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

“Whatever is wrong with you, Ashton? That’s the second time you’ve snapped at Arabella.” Aunt Cecily frowned at me.


I worried my lower lip. Geo should arrive on the morrow, and when he did…He’d promised he wasn’t interested in Arabella, but how would he react on finding himself in a position where both she and Aunt Cecily were expecting him to make an offer for her?


“Quite frankly, Aunt, I don’t know where she expects me to come up with the ready for the wedding gown this Mme Henriette will design exclusively for her for a mere five hundred pounds.”


“My ensemble when I was presented at court cost twice that!”


“Be that as it may, I don’t have a monkey to squander on a dress Arabella will wear but once!” I flushed as the cant term slipped out. “Beg pardon, I’m sure.” I could have spared my breath; she hadn’t noticed.


“No!” I tugged at my cravat, abruptly feeling strangled. “Perhaps if we still had the Flame—Aunt Cecily, is something wrong?”


Chapter 52