A Season for Treason Read online

  A Season for Treason

  Golden Angel

  Copyright © 2020 by Golden Angel

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Cover art by Eris Adderly

  Edited by MJ Edits and Personal Touch Editing

  Formatted by Raisa Greywood

  Thank you so much for picking up my book!

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  Acknowledgments

  I am so lucky to have wonderful beta readers, and I know it. Katherine, Candida, Marie, Annie, Karen, Marta, and Sir Nick: thank you all so much for your continued support and help with these books! They are always made better for your contributions.

  I need to give an extra special thank you to Annie for this one. She rightfully pointed out where she thought my beginning really needed some extra work. If you enjoy the first chapter of this book, you can thank her for telling me I needed to fix it (because I did and I like it so much better now).

  And, as always, a shoutout to my ever patient and supportive husband, who makes it possible for me to keep on writing.

  Take care and stay sassy,

  Angel

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Other Titles by Golden Angel

  Prologue

  Mary - One Year Earlier

  Debutantes were supposed to avoid rakes at all costs.

  It was not a hard and fast rule, but the debutante who ignored the social guideline did so at her own risk.

  Mary was not a risk-taker. She never had been. She left the risk-taking to her parents, who were consummate travelers and happiest when exploring uncharted territory and facing unknown dangers. Of course, she had no firsthand knowledge of their preferences, but she gleaned it from the many letters they had sent her over the years and listening to their conversations during the occasional visit.

  There were three people in the world who she relied upon completely. She had recently received a letter from one Eveline Stuart, requesting Mary learn everything she could about the Marquess of Hartford. Mary did not question the appeal—rather, she did not wait for an answer after sending her own letter back to Evie—but immediately began to investigate the Marquess.

  Gossip was easy to come by, viable information much less so, and an actual encounter was nearly impossible… until the Somerset ball.

  Walking on her cousin Thomas Hood’s arm, Mary was surprised—and a tad shocked—to see one of her acquaintances standing with the Marquess of Hartford. Lady Arabella Windham was one of the very few people Mary had met in London she would consider a friend. She was also a debutante and the sister of a duke, so what the devil was she doing with a man whose mere presence could tarnish her reputation? Being the sister of a duke gave her greater leeway than other debutantes, but there were still limits.

  Even if Mary had not been curious about the pairing, she still would have attempted to direct her cousin that way. Especially when she realized he was eying a small group of ladies who were definitely not friendly. She knew Thomas was considering Lady Winifred Bellmont as a possible wife. It was her duty, as his cousin, to save him from himself. Really, she was killing two birds with one stone.

  “Look, there’s Lady Arabella,” she said, tugging gently on Thomas’ arm to gain his attention. His head swung around, the expression on his face turning disapproving.

  It was all Mary could do to keep her eyes from rolling upward. Thomas’ taste in women was extremely poor, in her opinion. Lady Arabella was kind, warm, and entertaining—the very opposite of Lady Winifred.

  But Arabella was not her true target. Her true target was the man standing next to her. Tall, broad-shouldered, and so handsome, almost too beautiful for words, the Marquess’ tawny hair and amber-gold eyes made her think of a lion. Which made the nickname she’d overheard one man use even more appropriate—Rex.

  The King.

  Not the actual King, of course, but the moniker suited him. Never mind he was something like eighteenth in line for the throne. He acted as if he was the ultimate authority wherever he went. Mary wondered what it was like to have that kind of arrogant confidence. Even more annoyingly, it did not detract from his appeal one whit.

  Thomas had not moved from his spot, but it did not matter. The Marquess and Lady Arabella were coming closer while Thomas appeared to be lost in his own thoughts, more interested in the ton’s reactions to the couple than in their approach. Mary wondered if Thomas would ever realize his trenchant disapproval of Lady Arabella stemmed from his attraction to her. Unlikely. Stubborn ass.

  Well, she would do what she could for him, but in the meantime…

  “Hello, Lady Arabella,” Mary said as the couple came within earshot.

  Lady Arabella’s warm brown eyes widened, and she hesitated, but she covered her pause quickly.

  “Good evening, Mary,” she said, smiling sincerely. There were so few sincere smiles among the ton, seeing one was always refreshing. Mary smiled back. “Have you just arrived?”

  Well, blast.

  Rather than introducing Mary, Lady Arabella was ignoring both gentlemen as if they were not there at all. Which was likely beneficial for Mary’s reputation with the ton, but not very helpful when it came to Evie’s request. If she could not gain an introduction to Hartford, she would not be able to speak with him without ruining her reputation completely.

  The social strictures of Society were extremely frustrating sometimes.

  “Not long ago,” Mary replied glibly, covering her disappointment. “It was a bit of a crush coming in.”

