Midsummer madness, p.1
Midsummer Madness, page 1
Midsummer Madness
A Lord For All Seasons
Book 2
Nadine Millard
© Copyright 2022 by Nadine Millard
Text by Nadine Millard
Cover by Dar Albert
Dragonblade Publishing, Inc. is an imprint of Kathryn Le Veque Novels, Inc.
P.O. Box 23
Moreno Valley, CA 92556
ceo@dragonbladepublishing.com
Produced in the United States of America
First Edition May 2022
Kindle Edition
Reproduction of any kind except where it pertains to short quotes in relation to advertising or promotion is strictly prohibited.
All Rights Reserved.
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
License Notes:
This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook, once purchased, may not be re-sold. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it or borrow it, or it was not purchased for you and given as a gift for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. If this book was purchased on an unauthorized platform, then it is a pirated and/or unauthorized copy and violators will be prosecuted to the full extent of the law. Do not purchase or accept pirated copies. Thank you for respecting the author’s hard work. For subsidiary rights, contact Dragonblade Publishing, Inc.
ARE YOU SIGNED UP FOR DRAGONBLADE’S BLOG?
You’ll get the latest news and information on exclusive giveaways, exclusive excerpts, coming releases, sales, free books, cover reveals and more.
Check out our complete list of authors, too!
No spam, no junk. That’s a promise!
Sign Up Here
*
Dearest Reader;
Thank you for your support of a small press. At Dragonblade Publishing, we strive to bring you the highest quality Historical Romance from some of the best authors in the business. Without your support, there is no ‘us’, so we sincerely hope you adore these stories and find some new favorite authors along the way.
Happy Reading!
CEO, Dragonblade Publishing
Additional Dragonblade books by Author Nadine Millard
A Lord For All Seasons Series
A Springtime Scandal (Book 1)
Midsummer Madness (Book 2)
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Publisher’s Note
Additional Dragonblade books by Author Nadine Millard
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
About the Author
Prologue
“My dear Mrs. Templeworth, I must tell you again how wonderful Elodie has been. Why, the children simply adore her.”
Hope Templeworth rolled her eyes as she settled in to listen to yet another resident of Halton wax lyrical about her paragon sister.
It wasn’t that she envied Elodie the praise. Hope would rather stick pins in her eyes than adhere to the implacable rules Elodie imposed on herself to be the perfect Society miss.
But Elodie was a tough act to follow. There was no doubt about that.
Mrs. Bell, the vicar’s wife, went on and on about whatever new, wonderfully giving act Elodie had just committed while Hope looked around the quiet streets of their village and tuned her out.
She spotted Francesca leaving the small bookshop, her hands full, her nose already buried in whatever weighty new tome she’d purchased.
Francesca was terribly clever. It was rather intimidating, truth be told.
Though she was no bluestocking, Cheska was fierce and bright with a spine of steel.
Their younger sister Sophia had run off somewhere. No doubt spotting a horse or a dog or a cat that she wanted to pet.
Heaving a sigh, Hope looked around again, nodding and smiling at those who called greetings. She wasn’t oblivious to the appreciative looks she was getting.
From infancy, when Elodie was called good, Cheska was called clever, or Sophia adventurous, Hope was called pretty.
And for the past few summers, she’d been hearing it more and more. Noticing it in the furious blushes and hesitant smiles of the young men in their village.
It wasn’t exactly something she was proud of, but she supposed it was better than nothing. Some area in which she wasn’t compared to her sisters and found lacking.
Mrs. Bell and Mama drew to the close of their conversation and said their goodbyes.
“Gooday, Miss Hope,” the vicar’s wife said kindly if a little stiffly. Hope had never gotten the impression that Mrs. Bell particularly approved of her. “And might I just say how fetching you look in your new spencer? Pink is so becoming on you.”
Hope smiled her thanks. The dusky pink was perfectly nice against her caramel curls and brown eyes. But it was also beautiful on Elodie, Cheska, and Sophia. Or it would be if Sophia would be caught dead wearing something so feminine.
Cheska sidled up and slipped Hope the book she’d requested, a novel that Mama would ardently disapprove of.
“Here,” she whispered. “Don’t forget you said I could read it before Elodie.”
“I won’t forget,” Hope said. “Cheska, do you think it’s odd that nobody ever compliments me on anything other than how I look?”
Cheska ran an eye over her.
“Not really,” her brutally honest sibling said. “You know how these things go. A pretty smile, a mop of blonde curls, and nobody really wants anything else from you.”
