A Dangerous Deception Read online

  A Dangerous Deception

  Volume 1-3

  By L.R. Olson

  Copyright 2016 L.R. Olson

  Published by Smashwords

  www.LROlson.com

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademark status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy or each recipient. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Other Books by L.R. Olson:

  Historical Romance:

  A Dangerous Temptation

  A Dangerous Deception

  New Adult Books:

  The St. Clare Series:

  Seduction: Prequel, Free

  Redemption: Book 1

  Adult Contemporary:

  The Southern Gents Series:

  For Hire: Book 1

  Cover by Harris Channing

  A Dangerous Deception

  Volume One

  Chapter 1

  William

  “I do apologize if I misheard, but did you actually say you’ve never met your fiancé?” Rafe choked dramatically on his drink, always the one to make a scene. “The very woman who will be here within the hour? The woman you’re to marry in four weeks’ time?”

  Amused, I leaned back in my chair and waited for Charles to respond. With the fire warm at my side, and a glass of whiskey in hand, I was content to spend my afternoon listening to our cousin’s excuse. I had a feeling I was watching what would soon become a comedy of errors to make Shakespeare himself proud.

  Charles shrugged. “Why so surprised, Rafe?”

  I took a drink, the alcohol burning welcomingly down my throat. He had a point. Really, there was nothing untoward about a match between strangers. He would marry a woman his father had uncovered, as if she was some ancient buried treasure, for the benefit of the family name. A common occurrence in the ton. Thank heavens I was the third son in my family. No one cared if I married.

  However, being a second son, I could understand why Rafe found the idea appalling. If only our older brother James would marry and have a child already, perhaps Rafe wouldn’t feel such unease. While most spares were eager to take over, and would in fact go to extreme lengths to grasp that power, Rafe reveled in being free from responsibility.

  The fact that James was traipsing around the continent as if he wasn’t the least bit important worried Rafe. God forbid James never married. I slid Rafe a glance. He, as the heir apparent? The man to carry on our family name? The thought was as insane as it was frightening.

  Although polite society had never deemed me nor my brothers of high moral character, they still grudgingly accepted us into their ballrooms. It was amazing what an old lineage and money could get one. They would expect even us to carry on the family name. It was just the way of things.

  “We will marry in a very lavish ceremony, I might add,” Charles said, sipping his port. He really had no concern at all over the fact that he was being forced to bond himself to a stranger. Then again, he was an only child. The sole heir. Which meant he really had never had control over his own life. “Already in the post and all.”

  Rafe sighed. “Trapped then.”

  I couldn’t hold back my grin. Rafe found the idea of marriage to anyone horrifying, let alone someone he’d never met. If James didn’t marry, it would be up to Rafe to settle down. Would he marry, if he must? Would he do his duty? If there was one thing that Rafe hated it was following the rules. More likely he’d be killed in a drunken brawl before he’d settle down. Which meant…dear Lord, I’d be next in line.

  “Oh please, don’t look down your shocked aristocratic nose at me,” Charles continued, brushing an invisible piece of lint from his navy jacket. “It’s all very English. And need I remind you that you’re English as well, even though you drink whiskey, so start acting the part.”

  “Yes, marrying for advantageous reasons,” Rafe murmured, settling on a settee that looked much too fragile to hold his tall, lanky frame. A feminine piece left over from Charlie’s mother, God rest her soul. Like most women who married into our family, she’d been too delicate to last long. “So very English. No hand-holding. No kissing. As little touching as possible, even with your own bloody wife. What exactly is the point of getting married? Well, besides passing on the family name and all that nonsense.”

  Charles snorted as he pushed away from the mantel and paced to the windows. “Money, my cousin. That is the point. Her father has made millions in the railroad. Sad time for England indeed when we’re forced to marry American heiresses to keep our estates afloat.”

  “Yes, but money or not, usually you’ve at least spoken to your fiancé.” Rafe insisted, regarding our cousin with raised brows. He was enjoying this much too much.

  “What do you expect, Rafe, a love match?” Charlie sneered.

  The idea of anyone loving Charles was so preposterous, I almost laughed. Blood made me loyal to the man, but even I knew he was a selfish bastard.

  “Seen her. Met with her,” Rafe continued. “She could be a troll.”

  “I’ll bed her with the lights out.” Charles lifted his glass into the air as a salute. “They’re all the same between the legs.”

  “I highly disagree,” Rafe muttered, resting back onto the settee as if he meant to take a nap. He had no problem making himself at home no matter where the place. He just didn’t care a bloody whit about protocol. If only I could be more like him. But hell, someone in our family had to be proper. Had to at least carry on a façade of decency.

  “Besides, I’ve written her—what was it—two letters?” Much to my chagrin, Charlie looked to me for confirmation. I had to resist the urge to pull at my collar. “Wasn’t it, Will?”

