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 didn’t recognise him, but he was dressed in the unrelieved dark clothing of a servant. He was also carrying a portmanteau. “Why don’t you watch where you’re going, man?” he barked.


A frown darkened his visage. “What are you doing here? It’s the height of ramshackleness for a groom to be above stairs.”


I might, in fact, be a bit untidy, but surely not to the point where I could be mistaken for a servant!


“I shouldn’t be surprised, I suppose,” he muttered more to himself than to me. “Considering whose household this is.”


I drew myself up. “I am Sir Ashton Laytham, and this is myhousehold. You will not address me in that manner in my home.” The only reason I didn’t knock him down for that remark was because he was a servant.


“You’re—” He looked aghast. “I…I…I was told you were not at home. I did not expect…And you look…I beg your pardon, sir. I’m Kincaid, Mr Stephenson’s man.”


Chapter 47