TO SEDUCE A STRANGER
by Susanna Craig
Pub date: 4/11/2017
Genre: Historical Romance
Desire
waylays the plans of a man with a mysterious past and a woman with an uncertain
future, in Susanna Craig’s unforgettable series set in Georgian England.
After
her much older husband dies—leaving her his fortune—Charlotte Blakemore finds
herself at the mercy of her stepson, who vows to contest the will and destroy
her life. With nowhere to turn and no one to help her, she embarks on an
elaborate ruse—only to find herself stranded on the way to London...
More
than twenty years in the West Indies have hardened Edward Cary, but not enough
to abandon a helpless woman at a roadside inn—especially one as disarmingly
beautiful as Charlotte. He takes her with him to the Gloucestershire estate he
is determined to restore, though he is suspicious of every word that falls from
her distractingly lush lips.
As
far as Charlotte knows, Edward is nothing more than a steward, and there’s no
reason to reveal his noble birth until he can right his father’s wrongs. Acting
as husband and wife will keep people in the village from asking questions that
neither Charlotte nor Edward are willing to answer. But the game they’re each
determined to play has rules that beg to broken, when the passion between them
threatens to uncover the truth—for better or worse...
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Chapter 1
Ravenswood Manor, Gloucestershire June 1775
For
some time now, the parlor maid had been neglecting to sweep into the nook
between the bow window and the high-backed sofa in her ladyship’s receiving room.
The wide beam of afternoon sun- light was thick with dust motes that settled
softly on the floor, dimming the luster of the damasked furniture and coating
the hems of the rose velvet draperies.
The
maid’s shortcomings suited the boy just fine. In the dusty, narrow crevice, he
had built a world he did not wish to have disturbed. An entire battalion of
soldiers stood perpetually at the ready, apparently unconcerned at their
precarious field position; flanked on two sides by the wall and the sofa’s
back, they could only advance or retreat, and as they were English soldiers,
retreat was never an option.
On
this day, however, they faced a new enemy.
Just
yesterday, the boy had begged for a ship that he might expand into a navy,
although he knew his father thought him too old for such playthings. Hardly had
the request been out of his mouth before Father had erupted, insisting that no
son of his would become . . . well, he wasn’t sure quite what his father had
said, but it had begun with “arse,” a sure insult and one never to be spoken in
front of a lady, which was probably why Mama had very nearly swooned when she heard
it.
A
heated exchange between his parents had surely followed, but the boy had been
spared from it by being sent to his lessons. He ought to be there again now, but
he had played truant instead and sneaked back to his favorite hideaway as soon
as he could manage it. To thwart his father’s prohibition, he had pinched his
mother’s sewing basket from the table as he passed, thinking it would make a
fine pi- rate’s ship. Next, he set to work scraping the painted uniforms off
three soldiers whose leaden expressions made them the most likely candidates
for notorious men of fortune. With a flourish, he drew a wavy line in the dust
on the floor to mark out the shore and positioned the ship with its broadside
facing his unsuspecting troops.
As
the pirate captain knelt to touch off his cannon, the boy heard his mother’s
light footsteps, followed by a tread he could not immediately identify.
“So
kind of you to drop in, Mrs. Henderson,” Mama said.
Mrs.
Henderson was the vicar’s wife, a heavyset woman with a prominent nose and hair
the color of a mouse’s hide. But she always smelled of gingerbread and was kind
to him and the other boys tutored by Mr. Henderson’s curate, Cummings
“Will
you take tea?”
“It’s
very kind of you, I’m sure, but I can’t stay, my lady. I only called to see if
young Ravenswood was unwell. He wasn’t at his Latin lesson today, and Mr.
Cummings seemed to think that he wasn’t quite himself yesterday.”
“Oh,
that!” Mama laughed, a shade too brightly. “He was petulant because his father
forbade him a new toy.” Her words made him bristle. “Boys will be boys, Mrs. Henderson.
But I’ll see to it he does not miss another lesson.”
A
long pause. “And you, my lady—are you quite well?” It seemed Mrs. Henderson was
not content to let sleeping dogs lie.
“I?
Why, yes, of course,” replied Mama.
The
boy heard the click of the door latch, and before he could wonder who had dared
to close a door that Father never allowed any- one to close but him, he heard
Mrs. Henderson say, “My lady, I know it’s not my place. But that’s an
ugly-looking bruise.”
When
Mama had come in last evening to say goodnight, he had seen the bruise at her
hairline near her temple, only partially hidden by her lace-edged cap. He could
picture her slender hand rising now to shield her face from the other woman’s
sight. “It’s nothing. I—I tripped and—”
“No
need to make excuse, my lady. But perhaps a poultice—?”
“Oh,
no, no.” She brushed the suggestion aside. She did not like anything that drew
attention to her supposed clumsiness, he knew. Neither did his father.
He
heard Mrs. Henderson’s footsteps cross the carpet quickly and when she spoke
again, her voice was low.
“I
know we mightn’t have much time to speak freely, my lady. Isn’t there anything
a body can do to help you? Perhaps if Mr. Henderson spoke with his lordship?”
“Oh,
God, no. Please, Mrs. Henderson. Say nothing more.”
“I
will speak, my lady. I can’t do otherwise. It’s abroad in the village what’s
become of your parlor maid.” His mother gave a hiccup of surprise. “You dared
to speak on her behalf, I suppose.”
