Intimate Deception Read online

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Text copyright © 2012 Laura Landon

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  Published by Montlake Romance

  P.O. Box 400818

  Las Vegas, NV 89140

  ISBN-13: 9781612184791

  ISBN-10: 1612184790

  To all my readers. I can’t thank you enough.

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  About the Author

  Prologue

  May 1853

  London, England

  Vincent Germaine, eleventh Marquess of Hayworth, ninth Duke of Raeborn, paced the hallway outside his wife’s bedroom. Sweat beaded on his forehead, then ran down his face and into his eyes. He wanted to run, but there was nowhere for him to go. No place where her agonizing moans would not follow him.

  He clenched his fists and walked to the end of the hall, his carriage every inch a duke’s, even though inside he hardly felt like one. This was God’s way of teaching mortal man the limits of his control. God’s way of teaching man humility when he became too self-assured and self-reliant. And tonight, God had decided the Duke of Raeborn needed to be shown how powerless he truly was.

  He wanted to rail to the heavens, rant against God for His unfairness. Instead, he offered up another prayer.

  All through the night he’d bartered, offering God every earthly possession he owned. Even his own life. But his prayers had gone unanswered. For the second time in his life, Vincent Germaine was being brought to his knees. He was one of the wealthiest, most influential men in all of England, yet tonight he was as helpless as a lowly street beggar.

  From the moment he’d found out his wife was going to have a child, he’d prayed that this time the outcome would be different. Prayed that this time his wife would be delivered of the child safely and he would have an heir to carry on the great Raeborn name. He even promised God that if He brought his wife and the babe through this, he would never chance planting his seed in her again.

  But his prayers had been for naught. It had been nearly two days and she still hadn’t been delivered of the babe. Two days, and he knew Angeline would not live much longer if she did not soon give over the babe the doctor said was too large for her.

  He shoved himself away from the wall, then froze when another gut-wrenching moan rent the air. Guilt and regret threatened to suffocate him. Fear more terrifying than he could withstand. She was weakening. Would that he could ease her pain. Would that the risk was not so great to get an heir. Would that he had never planted his seed in her womb.

  Regrets born of desperation.

  He swiped his hand over his sweating brow, then turned an anxious glance toward her room when the door opened. His heart thundered in his chest.

  A maid rushed out, her arms laden with blood-soaked linen. Tears ran down her ashen face. Her gaze carried a helplessness he’d seen from his staff on a night similar to this five years earlier. The night his first wife had died trying to give birth to their babe.

  Another muffled moan echoed from behind the door. Angeline’s cries were weaker now, filled with even more pain and despair.

  Vincent strode with determined steps toward the room where his wife lay struggling to give birth to his child. He would not allow her to die. He’d lost one wife trying to give him an heir. He couldn’t live with himself if he was responsible for another woman’s death.

  He opened the door and entered.

  His gaze moved to where she lay in the bed, and his heart dropped to the pit of his stomach. He slowly made his way toward her.

  “You should not...have come, Your Grace,” Angeline whispered, her weak voice filled with pain.

  He sucked in a deep breath that broadened his already massive shoulders. “I’m your husband. This is exactly where I should be.”

  Angeline attempted a smile.

  His heart twisted in his chest as a part of him died. He reached for her hand and held it. “I’ve come to tell you I have waited long enough. I demand you cease this procrastination and give birth to our babe.”

  She released a trembling shudder. “So like you to make demands of matters you cannot control.”

  “That is because I have always found doing so effective,” he answered, brushing a stray wisp of hair from her cheek. Dear God, he didn’t want to lose her. He couldn’t say he loved her, wasn’t sure he knew what love was, but oh, he cared for her. Could not imagine a life without her.

  “I’m afraid your demands are quite useless in this...Your Grace.”

  He forced himself not to react. Forced himself not to tell her he feared the same.

  Another wave of pain speared through her body. She attempted a scream, but the sound was reduced to a weak, pathetic gasp. He cradled her hand, and she held on to him even though she was so weak her clasp was negligible.

  “Do you know how much I love you, Vincent?” she said when the spasm was over.

  Tears burned his eyes. “Yes, Angeline. I have been the luckiest of men. Nowhere in all the world could I have found anyone more perfect than you. You have made me very happy.”

  “But I could not give you an heir. I know how much you wanted one.”

  “We both did,” he whispered, his throat constricting.

  “Yes, I did. More than anything.”

  Another spasm overwhelmed her. She gasped for air and held his hand. “Please, don’t...leave me.”

  “No, Angeline. I won’t leave you.”

  He sat in the chair beside her bed and held her limp, fragile hand in his. His chest ached with such pain it clenched his body with relentless agony.

  “You don’t have to worry about the babe, Your Grace,” Angeline whispered. “I will take good care of him when we reach heaven.”