  Even though I gave him a pointed glare, he hadn’t caught on. Really, the man was an idiot at times.

  “Why would you be asking Will?” Rafe wanted to know, his voice laced with suspicion as he stacked his hands behind his head and studied my features.

  I could feel the heat race up my neck and into my cheeks. Rafe knew me well, too well. “I merely helped him write the letters. She seems like a highly intelligent, thoughtful woman.”

  Charles cursed under his breath, raking his hand through his hair and leaving the dark strands mussed. “Highly intelligent? Thoughtful? Hell, why not just say she’s going to resemble Farmer John’s pig down the road.”

  “Good lord, you wrote his letters?” Rafe said, bolting upright and ignoring Charlie’s comment. “Say you didn’t.”

  I knelt by the fire, stoking the flames with a poker, mostly to avoid my brother’s astute gaze. “I didn’t write them, merely suggested a comment or two.”

  It sounded guilty even to my own ears. Christ, what was I supposed to do? Charlie wasn’t even going to respond to his own fiancé’s missives. I did what any decent man would…I saved his arse.

  “So you’ve never met her. Only written two letters… Correction,
Will has written her two letters.” Rafe shook his head in disgust. “And to top it off, your fiancé will be here at any moment but you’re going for a picnic in the orchard?”

  “You make me sound so dastardly,” Charles grumbled. “Like a villain in a gothic novel.”

  I sank back onto my chair, content to watch this play out. Perhaps Charles was finally seeing the err of his ways. Most likely wishful thinking on my part.

  “Villains are rather dashing,” Rafe admitted, staring at the ceiling, lost in thought, God help us all. When Rafe spent too much time thinking, it always led to one mishap or another. “The hero can be so bloody boring and predictable.”

  I rubbed my brow. Having a conversation with the two was much akin to conversing with a couple of highly spoiled toddlers. “Only you would think that, Rafe.”

  “Don’t fret William, it will give you wrinkles.” Charles moved by and clasped my shoulder in a companionable way. “Your handsome features, your dashing personality…no wonder why all the ladies like you.”

  Suspicious, I shot him a wary glance. He was buttering me up for something alright. What?

  “You’re truly leaving, and won’t be here to welcome your fiancé?” I said, returning the subject to one that actually mattered.

  He shrugged as he paused in front of a gilt-framed mirror to smooth down his hair. “How can I resist a picnic? The orchard is so lovely this time of year. Besides, I do have guests to entertain. She won’t mind, you’ll be there to meet her…won’t you?”

  And there it was. This time I did sigh, rather long and loud. Rafe slid me an amused glance. I knew what he was thinking: I let Charles take advantage of me. For the most part I hadn’t minded. We saw each other only a couple times a year, and he was family, after all.

  “William, can you pay off the milliner? I purchased a new bonnet for my mistress and he’s breathing down my neck. I’ll pay you back, of course.”

  Of course he never had.

  “William, Lord Tippens is irate, thinks I slept with his wife.”

  “And did you?”

  “What does that matter? Can you speak with him, set things right?”

  The memories didn’t help my mood. I shifted, growing rather irritated. It was bad enough I had to be the rational one to my three brothers and their philandering ways, but somehow over the years my cousin had been added to the list. “And if I say no, the poor girl will be left to welcome herself?”

  “The butler will be in attendance.” Charles brushed his hand through the air in a dismissive manner. “I assumed you had a book to read, or maps to study, and would be here anyway.”

  “Yes, because that’s what I do all day…sit around studying maps,” I drawled out, picking up my glass. I had a feeling I was going to need another drink.

  “Nothing wrong with being the good one, my lad. There always has to be one in the family to make our parents proud.”

  Rafe rolled his eyes. As if our father would have been proud of anything we’d accomplished. Fortunately, I didn’t have to worry about his thoughts as he was cold and buried. Charles didn’t have the same luxury. Perhaps that was another reason why I gave our cousin so many chances. I felt sorry for him.

  Charles started across the room. “Rafe, you coming?”

  I knew our cousin would not be dissuaded. He was leaving whether I met his fiancé or not. And because I was too damn honorable to ignore his request, I’d be there on the front stoop, smiling and welcoming.

  “Of course,” Rafe replied. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

  “Oh Charles,” Lady Sybil called out, appearing on the threshold. Her saucy grin appealed to more than one eager buck. She wore her bodice too low and her morals too loose. If she hadn’t been a wealthy widow she probably would have been given the cut direct by most of society.

  She’d flirted with me not a month ago. When I hadn’t had the time for her interests, she’d carried on to Rafe, and apparently now Charles. My cousin quickened his steps, only too eager to be in her good graces.

  “I thought you were seeing Lady Sybil,” I couldn’t help but say to Rafe.

  “Seeing is a rather strong word for fucking.” He set his glass upon the mantel, grinning. “I got bored, so she’s moved on to Charles.”