“But you’re blonde,” Hope objected, a little stung by the words but not really knowing why. “And beautiful. And Elodie is beautiful. Sophia, too, come to that. Yet people at least talk about some other traits you have.”
“Oh, your lot in life is so terrible.” Cheska grinned. “Imagine the hardship of being the most beautiful girl in the world.”
Hope shoved her sister’s shoulder, then stumbled when Cheska shoved her right back.
“You’re only sixteen,” Cheska continued her ribbing, but Hope knew it was in jest. “Plenty of time for you to grow a brain.”
“Thank you,” Hope bit sarcastically. “How wonderful of you to say so.”
“At least you don’t look like the back of one of Sophia’s horses,” Cheska countered. “Count your blessings.”
Hope stuck her tongue out, and they bickered back and forth on the way to collect Sophia from wherever she’d wandered to.
But she still felt a little uneasy.
Perhaps Cheska was right, though.
There were worse things in the world than to be considered a pretty face.
She should just count her blessings.
Chapter One
Four years later…
Hope sighed as she dipped her legs into the cool water of the lake.
The summer heat was stifling, the sun beating down on her unrelentingly.
It had been worse in London, she supposed.
At least here in Halton, there was the opportunity to find shade in the trees of the orchard on their estate. Or hide under the canopy of the folly near the lake. Or this, hitching her skirts up and removing her stockings and shoes, allowing the blissfully cool water to lap against her calves.
She was contemplating stripping off her gown altogether and going for a swim, but she knew her mother, who was already annoyed that she’d just left her third Season with no fiancé, would likely have a tantrum about her unladylike conduct, and she’d rather not have to listen to it.
It wasn’t that she hadn’t received offers. Indeed, for the last three Seasons, she’d received so many proposals that Francesca, Sophia, and even Elodie had started taking bets on how many she’d actually get before she accepted someone.
The problem, Hope thought to herself, was that not one of them held even a flicker of interest for her.
Not one of them had ever attempted to engage her in any real conversation.
Everything was about how pretty she was. They wrote poetry dedicated to her hair, her eyes, or her smile. But none of them had ever asked her an opinion on anything.
They told her of their wealth, their sprawling homes, their excellent connections. But they never wanted to know if she had interests of her own.
In short, every one of them wanted her for what she looked like and nothing mo re. Truth be told, most of them probably didn’t even know what she sounded like, so disinterested in actually listening to her were they.
Her mother didn’t think any of that was important. Especially since Elodie’s marriage to Viscount Brentford two years ago had ensured the girls were now in the same circles as peers of the realm and the upper echelons of the ton. But it was important to Hope. She wanted a husband who at least liked her and not just what she would look like on his arm.
And while Francesca had said in no uncertain terms that she would not be marrying until she was desperately in love or firmly out of options, and maybe not even then, Hope didn’t share her eighteen-year-old sister’s dislike for marriage as an institution. She just wanted someone to want her for her and not for her hair, eyes, smile, or any of the other nonsense those insipid poems referred to.
Was it so bad to want someone who didn’t bore her to tears? Someone who might even be a challenge?
The truth was that from the time she’d been in long skirts, she’d had the admiration and devotion of nearly every member of the opposite sex that she’d come in contact with.
Indeed, her sisters had often utilized that particular trait—because it wasn’t a skill really—to their advantage when they were hatching some scheme or other.
It had been Hope who’d charmed Lord Brentford’s staff two years ago while Elodie had stowed away in the man’s carriage. And Hope who’d helped the viscount when he’d fallen in love with Elle, and almost lost her.
And only last year when Sophia had spotted a dog being mistreated by a local farmer, Hope had flirted shamelessly with the man while Sophia had kidnapped it.
Flirting had become second nature to Hope. Fluttering her lashes to get her way was au fait. So commonplace that it was tedious at this point. It made no difference if it was a country curate or a dashing duke. They were ultimately all the same.
But she would have to pick someone, she knew. Next Season she would be twenty-one. High time to find a man to settle down with. And even more importantly, high time to get out of this backwater town and live a little.
Maybe she’d become one of those marvelously sophisticated Society wives who carried on scandalous affairs behind their husband’s backs. She could pick one of the rich gentlemen who offered for her and then while away her life spending his money and eyeing up his footmen. She wouldn’t be the first woman to live such a life. And truth be told, people probably half expected it from her anyway.
Though she’d never fallen into true scandal or ruin, everyone who knew her knew of her flirtatious nature, and she walked a fine line between what was acceptable and what would get her family snubbed.
Elodie used to despair of it, but thankfully her marriage to Christian had made her a lot less stuffy.
