Chapter One
“Edmund, you are my brother! How could you do this to me?”
The outraged voice of Lady Anna Ravenscroft echoed throughout the opulence of her brother’s London residence. The grandeur of the house, adorned with ornate furnishings and gilded accents, stood as a silent witness to the unfolding drama, which had started as a seemingly benign afternoon tea and a heart-to-heart conversation. However, the reality that awaited her was far from the warmth she sought in her moment of despair.
The forceful grip of the manservant’s hands on her upper arm only seemed to solidify the fact that she was no longer welcome there. Her own mother’s meek pleading reverberated somewhere behind the servant’s mountainous body, which served as an unyielding gatekeeper to her brother’s domain, and with it, her own salvation. She felt like an intruder in her own family, an unwanted trespasser who was to be rid of as soon as possible.
Anna was too stunned to fight the man, too stunned to do anything but allow herself to be led out of the front door and pushed into the yard, her shame bared to everyone in broad daylight. But that didn’t matter. Her brother’s betrayal hurt more than the echoes of rumors ever could.
Anna turned around to face the manservant. Behind him, her mother, Lady Hilda Trentworth, trailed behind with a countenance marked by concern. Lady Hilda’s attempts to intercede were met with a dismissive wave from the butler, whose loyalty to the household hierarchy was unwavering.
“Edmund…” Lady Hilda spoke when Edmund, adorned in the trappings of aristocratic authority, appeared from behind his manservant. In light of the recent developments, his piercing gray eyes had taken on an even more authoritative and stern look, and the air of superiority he had always carried himself with oozed out of every pore of his being.
“Please, think about this…” their mother urged, her fingers clasped around his elbow, which he hastily jerked away from her touch.
“There is nothing to think about, Mother.” Edmund’s stern voice cut through the sadness and frustration etched on the woman’s face. “Everyone is responsible for the consequences of their own transgressions.”
“But these are not Anna’s!” Lady Hilda exclaimed, her attempts to soften the familial rift falling on deaf ears. Anna appreciated her mother’s efforts, but nothing would soften Edmund’s heart of stone.
“That doesn’t matter.” Edmund shook his head decisively. “She chose her late husband, and with that, his mistakes have become hers.”
Edmund locked his gaze with Anna’s. There were so many things she wanted to tell him, but she feared she might succumb to tears if she spoke a single word more. She couldn’t believe her ears. Was it truly so that her own brother had chosen to turn his back on her, at a moment when she needed him the most? She felt as if someone had stuck a dagger into her heart and was now twisting it to cause even more pain.
“You are not to return here again seeking financial assistance. Goodbye,” Edmund said, upon closing the door, refusing to hear another word on either side.
A blaze of indignation fueled Anna’s spirit as the grand door of her brother’s residence closed upon her. Refusing to succumb to an onslaught of tears, she clenched her teeth together, trying to remain quiet, but it was impossible.
“You are a poor excuse of a brother!” she shouted. “Family comes to you in their most dire moment and you willingly choose not to help! You have always been a cold man, Edmund Trentworth, but I never thought you could turn your back on your own family! For shame!” She kept hurtling angry retorts at the imposing façade, her words echoing through the yard.
It took her a few moments to finally accept a crushing truth. The bonds of family now severed, she retreated with a steely resolve, her slight limp a testament to the challenges she had faced. Summoning her waiting carriage with a determined air, Anna climbed aboard and issued crisp instructions to the coachman. The carriage immediately set forth through the bustling streets of London, its destination clear—Lady Pentor’s residence, where an exclusive gathering was scheduled for the evening.
As Anna’s carriage rolled through the dimly lit streets of London, she found herself enveloped in heavy silence, broken only by the rhythmic clip-clop of horses’ hooves against the cobblestone road. Inside the carriage, the flickering glow of the lanterns cast fleeting shadows.
