Harrison Carlisle, the Duke of Sutcliffe, never imagined that the lovely Prudence would honor his bed, or just how bewitching those lush curves could be. Yet he keeps a gentleman's silence. After all, a spy for the Crown can ill afford to marry. But when Prudence's brother is killed, they find themselves uniting to track down the traitorous murderer. And while death lurks within the shadowy world of espionage, there is also passion . . . and the unbidden thrill of a seduction!
Contains mature themes.
Harrison Carlisle, the Duke of Sutcliffe, never imagined that the lovely Prudence would honor his bed, or just how bewitching those lush curves could be. Yet he keeps a gentleman's silence. After all, a spy for the Crown can ill afford to marry. But when Prudence's brother is killed, they find themselves uniting to track down the traitorous murderer. And while death lurks within the shadowy world of espionage, there is also passion . . . and the unbidden thrill of a seduction!
Contains mature themes.
![Misadventures in Seduction](http://img.images-bn.com/static/redesign/srcs/images/grey-box.png?v11.12.6)
Misadventures in Seduction
Narrated by Lucy Rayner
Robyn DeHartUnabridged — 2 hours, 59 minutes
![Misadventures in Seduction](http://img.images-bn.com/static/redesign/srcs/images/grey-box.png?v11.12.6)
Misadventures in Seduction
Narrated by Lucy Rayner
Robyn DeHartUnabridged — 2 hours, 59 minutes
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Overview
Harrison Carlisle, the Duke of Sutcliffe, never imagined that the lovely Prudence would honor his bed, or just how bewitching those lush curves could be. Yet he keeps a gentleman's silence. After all, a spy for the Crown can ill afford to marry. But when Prudence's brother is killed, they find themselves uniting to track down the traitorous murderer. And while death lurks within the shadowy world of espionage, there is also passion . . . and the unbidden thrill of a seduction!
Contains mature themes.
Product Details
BN ID: | 2940174877887 |
---|---|
Publisher: | Tantor Audio |
Publication date: | 09/27/2022 |
Series: | Masquerading Mistresses , #3 |
Edition description: | Unabridged |
Read an Excerpt
CHAPTER 1
London, 1814
Harrison sat in the carriage outside Lord Brentwood's London townhome watching the people who slipped through the door. He had received an anonymous note about the secret meeting of the Seven that had been called to Brentwood's. The rub was that this was his organization. He led the Seven, the Crown's most elite spy organization; he called their meetings.
When the war had first begun, he'd been approached to coordinate something in London that could prevent the French from infiltrating the English government. So he'd pulled together a group of men who were the very best at weaponry, code breaking, and the like, and created the Seven, called thus because of the original seven members. It had grown since then to more than double that size.
And together they'd prevented an infiltration at the prime minister's level, kept the Crown safe, and ensured that Napoleon stayed in exile. For years, they had worked on behalf of the Crown in secret, foiling countless plans with their machinations. However, in the past few years, Napoleon's own network of spies had made more headway than it should have. The Seven had always caught it in time, but Harrison had become suspicious that there must be a traitor. The Seven had spent considerable resources investigating the suspicious activities of Lord Comfry only to have the man turn up dead. Murdered on the orders of the real traitor. Furthermore, the investigation into Comfry's death led to the conclusion that the notorious traitor was a member of the Seven. Now it would seem that private meetings were being called without him.
He wasn't certain what Brentwood was up to. The man wasn't even an active spy, merely a glorified informant who did nothing but complain. If Brentwood were more competent, Harrison might suspect him of being the traitor. But Brentwood wasn't competent. Furthermore, some of Harrison's most trusted friends were attending this meeting. He simply could not believe that Remy or Alistair would turn traitor. So what precisely were these men here to discuss?
Harrison would be damned if he'd allow a meeting of this sort to go on without him.
He waited another twenty minutes to allow everyone time to settle in, and get the meeting started, before he stormed inside.
