Marquess of Fortune: Lords of Scandal Read online

  MARQUESS OF FORTUNE

  LORDS OF SCANDAL

  BOOK 22

  TAMMY ANDRESEN

  Copyright © 2022 by Tammy Andresen

  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.

  Created with Vellum

  LORDS OF TEMPTATION

  Marquess of Fortune marks the end of the Lords of Scandal series. For any reader that has read along with me for the entire series, I love you. In all seriousness, I know you have a lot of choices and the fact that you’ve chosen me makes me feel humble and blessed.

  * * *

  If you are picking up Marquess of Fortune and haven’t read any of the others, don’t worry! Each of these is a stand alone and can be read all by its lonesome.

  * * *

  But either way, you’re going to meet the Smith family and even though this is the end of the Lords of Scandal, it’s not the end end. Coming in 2023 is the all new series, the Lords of Temptation. A spin off series, you’ll meet a whole new cast and see some of your favorites from past Lords of Scandal books!

  * * *

  And thank you again for reading.

  * * *

  All my love,

  Tammy

  CONTENTS

  Marquess of Fortune

  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

  Note to readers:

  A Bet with a Baron

  Other Titles by Tammy

  About the Author

  MARQUESS OF FORTUNE

  A spy, a liar, and a fraud, he’s no woman’s dream hero…

  * * *

  Lord Smith, known to his friends as Ace, has so many secrets, it’s only a matter of time before his house of cards comes crashing down. His one goal is to secure his family’s future by financing their gaming hell, Hell’s Corner, before he’s exposed. Which is why he can’t afford to feel anything for the lovely Miss Emily Boxby. Especially not when he’s trying to convince her brother to become his partner. But when trouble comes to call at Emily’s door, thanks in part to his past, Ace throws his reservations to the side. He might not have a future of his own, but he’ll see that Emily does, no matter the cost to himself.

  * * *

  One look into the dark depths of Lord Smith’s eyes, and Emily is smitten. Perhaps that’s why she trusts him even though she knows his past. Or maybe it’s because she’s always seen the good at his very core, carefully hidden behind his dark facade. But is that knowledge enough to overcome the forces at work around them?

  * * *

  Can they build a future from the ashes of his past?

  * * *

  This is a bridge novella that both completes this round of the “Lords of Scandal” series and introduces the spinoff series the “Lords of Temptation!” I hope you enjoy these rough-around-the-edges lords! The first book, A Bet with a Baron, will release in January 2023…

  CHAPTER ONE

  Some men considered themselves honorable, brave, perhaps even kind… Ace was none of those men.

  He was a spy.

  The label wasn’t entirely accurate. Far worse than just a spy, he could add imposter to his list of transgressions. Criminally so.

  Liar. Most definitely. He could hardly keep track of them all.

  Bastard. His father, the Earl of Easton, had sired Ace with his mistress.

  Murderer, a definite possibility. He’d fired too many shots to count.

  Was there a crime he hadn’t committed? He rubbed the dark stubble on his chin as he considered.

  He hadn’t stolen from the crown.

  And piracy…he’d not pillaged any boats at sea. That meant he wasn’t entirely bad, was he?

  The crimes he had committed, he’d done them all to protect his family. That had to count for something didn’t it?

  But needless to say, he didn’t count himself among the good men. The ones who woke up and made the right choices, and deserved shiny futures and happily-ever-afters. Not that he believed anyone got that. But some people were content enough with their lives.

  The most Ace could hope for was that he’d be able to secure his siblings’ futures, all six of them, before he died or rotted in prison.

  Caring for his siblings would be enough to consider his existence worth living. He didn’t need marriage and who wanted to populate the world with more children anyhow? He had enough people to provide for as it was. He’d take care of them all somehow…

  But the task proved rather difficult.

  He sighed as a rush of dancers swirled by, their merry laughter at odds with his current mood.

  It was a ball. Clearly, he was the one who was out of step. Literally. Standing against the wall brooding was not in keeping with the general air of merriment.

  But he’d only come because his brothers had asked him too. As the oldest of the Smith brood, and the one who’d falsified family documents to make himself a lord of the realm, a hanging offense if he was caught, he’d come here on behalf of his family. His task, to convince a duke and a baron to become partners in his family’s gaming hell, Hell’s Corner.

  He let out a growling noise of irritation, even thinking about that damnable club.

  Hell’s Corner had made his life infinitely more complicated. The damn place was supposed to have been a solution. Not another headache.

  “How do you make that noise?” a soft voice asked to his right. High and feminine the sound skittered over his skin like a shiver.