Mama still despaired of it. Vocally. Especially since now that Elodie was married, Mama had to chaperone her girls herself and not rely on her eldest daughter to take the brunt of the responsibility.
Papa, in all honesty, didn’t notice his children one way or another.
But even though she couldn’t imagine herself loving any of the dandies she attracted during the marriage mart, she still didn’t want that sort of life. She didn’t want to be that sort of wife.
She wanted to at least care about the man.
And she was absolutely sure that she’d marry.
Unlike Cheska, Hope didn’t think she had very many options open to her as a woman.
It was either marry or be a spinster.
So surely the least she deserved was a husband who could hold her interest for longer than five minutes.
Feeling frustrated with the direction of her thoughts, Hope decided that the heat must be making her more maudlin than usual.
And then deciding that it was worth Mama’s wrath, she stood and made light work of removing her white muslin gown and her stays.
She threw her straw bonnet on top of her clothes, then unpinned her curls, allowing her hair to fall down her back.
With a quick look around to make sure she couldn’t be seen, she waded into the lake until she was deep enough to dive under the cool, clear water.
The cold was blissful against her heated skin, and she swam further into the lake, relishing the silence and the coolness.
When she needed to take a breath, she pushed up off the silty bottom, then lay back to float on the water’s surface.
Her chemise was by now completely see-through and clinging to her skin, but she cared not a whit. It was glorious and freeing to be swimming practically naked on a hot summer’s day. What harm was she doing in any case? There was nobody around to see her.
Hope had no idea how long she lay there floating, her mind wandering, the water lapping against her rapidly cooling skin. But when she started to shiver from the cold, she righted herself and then swam until her feet hit the sandy bottom of the lake.
Standing, she tossed her now-sodden tresses over her shoulders before turning toward where she’d left her clothing in a heap.
She looked up and the smile dropped from her face.
Standing at the edge of the lake was the most sinfully handsome man she’d ever seen.
And he was looking straight at her.
Chapter Two
Gideon Bell, Earl of Claremont, stood frozen in place as he watched a beautiful woman emerge from the lake like something from a fantasy.
He had no idea who she was or how he’d stumbled upon her, but he sure as hell was glad he had.
He watched her toss her hair, and his mouth dried as his eyes raked over an incredible body, wrapped in the transparent material of a cotton chemise.
If he were a gentleman, he would of course turn away, or at least alert her to his presence. But truthfully, he couldn’t remember a time anyone had accused him of being a gentleman, and he had no intention of earning that title now.
He spied a bundle of clothing near his feet and knew they must be hers.
And that meant that she was heading right this way. In that clinging, soaking wet undergarment.
Gideon wanted to drink his fill, but his damned conscience awoke at the most inopportune time. He might not be a gentleman exactly, but he wasn’t voyeuristic. And he might be stunned by this lady of the lake, but he wasn’t a complete bastard either.
So, he decided, he’d have to sacrifice that incredible view in deference to the lady’s modesty.
And he was just about to turn around. He truly was. But suddenly she stopped, and her eyes darted to his face.
And he was frozen once more.
Those eyes, big, deep brown pools in the middle of a heart-achingly beautiful face. The mouth, pink and plump and opened now in an ‘oh’ of shock. He watched, fascinated by a pink blush that traveled across her cheeks, her neck, and lower still…
He expected her to scream, or cry. Maybe even faint. Certainly, cover herself up in shame and panic. But to his amazement, and great delight, she raised an eyebrow and held his gaze, tilting her chin up mutinously.
“If you’re going to hang around here, might you make yourself useful and hand me my gown?”
She was Quality. If her finishing school accent hadn’t confirmed it, the way she held herself like a queen would have.
But there was a glint in her eyes, mischievous and playful. She was trouble.
Gideon’s guess was that she was well aware of her beauty and the effect she had on men.
And he had no intention of being one of her admirers, of which there were many, he had no doubt. At least not obviously. Keeping his face perfectly smooth, he bent and picked up the perfectly modest white gown at his feet.
“Do you usually strip off and swim in public?” he asked.
There was a husk of desire in his voice, but it was no matter. She’d never heard him speak, so she couldn’t guess that it was there because he was so affected by her.
“Of course not,” she responded aghast, the very picture of ladylike outrage. And then, that glint. “Only when I’m sure there’s an audience.”
Gideon felt his jaw drop at the chit’s audacity. He’d never known a gently bred lady to be so, so playfully forward.
Then again, he hadn’t known that many gently bred ladies, truth be told. At least not in any way that really mattered.