As she gazed out of the window, Anna’s thoughts were consumed by the precarious state of her financial affairs. The weight of her late husband’s mistakes bore down upon her shoulders like an oppressive burden. Lord Arthur Ravenscroft, in life, had proven to be a man of imprudent decisions, his penchant for gambling and ill-advised business ventures leaving behind a legacy of staggering debts that were now hanging over Anna’s head like the sword of Damocles. It had been over one year and one day, a stated rule of mourning designated for a widow, but for Anna, it felt like an entire lifetime since she had laid her husband’s remains into the ground, leaving her own peace of mind to rest with him. A marriage that had lasted not even two years, almost stealing her precious youth, was a poor exchange for the utter desolateness of life that was looming over her future.
With each passing moment, Anna contemplated the coldness that defined her relationship with her brother. He had always been a man of inherent greed and unkindness, but she had naively believed that those two traits existed beyond the confines of their family. Now, she had come to realize how wrong she truly was. Whether someone was family or not, he was equally unwilling to lend a hand. He had become utterly indifferent to their bond of siblinghood, believing that once she was married, it was her husband’s responsibility to provide for her. She had believed that as well, but it was not her fault that she had become a widow. Rather, it was fate. And with the revelation of her late husband’s financial misfortunes, the fragile semblance of familial duty had been completely shattered.
She hadn’t expected that when she had come to him for aid that morning. He didn’t even know how embarrassing it was for her to ask for assistance, how utterly ashamed she had felt that such life conditions had befallen her. But she expected that if anyone would understand her, if anyone would help her, it would be her own family.
But Edmund, wrapped in his callous demeanor, had summarily rejected Anna’s plea for assistance. The warmth she sought in their kinship was met with an icy resolve to distance himself from her troubles, as if they were nothing—not family, not friends, not even acquaintances. It seemed the brother she’d hoped would offer solace was, in fact, a source of added distress.
As the carriage continued its journey through the city, Anna’s mood mirrored the somber reality that awaited her. The stark contrast between the opulence of London’s high society and her own impending financial ruin weighed heavily on her heart. However, in her reflection on the carriage window, Anna found resilience mingled with a determination to navigate the tumultuous path that lay ahead, as she hoped the solution to her woes would come to her during Lady Pentor’s evening gala.
The carriage soon came to a gentle halt in front of Lady Pentor’s imposing London townhouse, its grandeur illuminated by the warm glow of lanterns lining the entrance. Anna, a portrait of composure despite the storm raging within, took a steadying breath. The soft rustle of her gown whispered tales of determination as she stepped onto the gaslit pavement.
The imposing façade of the townhouse seemed to echo with the murmurs of London’s social hierarchy, each step on the polished marble staircase resonating with the weight of Anna’s purpose. As she ascended the grand entrance, she cast a contemplative gaze over the gathering. The opulent setting, adorned with crystal chandeliers and gilded furnishings, formed a stark contrast to the financial abyss that loomed over her. She had never felt more detached from the ton, yet, within this realm of privilege and extravagance, she hoped to find a lifeline.
Even amid the swirling gowns and refined conversations, Anna found her thoughts remained tethered to the fate of her late husband’s estate and the devoted staff who had become an extension of her family. The urgency of her situation lent a subtle urgency to her movements as she navigated through the maze of silk and satin, in search of Lady Pentor.
Finally, Anna noticed her. Lady Angelica Pentor, a vision of refined elegance, wove through the crowd with an air of joviality that matched her plump cheeks and generous curves. Her gown, a luxurious creation of delicate silk and lace, swirled gracefully around her as she approached Anna. The shimmering fabric was adorned with intricate embroidery and spoke of Lady Pentor’s penchant for the finer things in life.
Her countenance was marked by a pair of twinkling eyes that sparkled with mirth, revealing an affinity for gossip and a zest for the intricacies of London society. The plumpness of her cheeks only added to the warmth of her presence, and her smile, ever ready, hinted at a nature both amiable and shrewd.
As Lady Pentor reached Anna, she extended a hand heavy with glittering jewels, offering a warm and cordial greeting. Her voice, a melodious blend of charm and mischief, welcomed Anna into the folds of the gathering.
