Seduced At Sunset

Copyright © 2013 Julianne MacLean

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This is a work of fiction. Any references to historical
events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names,
characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination,
and any resemblance to actual events, locals or persons, living or dead, is
entirely coincidental.

Cover Design: Kim Killion

Editor: Patricia Thomas

Chapter One

Pembroke Palace, England, 1886

In every life, there comes a time when one must let go of
certain regrets, stop mourning for the paths not taken, and forge ahead into
the future with fresh new goals, and somewhat altered expectations.

Standing at the window, looking out over the vast expanse
of green lawns and thick forests reaching all the way to the horizon, Lady
Charlotte Sinclair raised her teacup to her lips and settled her gaze on the
red brick dower house in the distance.

“Do you ever wonder if she’s lonely?” Charlotte asked her
sister-in-law, Lady Anne, who rose from her chair and came to join her at the
window.

“Are you referring to Adelaide?” Anne replied. “She
certainly hasn’t seemed melancholy, not that I can see. It’s been two years
now, since the duke passed. I think she is doing remarkably well under the
circumstances. Why? Do you feel differently?”

Charlotte set her teacup down upon the saucer with a
delicate clink. “I cannot help but wonder if Mother ever thinks about Dr.
Thomas. They haven’t seen each other since Father’s funeral.” She turned her
eyes to Anne. “You know the story, don’t you? That she attempted to run off
with him and flee the palace through the underground tunnels on the eve of her
wedding?”

“No, I didn’t know that particular detail,” Anne said with
surprise, looking sharply out the window toward the dower house. “I knew, of
course, that she and Dr. Thomas were close at one time, and that they had been
sweethearts before she married the duke.”

Anne spoke tactfully, well aware that the two were more
than sweethearts, for Adelaide had also left her husband for a brief interval
during their marriage, and had spent time away from Pembroke with Dr. Thomas.
As a result, Charlotte and her twin brother Garrett were born nine months
later—one of the many secret scandals hidden within the palace walls.

For years, the secret had been kept safe. No one outside
the family knew that Charlotte and Garrett were illegitimate, and that Dr.
William Thomas was their true father.

“What in the world happened?” Anne asked. “Because
obviously, she didn’t jilt the duke at the altar. She went ahead with it.
Otherwise she would never have become Duchess of Pembroke.”

Charlotte turned to sit on the wide painted windowsill,
and set her teacup and saucer down beside her. “Mother told me everything about
it shortly before Father passed away. She said she had no regrets about
marrying him—that it was her destiny to be duchess here, and mother to
all of us, just as we are. Though she loved Dr. Thomas quite passionately in
her youth, I believe, in the end, she was content with the choice she had made.”

“Naturally I am pleased to hear that,” Anne said as she
sat down beside Charlotte on the windowsill. “But you still haven’t told me
what happened on the eve of the wedding. Did she keep the duke waiting at the
chapel?”

“No, she was there on time. Her father caught Mother and
Dr. Thomas as they were attempting to flee the palace. There was some violence,
I believe, and poor Dr. Thomas was dragged away, unconscious. I don’t know all
the particulars, but Mother chose to walk down the aisle the next day to save him
from any further harm. She wrote to him and told him that she had changed her
mind, that her father was right, and it was her duty to marry the duke, and
that William must never contact her again. When he found out she had gone
through with it, he left England and didn’t return for a few years. It was when
he came back that he and mother spent those... intimate hours together.”
Charlotte picked up her tea again. “Father knew nothing about her infidelity
until much later, when he realized Garrett and I looked nothing like him or our
brothers.”

Anne laid a hand over her chest. “Good heavens. That is
quite a story,” she said.

“Yes, indeed, and I have not been able to push it from my
mind since I learned of it. Imagine, poor Dr. Thomas being thumped on the head
and dragged out of the tunnels. And poor Mother, who was desperately in love
with him... How she must have suffered. It is quite a tale of woe, which is why
I believe it’s high time someone made it right. Their day has come, Anne. Do
you not agree? Mother was a dutiful wife to the very end, but she is a widow
now. And Dr. Thomas—so skilled in the art of medicine—was such a
good friend to her when Father was ill. He was her knight in shining armor.
Surely they both deserve happiness. They have waited so long.”

Anne considered it. “Do you not think they are old enough,
and wise enough, to make their own decisions? If they want to be together,
there is nothing standing in their way. They can do so without
someone—and that would be
you
, I
presume—making it happen.”

Charlotte smiled. “Of course it would be me. Why do you
think I brought it up?” She rose to her feet and went to pour herself another
cup of tea. “Dr. Thomas is always delighted to see me when I visit my publisher
in London,” she said as she picked up the teapot. “I am sure he would be open
to an invitation of some sort. Perhaps he just needs a little prodding.”

“So you intend to try your hand at matchmaking?” Anne
said, intrigued.

“I most certainly do,” Charlotte replied. “I am the
perfect candidate for such an undertaking. They are my parents, after all, and
I know them better than anyone. Besides, I need to have
some
form of romance in my life, even if it is not my own.”

