Again, My Lord: A Twist Series Novel (30 page)

BOOK: Again, My Lord: A Twist Series Novel
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Something about this ring seemed familiar, though. It wasn’t in the current fashion. He’d bought plenty of baubles for women over the years, but he’d never seen anything like this in a jeweler’s shop. It looked vaguely like a weapon.

He lifted his hand to his face. His fingertips brushed smooth cheeks and brow, full lips, a lilting nose, thick lashes, slender brows, delicate earlobes. He reached up and touched more linen.

A cap.

He pushed it off. A long braid of satiny tresses met his touch.

His chest filled, thick and itchy and sharp all at once, like a scream forming. But Ian had never screamed in his life, except on that one occasion when he fell out of the old oak and broke his arm. He’d been ten. He still had the bone-scar on his wrist to show for it. His father had said thank God it wasn’t his right arm, a gentleman couldn’t wield a sword properly with such a handicap. After that comment, Ian worked especially hard to get the wrist fully mobile again, left hand or not. It had hurt like the devil, but he’d done it. As with his university studies later, he’d had to save face.

A face that seemed to be no longer his own.

He choked, dragging in air. This couldn’t be happening. It must be a dream. He pinched his thigh hard.

“Ouch!” His voice came forth light. Rich. Familiar.

No. Oh, no.

Not a dream.

A
nightmare
.

Leaping from the bed, legs tangled in the ruined nightshirt, he tripped toward the dressing table. The mirror, gilt-edged but not showy, was long and narrow, an oval that captured nearly his entire image as he stumbled to a halt before it.

No!

Ian squeezed his eyes shut.

Nightmare. Nightmare. Nightmare.

It had to be a horrible nightmare. Or a wretched jest his friends were playing. Stoopie was wealthy enough to fund something this elaborate, and immoral enough to invent it. They’d dosed him with a strong drug to put him into some sort of reverie, a terrifyingly real reverie, designed to make his stomach heave and his legs shake.

He didn’t feel the thick pull of the poppy seed in his blood, though, nor the heavy stupor. But he’d only indulged in that messy pursuit a handful of times, and years ago. He preferred brandy. Perhaps there was something new he hadn’t yet heard of. Another drug much stronger than opium. Something imported from the Orient. It must be. He cracked his eyes open and peeked at the mirror again.

The eyes that stared back at him in horror were not Chance blue, passed through nearly every male in his family since the time of King Harry. Instead they were muddy. Greenish-brown with a hint of gold if a man had to be decent about it.

But Ian didn’t have to be decent about it. He’d never been decent to the bearer of those pond-colored eyes. And his anger was mounting. This was going too far. Drake and he had traded pranks since their school days, but neither of them had ever stooped so outrageously low. Ian’s friend could not have chosen a more painful torment to impose upon him, a worse penance for the wrong Drake obviously imagined he’d committed—whatever it was.

He would exact retribution. As soon as the effects of this wretched drug wore off and he had his proper senses back, he would see to it right away. He’d no doubt that when he was in his right mind again he would remember the ruse. A man didn’t recover from this level of terror so readily.

Stoopie would pay. And pay.

Staggering back to the frothy bed, he fell upon it on his face, releasing a shuddering breath into the feather quilt.

A scratch came at the door. This time another maid entered. He couldn’t summon the enthusiasm to examine her breasts.

“Milady.” Glancing swiftly at his torn garment, then away, the girl extended a silver dish bearing an envelope.

Ian reached for the envelope but his hand stalled. He leaned toward the tray. On the face of the paper, his monogram—the Chance crest—showed bold and clear. The address read
The Honble. Corinna Mowbray
.

This was wrong. He had never, ever sent Corinna Mowbray a letter. Categorically never.

Trying to still the shaking of his hand, he took up the envelope, nodded to the maid, and waited until she left. He unsnapped the wax seal—the Chance seal, stored in his dressing chamber table, to which only he possessed the key—and withdrew a single, folded sheet of his finest foolscap. Vaguely aware that his nostrils were flaring like a spooked horse, he opened it.

The writing was not his own, scrawled swiftly beneath the monogram, though with the weight of his hand and the angle of his script. Ian read the words, and his entire female body went cold.

You thorough scoundrel! What have you done?

 

 

Thank You!

I am deeply grateful to many wonderful people for helping me bring this book to publication, especially Marcia Abercrombie, Georgann T. Brophy, Georgie Brophy, Caroline Linden, Mary Brophy Marcus, Miranda Neville, and Maya Rodale.

Special thanks for their work on this book to Lori Devoti, JB Schroeder, and Martha Trachtenberg, and to my editor Anne Forlines. Thanks also to my agents, Kimberly Whalen and MacKenzie Fraser-Bub of Trident Media Group for supporting me in every endeavor, and to Meredith Miller and Mark Gottlieb for putting
My Lady, My Lord
into the hands of foreign-language and audio book readers.

Thanks from my heart to The Princesses, the best street team an author could ever have. And thanks to all of my readers, who make it a thorough joy to write romance.

To my husband, son and little Idaho, I send up a gigantic, sunshiny “Hurrah!” in thanks for essential help with the story and for their love and enthusiasm through every moment of its creation.

 

 

 

Praise for Katharine’s Books

MY LADY, MY LORD

 

RITA® Award Finalist 2015

Romance Writers of America

 

I LOVED A ROGUE

 

“Passionate, heart-wrenching, and thoroughly satisfying.”

All About Romance,
Desert Island Keeper

 

“Katharine Ashe’s historical romances are rich and inventive, unexpected and smart, and she doesn’t pull any emotional punches. She writes with a wry, provocative, angst-y energy that compels you to keep turning pages, even when it means the thrill of a blissful read will be far too soon behind you. Oh, yeah. This author rocks historical romance.”

USA Today
, A Must-Read Romance

 

I ADORED A LORD

 

“A riotous good time… Delicious.”

Publishers Weekly

 

I MARRIED THE DUKE

 

“Historical Romance of the Year”

Reviewers’ Choice Award nominee 2014

 

KISSES, SHE WROTE

 

“Smoldering.”

Library Journal
(starred review)

 

HOW TO MARRY A HIGHLANDER

 

RITA® Award Finalist 2014

Romance Writers of America

 

HOW TO BE A PROPER LADY

 

Amazon Editors’ Choice 10 Best Books of 2012

 

WHEN A SCOT LOVES A LADY

 

“Lushly intense romance . . . radiant prose.”

Library Journal
(starred review)

 

“Sensationally intelligent writing, and a true, weak-in-the-knees love story.”

Barnes & Noble “Heart to Heart”
Recommended Read!

 

IN THE ARMS OF A MARQUESS

 

“Every woman who ever dreamed of having a titled lord at her feet will love this novel.”

Eloisa James,
New York Times
bestselling author

 

“Immersive and lush. … Ashe is that rare author who chooses to risk unexpected elements within an established genre, and whose skill and magic with the pen lifts her tales above the rest.”

Fresh Fiction

 

CAPTURED BY A ROGUE LORD

 

“Best Historical Romantic Adventure”

Reviewers’ Choice Award winner 2011

 

SWEPT AWAY BY A KISS

 

“A breathtaking romance filled with sensuality.”

Lisa Kleypas,
New York Times
#1 bestselling author

Table of Contents

 

 

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this e-book, or portion thereof, in any form. This e-book may not be resold or uploaded for distribution to others.

AGAIN, MY LORD: Copyright © 2015 Katharine Brophy Dubois.

Cover design © Julie Schroeder Designs.

ISBN 9780991641222 (E-book)

Published by Billet-Doux Books.

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