Undressed By the Earl (Secrets in Silk #3)

Chapter One

Amelia Andrews had waited four excruciatingly long years to marry the Viscount Lisford.

Although everyone said he was a wicked rake who gambled and took advantage of innocent women, she didn’t care.

He was, by far, the handsomest man she’d ever seen.

His hazel eyes were mysterious, and his golden hair reminded her of a prince.

This was going to be the year he finally fell in love with her, even if she had to throw herself at his feet.

Well, she could faint in front of him, anyway. Diving at a man’s shoes wasn’t exactly what her mother would deem ladylike.

In her mind, she envisioned reforming him, until he fell madly in love with her and—

“Planning your attack, are you?” came a voice from behind her. Amelia suppressed a groan. David Hartford, the Earl of Castledon, was here again. Sir Personality-of-a-Handkerchief, as she’d once nicknamed him.

He never danced and had never courted a single woman in all the years since his wife had died. He was just there all the time. Watching, like a wallflower.

“I’ve never understood why the ladies here are so fascinated by Lord Lisford,” he remarked. “Would you care to enlighten me?”

She shouldn’t be speaking with Lord Castledon, although they’d had numerous conversations in the past year, with him addressing her back. If she didn’t turn around to face him, it seemed less improper.

Besides that, Lord Castledon was safe—a man she would never consider as a suitor. He wasn’t so terribly old, but he’d been married and widowed. He wasn’t at all dashing or exciting. Honestly, he was perfect for her sister Margaret.

A hard sense of frustration gathered in Amelia’s stomach at the thought of her prim and proper older sister.

There had been a time when she’d been devastated, for her sister had nearly married the man of Amelia’s dreams. The viscount had cried off only days before the wedding, leaving Margaret a spinster and Amelia a shred of hope.

She felt sorry for Margaret’s humiliation, truly she did, but it had been an impossible situation with both of them wanting the same man.

That had been years ago. Surely her sister would forget all about Viscount Lisford, especially if she had another man to wed.

And Amelia strongly believed that sensible people ought to be paired together.

She was not at all sensible. Impulsive, her mother had called her.

Amelia preferred to think of herself as spirited.

“Lord Lisford is quite wicked,” she told the earl. “When you dance with him, you sense the danger. It’s delicious.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” he said drily.

From behind her, she sensed him stepping closer. Lord Castledon was quite tall, and even without her turning around, his presence evoked a strange sensation, as if he were touching her. The air between them grew warmer, and she grew conscious of him in a way that made her skin prickle.

She stole a quick glance behind her and saw the solemn cast to his face.

It didn’t seem that he ever smiled, though the earl wasn’t unattractive.

Aside from being tall, he had black hair and shrewd blue eyes.

She’d never seen him wear any color except black.

And he rarely spoke to anyone but her. She had no idea why.

“Dangerous men are nothing but trouble,” he continued, moving to stand beside her. “You’d be better off choosing a more respectable man.”

“That’s what my mother says.” Amelia opened her fan, adding, “But marriage to a man like Lord Lisford would never be dull.”

“Marriage is not meant to be entertaining. It’s a union of two people with a mutual respect for one another.”

She eyed him with disbelief. “That sounds awful. Surely you don’t mean that.”

From the serious expression on his face, she realized he did. “Didn’t you ever have fun with your wife?” she asked. “I don’t mean to pry, but I thought you loved her.”

“She was everything to me.”

There was a glimpse of grief that flashed over his face before he masked it.

And suddenly her curiosity was piqued. This boring man, who all too often lurked near the wallpaper, had enjoyed a love match.

Try as she might, she couldn’t quite imagine him engaged in a passionate tryst. But perhaps there was more to him beneath the surface.

Amelia’s heart softened. “No one will ever compare to her, will they?” She stared at him, trying to imagine a man like the earl in love with anyone.

“No.” There was a heaviness in his voice. “But I made a promise to my daughter that this Season, I will find a new mother for her.” His features twisted as if it was not a welcome idea.

A thought suddenly sparked within Amelia.

There was nothing she loved more than matchmaking.

She’d successfully paired her sister Juliette off with her husband, Paul, and here was another chance to find a match for Lord Castledon.

Her sister Margaret was nearing five-and-twenty, and after being jilted once, she might be amenable to a man like the earl.