“Anna, my dear, how lovely it is to see you here.” Lady Pentor’s words, laced with a touch of curiosity, hinted at the insatiable appetite for gossip that endeared her to the upper echelons of society. Her eyes, gleaming with friendly interest, invited Anna to share in the camaraderie of the soiree, where secrets were traded like precious gems amid the glittering chandeliers.
“It is my pleasure to be here, Lady Pentor,” Anna replied cordially. “I don’t know how, but you manage to outdo yourself every year.”
“Oh, you little flatterer you!” Lady Pentor giggled, her cheeks turning an even darker shade of crimson. “To be quite honest, I was afraid you wouldn’t make it. After all, with everything that has happened, I also would not be in any particular mood for balls and parties…”
Lady Pentor’s voice slowly trailed off as Anna noticed something—that is, someone. She could not help but cast furtive glances toward the enigmatic figure standing by the fireplace. The lively flicker of the flames illuminated the man’s tall frame, accentuating the commanding presence that set him apart from the mirthful revelry around him. His demeanor, a portrait of melancholy in the midst of celebration, seemed to draw Anna like a moth to a flame.
The man’s dark, tousled hair framed a face chiseled with a quiet intensity, and his piercing blue eyes held a depth that hinted at untold stories. A subtle scruff on his jaw only added to the rugged allure that contrasted with the refined setting of Lady Pentor’s gathering.
While the room buzzed with animated conversations and laughter, the mysterious gentleman remained an island of brooding contemplation. Anna, despite the distractions of the soirée, found her attention repeatedly drawn back to him, as if an invisible thread connected their gazes across the expanse of the opulent room.
As Lady Pentor guided her through the social intricacies of the gathering, Anna could not shake the magnetic pull of the mysterious man. Intrigued by the enigma he presented, she wondered about the stories that lingered beneath the surface of his stoic countenance.
“…and that is why I was thinking that I could simply go ahead and do it. Don’t you agree?” Lady Pentor concluded her little monologue with a question, and Anna realized, much to her dismay, that she had absolutely no idea what the woman was talking about.
“Oh… yes, I certainly agree.” Anna smiled a little nervously, looking about. “You are one of the most intelligent women I have had the fortune of knowing, Lady Pentor. Your decisions are always well thought through.” It was an utterly vague response that offered nothing of value, but Lady Pentor seemed pleased with it.
“You are most kind to notice, Anna.” Lady Pentor beamed.
“But I am taking away far too much of your precious hosting time, Lady Pentor.” Anna pretended to suddenly remember. “I am certain there are so many people here in attendance wishing for the privilege to speak to you, and I am taking up their time.”
“Kind and thoughtful,” Lady Pentor pointed out with a smile. “Your husband, God rest his soul, was a fortunate man.” Then she gasped, pressing her hand to her lips. “Oh, I didn’t mean that as it sounded, my dear. Honestly, I did not! I just meant he was fortunate to have found someone as lovely as yourself, but in every other aspect, he was not really fortunate… Oh my, I have made a mess of this conversation, haven’t I?”
Anna smiled back at her. “I know exactly what you meant, Lady Pentor. Thank you for your kind words.”
“Oh, my dear.” Lady Pentor shook her head at Anna. “What on earth will happen to you, without a husband?”
Obviously, Lady Pentor considered the loss of a husband the most tragic event in the life of a woman. If that particular husband was loved beyond words, Anna might agree.
“I will be fine,” Anna assured her, although she herself was not all that certain of it.
Fortunately, a moment later, someone called out to Lady Pentor and she excused herself, leaving Anna alone in a crowd of people she didn’t want to be around. As she continued to navigate the social intricacies of Lady Pentor’s gathering, the mysterious gentleman’s enigmatic charm seemed to cast an unexpected spell on her. The mundane pursuit of financial solutions faded into the background, replaced by a flutter of emotion that took her by surprise.