  When had he ever reacted like that to the sound of a woman’s voice? It was odd and entirely unwanted. The last thing he needed in his life was another complication.

  He pushed off the wall, determined not even to look at the woman whose voice had managed to cause such havoc. He turned and started moving away.

  “Apologies,” her breathy reply stopped his feet again. “I didn’t mean to offend.”

  He let out a rumbling protest because he knew he’d been rude, and some decency deep within him demanded that he behave with a bit of social grace, even as his feet executed a sharp rotation back toward the female in question.

  He didn’t wish to see her.

  He had no room in his life for any more problems and women, especially the type who would be at this party, rich and aristocratic, were always trouble.

  But as he turned, he momentarily forgot his hesitation as his gaze met with wide, warm brown eyes fringed with dark lashes.

  A pert little nose, full pink lips, and a pile of brown hair atop her head rounded out the vulnerable beauty that had stopped to speak with him.

  “You did not offend,” he answered, pulling his spine straighter and reminding himself that her company was unwelcome. “I simply don’t wish for idle conversation. Hence why I was standing alone.”

  She cast her gaze down, her ridiculously long lashes casting over her cheeks that heated with a charming shade of pink. “Of course.” She bobbed a quick curtsy, her delicate hands lifting out her skirts as she did. “I just thought…” But then she stopped. “Forgive me. Enjoy your evening.”

  And then she turned, her hair glimmering in the candlelight.
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  Which drew his eye to the slender column of her neck, the narrow set of her shoulders, and her tiny waist, highlighted by the band around her high-waisted gown. The pale pink silk caught the light as she began to retreat.

  He’d never seen a woman who so immediately captured his attention. Both beautiful and vulnerable, he knew he should walk away as well. He’d started to…

  “What’s your name?” He’d spent enough time with the ton to know he shouldn’t ask. A formal introduction was the only way to meet a woman like her. Though to be fair, she shouldn’t have spoken to him either. Which led him to the question why she had spoken to him at all, and perhaps even more puzzling, why he called her back again. The request was beyond foolish.

  She stopped and spun back to him, the blush still infusing her cheeks. “Miss Emily Cross.”

  “Miss Cross.” He arched a brow, stepping closer. “Pleasure.”

  “And you, Lord Smith.”

  That made him pause. While he occasionally socialized, he rarely stepped out in society. He’d purchased the title for the express purpose of conducting business, not indulging in social events. “How do you know my name?”

  She flushed even pinker, her chest rising and falling rapidly, which honestly had its merits. But he focused instead on the woman who knew him when she shouldn’t. “I know your sister. Mirabelle.”

  Mirabelle? The elder of his two sisters, she was generally shy and quiet. And a bastard. Which meant, there was very little reason for any woman who would be attending the Spencers’ Summer Soiree to know his sister. “How do you know my sister?”

  She visibly swallowed, taking a half step back. “We volunteer together at the orphanage on Mondays.”

  He took a step forward and then another. Because that did not explain what she knew and did not know about his family and its wealth of secrets. His sisters didn’t have friends outside each other and neither did his brothers. It was a rule they all adhered to in order to make the burden of such knowledge easier.

  It had never been much trouble for him with so many brothers about, but he’d often wondered if it was harder for the girls. There were only two of them. Still, Mirabelle knew the rule and she’d clearly broken it. What had his dear sister shared with the lovely Miss Cross? Did the beautiful young lady know about his fake title and how he’d acquired it? Information like that would see him to the gallows. “Miss Cross, I’m afraid you’re going to have to give me more information than that.”

  “I thought you didn’t wish to converse?” she said, then slid back a bit further.

  “No. I said I didn’t care for idle conversation and this is anything but.” And then he closed the distance between them, placing a firm hand under her elbow. With a deft turn, he started skirting the dancers as though he were taking her out to the courtyard.

  But at the last moment, instead of stepping outside with several other partygoers who enjoyed the crisp fall air, he ducked them down a quiet hall, likely used by the servants.

  Which meant they’d not be alone for long.

  He’d have to use his time very wisely to discover what the pretty Miss Cross understood about his family’s situation.

  The secrets she might know could send him to the Tower, or worse, the gallows.

  Emily swallowed down a lump as she stared up at the handsomely intimidating lord.

  This was why she hardly spoke to anyone outside her family. Inevitably, the exact wrong words tumbled from her lips.

  His dark eyes were narrowed as he stared back, his square jaw hard as granite. His hair was impeccably combed back from his face, his clothing equally perfect, which only added to his air of power and control.

  She swallowed again. “My lord, we should not be here.”

  Somehow, his jaw further hardened. “What has my sister said to you?”

