A Most Inconvenient Love Read online

  A Most

  Inconvenient

  Love

  a novella

  by

  JILLIAN EATON

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  © 2015 by Jillian Eaton

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  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form is forbidden without the written permission of the author.

  SELECTED PRAISE FOR JILLIAN EATON

  “Romance lovers, [The Duke of St. Giles] is a book you’ll definitely want to read.” – Imagine A World

  “Fall in love, embrace the ride, and enjoy the thrill.” – Book Freak

  “[The Runaway Duchess] is fast paced and filled with chemistry. A must read for any historical romance readers who love a good romp through England.” – My Book Addiction and More

  “Enjoyable, sexy novella.” – Rogues Under the Covers

  “Jillian Eaton finds the perfect balance between intense emotions, sizzling chemistry, and light-hearted humor.” – Swept Away by Romance

  “Once I got started I couldn’t put it down.” – Bitten By Romance

  “[The Runaway Duchess] will sweep readers off their feet and into a whirlwind of romance and intrigue.” – Night Owl Review Top Pick

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  EXCLUSIVE SNEAK PEEK

  A Dangerous Seduction

  PROLOGUE

  Genevieve knew she was beautiful. She knew it in the same way she knew it was raining outside and whenever Uncle Rigby came for dinner he would be half foxed and far too handsy for his own good. Her beauty was a fact, not an opinion. A fact she had been living with for her entire life.

  When Evie was young and naïve and too foolish to know any better she’d thought her beauty was a gift. Every morning she had bounded out of bed and run to the looking glass hanging in the corner of her room, eager to see the changes in her developing body.

  Day after day she had marveled over her long, thick auburn hair and the catlike slant of her startling green eyes. Her skin was roses and cream without a hint of any damning freckles. Her build slender and willowy with just a hint of curve at her breasts and hips.

  Before her sixteenth birthday she was already heralded as a great beauty. Men old enough to be her father wrote her sonnets while others pledged their undying love. By the end of her first London season she already had seven offers for her hand, three of which she would have happily accepted.

  Were it not for her mother.

  They say every fairytale has a wicked queen, and this story is no exception. But rest assured Evie is not your average damsel in distress...just as the man she’s destined to fall in love with is no knight in shining armor.

  Our story begins on a sun-drenched morning in the middle of a busy cobblestone street when two people who never should have met suddenly find themselves face to face...and their entire lives, although they don’t know it yet, are about to be changed...

  Forever.

  CHAPTER ONE

  On the importance of appearance...

  “Pretty is as a pretty does. But real beauty is the only thing that lasts forever.” – Genevieve Longacre, the future Countess of Reinhold

  “The deeper the pint glass the lovelier the lass.” – Aiden Donovan, disreputable rake and scoundrel extraordinaire

  “I do not see why we have to waste a perfectly nice day wandering from store to store.”

  Adjusting the tilt of her hat so her face was adequately shaded – everyone knew sunlight caused freckles and freckles brought nothing but misery – Evie cast her friend an incredulous glance from beneath the feather-lined brim. While it was true that Merry had not been her first choice when she had been looking for someone to go shopping with, she had never expected the blue-eyed brunette to put up such a fuss. Especially not when she was recently married! And to the Duke of Kendalwood, no less, one of the wealthiest men in all of England. If there was anyone who should be enjoying a bit of shopping it was the new Duchess of Kendalwood, and yet looking at her one would think she’d just bitten into a lemon.

  “We are not wandering,” Evie corrected with an authoritative wave of her hand. “We are walking with purpose.”

  “For walking with purpose we are not getting very far,” Merry grumbled. Coming up short in front of a brick building with an array of dresses and silk parasols on display in the front window, she eyed the wooden sign hanging above their heads with suspicion. “Haven’t we been here already?”

  “Yes, but only once.” Taking Merry’s hand, Evie pulled her into the bustling shop. The cheerful jingle of bells followed them inside. “The first time is always only for looking.”

  Visibly exasperated, Merry nevertheless allowed Evie to tow her along in her wake as though she were an errant child instead of a duchess. “And what is the second time for?”

  “Buying,” Evie said, her voice marked with satisfaction as she stopped short in front of an antique sewing table and held up a delicate pair of kid gloves trimmed with ivory lace. “Aren’t they the most beautiful thing you have ever seen? I simply must have them.”

  “That is what you say about everything.”

  “Only because it is true.” And it was. For as long as Evie could remember she’d had a penchant for buying things. It did not matter what it was. A pair of gloves. An oriental fan. A fuzzy yellow kitten with a pink ribbon wrapped round its neck. If it caught her eye and sparked her interest she had to have it, no matter the cost. “Isn’t there anything in here you like? They have garters in the back. Imported directly from Paris. You won’t find any finer.”

  “Garters?” Merry looked startled. “What would I need new garters for?”

  “Your holiday, silly. When are you leaving for Scotland?”

