Gambler's Prize
By Amy Anderson
5/5
()
About this ebook
Sexy historical romance novella (13,000 words) set in the late Victorian period. Olivia Hartwell faces a stark choice: marry notorious rake Charles Vaughley, Marquess of Stancombe, or lose the beloved home that has been in her family for generations. Having run up outrageous gambling debts to Vaughley, Olivia’s brother suggests a marriage of convenience to release Olivia’s inheritance. The Marquess is prepared to consider the idea and Olivia is undeniably attracted to him. But Vaughley has a beautiful lover and a terrible reputation. Is losing her heart to him too great a gamble of her own?
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Gambler's Prize - Amy Anderson
Gambler’s Prize
By Amy Anderson
Copyright 2013 Amy Anderson
Smashwords Edition
Smashwords Edition License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
CHAPTER ONE
Hugh’s parties were always tremendous fun, everyone agreed. The cream of society would come, the best wine would be served, the finest food eaten. There would be dancing until late and gambling until early. Fortunes might be won – and reputations lost. The rest of high society might dine out on the on dit for weeks. And yet Olivia couldn’t help feeling disquiet every time another of her brother’s extravaganzas drew near. It was the gambling. Ever more the gambling. Since Hugh had inherited, the pace of life at Neville Park had changed considerably. For Olivia Hartwell this change had not, in itself, been unwelcome. It was her suspicions about the sums of money lost by Hugh at such parties which made her uneasy.
Even so, she forgot her forebodings momentarily as she approached the Ivory Room. The draper had hung the new silks only that morning and she was eager to see the bedroom in all its refurbished glory. But as she stepped through the door with anticipation she stopped short with a gasp. The beautiful ebony four poster directly ahead of her was not empty; the new silk and lace coverlet trailed on the floor and the linens were in disarray. There, in the middle of bed, without a shred of clothing, lay a dark-haired man and astride him sat an equally naked and very beautiful red-headed woman. Even in her embarrassment and confusion, Olivia recognised the red-head as Lady Eleanor de Stanley, to whom she had certainly not allocated this room. As to the man’s identity, she had no idea.
At Olivia’s sudden appearance, Lady Eleanor shrieked and snatched up a rumpled sheet, pulling away from her lover. Her flushed face was a perfect mix of embarrassment and deep annoyance. But her lover merely laughed, propped himself upon his elbows and directed a challenging gaze at the intruder. Olivia – who had never seen a grown man naked in her life, let alone one as magnificently erect for the act from which he had been disturbed – was shocked to the core. Speechless, she backed hastily out of the room and banged the gilded door shut on the sybaritic scene. As she hastened away, she heard the woman’s voice rising in chastisement:
Charlie, I told you we shouldn’t have…
but she was drowned out by the masculine laughter of her partner in amorous crime.
Olivia fled down the corridor and through the gallery to the sanctuary of her own bedroom. There, she paced the floor in agitation, her heart pounding, and the vision which had confronted her still flashing before her eyes.
Charlie, Lady Eleanor had said. The man must have been Charles Vaughley, Marquess of Stancombe. Olivia grimaced. She had heard a great deal about Lord Charles Vaughley and this first encounter with him – for it must be him – did not give lie to the gossip. Titled, wealthy and as yet unmarried, he was infamous for leaving a trail of broken hearts and tarnished female reputations across town and county. Lady Eleanor de Stanley was apparently keen to add her name to the list.
Olivia attempted to gather herself by drawing on disapproval. There was simply no need, she told herself, throwing herself into an armchair and snatching up her embroidery for distraction, for her to feel embarrassed. It was not as