An Unconventional Affair: Forever Yours Series Read online

  An Unconventional Affair

  Forever Yours Series

  Stacy Reid

  AN UNCONVENTIONAL AFFAIR is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form by any electronic or mechanical means—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without written permission.

  First Edition March 2020

  Edited by AuthorsDesigns

  Copy-edited by Gina Fiserova

  Cover design and formatting by AuthorsDesigns

  Stock art from Period Images

  Copyright © 2020 by Stacy Reid

  QUALITY CONTROL:

  If you encounter any typos or errors, please contact [email protected] so they may be corrected. Thank you!

  Dusean, always and forever.

  Contents

  Praise for novels of Stacy Reid

  Other books by Stacy

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Join My Newsletter

  Acknowledgments

  About Stacy

  Praise for novels of Stacy Reid

  “Duchess by Day, Mistress by Night is a sensual romance with explosive chemistry between this hero and heroine!"—Fresh Fiction Review

  "From the first page, Stacy Reid will captivate you! Smart, sensual, and stunning, you will not want to miss Duchess by Day, Mistress by Night!"—USA Today bestselling author Christi Caldwell

  "I would recommend The Duke's Shotgun Wedding to anyone who enjoys passionate, fast-paced historical romance."—Night Owl Reviews

  “Accidentally Compromising the Duke—Ms. Reid's story of loss, love, laughter and healing is all that I look for when reading romance and deserving of a 5-star review."—Isha C., Hopeless Romantic

  "Wicked in His Arms—Once again Stacy Reid has left me spellbound by her beautifully spun story of romance between two wildly different people."—Meghan L., LadywithaQuill.com

  "Wicked in His Arms—I truly adored this story and while it's very hard to quantify, this book has the hallmarks of the great historical romance novels I have read!"—KiltsandSwords.com

  “One for the ladies...Sins of a Duke is nothing short of a romance lover's blessing!”—WTF Are You Reading

  "THE ROYAL CONQUEST is raw, gritty and powerful, and yet, quite unexpectedly, it is also charming and endearing."—The Romance Reviews

  Other books by Stacy

  Sinful Wallflowers series

  My Darling Duke

  Forever Yours series

  The Marquess and I

  The Duke and I

  The Viscount and I

  Misadventures with the Duke

  When the Earl was Wicked

  A Prince of my Own

  Sophia and the Duke

  The Sins of Viscount Worsley

  The Kincaids

  Taming Elijah

  Tempting Bethany

  Lawless: Noah Kincaid

  Rebellious Desires series

  Duchess by Day, Mistress by Night

  The Earl in my Bed

  Wedded by Scandal Series

  Accidentally Compromising the Duke

  Wicked in His Arms

  How to Marry a Marquess

  Scandalous House of Calydon Series

  The Duke’s Shotgun Wedding

  The Irresistible Miss Peppiwell

  Sins of a Duke

  The Royal Conquest

  The Amagarians

  Eternal Darkness

  Eternal Flames

  Eternal Damnation

  Eternal Phoenyx

  Single Titles

  Letters to Emily

  Wicked Deeds on a Winter Night

  The Scandalous Diary of Lily Layton

  Chapter 1

  It was completely and utterly outrageous.

  “I do beg your pardon,” replied Lady Amalie Victoria Weatherston, as she stared in astonishment at the four faces peering at her with varying degrees of scandalized expectations. Surely, they jested, and in quite poor taste.

  “You heard us,” said Dorothea, Lady Wimbotton, their most illustrious and perhaps even the naughtiest widow of their small society of friends that met at least thrice per week at this particular townhouse in Russell Square.

  Dorothea—Thea—stood, strolled over to the door of the drawing-room which had been left slightly ajar, and ensured it closed. “We can never be too careful,” she said with an airy laugh, before returning to her position on the plush sofa by the fire, casting Amalie an expectant stare.

  Amalie took a careful sip of her ratafia, composing her scattered thoughts. Her heart pounded and the malaise, which had been dogging her, had simply vanished. How extremely alarming and all from a ridiculous suggestion which certainly should not even bear consideration. Her reaction would bear introspection later when she was alone in her bedchamber with her memories of him—Maximilian Langdon, Earl Kentwood, renowned as the author of the ton's most salacious erotic literature: A Guide to Passionate Romps between a Lord and his Lady.

  “Are you not to answer us, Amalie,” Julianna—Jules—said, her dark blue eyes soft with amusement. “I told everyone we would have rendered you speechless!”

  Amalie took another sip of her wine, or more like several unladylike gulps. “Surely, I misunderstood your meaning, Thea. Did you…did you say I must seduce London’s most profligate rake and make him my protector? That is what you all wanted to discuss with me so urgently?”