  The familiar patter of social chatter was easy to fall into, allowing Mary to examine Hartford in her immediate proximity rather than from afar. This close, he was even more disturbing to her senses, as if he were a lodestone and she a compass, she kept peeking glances at him.

  He was as beautiful as a fallen angel, golden and dangerous all at once. Gossip said he was the head of a debauched society supposedly even more secret and perverse than the Hellfire Club. It was so secret, no matter how she listened, she had never been able to even learn the name of it or any member other than Hartford, who apparently cared very little if people knew he was drenched in depravity. Supposedly, he had a score of mistresses tucked away around London, including a duchess, and had fought more duels than any other man in Society, never losing.

  When his head tilted and their eyes met, his amber-gold gaze seemed to pierce her, as though he looked past her exterior, right into her soul… as though he truly s
aw her. No one saw Mary. Not unless she showed herself to them. She was the ultimate wallflower, able to go unnoticed by entire throngs of people, vanishing into the background as if she did not actually exist. When Hartford looked at her, she felt suddenly exposed and very vulnerable.

  His gaze moved on, ending the moment but leaving her rattled enough to be thankful for Thomas’ interruption since she had completely lost track of what Lady Arabella was saying.

  “Where are your brothers?” Thomas’ aggrieved tones announced his belief they must have lost track of their sister for her to be in such company.

  While she was grateful, she did not have to respond to whatever Arabella had been saying, Mary had to stifle the urge to step on her cousin’s foot or comfort him. The man truly did not know how to handle his emotions when it came to Lady Arabella and was completely oblivious why the lady overset him so easily.

  The twit.

  “I believe they’re by the refreshments,” Lady Arabella responded tartly.

  Before Thomas could respond, the violins sounded, and Lady Arabella brightened, turning her head to smile up at Hartford. The large, beautiful man smiled back down at her, and Mary was struck by a sudden, unexpected bolt of envy.

  “My dance, I believe,” Hartford said smugly.

  “You believe correctly.” The look Arabella bestowed upon him was full of flirtation before she turned back to Mary. “It was lovely to see you again, Mary. I hope we can speak more later this evening.”

  Thomas and Mary watched the couple head to the dance floor. Mary sighed inwardly. They did make a handsome couple. If her cousin did not get his head out of his arse soon, it was likely he would end up with a woman who was very poorly matched to him.

  She glanced up at Thomas, who was still glaring after the retreating pair.

  Time to get back to work.

  “Thomas? What’s wrong?” She pushed worry into her voice and eyes, pulling his attention back to her before anyone noticed how he was looking at the Marquess and Lady Arabella. Thomas was a protector, first and foremost, which made him rather easy to manipulate. He would not want to burden Mary with his troubles, and therefore, he would push them aside and return to his duty.

  “Nothing,” he said tersely. “Come, I want to speak with Isaac, then we can find you someone to dance with.”

  Someone who Thomas approved of. Mary made a face. Thomas’ taste in men was not any better than his taste in women.

  Although considering Mary’s reaction to the Marquess of Hartford and her complete lack of interest in any other gentleman she had met so far, perhaps she should worry it was a family trait.

  Chapter 1

  Mary

  “You are blonde,” Josie said, blinking in surprise as she walked through Mary’s bedroom door. She came to a halt, nearly causing their friend Lily to bump into her from behind. As usual, Josie was wearing her breeches since she had just ridden over and refused to ride sidesaddle, and her hair was coming loose from her coiffure. In contrast, Lily’s demure walking dress covered her from nape to ankle, and her hair was pulled back in its customary tight bun.

  She had not seen them since she left for London’s Season, but two moments in their presence and it was as though they had never been apart. The three of them had been neighbors and had grown up together, eventually adding Evie to their group, and now they were here she truly felt at home. If only Evie were there too, it would be perfect.

  “Well, keep walking,” Lily said irritably, shoving Josie forward. Her arms full of papers, she briskly walked over to Mary’s desk to set them down before turning to peer at Mary. “You are blonder. Or is it just that you were so very red when we last saw you?”

  “She is definitely blonder, although not quite the same shade as me.” Josie went up on her tiptoes, squinting and studying Mary’s hair. “I take it, Mrs. Biggins was finally successful?”

  Mary sighed. The chaperone her parents had left her with for the past few years had very particular opinions on what would make a young woman attractive to a nobleman. When Mary had been presented last Season, Mrs. Biggins had been frantic to fix her strawberry blonde hair and freckled nose. Last year, all she had achieved was to make her hair even darker red than its normal strawberry blonde. This year, Mrs. Biggins was very pleased with her efforts, which had turned Mary’s hair more blonde than strawberry.

