Page 1 of The Earl’s Forbidden Temptation

CHAPTER 1

Sebastian Augustus Darlington, the 11th Earl of Raine, shrugged into his greatcoat and took up his gloves when the grandfather clock in the hall chimed nine. His carriage waited outside to carry him to Aphrodite, a palace of carnal delights, and the easy company of his good friends. The night promised illicit diversion; the weather, anything but. Rain hissed along the street in a steady fall beneath a sky swollen with dark clouds, most unusual for the spring months. As he reached for his cane, raised voices drifted from the front: his butler Gerald’s pomposity, and a woman’s soft demand cutting through it.

“I do not jest, sir, nor can I conceive why you persist in believing I do. I am well aware it is unseemly to call upon his lordship at such an indecent hour, but necessity has left us no choice. Pray allow us entry before this ghastly downpour finishes what the journey began.”

Sebastian lifted a brow, slid his gloves into a pocket, and moved down the long hallway toward the commotion. Four ladies stood upon the front step of his townhouse, clutching valises so worn they might have weathered a dozen journeys. Their likeness was unmistakable; he concluded at once they were sisters or perhaps cousins.

Rain fell in earnest, darkening their pelisses and dragging their hems wet and heavy, while water beaded upon their bonnets and slipped from the brims in steady threads. Three of the girls wore anxious, hopeful expressions. The fourth, clearly both their leader and the eldest, looked prepared to lay siege by force of will alone, her gloved hand tightening on her valise as she leveled a glare at his butler. Still, despite the frown marring her brow, her remarkable prettiness sent an unexpected awareness whispering through Sebastian’s senses. Who in blazes were they, and why had they chosen his door for such a nonsensical display?

“I will not repeat⁠—”

“For the third time, pray inform his lordship that I have urgent business with him and entreat an audience without delay,” she said, jutting her chin.

“You do not entreat. You demand,” Gerald returned, puffed up like a pompous old pigeon. “I have already informed you that his lordship is not at home to callers. Thrice, I believe! You may leave your card, though I rather doubt a lady such as yourself possesses one.”

Sebastian could all but feel the disdain dripping from the man.

“We are the earl’s family,” she said, narrowing her gaze, “and I cannot imagine his lordship will look kindly upon the contempt with which you have received us. If our presence so offends you, permit us to use the servants’ entrance and await him in the kitchens. It is a reasonable compromise, sir, particularly as we are not leaving.”

Gerald sputtered, scandalized. “Family? How presumptuous!”

The rain drummed harder upon the flagstones, and a gust sent a scatter of cool drops across the threshold. The girls shivered, their shoulders quaking beneath tattered pelisses, while his butler, impervious to pity, regarded them with glacial composure.

Sebastian stepped out of the shadowed hall into the light, making his presence known. “That will do, Gerald. The weather has already turned vicious, and I have no desire to be known as the sort of barbarian who leaves women to its mercy.”

“My lord, I was only safeguarding your privacy and safety,” Gerald managed with a sniff. “The young lady was rather too strident in her demands.”

“Then it is fortunate I arrived before she breached the walls. Stand aside, Gerald,” Sebastian said lightly. He looked at the ladies and inclined his head. “Come in, if you please. You will catch your deaths if you remain out there.”

Relief and uncertainty flickered over the younger girls’ faces. The eldest held his regard a heartbeat longer, as though measuring his sincerity, then gave a small, graceful nod and stepped over the threshold. Rain tapped a quick farewell upon the door as it shut behind them. Warmth gathered in the entry hall from a banked fire, and the faint scent of beeswax polish rose from the floors. The younger girls shivered violently, and the smallest one sneezed.

“This way,” Sebastian said, leading them along the wide corridor.

He slowed his stride just enough to observe without rudeness. The one who appeared to be the youngest shivered harder, the other two pressed closer together, and the eldest walked as if she shepherded not only her family but tiredness itself.

“We are dripping upon your floors, my lord; I apologize,” their leader said. “We do not wish to damage your home. Perhaps we might dry by the kitchen fire below stairs.”

“Such consideration is not needed. My floors will survive. If anything is damaged, it will be replaced. See these ladies to the guest quarters,” Sebastian said to the butler. “Ensure their clothes are laundered and dried. Mrs. Clarke may find them something dry to wear if the contents of their valises are also wet. Bring hot water and towels to their rooms, along with tea and something substantial from the kitchen.”

“Yes, my lord.”

The girls glanced at each other, relief evident in their gazes.

“Thank you,” the leader said, lowering into an awkward curtsy. “I am Miss Darcy Whitley, my lord, and these are my sisters.”

She nodded to the other three girls who stood straight-backed, their hands folded before them with disciplined calm, though they looked like bedraggled waifs. At Miss Whitley’s delicate clearing of her throat, they dipped into curtsies, their gazes betraying raw nerves. The servants lifted the valises from chilled hands and whisked away the damp cloaks. Mrs. Clarke, the housekeeper, arrived with two maids and ushered the younger girls away.

Miss Whitley’s eyes, amber-brown and keen, glittered with uncertainty. The soaked bonnet, askew upon her head, lost its battle and fell, revealing wet, matted dark hair threaded with honey-gold and red streaks. Her hand darted to catch the bonnet, and he noted several holes in her gloves. Up close, the set of her mouth held a softness he found unreasonably intriguing. Sebastian nearly scoffed at himself. She looked like a drowned rat on the verge of toppling; there ought to be nothing appealing about her.

“I was on my way out, so I shall leave you to Mrs. Clarke’s care,” Sebastian said. “She will provide whatever you require. Attend me in the library at ten tomorrow morning, Miss Whitley. Then you may explain how four ladies unknown to me came to regard themselves as my family.”

She sank into another awkward curtsy, as though her soaked gown were pulling her to her knees. “Thank you for your kindness, my lord.”

Sebastian inclined his head, turned, collected his cane with its hidden blade, and stepped out, trusting his staff to see the ladies properly situated. Once inside the carriage, he did not knock upon the roof to send the coachman on. An unfamiliar restlessness had taken hold. He turned the last few minutes over in his mind.

We are the earl’s family.

He drew a steady breath. There lay the source of his disquiet. They were no relation of his. It must be some ruse. Even if they were gentle-bred women, he would be a fool to seek diversion while four strangers occupied his home under a claim of kinship. He needed to understand their purpose before he underestimated those he had admitted beneath his roof. They might yet prove the most accomplished sort of charlatans.