  There it was again, that very nervous flutter stirring in her stomach. Or was it anticipation? Good heavens, surely not!

  “Yes,” her four friends said in unison, startling her.

  Clearly, they had had a tête-à-tête before her late arrival. Now she understood the probing stares she had received for the last hour, the insistence they had a discussion instead of playing their usual games of charades and cards while drinking wine, brandy, catching up on gossip, and sharing their dreams and hopes.

  “Me…seduce Lord Kentwood?” she drawled with affected indifference, staring at her friends in bewildered amusement.

  “Yes!”

  Something unknown darted through her heart, a wonderful sense of thrill. Amalie was the most wretched of creatures to be so effortlessly intrigued. Entice London’s most depraved and wildly exciting lover?

  “I cannot credit you would even suggest that I should undertake…such…such a…” words failed Amalie as she grappled with finding the right words to express her astonishment.

  “You are the most suitable one of our group as you are without a protector,” Bess, Countess Hufford said, taking a careful sip of her wine, her deep brown eyes burning into Amalie.

  The Countess was Amalie’s dearest friend, and Bess of all people knew how unhappy Amalie had been for the last few years. Bess also knew the truth of Amalie’s situation—that at five and twenty, she remained untouched, despite having been married for two years before being widowed.

  Certainly, she hadn’t expected her closest friend to agree with this!

  ‘There are days I am so desperate to assuage the yawning
emptiness which lingers inside me, Bess.’

  Words Amalie had whispered to her friend only last week as they reposed on this very carpet, giggling like loons after drinking too much wine. They had been foxed, but it seemed her friend had taken Amalie’s wistful words to heart.

  “I daresay no one needs to undertake this at all,” she said a bit primly. “To what end would I need to seduce Lord Kentwood or make myself open to his advances? I am not seeking to be the mistress to any lord.” How odd that Amalie felt this surge of anxiety. It is just a suggestion! “Melinda is also without a protector. Why has this suggestion not been put to her?”

  The widowed baroness tossed her impeccably coiffed head, her lips forming a moue of displeasure. “I am without my dear Archibald because he decided that when he married, he would be faithful to his wife. He said after reading that book, he was certain he would not need a mistress, and that his lady wife would surely fulfill all his needs. If men are to start thinking such an unlikely thing, where would that leave us widows who are no longer interested in marriage but long for the freedom to have a lover at our beck and call?”

  Amalie lowered her wine glass to the long French rococo table with a clink. “I hardly think it should matter that your lord has decided not to continue keeping you after he married, Melinda. When we founded our club and reveled in our wicked ways together, we had all agreed never to take a lover who is already married or try to keep up with him if he then takes a wife. When we were married, our lords had mistresses, and we did not like it. Did you forget that, darling?” she gently asked.

  Melinda’s lower lip trembled, and it was with an evident effort she contained her emotions. “I did not forget it,” she said, swallowing, her light blue eyes smarting with tears.

  She patted her elegant coiffure, knowing very well not a strand of her blonde hair was out of place. Melinda lowered her hands and folded them in her lap, lifting her chin to meet her friends' gazes “But I had hoped…I had ardently hoped that he would marry me.”

  A hushed silence fell over their small gathering. Oh, Melinda.

  She lifted her chin bravely. “But Archibald now believes he does not need me. That damnable book has led him to believe that a debutante would satisfy his carnal needs. How odiously silly! How can a woman of priggish manners and inexperience satisfy him in ways that I cannot?”

  With an irritated huff she stood and made her way over to the sideboard to pour brandy in a glass.

  Amalie sipped her wine. “Well, I hardly need to seduce the author of A Guide to Passionate Romps between a Lord and his Lady. If such a concern truly matters, we only need to read the book to see what he suggests…and do it!”

  Melinda swallowed the content of her glass in a long, unladylike swallow. “I’ve read it, and I daresay there is nothing there that I’ve not done with my Archibald. Nothing.” This bit was said on the saddest of sighs and a rueful twist of her lush mouth. “I really thought…he would have married me but it seems that the scandal which hovers around my name will remain forever.”

  One of the things that had drawn them together a few years ago was that Society had not forgiven them for perceived infractions. Whatever scandal had touched them in the past had lingered like stubborn dirt on pristine white gloves.

  The ton was a world of glamorous elegance and lavish extravagance, but an ugly fickleness and an unforgiving nature lingered within its belly. All of her friends had some scandal attached to their names, and they had formed a lovely group to support each other. They had created genuine friendships that had helped them weather so much together.

  Amalie sighed. What the book actually did was give men permission to treat their wives as they would like to treat their mistresses. Most people of the ton thought it the most indelicate and scandalous piece of advice. She thought it rather…romantic.

  Very sweet and romantic.