The allure of the stranger, with his commanding presence and brooding charisma, stirred a long-forgotten awakening within her. Inappropriate yet undeniable, sensual thoughts danced on the edges of her consciousness. Caught in the delicate dance of societal expectations, Anna couldn’t ignore the magnetism that drew her gaze back to the mysterious man. His mere presence seemed to kindle a flame of desire, awakening sensations that had long been dormant within her. The gathering, initially a quest for financial reprieve, now became an unexpected journey into the uncharted territories of passion and longing.
She forced herself to tear her gaze away from him as she went for a drink, in hopes that it might steady both her nerves and her fluttering heart. Unfortunately, a simple lemonade did not have nearly as much potency to do either of those two things.
Chapter Two
Alexander Hastings, the Duke of Blackthorne, was accustomed to the grandeur of London’s social gatherings. After all, he had been quite the eligible bachelor of the ton, but all the ladies knew better than to have their eye on him, for he had proven time and time again that his focus was solely his title, his wealth, and his vast properties. It seemed that if one wished for solitude away from the bustle of busy life, one was considered utterly mad, and as such, would have rumors swarming around their name, which simultaneously sullied it.
Alexander knew well that balls were not only places of marital arrangements, but mostly business connections. That was why he was never interested in women there, but rather, the men. That evening, however, Alexander found himself inexplicably captivated by a woman who stood out amid the vibrant soirée. She moved with a willowy grace, her every step an echo of elegance that commanded attention.
Her chestnut brown hair, arranged in loose curls that framed her face, accentuated the striking color of her eyes—an entrancing shade of emerald green that held a depth of mystery. The air around her seemed to shimmer with a certain allure, drawing his gaze to her, making everyone else in the room completely invisible.
However, what set her apart in a most intriguing way was her distinctive limp. In a room where perfection was often sought and expected, her unique characteristic became a beacon of individuality. Far from being a flaw, the imperfection added to her allure, creating an air of authenticity that stood out against the polished façade of societal expectations.
Just as he was about to set out to find Lady Pentor and ask to be introduced to the mysterious lady, he felt someone tugging at his upper arm—a custom befitting such a gathering, but one that he particularly disliked.
“Your Grace.” A young man by the name of Wesley, whom Alexander knew briefly, approached him apologetically. “Would you kindly join our game of cards? We like to think of ourselves as high-stakes players, but we’ve never played with someone like you at the table. It would be quite an honor for us.”
Alexander cast a quick glance at the mahogany table. He recognized two young men, whose fathers already owed him money. But he was too much of a gentleman to mention such a thing in front of everyone. Truth be told, he was in no mood for cards now. He wanted to speak to the mysterious woman, who… he only noticed now still had her eyes on him, as if waiting to see what his next move was. It titillated him beyond measure to know he had also managed to capture her attention. He wanted to prove himself to her, if as nothing else than as a good card player. The rest would, hopefully, follow.
“All right.” He nodded, agreeing to the proposition. “I shall join you for one game.”
“Splendid!” the young, freckled man exclaimed, throwing a casual nod at the other players, who seemed equally overjoyed to have him at their table.
Within minutes, they were all seated at the mahogany table, adorned with flickering candles and fine crystal glassware. That was to become their stage for this clandestine dance of chance. For that was what it truly was, according to Alexander. A game of chance. A game of luck. But also, a game of character. A player needed to recognize subtle cues that were plainly written on the faces of the other players, and most importantly, one needed to know when to rise from the table and admit defeat, even at the cost of some coin. It was this moment of realization that separated the real men from spineless weaklings who would push their luck until there was nothing left, not even their dignity.
On this particular occasion, the players were a mix of aristocrats as well as seasoned gamblers, who were now eyeing one another with a combination of camaraderie and rivalry. Alexander, well-versed in the subtleties of both the game and the social intricacies it often entailed, maintained a composed exterior. He knew his piercing blue eyes betrayed none of the thoughts that churned beneath the surface.