They sat in Brentwood's study, his fellow members of the Seven, the very people he had recruited. He caught everyone's attention as he stepped into the room. Brentwood's mouth momentarily fell open, then he shifted from behind his desk and sat in a chair near the Marquess of Coventry. Either the man was a brilliant actor — which Harrison doubted — or he was not the one to call the meeting. The marquess Alistair Devlin's mouth twitched, as if he were merely enjoying the show.
"I don't recall receiving a notice about this meeting, nor did I call for one," Harrison said. "Mind telling me what the devil is going on?"
Remington Hawthorne, the Earl of Westbridge and Harrison's closest friend, sat next to his wife Emma. They both shifted their glances away from him. Bailey took to his feet.
"Harrison, as you know, the decoding work that Coventry did on Comfry's journal has brought some disturbing news to our attention. The idea that someone within these very walls is the traitor — "
"Indeed, I know precisely what Devlin discovered," Harrison said, nodding to the man himself who sat quietly, his cane leaning against the table.
Alistair Devlin, the Marquess of Coventry, had spent the better part of last month decoding the deceased Lord Comfry's journal.
"I know that one of us is a traitor. One of us is working hard to raise funds and bring Napoleon back into power," Harrison said. "What I don't know is what the rest of you are meeting about. Nor who called this meeting."
"I did." Brentwood came to his feet. "You should watch your tone — "
"Gentlemen, there is no need for that." Bailey said. He strode over to Harrison, ushered him aside. "There is evidence, overwhelming evidence," Bailey said, his tone hushed so that only Harrison could hear him. "Nothing is being brought to the prince or the prime minister at this time, but I would suggest you get your household in order."
"What the deuce are you talking about?"
"The evidence leads directly to you, Harrison."
"You suspect I am the traitor?" Harrison asked, not believing what he'd heard. "What kind of evidence do you have?"
"I cannot disclose that, certainly you must realize." He squeezed Harrison's shoulder. "I can give you a few days before this must be brought before His Majesty. You should leave now. Brentwood has already called for some Bow Street Runners. He intends to have you arrested."
"Certainly you jest," Harrison said.
"Be careful," Bailey said and then stepped back over to the others. "We shall continue to investigate."
"Unless you'd care to confess now," Brentwood said.
"Not bloody likely." He had devoted countless years of his life to this organization. He'd sacrificed everything for the Seven. It was his life's work. And now he was being accused of being a traitor, not just of the Seven, but of the Crown. "The only thing I'm confessing is that I'm going to find out which one of you is behind this, and I will uncover the truth. When I do, I will rip you apart with my bare hands." He turned on his heel and walked out. He had work to do.
* * *
Prudence had thought burying her parents was the hardest thing she'd ever had to do, but she'd had Johnston by her side at the time. Now he was gone, and the duties of the family fell solely to her.
For what must have been the hundredth time since she'd received news of Johnston's death, she wondered if she hadn't bungled things all those years ago, her brother might still be alive. She'd long since forgiven herself for her mistake and for the most part, she never thought of it. But here and now, she couldn't help but wonder that if she hadn't slept with the wrong man, things might have happened differently.
That night she'd ignored all the clues that told her the man she'd seduced wasn't Bailey. She'd never been attracted to him, though she'd enjoyed his flirtations. But that night, in that man's arms — whoever he was — she'd felt real passion. She'd been so set on protecting Johnston that she hadn't stopped to think about any of it.
It had been a few weeks since she and her siblings had buried Johnston at their family's estate in Staffordshire. It seemed the best course of action was to leave the country and come to London. She needed to ensure her sisters were prepared and ready for their Seasons, which thankfully didn't officially start until after their mourning period had ended. Astrid and Constance would need suitable husbands now more than ever. She eyed them, sitting across the carriage from her. They were all tired from the last few days at Staffordshire and the travel to London.
But Prudence had something else she needed done, and there was only one man who could help her. She had to speak with him tonight because once they moved in to the London townhome she'd leased, her time would be extremely limited. They already had an appointment scheduled with the dressmaker for the day after tomorrow. She'd also inquired about a handful of etiquette instructors. Marrying off her sisters would take up nearly all of her time.
