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 raised my fist to knock, then changed my mind. This wasn’t the time for politeness. I twisted the knob and stormed in.


“See here, Colonel Whittemore! Stephenson is mine, and I’ll thank you to unhand—” My steps stumbled to a halt and the words dried up in my mouth.


The Colonel looked furious, as well he should. It wasn’t Geo in his embrace. The young man, wearing a shirt opened at the throat and a pair of breeches that left his lower legs bare, had tousled blond hair and a neat moustache of a slightly darker shade. In fact the only resemblance he bore to Geo were his pale blue eyes. I recognized him as someone Whittemore had introduced in the neighbourhood as his nephew.


“I’m so sorry, Colonel.” The butler was all but weeping. “I tried to stop him, but—”


“It’s all right, Fielding. I’ll deal with this. Go back to bed.”


“Yes, sir.” He snatched the candlestick from my hand with a sniff and left.


Chapter 87