

  Drake chuckled again. “Charming to be sure, but there are a host of other females who are equally charming and not nearly so damaging to a man’s reputation. I have just the solution. I shall introduce you to the Society. Meet me at my club at eight o’clock sharp tomorrow night. I’m at the Regency. You’ll soon forget this young thing when you see what the Society gets up to—and no one will be the wiser.”

  Fawn did not hear her uncle’s reply but she felt his dark eyes on her all through dinner and during the dancing. She was supposed to go to bed as soon as the music started but Crispin Wolfe had requested a dance and she could not refuse without offending him.

  “You must call me Crispin,” he said shortly. His mouth scowled when he touched her gloved hand and he barely glanced at her. “We are not blood relations. You are my half-sister’s niece, not mine. We three have lived under this roof together for less than four months—scarcely enough time to form a family attachment.”

  “Aunt Jocelyn has asked me to regard you as an uncle. She is anxious that you feel welcome.”

  “She is anxious that you think of me as a doddering old man,” he corrected impatiently. “I am nearer in age to you than I am to Jocelyn. Do I look like a doddering old man to you, Fawn?”

  “No,” she murmured quietly. Her heart was beating unaccountably fast.

  “Are you enjoying yourself?”

  “Yes. Very much.”

  There followed a long awkward silence. This new uncle of hers was tall and broad-shouldered and Fawn was not insensible to his striking good looks. She estimated him to be twenty-eight as Aunt Jocelyn was in her early forties and she was said to be fifteen years older than her half-brother. The gossip flying around London was that Captain Wolfe had insinuated himself into Jocelyn Heathcote’s good books to get his hands on her money. They shared a father but not his name nor his wealth. Captain Wolfe was Jocelyn’s father’s bastard son. His existence was known, but not discussed in polite society, until he dignified himself in battle in New Zealand over the Maori and was recognized by the Crown.

  Some of Jocelyn’s acquaintances thought she had made a good bargain when she welcomed the prodigal son into her home. She was an inveterate social climber and after his decoration, Wolfe was in demand at all the best parties. His sister made the most of his popularity.

  Fawn had tried to feel pleased with the new arrangement, but she was too selfishly worried about her own future to rejoice in her aunt’s good fortune. Since her parents died five years ago, she had been passed along from one relative to another like a dog that no one wants but hasn’t the heart to leave in the street.

  Aunt Jocelyn was the last in a long line of Heathcote family members to shoulder the burden—and it took some nerve to ask her. Jocelyn had once been married to Fawn’s father’s brother, a marriage that ended with his death twenty years earlier, leaving Jocelyn a rich widow.

  Out of a sense of duty or loneliness, Jocelyn Heathcote welcomed her niece into her smart London townhouse and the Heathcote family breathed a collective sigh of relief. If there was any lingering sense of guilt among the relatives, it was banished with the assurance that Fawn would land a husband when she turned eighteen and all would be well. In the meantime, poor dear Jocelyn would have more than a cat to keep her company.

  Lately, with the arrival of Jocelyn’s handsome half-brother, Fawn began to sense that she was far less welcome than a cat would’ve been.

  The music ended. She was startled out of her reverie to find Captain Wolfe’s dark blue eyes fixed on her.

  “Are you happy here, Fawn?”

  “Yes, sir.” She swallowed. “I hope you are not dismayed to take on the burden of a niece.”

  “On the contrary,” he replied easily. His gaze did not waver. “You were the bait Jocelyn used to lure me into this briar patch. I did not want to join her household until I saw you.”

  Fawn’s mouth fell op
en and she blushed scarlet. He led her off the dance floor, depositing her with a short bow at the punch bowl. Then he disappeared into the assembly without a backward glance.

  Crispin Wolfe could not have said what she thought he had said. No. It was impossible.

  Fawn filled a glass with punch and gulped it down.

  §

  CRISPIN WAS gone from the house the following evening, returning early in the morning and went straight to bed. Aunt Jocelyn was at first concerned for his health and then grieved. By the time Fawn ventured to ask after her uncle, Jocelyn had worked herself into a fury.

