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 paused at the door. “I apologise for the mess, Colling.”


“Goodnight, sir,” he called softly after me.


In my room, I was startled to find the fire still burning and my sheets warmed. I blinked and shook my head, recalling the time I’d overindulged in brandy and certain the whisky was causing this illusion. I vowed I would never touch another drop.


But the fire continued to snap and crackle, and the warmth of the bed clothes as I stroked my hand over them caused a voluptuous shiver to course through my body.


I shed my clothes, climbed between the sheets, and surrendered to Morpheus, certain my dreams would be plagued with images of the afternoon I would as soon not relive, but although my tangled bedclothes attested to how restless my sleep had been, come the morning, thankfully, I didn’t recall my dreams.


By the time I came down the next day, Miss Munro was already in the town coach.


Chapter 84