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

“Such a pity that Geo limps. I imagine that will curtail his dancing, and Arabella does love to dance.” She tapped a slender, elegant fingertip to her lower lip. “Still, there is the fact that he’s George’s son. Yes, I do think they would suit.”


I couldn’t bear to listen to a word more. “If you’ll excuse me, Aunt? I need to send someone up to Town to fetch Geo’s man.”


“Yes, of course. Don’t let me keep you. Ah, Mrs Walker.” She acknowledged the housekeeper who had arrived and was waiting patiently for her attention.


A slight bow, and I hurried past them up the stairs to my room. After changing out of my Blucher half-boots and stepping into my riding boots, I removed the silken handkerchief—one of cotton would be a more suitable choice for harvesting, I told myself, and whatever had possessed me to select the other?—before hurrying back downstairs.


Chapter 46