  Vincent swallowed hard. “I know you will.” He leaned over and kissed her gently on the cheek.

  She tried to smile at him one final time.

  He brushed his fingers down her face and held her hand securely. What had he done? Was the desire for an heir worth even one life? Was having a child worth the risk a man forced a woman to take? Or the risk a woman felt obligated to take?

  She was finally delivered of the babe—a son—a perfectly formed babe with plump arms and legs and thick black hair just like Vincent’s. He was a beautiful babe that wore the look of peaceful bliss as he slept for eternity.

  Vincent held his wife’s hand long after it had grown cold. Long after life had ebbed from her body. Tears streamed down his cheeks. He let them flow with shameless abandon. She’d sacrificed everything to give him an heir.

  With his dead wife’s hand nestled in his, he vowed he would never allow another woman to take such a risk again.

  Chapter 1

  January 1858

  London, England

  Lady Grace Warren stood
back from the crowd of well-wishers and watched her youngest sister, Anne, and her new husband greet their guests. After their wedding breakfast celebration, the groom would whisk his happy bride away from their father’s London town house and they’d travel to their new home to begin a wonderful life together.

  Grace breathed a heavy sigh. The relief nearly took her to her knees.

  Anne was safe now.

  Grace swallowed past the lump in her throat. The nightmare she’d lived with for more years than she wanted to remember was finally over. The last of her six sisters had husbands now to protect them. They were all safe. Finally out of his reach.

  The euphoria she felt was indescribable. She’d been so scared that she’d fail and he’d somehow get one of them.

  She watched Anne and her new husband, focused on the loving way they looked at each other, their timid touch, their longing gazes. Her heart ached with a painful yearning she thought she’d squelched long ago. She wouldn’t allow herself to dredge up all the regrets and disappointments, all the wasted years she’d sacrificed to save them. Today was a happy occasion. Anne’s marriage was the completion of the promise she’d given her mother on her deathbed—to make sure each of her girls found someone who loved them. Someone who would take care of them.

  She’d fulfilled her promise, even though it had come at a price—a very high price.

  She’d done everything she knew to do to keep him from getting them.

  Even sold her own soul.

  Grace pushed the gnawing terror aside and watched as, one by one, her sisters descended on Anne with congratulatory hugs. Only Caroline, Marchioness of Wedgewood, wasn’t there.

  That didn’t surprise her. Caroline was in the family way again and had no doubt found a chair in which to rest.

  Grace smiled. It wouldn’t be long before her sisters and their families would have trouble fitting into one house. That should throw their father into a fine stupor.

  She shifted her gaze to where her father stood talking to a group of friends and neighbors. Her heart dropped to the pit of her stomach when she saw the man standing next to him. Just the sight of him made her skin crawl.

  “What is he doing here?” Caroline asked from beside her.

  Grace gave a start. She hadn’t heard Caroline approach. She put a smile on her face and turned. “Father invited him. He’s a neighbor, after all.”

  “He’s Satan masquerading as a messenger from God.”

  Grace suppressed a shiver and forced herself to concentrate on anything other than Baron Fentington. He was as repulsive and vile as the threat he posed. Grace pulled her gaze from Fentington and focused on Anne and her new husband. “They make a lovely couple, don’t they?”

  “Yes.” Caroline placed her hand on Grace’s shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Are you breathing a sigh of relief, Grace?”

  Grace tried to look relaxed. “Yes, I’m glad it’s over. There are always a number of last-minute details to see to.”

  “That’s not what I’m talking about. As well you know.”

  A long silence stretched between them before Grace gave up her pretense of ignorance. “Yes, I’m glad.”

  She forced her gaze to shift back to the man standing beside her father. The baron. The man who’d wanted Anne for his own. As well as Mary, the sister older than Anne, and Sarah, the one older than Mary.

  Although Fentington gave the outward appearance of being an upstanding member of society and a righteous nobleman, Grace and all her sisters knew differently. The man was inherently evil.

  There were no lengths to which Grace hadn’t gone to keep each of her sisters out of his reach.

  Caroline leaned close. “You could almost hear a collective sigh from each one of us when Anne said I do. I had to grip the edge of the bench to keep from jumping to my feet and shouting for joy.”

  “I know. Me too.”

  “How did you do it, Grace? How did you keep our Annie out of his clutches?”

  “It wasn’t that hard,” Grace lied. “I had a long talk with Father. Eventually he saw reason.”

  “Why don’t I believe that?” Caroline said, her tone filled with skepticism.

  Grace heard the obvious dislike in Caroline’s words. It was the same when any of her other sisters talked of their father.

  “What promises did you have to make to keep her out of the lecher’s hands?” Caroline asked.

  Grace looked around to make sure no one could overhear them. “Let’s just say Father found it financially more advantageous for Annie to marry Wexley, even though he wasn’t titled, than to marry Baron Fentington.”

