Page 1 of The Seduction of Lord Sin
Prologue
London, England 1810
Charlotte sat at her dressing table in the finest lawn nightgown she’d ever owned, brushing her hair, trying to ignore the fact her hand shook as she guided the brush for another stroke. She’d dismissed her lady’s maid hours ago.
Earlier today, she’d become Charlotte Dexter, Lady Clayton, the second wife of Dalton Dexter, Earl of Clayton. And here she was, sitting, waiting for her husband, the virginal sacrifice on her wedding night.
Tonight, her life would truly start. She would finally become a woman, and with God’s help, a mother to beautiful children. Many children. She had been unsure if this day would ever come because she wasn’t the type of woman to inspire love, nor did she have a large dowry. To put it bluntly, the title plain Jane fitted her best. Besides, she’d been called, many a time, words that made her insides crawl violently in disgust, ‘freakishly tall Amazonian’.
Butterflies fluttered in her stomach and her tongue wet her lips again to stop them from drying out from nerves. She pushed aside the fear of what was to come, pain according to her mother, but if it led to a baby, then she would gladly endure—nightly, if necessary.
Why was her new husband keeping her waiting? She’d been sitting at her mirror well over two hours now. She glanced at the clock sitting on the mantle above the fire and noted it was almost one in the morning. The faded outline on the empty wall above the fire was a clear indication she was wife number two. She’d had to ask the servants to remove the late Lady Clayton’s portrait. Why had that not already been done? She would have words with the housekeeper in the morning.
Charlotte could barely hold back the nausea as the clock continued to tick. She’d have to call the maid back soon to stoke the fire if Lord Clayton was much longer. Almost three hours ago, he’d told her he’d be with her shortly.Shortly!
If she were honest with herself, she was slightly relieved at the delay. She did not love Dalton, nor did she find him particularly appealing. The Earl was in better physical condition than her father, but he was still the same age. He wasn’t repulsive, but he wasn’t a young man either. Moreover, Dexter wasn’t the handsome man who constantly filled her thoughts - Marcus Roberts, Marquis of Huntsworth, the Duke of Sinclair’s son and heir.
This season, while she and every woman of the tonfixated on his Grace, the most sought-after bachelor in theton,at only four and twenty, a year older than her, he’d already lost his heart to the belle of the season–Lady Arianna.
Being a tall, plain and uninspiring woman, Charlotte did not have the luxury of waiting for a man her age to need a wife. She had to look elsewhere. A spinster was something she refused to become, because as a spinster she would never have a child of her own. A child to love. A child who would love her unconditionally.
She understood why Dalton had agreed to marry her. Dalton already had a son and daughter from his first wife. But society dictated he ensure a spare. So, her father, a lowly baron, had arranged ‘a fine match’ to raise the position of Charlotte’s family within theton.
She had not protested the match, even though the match had horrified her sisters. Largely because the clocks continued to tick down the time she had left to hold her own baby. The fear of being left on the shelf, childless, was greater than the fear of marrying a man who did not love her.
However, reality painted a different story, and as she sat awaiting her fate, she inwardly scolded herself for not urging her father to discover a match closer to her age. The fact she was almost six feet tall didn’t help. She towered over most men. It seemed men did not like being looked down upon.
Charlotte understood her marriage was a way to ensure she bettered her family, as her father had demanded. He was a lowly baron and to marry one of his daughters to an Earl—well, her sisters should now find it easier to obtain a favorable match.
The one positive to take from her marriage was she was in a position to realize a dream of becoming a mother.
Once her best friend Flora had produced her first baby, Charlotte had desired one, too. The moment Flora placed her new-born in Charlotte’s arms, her world changed. The love she felt for that helpless baby almost overwhelmed her. She’d never known or experienced love. In her world, her family, a smile was showing too much emotion.
As a ‘plain Jane’, her husband was unlikely to fall in love with her, but he could give her a child. She wanted loads of children. Children she could pour all the love she held inside into, and who would love her unconditionally in return. Children who did not judge or care about height, breeding, or money.
How pathetic.Her father, a cold, distant man, had never shown her any affection and her mother lived in such a laudanum induced haze, she certainly wouldn’t realize her daughter was now married.
The need to have a child kept her from throwing a tantrum this evening. To think her husband should treat her so cavalierly. If Dalton wanted to show how little his regard for her was, it was working.
Just then, the door to her bedchamber squeaked open and Dalton stood in the doorway, still fully dressed, but he did not enter the room.
He stood staring at her as if he had forgotten who she was.
ChapterOne
Near Truro, Cornwall July 1816 - six years later.
Charlotte had known riding Sir Galahad today was a mistake. The horse often spooked at his own shadow, or at a startled bird taking flight, or at a rabbit in the grass at his feet. He was as flighty as a butterfly and she had to control him carefully. Unfortunately, for a second, her attention wavered. Seeing something moving on the path, the steed beneath her shied violently, raring on hind legs.
Charlotte had no time to grab for the saddle’s pommel before she slid sideways off of Sir Galahad. The steed was taller than she remembered, and she landed with a terrible thud, her breath choking in her throat as the air rushed from her lungs.
If it had been winter, she’d not have been much hurt, but on the sunbaked, burnt brown grass… she lay for a moment with eyes closed, trying to take in air through her confining corset, and she let waves of humiliation mingle with the rocketing pain in her side, ankle, and elbow. It had been years since she’d let a horse unseat her. Something must have spooked the gentle gelding because she heard Sir Galahad prance away on a scared whinny.
She lay still, struggling to gather a breath, when a deep voice full of command said in a soft whisper, “Don’t move.”
A man!Who was he? Frankly, the pain made her not care. She assumed this command did not apply to her eyes, so she opened them. A tall man, she could not make out his features because the sun was in her eyes, stood a foot away, just off her shoulder, but he wasn’t focused on her. Like a hawk hunting prey, he was watching something on the ground near her head. Her embarrassment turned to frigid fright, when out of the corner of her eye she spied the dark zigzag pattern of an Adder curled ready to strike. One bite and she would be dead. Suddenly, opening her eyes did not seem to be such a good idea, and she promptly closed them again.
“Don’t move. It might glide away.”