As the cards were dealt, a hushed tension settled over the room. The rhythmic shuffle and the crisp snap of cards echoed in the space, punctuating the subdued conversations that lingered in the air. Alexander didn’t take much part in these conversations, though. Only when a question was directly aimed at him. Instead, he focused on the game. His nimble fingers deftly manipulated the cards, a testament to the countless hours spent honing his skills in such clandestine pursuits.
The game unfolded with an ebb and flow of fortunes, each player revealing glimpses of their strategies with every subtle glance and measured bet. They didn’t even know that, wordlessly, they told Alexander everything he needed to know. The tension heightened as the stakes grew, and the duke found himself silently calculating the odds, a strategist in the midst of an intricate chess match.
With a calculated bluff, he strategically raised the bet, causing a ripple of reactions among his opponents, shock etched on their faces. He’d caught them off guard, just as he had planned. His opponents hesitated, glancing at their dwindling stacks of chips. It was in this moment of uncertainty that Alexander subtly revealed the strength of his hand.
The final card was laid on the table, and a silence fell over the room as each player assessed their fate. Alexander’s steady gaze surveyed the tableau, maintaining an impassive expression that belied the excitement that pulsed beneath the surface. With a measured confidence, he revealed his cards, showcasing a winning hand that left his adversaries in awe.
The mysterious woman, who had been observing the game with a quiet intensity, met Alexander’s gaze. Her emerald eyes held a spark of admiration, and in that unspoken exchange, a subtle connection was forged. The victory at the card table was not just about chips and wagers; it was a prelude to a deeper game, one that unfolded in the hidden corners of glances and stories yet to be exchanged. He knew she wanted to speak to him, but the social intricacies they were forced to follow kept them apart… at least, for the time being.
Alexander could not wait any longer. His eyes searched the room for Lady Pentor, and when he finally found her, he headed straight toward her. He patiently waited for her to finish her conversation with an elderly couple, then right as she turned around, he was before her, ready to present her with his request.
“Oh, Your Grace! You startled me! I wasn’t expecting anyone directly behind me.” She chuckled, pressing her hand to her burgeoning chest, which had been a little too tightly pressed in her gown. Then, without allowing him to say anything first, she continued. “I hope you are finding this evening’s festivities to your liking?”
Alexander replied with a faint but polite smile. “Lady Pentor, your gatherings are always a source of intrigue and enjoyment. But tonight, I—”
“Goodness me!” she interrupted him jovially. “It seems compliments are pouring on me this evening!”
“Rightfully so.” He bowed his head as he spoke, ignoring the fact that she had interrupted him. “But I come to you with a small request.”
Her lips parted in a silent shock. “What is it I may assist you with, Your Grace?” she asked, hope for some gossip flickering in her eyes.
Once he told her what he needed of her, the news would spread through the ton like the plague by the following day. Not only that, but they might also add this mysterious lady to the endless list of ladies they claimed he had chosen at balls similar to this one, then taken home for…
He frowned at the very thought. It was tasteless beyond compare. But he couldn’t care what the ton thought of him. Whether they thought him a man who lived for his work or a man who indulged in his most beastly instincts during the night, he didn’t care one bit. He did care, however, that the reputation of the lady in question would not be tarnished by his desire to meet her. Still, the yearning to meet her won over anything else. He had to know her name. He had to know more about her, anything she was willing to share.
He noticed only now that Lady Pentor was still waiting to hear his request. He quickly cleared his throat.
“There is a certain lady here in attendance that I have not been yet acquainted with.” He spoke calmly, refusing to acknowledge the hastening of his heartbeat. “My humble request is for you to introduce us.”
“Why, of course!” She waved her hand dismissively at him. “And here I was, thinking what this request could be!” She chuckled at her own words, looking around her. “Who is it, Your Grace?”
He leaned closer to her, not wanting anyone to overhear them. “The lovely lady with the limp.”
“Anna?” Lady Pentor’s eyes widened in surprise.