  Caroline chortled a humorless laugh. “Wouldn’t you know the weight of coins offered for Anne’s hand determined to whom Father would give his daughter. Heaven forbid he put any of his children’s well-being and happiness over his greed when making decisions that affected their futures.”

  “You’re not being fair, Caroline.”

  “How can you say that, Grace? After all he’s done to you.”

  “He hasn’t done anything I haven’t allowed him to do. It was my choice to take care of the six of you. And I don’t regret a moment of it.”

  “Only because of the promise you made Mama.”

  “Stop talking as if I’m some sort of martyr who sacrificed her life.”

  “But you did.”

  “I did nothing of the kind. I was thankful to have someplace to go after I’d suffered through two miserable Seasons without anyone offering for me. Taking care of my sisters was much more satisfying than the humiliation of being a permanent wallflower because no one would give me a second glance.”

  “It wasn’t you, Grace. Father made sure you didn’t get a match. I know he did. Although I don’t know what any of us would have done if you had married and left us. You saved each of us from the disastrous marriage Father would have chosen for us.”

  “I just helped him realize it was in his best interest to let each of his daughters follow her heart.”

  “No you didn’t. You convinced Thomas’s father to give up that stretch of land to the east of Father’s estate for my hand. And you bartered that prize racehorse Josie’s father-in-law owned in exchange for her hand. And you haggled the Earl of Morningway out of the money that was to go to Francine on her wedding day and gave it to Father. And you—”

  “Enough, Linny.”

  “Face it, Grace. Father would have sold every one of us into slavery if the price was right. But I thought this time we’d lost our Annie to the baron. I’m not sure I could have stood it if Father had forced her to marry him.”

  “You didn’t have to worry,” Grace said, still having to reassure herself that Annie was safely out of the baron’s clutches. “I’d never have let him have her. Never.”

  “Oh, Grace. I don’t know how Mama survived Father as long as she did. Seven babies in less than ten years. And all because he was desperate for an heir. Maybe that’s why he resented us so. Do you think? Because not one of us was the son he wanted so desperately?”

  “Could be, Linny. Every man with a title and land wants a son to pass it down to. Father is no different.”

  “Yes. But not every man will kill his wife in order to get it. I know even if Thomas didn’t already have two sons, he wouldn’t force me to bear another child if he thought it might kill me.”

  Grace focused on her sister’s slightly pale face. “Do you still suffer from sickness each morning?”

  “Not as much as I used to.”

  “I want you to know you nearly cost me that beautiful burgundy ribbon I bought to go with this gown,” Grace said with a glint in her eyes.

  “How so?”

  “Anne and I wagered as to whether or not you’d make it through her wedding ceremony without having to leave because you were ill.”

  Caroline lifted her dainty brows. “Which side of the wager did you come down on?”

  “That you’d have to leave during the ceremony, of course.”

  �
��What?”

  Grace laughed. “That shouldn’t surprise you, Linny. You handle the early months of pregnancy worse than any of your sisters.”

  “That’s because my babes are half grown when they decide to make an appearance. At least Anne gave me a little more credit.”

  “No,” Grace said with a smile. “Anne wagered that you wouldn’t even make it to the wedding.”

  Caroline tried to look affronted. She failed, and Grace laughed again.

  “Remind me to throw her words back in her face when she’s suffering with her first babe.”

  “I remember Thomas’s announcement after your last birth,” Grace said. “He told us quite emphatically that little Robin was going to be your last.”

  “And if it were up to Thomas, Robin would be. But I’m giving him little choice in this matter. I want to try once more for my daughter.”

  Grace laughed. “And if this next one is a son too?”

  “I will cross that bridge when I come to it. Besides, Josie already has three. And if the gazes she and her viscount exchange are any indicator, number four won’t be long in coming.” Caroline gave Grace a pat on the arm. “Face it, Grace. Not one of us seems to have any trouble providing our husbands with offspring. You are going to have to hurry and find a husband if you intend to catch up with us.”

  “I have no intention of keeping up with any of you. You are all too proficient at getting yourselves in the family way. I have no doubt in a year’s time our Annie will prove she’s equally capable.”

  There was a long silence before Caroline asked the question she knew her other sisters were too shy to ask. “What are you going to do now, Grace? Surely you don’t intend to go back to the country and live out your life taking care of Father?”

  “Perhaps. Living in the country wouldn’t be so bad,” Grace mumbled, pretending interest in the first of the guests bidding Anne and her husband farewell.

  “Yes it would. You’d be nothing more than Father’s slave.” Caroline turned Grace to face her. “Stay in London with me for a while. I’ll have need of you once I near my time. And who knows? Perhaps you will meet someone while you’re here. Someone who will steal your heart and fall madly in love with you.”