Anne and Charlotte had been sisters-in-law for twelve
years now. They were the best of friends, and for that reason Charlotte did not
need to explain why she had long given up dreaming of her own happily ever
after. Charlotte was no stranger to heartache and disappointment, which was
probably why she and Dr. Thomas rubbed along so well. She felt a deep
connection to him, for he had lost his beloved tragically at an early age, just
as she had.

Before that loss, Charlotte had actually believed she was
leading a charmed life, for she had met the perfect man during her first week
of her first Season in London. Lord Graham Spencer was the most handsome
gentleman she had ever seen, with jet-black hair, piercing blue eyes, and a
tall muscular build. If his looks weren’t enough to make a young lady swoon, he
was also charming, intelligent, and exceptionally honorable. To top it all off,
he was heir to a dukedom, and was soon to inherit his ailing father’s title and
estate in Devonshire.

They had fallen in love instantly upon introduction, and
the courtship was as passionate and romantic as any woman could ever dream. By
the end of the Season Graham had proposed and given Charlotte his grandmother’s
gigantic diamond ring, and they fell more deeply in love with each passing day
as they anticipated their wedding the following spring.

It was a passionate love, and they had both been far too
impatient...

Then, three weeks before Charlotte’s highly anticipated
walk down the aisle, Graham was thrown from his horse in the middle of London’s
Trafalgar Square on a sunny afternoon. The coroner told them he died instantly
from a head injury, and Charlotte was left to endure the unbearable agony of
losing the man she loved with all her heart, and with that, the happy future of
which she had dreamed.

A month later, she discovered she was with child. While
most women would have feared and dreaded the scandal, Charlotte had wept tears
of joy. She announced it to her family with pride—and a careless
disregard for how Society would judge her—for in her womb, she carried a
piece of her beloved that would stay with her forever.

But fate was cruel to her yet again. At the end of her
first trimester, she lost the baby and fell into a deep pit of despair that
lasted nearly a year. The grief was immeasurable, and it was a long hard climb
back to a life that included any thoughts of the future, for she couldn’t
possibly imagine how to find happiness again.

And so, she passed through her best years in a quiet state
of melancholy. Her family tried to coax her to begin again at the next London
Season, or the Season after that, but she had no interest in flirting, and
surely no man could possibly compare to Graham, the great love of her life, who
had been so cruelly ripped from her world.

Now she was long past a marriageable age, but had found a
different sort of happiness from within, and through her writing. A year ago,
her first novel
The Boxer
had been published under
the pseudonym Victor Edwards, and it was now a literary sensation, which proved
to be exceedingly lucrative for Charlotte. The book was in its seventeenth
printing and was selling well in Europe as well as America. She had already
been commissioned to write a second novel, which was due on her editor’s desk
next summer.

Hence, her life—though it was not what she imagined
it would be when she was young and full of romantic dreams—had turned out
to be surprisingly satisfactory.

Nevertheless, Charlotte had recently begun to desire
something more...

She was not a block of ice. She had known passion and
desire once before. Though she did not yearn for a life of matrimony—she
was financially independent and quite happy in her solitude—her
body
longed for certain physical pleasures with a man. She
wanted to be touched, and aroused.
By a lover
. By
someone sinfully handsome and experienced. Someone compelling.

She would never be as young as she once was, but by God,
she had not lost her looks yet. If she were honest about it, without conceit,
she was in fact quite comely, with golden hair and a curvaceous figure. In the
right situation, she was confident she could do what was required to attract a
desirable candidate for the sort of encounter she had in mind.

“So how do you plan to begin?” Anne asked as she rose from
her seat on the windowsill to return to the sofa. “Will you invite Dr. Thomas
to Pembroke?”

Charlotte shook away the other fantasy that had been on
her mind so often lately and sat down beside Anne. She chose a raspberry scone
from the biscuit plate. “Eventually, yes, but first I will pay him a call in
London. He is always pleased to see me, as I am his only daughter. Since the
Season is in full swing, I shall persuade Mother to accompany me this time. I
will suggest that we take in the theater and accept a few invitations to
dinners and balls. For years she has been trying to convince me to enjoy
myself, so I will inform her that I am ready to do just that.”

“Oh, Charlotte.” Anne laid a hand on her knee. “Please
tell me that you are indeed ready to enjoy yourself, and that it is not simply
a charade to lure Adelaide to London.”

Charlotte popped the last bite of the scone into her
mouth. “I believe I am more than ready,” she replied. “I have been too bookish
of late. It’s time to live a little; do you not agree? Heaven forbid I become a
recluse in my old age.”

The maid entered to collect the tea tray, and Anne smiled
with encouragement. “Will you write to me?” she asked. “And tell me
everything?”

“I will write to you each day,” Charlotte replied.

Though she was not certain she would be able to divulge
all
the details—for some of the activities she
planned to engage in might turn out to be exceedingly private.

Chapter Two

London