“I have an idea,” she told him, unable to keep the excitement from her voice. And oh, it was simply perfect. “We could help one another.”

The sidelong look he cast at her was undeniably cynical. “And what could you do for me, Miss Andrews?”

“Reconnaissance,” she said brightly. “You’ll tell me all of your requirements in a wife, and I shall investigate your options. I know all the eligible ladies here, and I’m certain I could find the perfect woman for you.”

If Margaret wouldn’t suit, there were a few wallflowers who might fit his conditions.

His mouth twisted. “Indeed. And for this ‘service,’ what do you want from me?”

She hid her face behind her fan. “I want Viscount Lisford. You could speak to him and put in a good word for me.”

He crossed his arms, staring across the room. “You’re not worthy of a man like him, Miss Andrews.”

Amelia felt her cheeks grow hot. “And why not? Is there something wrong with me? I know I talk too much, and most people believe I’m a featherbrain. But surely—”

She didn’t finish the sentence, for she suspected what he would say. You’re too young. Too innocent.

And while that might be true, why couldn’t she set her sights on the man she wanted? Why couldn’t she marry the handsomest man in London who set her pulse racing? Why should she settle for a titled gentleman with a respectable fortune when she could have so much more?

No. She didn’t need Lord Castledon’s help. Not in this.

There were ways to capture a man’s attention, and she was certain that this was her year.

To the earl, she remarked, “Thank you, my lord, but I don’t need your help after all.

Especially if you believe I’m not worthy of the viscount.

” She marched in the direction of her aunt Charlotte, hoping no one would see her embarrassment.

The Earl of Castledon stared at the young woman as she took long strides away from him. Amelia Andrews was impulsive, spirited, and filled with more joie de vivre than anyone he’d ever met.

“No, you’re not worthy of the viscount,” he remarked under his breath. “You’re worth far more.”

He didn’t know if he could do this again.

David Hartford, the Earl of Castledon, stood with his back against the wall. He felt as if a hundred bayonets were pointed at him. God above, he needed a drink to get through this night. Or three.

In his pocket, he had a list of instructions that he’d penned to himself, prior to this ball.

Be introduced to a new lady. Hold a conversation with her that lasts longer than thirty seconds. Ask her to dance.

The last one made him want to shudder. He hadn’t danced in six years and likely didn’t remember how.

Who was he trying to fool? He didn’t want to wed anyone again. Though he was no longer in mourning, he still wore black, out of habit.

Every moment he attended a social gathering of any kind felt like a mockery.

His friends in the House of Lords kept sending him invitations during each Season, and he accepted a few from time to time, so as not to offend them.

He was here out of courtesy, not because he wanted to make merry or flirt with anyone fanning herself. That wasn’t his way.

Truth to tell, he wasn’t quite certain how he’d won his wife’s hand in marriage.

They had been wallflowers together, if he remembered correctly.

Katherine had smiled at him, and that had given him the courage to venture into conversation.

Twelve years ago, he’d been one-and-twenty and an empty-headed fool.

Now he felt as if he were living his life encased within a column of glass.

He could see the world and speak to those around him, but an invisible barrier kept him from enjoying the years remaining.

It seemed like a betrayal to be happy, though he knew that was illogical.

Sometimes at night he reached across to the empty pillow beside him, wishing Katherine was there.

The loss of her was a physical ache that hadn’t diminished at all in the years since she’d died.

He still had silent conversations with her ghost. If that made him a madman, so be it.

He reached into the pocket of his waistcoat, fingering the list. You’d be angry with me, I know. I broke my promise to you by not remarrying. I know it’s my duty to sire an heir.

But his only child was a daughter.

Christine was now eleven years old and the very image of Katherine. It hurt to look at her gray eyes, knowing that she would grow up to look like the woman he’d loved more than life itself.

I can’t do this, he told her ghost. No one can replace you.

As always, Katherine’s ghost didn’t answer. Nothing would bring her back, and on her deathbed, she’d made him swear to marry again. Even Christine, upon her last birthday, had wished for a new mother.

David stared at the room full of ladies and gentlemen of the ton. He wasn’t a man who broke his promises. He’d avoided this for six years, even knowing it was the right thing to do.