  “Of course.” Mary certainly did not care whether or not her hair was a fashionable color. It wasn’t as though she expected anyone to notice her either way. Her sponsor for the Season, her Aunt Elizabeth, had not been bothered, other than to direct the modiste to provide them with hues which would complement her coloring.

  Mary had been staying with her Aunt Elizabeth and Uncle Henry until a week ago. She’d returned to the grange her parents owned when the fourth member of their coterie, Evie, had asked her to. Her last letter had been frustratingly brief, but she had put out the call, and Mary had responded. Josie and Lily had not left the area, neither of them debuting in London, so they had already been on hand. It had only been Mary who had to travel back.

  “It is not a bad hue,” Josie said slowly, walking round Mary to examine her from all sides. “I think I liked the auburn better, though.”

  “Do not let Mrs. Biggins hear you say so,” Mary retorted, her lips starting to curve up in a smile. “Now, come here and give me a hug.”

  Giggling, both of her friends responded to her plea, and they wrapped each other up in a warm embrace that bolstered Mary’s spirits. It was so good to be back with them again.

  “Oh, I missed you this year!” She squeezed them tighter, tears sparking in her eyes, and they returned the embrace.

  Finally, the young women pulled apart, and Mary dashed away her tears. Being part of the Hood family household had been absolutely lovely, but she wasn’t very good at making new friends, and being without her childhood companions had been difficult.

  “Well, you will not miss us much longer,” Lily said. “We are coming to London this year.”

  Mary’s jaw dropped in surprise. “You are? But I thought…” Her voice trailed off.

  Mary was the youngest of her friends at nineteen years of age, so the others were older than the usual run of London debutantes. This was by their own choice, though, as they had never been interested in leaving the countryside.

  Goddaughter of the Duke and Duchess of Frederick, Lily said she preferred to avoid Society if given the choice. She was a self-proclaimed bluestocking who preferred the quiet life of the countryside. Her parents were similarly inclined, her father a respected researcher on medicine—whose experiments had once saved the Duke of Frederick’s life—and her mother an expert botanist whose gardens were renowned among the ton.

  Josie, on the other hand, was the daughter of an English squire and a Marquess’ daughter. Her mother had caused a scandal when she had married beneath her station for love, but most thought the story highly romantic. Like her mother, Josie loved socializing and dancing, but no matter how her mother pushed, she had steadfastly refused to go to London for a Season. Mary thought it likely had something to do with Josie’s neighbors, Evie’s extremely handsome and eligible cousins. No matter how vehemently she denied it, Josie was constantly mooning over the middle brother, Joseph.

  “Evie wants us there,” Lily said in her usual brusque manner, waving off Mary’s surprise. “I wrote to my godmother and told her I was interested in having a Season. One Season.” She rolled her eyes. “The Duchess was thrilled. I leave in two days.” She heaved a great sigh. “Apparently, I need an entirely new wardrobe, and only the modistes on Bruton Street will do.”

  “They are very good,” Mary reassured her. Lily made a face. She did need a new wardrobe. Since she disliked shopping in general, her dresses were years out of fashion. It did not matter here in Derbyshire, but it would in London.

  “Well, I am looking forward to my new wardrobe,” Josie said, tossing her head. A few more tendrils drifted down from her coiffure, which was alread
y lopsided and falling.

  Even in boy’s clothes, with the delicate features of her face, the ample curves of her body, and the honey blonde locks of her hair tumbling down to frame her face, she hardly looked boyish, although she did appear to be the hoyden she was. Her skin was tanned from the outdoors, her nails ragged, and her hands were callused from handling the reins. It was hard to imagine. Unlike Lily, she was the one who enjoyed shopping, fashion, and fripperies.

  While Lily embraced being a bluestocking in every sense of the word, Josie lived to confound expectations.

  “Are you only going for this Season, too?” Mary asked, amused.

  “I suppose it depends on whether I manage to find a husband.” She shrugged nonchalantly.

  Lily rolled her eyes, giving Mary a significant look. “Evie’s cousins are going to London for the Season this year as well.”

  Ah ha. Josie’s sudden enthusiasm for London made more sense. She would not like it if Joseph left for London and came home with a bride.

  “That has nothing to do with it.” Josie crossed her arms over her chest, scowling. “Evie asked me to go to London, so I shall.”

  “For which I am very grateful,” said a teasing voice from the doorway.

  “Evie!” They all squealed her name, turning and pouncing on the final member of their group.

  Mary flung herself at Evie, wrapping her arms around her friend, only to lose her breath when the other two slammed into her from behind. They all hugged and squealed, girlish laughter filling the air. Finally, they were complete again, and Mary’s heart was full of warmth and happiness. She loved her aunt and uncle’s house and her cousins and their wives who were becoming her friends, but it was not the same as being with her best friends. It had been far too long since the four of them were together.