"I want you to stay quietly in here until I return," she told them when the carriage stopped. "I should not be long."
Matilda, her youngest sister, yawned and snuggled closer to Constance.
"It won't be long, my sweet, and then you can crawl into a warm bed." She touched the tip of Matilda's nose.
"Why can this not wait until tomorrow?" Constance asked.
"Watch your tone, sister," Prudence warned. "It cannot wait a moment longer." Johnston deserved justice for his death. And she knew that if she delayed this meeting, she'd become too preoccupied with their coming out and she'd dismiss it. So Prudence stepped out of the carriage and shut the door.
She tapped the knocker on the front door and waited. Nothing. She tapped again, this time harder, and the door opened, revealing an aging butler.
"Madam," he said with a curt nod.
"I need to see His Grace."
He withdrew a pocket watch and glanced at the time. "I do not believe the duke is accepting callers at the moment."
"This is an emergency. I will not leave until he sees me." She folded her arms over her chest and hoped she appeared more formidable than she probably did. She was not an overly tall woman, and though she boasted more curves than was popular, she was not certain she could overpower the butler and force her way inside. "I am quite serious, sir."
He released a heavy sigh, but he stepped aside and allowed her entrance. "He made it abundantly clear he did not want to be disturbed. I shall not take the blame for this intrusion, madam. His wrath is all yours. Third door on the left."
She hid her smile behind her hand. "I shall take all the blame. I'll even tell him I knocked you out of the way." She clutched her cloak tighter to her and padded her way down the corridor until she reached the third door. She considered knocking, but thought better of it and merely turned the knob.
"Sheldon, I gave you explicit instructions that I was not to be disturbed." He continued digging through the pile of papers on the sideboard behind his desk.
She took several steps farther into the room. It had been nearly four years since she'd seen him. Time was not always kind to people, but it seemed as if Harrison Carlisle had been blessed. He had grown more dashing as the years passed. It seemed impossible for him to be more attractive, but there he was, his shirtsleeves pushed to his elbows, revealing his muscular and entirely too masculine forearms.
No. She shook her head. She refused to notice his physical features. He was the one who had recruited her brother into some secret organization that had ultimately led to his death.
While she and Harrison had never been close, she had known him for years since their families had been friends. One thing she knew for certain about him was his penchant for orderliness. The room before her spoke of anything but order. Drawers were turned over on the desk, and books lay strewn about the floor.
"I remembered you being more tidy," she said. "Or perhaps you've been burgled?"
His narrowed eyes rounded at the sight of her. "Prudence. What are you doing here?" Then he went back to his searching.
"I should think that would be obvious, but perhaps I expected you'd be a better spy." She walked farther into the room.
He glanced up again.
"Don't be so surprised. Of course Johnston told me you had recruited him for your covert operations."
"I'm not surprised. I'm busy."
That was always his way, trying to dismiss her. Well, not tonight. "No! You can try to ignore me, but I will not be so easily dismissed. I'm here for you to right a wrong. I warned you years ago that all of your nonsense would get my brother killed. I think you should be the one to bring his killer to justice."
He scraped his hand through his hair. "I don't have time for this right now."
She put her hand to her heart. "Your tenderness is touching, truly." How had she ever felt attracted to him? There had been many nights since her failed seduction that she had wished it had been Harrison's bed she'd climbed into. She knew it hadn't been, as obviously the man could not abide her.
"You misunderstand," he said. "I fully intend to discover Johnston's killer, but at the moment I'm a little preoccupied."
Her frown deepened. "What could possibly be more important than finding a murderer? Is that not what you do, hunt for criminals and whatnot?"
"Not precisely." He sighed in exasperation. He walked to a shelf near the door and retrieved a box. "Take this. It was his; I gathered all the pieces that looked of personal value. I intended to send it to you, but seeing as you're here — "
She grabbed the box he'd shoved at her and opened it, not fully seeing the items inside. Her eyes pricked with tears as her brother's scent assaulted her. She breathed it in for a moment.
"Prudence, you need to go."