  Oh. That.

  A great deal actually.

  Emily should have known to keep her mouth closed. She had a habit of saying the very thing that might upset a person most.

  She didn’t mean to, it just always came out that way.

  And she’d heard so much about Lord Smith. Even seen him on a few occasions when he’d come to collect Mirabelle at the orphanage. Caught sight of his broad shoulders and strong stance through the window of the front room that the orphanage used for any visitors who might come calling.

  He captured her attention every time she’d seen him from afar and she’d just…

  She was in awe of him. She could barely manage the glittering world of the peerage and she’d grown up in it. How was he able to pretend to be something he had not been trained to be? And he did it so convincingly…

  She knew he was a bastard.

  Knew that his father, the earl, had helped him to procure documents from France to fake his lordship. They claimed he was the second son of a northern reclusive marquess. At least that’s what Emily thought she remembered.

  Knew that he used that false identity to provide for his four brothers and two sisters.

  Knew that he held up the world around the Smith family without ever muttering a word of complaint or appearing to strain at all. At least according to Mirabelle.

  That sort of strength stole Emily’s breath and so when she’d seen him standing alone she’d just…

  She’d wanted to meet him.

  He stirred something in her that she was desperate to learn more about. Because, whatever those feelings were, they were the path to lead her to a real future. One where she might find a husband and cease to be an outcast.

  She longed to leave behind the marriage mart where she was a failure and settle into a life as someone’s wife. Caring for another, that was one place she hoped to be a success.

  “You will tell me everything that Mirabelle has said about us, not leaving out a single detail.”

  She widened her eyes as she stared up at him. “Are you certain? That would take an excessive amount of time…”

  He let out another rumble, remarkably like the first one she’d heard him make.

  The sound conveyed strength, male will, and a certain disregard for others that fascinated Emily. She cared a great deal what others thought. Always.

  She looked around. Any moment now, some servant or other would come down this hall and find them alone. “All right. If you insist.” And she opened her mouth to begin.

  But a noise down on the back stairs that surely led to the kitchen had them both looking up. With quick and decisive moves, his hand came to her elbow again as he guided her back out into the party.

  She’d not wished to come.

  To the soiree, that is. Her brother, the Baron of Boxby, had insisted that it would be good for her. As though her failures over the past two seasons would somehow be erased if she just tried again.

  She’d had a few suitors. She was pretty enough. And as her brother was fond of saying, she had a good heart. But in these sorts of interactions, she tended to either be too quiet or say far too much. Exactly like now with Lord Smith. Or the men who’d been interested in her, hadn’t really…suited.

  Lord Smith’s long, lean fingers on her elbow sent tingling sensations coursing through her. That was how a man should make a woman feel, wasn’t it?

  Not that he’d be interested in her. She didn’t have that posh sophistication that handsome men enjoyed. And she shouldn’t feel anything about him, not knowing what she knew about his past. His family. She didn’t care that he was a bastard. It was a man’s deeds that defined him, in her opinion, and this was a man who valued family and who used his strength to support them.

  But as his fingers tightened, her heart did the strangest flop in her chest.

  He started across the ballroom, guiding her along with him. “Where are we going?” she asked, trying to decide if she should be frightened or elated by this turn of events. It wasn’t often she was swept away in such a tide of male…prowess.

  “To find a more private place to speak,” he muttered back.

  “Oh no.” S
he planted her feet, bringing them both to a stop. “I’m afraid I can’t allow that.”

  “And I’m afraid that you don’t have a choice.”

  But as she opened her mouth to explain that her brother had the power and the right to insist upon marriage should they be caught alone, her brother’s voice rang out behind her.

  “Emily?”

  Her lips snapped shut as blood rushed in her ears.

  Lord Smith looked down at her, his own mouth pressing into a firm line as his fingers tightened at her elbow. And then they were deftly turning toward her brother.

  “My brother. Lord Boxby,” she muttered to Lord Smith under her breath meeting her brother’s gaze with a weak smile.

  “Your brother is Baron Boxby?”

  She didn’t have time to confirm his question before her brother was upon them, two of his friends just behind.

  The Duke of Upton and the Earl of Somersworth. Both men had placed dances on her card, but neither were the least bit interested in her. They’d asked her as a favor to her brother. Was that how her brother intended to turn around her fortunes this season? She hated being the object of their pity.

  “Emily,” her brother repeated, his gaze flitting to Lord Smith. “Where are you off to?”

  Her mouth opened but no words came out. How did she even begin to explain?

  Lord Smith, his hand slipping from her elbow, bowed. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lord Boxby. I am Lord Smith.”