  “At the end of next week. But what does that have to do–”

  “We shall definitely have to make a trip to Madame Susanna’s before then,” Evie decided. Tucked away on a quiet, unassuming lane on the far side of Grosvenor Square, Madame Susanna’s shop was renowned for its decadent creations that served little purpose outside of the bedroom. It was the ton’s worst kept secret and one of Evie’s favorite places to browse although she had little reason to spend her money there. At least not yet.

  Soon, she promised herself as her gaze swept over a fanciful felt hat with peacock feathers pinned to the side. Soon I will have a rich husband to buy me all the silk chemises and see-through drawers I desire.

  She even had a husband picked out. It was no secret that the Earl of Reinhold had been courting her for nearly a year. They had gone on various outings together, including carriage rides through Hyde Park, multiple trips to the theater, and one very memorable – albeit regrettably short lived – evening at Vauxhall Gardens.

  While she and Reinhold did not love one another – he was a bit too tame for her tastes and she suspected she was a tad too wild for his – there was a certain fondness between them in addition to a mutual understanding that their match would be a good one. Evie’s grandfather had been a duke, and
even though her family had fallen on hard times as of late they were still considered amidst London’s elite even though heaven knew they were clinging on by their fingernails. It was a well-kept secret that the Longacre’s were not long for financial ruin and no one – not even Evie’s closest friends – knew how precarious her footing had become on the social ladder.

  It was ironic, really. Ever since her season debut Evie had been forced to turn down suitors left and right. Suitors who, in hindsight, would have made far wealthier husbands than the Earl of Reinhold. But her mother had been insistent on finding the best possible match for her daughter and no one – not Lord Featherbone or the Earl of Perrin or even the Marquess of Warrington – had been good enough. As the daughter of a duke who had married beneath her station, Theresa Longacre was determined her own daughter would not suffer the same fate. No matter that dukes were in alarmingly short supply.

  Unfortunately in her pickiness she had not taken her husband’s mounting gambling debts into consideration. Now the Longacre’s were doing all they could to keep their heads above water and their only salvation – Evie’s only salvation – was a lowly earl whom Theresa would not have even permitted through the door two years ago.

  Thus the irony.

  “Come on.” Setting the gloves aside as an unpleasant taste swelled in the back of her throat, Evie looped her arm through Merry’s and quickly dragged her out of the shop. Why bother looking at pretty things when she could not afford them? Best to wait until she and Reinhold were officially engaged...and she could put her frivolous purchases in his name instead of her father’s.

  “Where are we going now?” Merry wanted to know as they squeezed between two women who were attempting to open a pair of matching parasols.

  “You’re right,” Evie said. “It is too nice of a day to spend indoors. We should go to the park or feed the ducks in Bloomsbury Gardens.” A brilliant wash of sunlight blinded them both as they stepped out the door. Merry stopped, but Evie kept going...straight into the arms of a dashing stranger.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Had someone told Aiden Donovan he was going to meet the love of his life on the corner of Drury Lane and Broad he would have told them to sod off. Especially if they’d told him the love of his life was a high flying nabob with flaming red hair and stick up her arse.

  One moment he was strolling along, whistling under his breath as he contemplated what he was going to do with the rest of his morning...and the next he was stumbling back into the street, his arms filled with flailing, indignant woman.

  “Let go of me this instant!” cried the red-headed banshee. “You’ll not be picking my pockets, you thief!” Swinging her beaded reticule as though it were a deadly weapon instead of a purse, she landed two surprisingly solid blows on his shoulder before he managed to grab her arm and pin it high above her head.

  “Knock it off,” he said crossly, raising his voice to a near shout to be heard above the din that filled the square. In addition to women in fancy clothes spending their husband’s money there were street vendors hawking everything from flowers to music boxes, giddy children running amok, and an endless twisted snarl of carriages, wagons, and carts. It was loud and chaotic and smelled vaguely of trash, but then that was London for you. Too many people packed in too small a space, like sardines crammed into a tin. The nabobs may have attempted to dress up the West End with cherry trees and street sweepers, but underneath the polish were the same layers of grime that coated the rest of the city.

  “Are you done?” Aiden asked the redhead when her frantic struggles subsided. For the first time since they’d collided he allowed himself to get a good look at her, and a low whistle of apperception left his lips when he saw what a ripe piece she was.

  Flashing green eyes that were tip-tilted at the corners like a cats glared up at him, framed by impossibly long lashes. Her skin was all pale roses and pretty cream with nary a single blemish save a tiny mole fixed high on her right cheek. Gleaming hair, its rich color reminiscent of autumn leaves, was tucked tidily beneath her hat and pinned behind her head, exposing the slender curve of her neck. Her body was slender, but not stick thin, and she had a mouth men dreamed about, all lush and full and begging to be tasted.

  For one crazy moment Aiden almost did precisely that before he regained control of his senses and stepped back, releasing his grip on her arm with a dazed shake of his head. As a man prone to more...mischievous activities...he had been involved in his fair share of skirmishes over the years and right now he felt as though he’d taken a hard hit to the head. His ears were ringing and when he moved his tongue he found the inside of his mouth had gone dry as a bloody desert.