"Of all the rude —" She set the box down, as much to remove the overwhelming memories as to make a stand against Harrison. "I am simply appalled."
"Yes, well, you can feel free to give me a lesson in etiquette another day. But not today." He grabbed her elbow and attempted to escort her out.
She squirmed and tried to get out of his reach, but his grip held firm. "Unhand me."
Something hit against one of the windows. Then another hit. "Shh." He pulled her closer.
Her breath seemed to disappear with him so near. The hard planes of his chest pressed against her back. She heard it then, not merely the pounding of their hearts as they stood this close, but rather the sound of something or someone prying open a window.
"We have to leave," Harrison whispered. He grabbed the box and pulled her with him out the study door and into the corridor.
They were halfway to the back of his house before she remembered and stopped walking.
"What?"
"I can't leave my carriage. It's out front," she said.
"I'm certain your driver will not hold it against you." He pulled her farther.
"I'm not concerned about my driver, but rather what I've left inside. Whom, that is."
His brows rose. Then the window from his study creaked open, and feet landed on the floor with a thud.
"They're inside now," Harrison whispered.
"Who?"
He shook his head. "We'll try and sneak through the alleyway and back around to the carriage."
She hesitated a moment longer, until another set of feet hit the floor in his study and Harrison pulled her forward, his large hand dwarfing hers. With him she was safe, it seemed to say. Still, she was certain her heart had risen to her throat, and any moment she would choke on it. Finally they reached the back door, and he led her into the darkened gardens that lined the back of his townhome.
He gripped her hand and led her around the base of his house, the windows from the first floor just over their heads as they skimmed against the stone. Then he stopped just below the opened window of his study. The men inside the room rustled around, kicking furniture and knocking things off shelves. They spoke, but their low voices murmured so there was no deciphering their words.
Inside that carriage, hopefully, her siblings were still safe. She nudged Harrison. If he didn't move soon, she'd have to run around him. Finally he started up again and they crept the rest of the way to the carriage. She knew before they even opened the door that her siblings were in fact still inside. Thankfully the rogues who had broken into Harrison's study hadn't seemed to notice her noisy siblings. Safe was another matter entirely, as it sounded as if they were currently killing one Another.
* * *
Harrison gave instructions to the driver while Prudence climbed up the carriage steps. The men who broke into the house could not have failed to miss the carriage parked in front of his townhome, which likely meant they did not care whom they interrupted. It was doubtful they were the Bow Street Runners that Bailey had mentioned and instead must be ruffians hired by the traitor trying to frame Harrison. Certainly they had known he'd been home and therefore had either been too careless to consider the possibilities — or they had been willing to kill him.
But they must have noted the Hixbys' carriage, and that put them in danger. Until he could figure out precisely who was trying to frame him, there was only one place he knew they'd be safe. Only one other person knew about the address, and Harrison had no doubts about Remy's loyalty. Once he was assured the driver understood the directions, Harrison opened the carriage door.
"Not another word, am I understood?" Prudence said.
She was met with a chorus of mumbles. She sat on one of the benches sandwiched between two other girls, with a third snuggled on her lap. The bench across housed a surly adolescent boy. Harrison sat next to the boy, who in turn shot him a glare.
"Jefferson, mind your manners," Prudence warned.
"Prudence?" Harrison leveled his eyes on hers and raised his brows.
"My brother, Jefferson. And these are my sisters, Astrid," she indicated the girl to her right, "Constance," the one on her left, "and this little one is Matilda." Prudence gave him a weak smile. "If you could simply drop us off, then you're welcome to the carriage."
This night only improved as the hours went on. "You're coming with me. Evidently, all of you."
"That seems entirely unnecessary. I have leased a perfectly good townhome for us."
"I cannot be certain if anyone else is watching my house. Other than the gentlemen who are currently helping themselves to my finest brandy. Until I know it is safe for you and your family, you stay with me," he said.
(Continues…)
Excerpted from "Misadventures in Seduction"
by .
Copyright © 2014 Robyn DeHart.
Excerpted by permission of Entangled Publishing, LLC.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
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