  “I cannot think what concern it is of yours, Fawn, where my brother is this morning. He is not at home at present. The rest has nothing to do with you whatsoever.”

  Fawn tiptoed around her aunt’s bad-temper until Jocelyn departed on her round of visits, leaving Fawn behind as punishment. She perched on a chair in the sitting room with a book, feeling strangely nervous to be alone in the house—a condition she usually enjoyed.

  Crispin entered the room, dressed, washed and looking out of temper. He must have come home at some point when she was deep in her book because she missed his arrival. She glanced up and his eyes flicked in her direction. Heat flooded her face. Fawn lowered her eyes, staring unseeing at the words on the page.

  “Where is your aunt?”

  “She has gone out, sir, on her afternoon visitations.”

  “She does not take you with her?”

  “She did not feel well this morning. I expect she plans to return soon and did not wish to trouble me for a short outing.”

  Her uncle lifted an eyebrow. “What are you reading?”

  Fawn showed him the cover, her heart hammering. “Mr. Dickens.”

  He stepped further into the room and stood in front of her. His leg pressed against hers as he reached down and took the book out of her hands. His fingers grazed hers deliberately.

  “The Old Curiosity Shop.” Crispin met her eyes. “You put me in mind of Little Nell. Do you know what happens to her?”

  “I haven’t got that far.” Her voice barely reached above a whisper.

  “Then I look forward to hearing your observations.”

  He handed back the book and stalked out of the room. Fawn’s brow creased as she watched him go. Alone again, she exhaled with relief, although puzzled why she had been alarmed in the first place. Crispin Wolfe had done nothing to frighten her. Yet he frightened her very much.

  THAT NIGHT was the first night she was awakened by a tapping on her door.

  “Who is there?”

  Her bedchamber was at the end of a long corridor that was poorly lit and rarely used. This wing of the house was intended for guests or visiting relatives, neither of which Jocelyn encouraged. Fawn had enjoyed the privacy until tonight when she realized no one could hear her cries for help if there was an intruder.

  “It is Wolfe. Unlock the door. I need to talk to you.”

  He sounded like he’d been drinking.

  She rose from her bed and was about to unbolt the door when a wave of uneasiness stayed her hand. “Is Aunt Jocelyn with you, sir?”

  “No, and why on God’s earth would she be? My business with you does not concern her.” His tone was impatient and angry. “Open the door. I refuse to whisper through keyholes in my own house.”

  “I will not, uncle,” Fawn answered bravely. “It is late and you have been drinking. We have no business to conduct at this hour. I’ll see you at breakfast, sir. You may speak to me then.”

  Her voice shook and her heart collided in her chest. Fawn pressed her ear to the wood panel, listening. There was the rustling sound followed by a stream of low, hoarse profanity. Fawn stared at the door knob fearfully as it slowly turned this way and that.

  Realizing he could not gain admittance without breaking down the door, Crispin Wolfe stalked away, his booted steps echoing down the corridor.

  Fawn slumped against the door, her nerves shattered. She wiped her brow of perspiration and gathered her wits. Captain Wolfe would come to his senses in the morning and regret his impropriety. That would be the end of it and nothing need be said about the incident to Aunt Jocelyn.

  She had nothing to worry about, Fawn told herself as she crawled into bed.

  AUNT JOCELYN was in high spirits in the months following. She and Crispin had been invited to a number of fashionable homes and were feted by the best of London society. She credited Captain Wolfe for the sudden increase in her popularity. Her half-brother was respected by men, admired by women and was not opposed to dancing, Jocelyn boasted.

  Fawn thought it more likely that London’s hostesses were happier to invite an escorted woman to a party than a solitary widow and Wolfe had little to do with it. But she kept the thought to herself.

  Crispin Wolfe’s visits to her chambers had become a nightly torment. She had managed to put him off with the excuse of being ill and once of pretending to be too deeply asleep to hear his knock. Each night, she burrowed under her covers, praying he would not return.