  It was clear to her the author believed in fidelity and perhaps love, for he had been very verbose and artful in his descriptions to his fellow Lords of the wicked romps they could have with their wives. Sensual plays and overtures that would nullify the need for another woman to keep them satisfied. Of course, it had shocked, titillated…and intrigued the jaded senses of the lords and ladies within Society, for many believed wives were delicate creatures, and men’s baser needs should be satisfied between the legs of more passionate women—whores and mistresses. Genteel wives were not built to satiate men’s baser urges.

  Utter rubbish, of course.

  She waved her hands in a dismissive gesture. “I hardly think a man who is such an avid supporter of good relations between a man and his wife would be interested in a mistress,” Amalie said. “He’s been the new Lord Kentwood nigh on seven months, and the only rumors surrounding his name are that he was the author of that wicked book.”

  Bess sipped her wine, deviltry sparkling in her hazel eyes, and murmured, “Perhaps not a mistress, a woman he would support, but perhaps a lover then, dearest. You are a woman of financial independence; you do not need a man to keep you. But you do need one to warm your bed,” she drawled provocatively. “How long has it been, five years?”

  Amalie’s heart hammered against her breastbone. More. A flash of heat seared her as the memory of delicate fingers rubbing firmly over the aching flesh between her legs. He hadn’t touched her bare flesh…but had caressed her through the material of her nightgown and drawers, making her so mortifyingly wet. How she had quaked and trembled before that elusive sensation had drifted away.

  That man… a boy she had fallen in love with had been the only one to ever awaken her body to pleasure, even if it had been unfulfilled. And that boy had transformed himself from the carefree and charming young man she had known to the enigmatic Earl Kentwood.

  Oh, Max. She closed her eyes briefly, hating to recall the fury and disgust which had been in his eyes the last time they had seen each other. Even if she wanted to rekindle a friendship with him—reminiscent of the precious one they had formed years ago—he had changed. She couldn’t expect him to be that same amiable, good-humored, and obliging boy. And perhaps she too was different. Amalie did not see that shy, naïve girl in the woman who stared back at her in the mirror anymore. She did not see the silly girl who had longed to dance all night at balls or stroll in the gardens with a beau under the stars hoping for a quick kiss on the cheek.

  “I shall think on it,” Amalie said with a bright smile that did not fool her friends one bit.

  “Please do more than think on it,” said Carlotta, the widow of a naval captain. That had been her great scandal, daring to run off with the captain even though she was the daughter of a duke, and much more had been expected of her.

  The mighty and exquisitely beautiful Lady Carlotta has fallen…into the mud with a Navy man. That had been the first screaming headline that had condemned her choices and reputation.

  Carlotta pushed back a few wisps of her silver-blonde hair behind her ear, her dark green eyes glowing with surprising worry. “While we’ve all bought the earl’s book, being close to the source of such knowledge would be invaluable. Bess, Julianna, and I have lovers who…who I daresay we’ve fallen in love with despite our resolve to keep our hearts protected. It is not wrong for us to want to know everything about how to keep them satisfied and by our sides. Hopefully despite our mishaps they would make offers.”

  “It isn’t wrong,” Amalie whispered, her heart breaking for her friends.

  Few men in Society would marry a widow when they were perfectly suitable to be mistresses. Especially widows who had not shown these gentlemen that their greatest asset as Society dictated—their wombs—had born fruit, and with damning scandals permanently affixed to their reputations.

  Except for Bess, who had the most darling six-year-old daughter, no one else in their merry and wicked band of friends had any children. They were under thirty years of age and were likely to remain unmarried. Amalie had come to realize not all her friends craved to maintain the independence their wido
whood permitted. There was still that crushing need for a family…children of their own, a love that could weather any storm. And that need now glowed from Melinda and Carlotta. Even Julianna seemed a bit wistful.

  And what do I want?

  Amalie had lovely financial independence. Her departed husband of a little over five years had left her with a considerable jointure of five thousand a year, an unentailed townhouse in Berkley square, a carriage and horses, a phaeton, and even a modest but beautifully situated charming ten-bedroom cottage in Derbyshire.

  Despite the scandal which had surrounded her at her husband’s death, she maintained a close relationship with his son—the new Lord Weatherston, who had been tearing up the town with his rakehell ways. The man had declared to her some months ago that he had no intention of settling to domestic bliss at the age of one and thirty.

  ‘Don’t you agree, Stepmother,’ he had mockingly called her, knowing her full well to be six years younger than him. But what she liked and admired about James was that despite his proclivities for gambling and women, he managed his estates rather well, and had a golden touch with investments.

  But he did not have a favorable reputation himself. A rumor had been circulating in the ton that he had ruined a debutante. James had been seen kissing the girl, most passionately, but had not presented himself to make an offer of marriage.