  “You always were rather good at sharing your toys,” I said wryly.

  He bowed low. “A veritable saint.”

  “Have a jolly good time,” I said, reaching for the book on the side table. Staying here to greet Charlie’s clueless little fiancé was sounding better and better.

  My cousin had met Lady Sybil in the hall. They were leaning close, whispering and giggling, so obviously intimate. Surely he would keep his indiscretions private once his fiancé arrived. I frowned, biting back the sarcastic comment just begging to drip from my tongue. The good one indeed. I could be a downright bastard when I wanted. The sudden urge to protect a woman I didn’t know was an unwelcome distraction.

  Rafe paused near the door. Sybil and Charles had disappeared. “Why?”

  “Why what?” I asked, forcing my attention to my brother. As much as I hated to think of the girl’s rather rude awakening when she met her fiancé, it wasn’t my problem to deal with. I had more pressing issues.

  “Don’t play stupid, Will. It doesn’t become you.”

  I sighed. Why did I allow Charles to take advantage? It was a question I was currently asking myself more and more often as of lately. “You know why.”

  He shook his head. “The man saved your life once from a charging bull when you were children, no less, and you believe you owe him for eternity. Hell, I still think he merely tripped and fell into you, throwing you off balance. It’s not in Charlie’s nature to save anyone.”

  And I agreed, not that I would admit as much. But it wasn’t the true reason. Charles was the only one who knew the truth about our father. My cousin had known for years and had kept quiet. That was worth something. Wasn’t it? Not that I would explain to Rafe. My brother would murder me then and there if he knew that the truth had slipped from my drunken lips one evening while Charles and I had been visiting the local pub. I hadn’t been drunk since, and that had been three years ago.

  “You, my dear brother, have a soft spot for those in need,” Rafe said. “Admit it, you feel sorry for the man.”

  If only I was so compassionate. No, it was pure self-preservation that kept me at Charlie’s side. If he wasn’t my cousin, I’d merely threaten Charlie with bodily harm if he told. That’s, no doubt, what James would do. Of course James wouldn’t have told him in the first place.

  “Don’t be insane, you know I despise picnics.”

  “Yes, rather nasty affairs.” Rafe shook his head. “Oh, Will, you are much too honorable.”

  I laughed. He knew better. “There is no such thing as too honorable.”

  He moved to the same mirror where Charlie had preened. “Indeed, there is. Men were born to be selfish. Look at babes, they would kill their own mother, suck them dry, if given the chance.”

  “Good God, man, please do not tell me you’re honestly demonizing babies.”

  He straightened his cravat. “All I’m saying is life can be a rather miserable affair, so find joy when you can. Especially you, of all people. Your time is limited.”

  “I’m going into the military, I’m not dying,” I muttered defensively.

  “Same thing.”

  I watched him go, unsure if I should feel disgust, or amusement. One month. One month and I’d be in France, far away from the shallow confines of London society. I took in a deep breath and relaxed against the chair, attempting to ease the pain in my neck that Rafe and Charlie had left behind.

  They might have been able to drink and whore their way around London, with all the happiness of a child on sweets but I needed more. I needed…a purpose. I’d made a promise to my mother that I wouldn’t break. I would be the honorable one.

  I lifted the book that rested beside me and studied the volume. War Tactics. Was I boring? Charl
es and Rafe seemed to think so. After the traumatic childhood we’d experienced, boring had been a welcome relief. Besides, what did it matter? In one month I’d be doing something useful for England. Fighting enemies. Protecting our lands. Making a name for myself. Nothing boring about that.

  “Sir,” the butler appeared. “The carriage has arrived.”

  “Already?” I snatched up my glass and took another deep drink, needing the fortitude. All I had to do was be a welcome host, escort them inside, have a maid show them to their chambers. I was so very good at being the gentleman. So very good at pretending.

  I moved down the hall and out the front door. I didn’t miss the paint flaking from the walls. The crumbling brick. Worn carpets. The estate was old and in disrepair. It needed the money she would bring to the marriage. But what would his fiancé get in return, other than a crumbling mansion and philandering husband? A title. I supposed that was enough for most.

  The carriage rolled down the drive, a garish thing of black and gold. I cringed. Americans. The coach stopped. I pasted a pleasant smile upon my face as the footmen raced forward. Her father stepped outside first. A big, burly man with a mustache. His shrewd gaze scanned the estate, missing nothing. He knew where his money would go.

  The mother was next. A pretty thing, which boded well for her daughter. Her narrowed gaze went immediately to me, like a hawk after prey. No doubt she thought I was Charles. I’d have to dissuade her of that thought immediately. Not for the first time, I was thankful to be a third son.

  Taking in a deep breath and steeling my reserves, I was just about to start down the stairs when she appeared. My steps faltered. In that moment, everything faded but her.