Ashton Laytham was a happy little boy until, at the age of seven, he lost his parents. Sent to Fayerweather to be brought up by his uncle and his uncle’s wife, he was perceived to be an unhappy, unlovable child. Shunned by family and servants and permitted no friends to visit, he grows to adulthood alone and aloof, with only an occasional illicit rendezvous to lighten his days. When his uncle dies, leaving the estate virtually bankrupt, it’s left to Ashton to make good on his uncle’s gaming debts and save Fayerweather. But how? The family talisman, worth thousands of pounds, has been stolen and the suspects vanished in the night, leaving Ashton to face the loss of the home he’s come to love. Geo Stephenson, who works in His Majesty’s civil service, has ghosts of his own. The product of a marriage of convenience, Geo has known all his life his father never loved his mother, and he vows that will never happen to him. Marked by a physical scar earned in battle, none of his previous lovers could bear looking at it without shuddering; his mental scars are due to the many friends lost in useless battles. Geo arrives with a fistful of Sir Eustace Laytham’s IOUs and a solution: Ashton accommodating him in bed, thereby paying off the debt. Attracted to Geo in spite of himself and desperate for any human kindness, Ashton agrees ... never expecting to lose his heart to a man who has sworn he’ll never give his. Can these two men find a measure of happiness together?

Bless Us With Content

“I have a condition of my own though, John.”


“What?” he asked harshly. “I can promise you nothing—”


“I’m aware of that. Do you think I’m desirous of pledges of undying love? How missish,” I mocked. I would have wagered my soul for that, but I was not so foolish as to wish for what I could never have. “My condition is a simple one—you will cease calling me Awful.”


“That is all?” Again he bit down on his lower lip, although this time apparently harder than he’d intended, for he winced, and I felt the blood flow more heatedly through my veins, wanting nothing so much as to soothe that tiny hurt. “But how shall I explain that to Will?”


I shrugged. “Tell him it’s childish. Tell him you’ve outgrown it. Tell him what you will.” I turned as if to walk away.


“Very well,” he agreed, his reluctance obvious. I faced him once more, an eyebrow raised, and he concluded reluctantly, “Ashton.”


“Shall we give supper the go-by tonight?”


Chapter 10