  It seemed the redhead was similarly stunned, for even though he’d let her go she made no move to rejoin her companion. Instead she stared up at him with her brow creased and a glimmer of uncertainty in her eyes. “Do I – do I know you from somewhere?”

  “No,” Aiden said curtly. Of that at least he was certain, for he damn well would have remembered if they’d ever crossed paths. A woman like this one wasn’t the sort a man forgot. As for his strange reaction to her...well that was self-explanatory, wasn’t it? She was a beauty and he’d gone too long without a pretty wench in his bed. Surely there was nothing more to it than that.

  “How odd,” she said, and Aiden’s eyes all but rolled up into his head when the tip of her tongue darted out and skimmed along the top of her lush bottom lip. “I really do feel as though...but I suppose not.” Shoulders lifting and falling beneath her dark blue spencer jacket, she took a step back after mouthing something to her friend he could not quite make out. “Have a nice day, then.”

  “Wait,” he commanded, surprising both her and himself with the unmistakable ring of authority in his voice. Let her go, Donovan. She is so far above your station she might as well be the bloody sun in the sky. There’s nothing but trouble here, mate.

  “Yes?” She lifted an eyebrow as the uncertainty in her gaze was rapidly replaced with annoyance. “Is there something else?”

  “That’s all you have to say?” Lifting a brow of his own, he crossed his arms and braced his legs apart. Aiden was not an overly tall man, but he did cut an imposing figure with his broad shoulders, a lean body well-muscled from years of hard work, and a swath of inky black hair that framed bright, intelligent blue eyes. He may not have worn the clothes of a gentleman, but he was far from a common street monger.

  Born into poverty, Aiden had made a name for himself first as a tradesman and then as an entrepreneur...of sorts. He did not deal in business or buildings, but rather in the art of finding people. And he was very, very good at his job. So good, in fact, he had recently been contemplating retirement or at the very least slowing down as he didn’t fancy risking his throat being slit from ear to ear every time he stepped out his front door. Finding people who did not want to be found was a financially rewarding business, but it did not come without its troubles. The scars he proudly carried on his body were testament to that.

  “What else would you like me to say?” The redhead gave a haughty toss of her head. “If you don’t mind, my friend is waiting for me and we have plans for the rest of the morning.”

  Aiden’s eyes narrowed with icy contempt. He knew her type. Born with a silver spoon shoved so far up her arse she’d never known what it felt like to go hungry or to stay awake all night listening for footsteps at the door. She had never known fear the way he’d known fear. Never felt the hairs on the nape of her neck rise when she heard a child’s wails suddenly silenced. Never hidden in the dark under the stairs from a father with a bottle of gin in one hand and his leather belt in the other. She thought she was better than him. She thought she could do whatever she wanted and there wouldn’t be any consequences. She thought she was untouchable.

  He was going to enjoy showing her just how wrong she was.

  “You nearly bludgeon me senseless with that bloody reticule of yours, accuse me of thievery, and all you have to say for yourself is �
�have a nice day, then’?” A milk cart clattered past, bottles ringing as they were jostled by the cobblestones. Reminded of his precarious position in the middle of the crowded street Aiden stepped closer to the edge, and closer to the redhead. She watched him with wary green eyes, her mouth a tightly pinched line of disapproval.

  “What was I supposed to think?” she challenged. “You’ve the look of a thief about you. I was only protecting myself and my belongings.”

  “The look of a thief?” Aiden repeated incredulously. “What the devil does a thief look like?”

  She raked him slowly and purposefully with her gaze, lingering on the exposed line of his throat where a nabob would have worn a snowy white cravat. “If it is an apology you’re after, you had best keep looking for it. I am not sorry for what I did and knowing now what an insufferable wretch you are the only thing I might have done differently was strike you harder.”

  Aiden’s mouth opened and closed as he bit down on a short bark of laughter. Damned if he wasn’t impressed by the wench’s sauciness. She may have looked like a lady with her fancy hat and pretty dress, but she certainly didn’t act like one. All of the nabobs he knew would have burst into tears or gone running back to their mamas by now. Yet the redhead stood before him with her chin lifted and her lips curved in a taunting smirk as though daring him to say something else. He was only too happy to oblige her.

  “A mouth like that could get a woman into trouble. In more ways than one.” His shadow fell across her countenance as he stepped up beside her, his movements deceptively lazy. Given the right provocation Aiden could move quick as a cat, ensnaring his prey before they had time to so much as whimper. He enjoyed seeing the surprise on their faces when they realized he was more dangerous than they’d ever imagined, and the wheedling note that entered their voices when they begged to be released.

  “Are you trying to shock me?” she asked.

  “Is it working?”

  “Not even a little bit.”

  He grinned. “I didn’t think so. You’re a fascinating woman, Red.”