  Jocelyn knew nothing of her brother’s nocturnal visits. Fawn had kept her uncle’s secret and was becoming increasingly frightened that Jocelyn would find out. If discovered, between the two of them, the troublesome orphan would be made to shoulder the blame.

  In the beginning, she reassured herself there was no real harm done. Captain Wolfe drank heavily in the evening and was likely unaware of his actions. Fawn learned the captain had fought in some bloody battles in his youth and suffered night terrors for a time. Perhaps he was in the grip of one of those terrors when he tapped at Fawn’s door. This made sense as he never mentioned the visit in the morning and gave no hint that he was annoyed with her.

  She was not without empathy for her uncle, but she would not admit him. She would never admit him. It would be the end of her if she did.

  §

  “THE CAPTAIN wishes to winter at his house in the north,” Aunt Jocelyn said heavily.

  Fawn sensed an accusation in the statement and tensed. They were seated in the conservatory, enjoying a rare spell of autumn sunshine before the gloom of winter closed in. Fawn refilled her aunt’s tea cup and handed it to her.

  “Will you be joining him, Aunt Jocelyn?” She kept her tone pleasant, hiding the anxiety she felt in her aunt’s company of late.

  “If my health permits,” she sighed. “Wolfe insists on my company, but I shall have to consult with Dr. Garsby before undertaking a journey to the hinterland of England. My brother has not seen Hawkcliffe Hall since he was a youth. It was bequeathed to him by his godmother, Lady Constance Weybourne. When she died five years ago the estate became his, but without the funds to keep it up, Wolfe had to let the servants go. The house had been closed up ever since.”

  Jocelyn lifted the delicate tea cup to her mouth. Her eyes were clouded and her hand trembled. Her aunt’s visits to Dr. Garsby had become more frequent of late, giving Fawn another reason to worry. The older woman’s dependence on laudanum was becoming noticeable.

  “A visit to the country might be just the remedy for your nerves, aunt. With your wonderful taste, I have no doubt you could restore Hawkcliffe Hall to its former glory.”

  Jocelyn grimaced. “You are as free with my money as my brother is. I have no desire to squander what remains of my small income on an estate in the least fashionable county of England. And at the height of the season no less! There are balls and the opera and numerous dinner parties that we are expected to attend. Even if my health permitted such an excursion, what should we do for society? Not even a shooting party could be arranged in such a desperate wilderness.”

  Heat prickled Fawn’s scalp. “Of course you must stay in London. Your friends would be disappointed to lose you if you did not.”

  Jocelyn brightened. “That is precisely my feeling. I shall tell Wolfe we cannot rob our friends of our society when they have come to depend upon us.”

  Restored to good humor, her aunt cast a sly glance in her direction. “As
it happens, there is a party tonight at the Nettleton’s and you are invited. I had not thought of telling you earlier. I’ve come to accept your dislike of parties as a cross that I must bear.”

  Fawn crimsoned a second time. She did not dislike parties—she was never invited to them. Which was just as well as her wardrobe was not up to the task. “Thank you, Aunt Jocelyn, but I am a poor conversationalist and I would not like to spoil your fun.”

  Her eyes rolled heavenward. “I told Wolfe as much but he insisted, saying that ‘Fawn is no such thing’ and if you had a new gown, you could be persuaded to attend. He argued that as my dependent, you could not hope to attract a husband if you are never seen in society. I was forced to concede to his wishes and spend what little I have on a new gown for you. It was ordered last week from my dressmaker and will be delivered tonight. So you see, my dear Fawn,” Jocelyn pursed her lips into a tight thin line, “it appears my brother is as eager to see you settled in a home of your own as I am.”

  THE GOWN, when it arrived, was lovely but she couldn’t take any pleasure in it. Torn between wanting to look her best to attract a suitor and yet remain invisible to everyone else, Fawn stood frozen in front of her looking glass.