He was certain there was only one lady with a limp in attendance that evening, but he didn’t say any such thing. In fact, it was already rude of him to have referred to her in such a way, but this was the quickest way of separating her from all the other ladies who were there that evening. Alexander had already lost enough time, and he refused to waste any more by having to explain in any other terms.
“I suppose it is her.” He nodded. “You should know.”
“It can only be Anna.” She hastily nodded, looking about and finding the woman in question, who had huddled into one of the most secluded corners of the ballroom. “I see that she is keeping herself out of sight.”
Out of sight, but not out of mind, Alexander thought as Lady Pentor locked arms with him and started guiding him toward the lady in question.
As they navigated their way through the crowd of chattering people, his steps mirrored the quickened rhythm of his heartbeat. He had always considered himself a man accustomed to navigating the refined intricacies of high society with stoic composure, but now he found himself in the uncharted territory of nervous anticipation.
An air of excitement mingled with the nerves that fluttered in his chest. The dim glow of chandeliers overhead cast a warm illumination on the grandeur of the ballroom, where laughter and music intertwined in a dance of opulence. Yet, amid the splendor, the elusive presence of the mysterious woman held his attention.
“The lady you seek is just ahead.” Lady Pentor, obviously attuned to the subtleties of such encounters, observed his demeanor with a knowing glint in her eyes, which he immediately recognized.
As they approached, the mysterious woman turned toward them, her eyes meeting Alexander’s with a curiosity that mirrored his own. The emerald green of her gaze seemed to hold the promise of secrets waiting to be unveiled.
Alexander, for a moment, felt the weight of his title and the expectations that accompanied it. Yet the thrill of the unknown and the prospect of encountering someone genuinely intriguing eclipsed any reservations. He was impatient, like a small child, eager and curious. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this way about anyone. Perhaps never.
Lady Pentor executed the introduction with practiced finesse, seamlessly blending formality with a touch of playfulness.
“Duke Alexander Blackthorne, may I present Lady Anna Ravenscroft,” Lady Pentor announced, allowing the two to exchange polite nods, clearly proud that she had brought them together almost as if it was her own idea.
Alexander, usually reserved and composed, found himself momentarily at a loss for words. The chatter around him seemed to fade into the background. Only the woman’s name echoed inside his mind.
Lady Ravenscroft… it can’t be. It can’t be… He kept repeating inside his mind over and over again, but he knew Lady Pentor would never make the mistake of misidentifying someone.
No. This was truly his wife. And Alexander had no idea how to react to this sudden and unexpected realization.
“A Duke’s Sinful Bargain” is an Amazon Best-Selling novel, check it out here!
Lady Anna Ravenscroft, an unloved wife and now a widow, faces the aftermath of her late husband’s gambling debts. Fate’s unexpected turn though, brings her close to the man the dept has to be paid off, a notorious duke, known for his mysterious life and rumored wickedness. Desperate to escape her financial burden, Anna proposes a scandalous bargain; three months of clandestine companionship as his mistress.
Yet, the allure of sin proves irresistible…
Alexander Hastings, the Duke of Blackthorn, finds himself burdened by false rumors staining his reputation. Despite his respected lineage, he must now find a way to clear his name, and when Anna appears with a tempting offer, he grabs the chance. Yet, their first encounter instantly captivates him, and soon, desire turns to love, blurring the lines between their scheme and reality.
Can this secret affair restore his reputation or lead to further ruin?
As Anna and Alexander dive into a sea of burning desire and deceit, their forbidden love deepens. However, a dark figure from their past emerges, threatening to expose their secrets and shatter their lives. Will their flaming romance withstand the storm, or will it crumble under the weight of society’s judgment? Can the two lovers’ bargain mark the beginning of a new life or will it be their eternal doom?
“A Duke’s Sinful Bargain” is a historical romance novel of approximately 80,000 words. No cheating, no cliffhangers, and a guaranteed happily ever after.
Hello my dear readers. I hope you enjoyed this sneak peek! I will be waiting for your comments below. Thank you so much! 🙂