Someone
stumbled to the sofa and sank down upon it—Mama, by the sound of it; the bulk
of Mrs. Henderson soon followed. Their voices were quieter still, but now, only
inches from his ear, he could not help but hear them. “I thought perhaps I
could persuade him to let her stay on—in the village, of course, not here—at
least until the child is born . . .”
“But
he wants no evidence of his crime hereabouts?”
The
sofa creaked as one of the women shifted. “What would you have me say, Mrs.
Henderson? I cannot speak ill of my husband.”
“No,
of course not.” Mrs. Henderson managed to sound at once wry and sympathetic.
“Isn’t there somewhere you could go?”
“How
could I leave my son?”
“Do
you fear for his safety, then?”
Mama
laughed again, but the sound was suddenly strange to him. “I fear for his life,
Mrs. Henderson.” The boy crouched lower in his hiding spot, careful not to
disturb the orderly ranks and files of soldiers at his feet.
“Dear
God in Heaven! Do you mean—?”
“I
mean that if left to his own devices, my husband will raise his son in his
image. So now, while I can, I intervene. His mother’s influence may be the only
stay against a violent nature.”
A
violent nature? Did Mama believe he was fated to turn out like Father? People
seemed to delight in telling him how he took after the man. In looks, certainly—he
was big for his age, and dark where his mother was fair. Mr. Cummings insisted
that must be where his quickness came from, too. Neither Latin nor algebra
required much effort. But what if—the boy glanced down at the soldier still
clutched in his hand—what if that is not all I have inherited?
“When
he’s sent to school, however,” Mama continued, “I will leave. A visit to my
sister’s—an extended holiday, we shall say.” He had never heard his mother use
that tone of voice. It was something more than angry, more than stubborn.
“Oh,
my lady.” Mrs. Henderson clucked her tongue. “But in the meantime...?”
Mama
rose to her feet and crossed to the door, opening it wide. The sudden gust of
air through the room swirled the dust on the floor at his feet. A sneeze
threatened, tickling deep in his nostrils, but he pinched the bridge of his
nose to keep it at bay. “It was kind of you to call, Mrs. Henderson.”
The
sofa protested once more as the vicar’s wife stood, and he heard her shuffle
into a curtsy. “I am at your service, your ladyship.” They left, and the boy
was alone again in the dusty silence. He rubbed his thumb back and forth over
the figure he held, as if it were some sort of talisman. When the other boys
had teased little Molly Keating about her freckles, Mr. Cummings had told him
it was a gentle- man’s duty to protect a lady.
How
he wished he were a pirate captain! What wouldn’t he do then to keep his mother
safe? He would whisk her away across the seven seas, take her somewhere his
father could not harm her again.
Alas,
he had no ship, no cannon, not even a cutlass. He shoved angrily, impotently at
the sewing basket, which plowed into the soldiers lining the shore, breaking
their ranks. She could leave when he did, she had said. But he would not be
going away to school for more than two years. Terrible things might happen in
that time. If only it were in his power to leave now.
He
studied the pirate’s painted face. Father was fond of saying that every Bristol
merchant was a pirate at heart. And they had ships, the boy knew. He had seen
them once when Mama had taken him to the harbor on an outing. If there were
pirates so near as Bristol, he could run away and join them. He supposed Mama
would worry about what had become of him. Mothers did worry, he knew. But she
would forgive him if she were able to leave this place.
Away
from his mother’s gentle guidance, he risked becoming more like his father. But
what choice did he have?
His shoulders rounded under
the weight of his decision, the boy began to pack up his soldiers. Perhaps his
father had been right all along, for he suddenly felt far too old for such
playthings. At the least, he would try very hard to be grown-up enough not to
long for the day when he could come home.
When
I began mapping out the Runaway Desires series, I imagined Edward Cary, the
hero of To Seduce a Stranger, as its
moral center. As we learn in To Kiss a
Thief, Edward is the sort who proves that one man can make a difference in
the world around him. And in To Tempt an Heiress, we’re told that Edward is
“sober, honest, and humane.” Without question, he’s a good man.
But
he’s also been keeping a dark secret for most of his life.
To Seduce a Stranger
marks Edward’s return to England to claim both his true identity and his
inheritance. He certainly doesn’t need the added complication of a desirable
woman. Enter Charlotte, who has a few secrets of her own. Their performance as
husband and wife tests Edward’s resolve at every turn.
One
of my inspirations when writing this story was the BBC/PBS series, Poldark—I mean, who wouldn’t be inspired
by a shirtless Aidan Turner wielding a scythe? Plus, the show beautifully
captures the desperate circumstances of many at the close of the eighteenth
century, as well as the dramatic scenery of Britain’s West Country, both
important elements of To Seduce a
Stranger. Like Edward, Ross Poldark (played by Turner) returns from abroad
to find everything in turmoil. The estate he left behind has fallen into ruin,
but he doesn’t shy away from the hard work that must be done to restore it. And
just as Ross has Demelza (played by Eleanor Tomlinson) to help him, Edward has
Charlotte. In each case, she might be entirely the wrong sort of woman for our
hero, but sometimes, the wrong choice turns out to be oh-so-right!
A love affair with historical romances led
Susanna Craig to a degree (okay, three degrees) in literature and a career as
an English professor. When she’s not teaching or writing academic essays about
Jane Austen and her contemporaries, she enjoys putting her fascination with
words and knowledge of the period to better use: writing Regency-era romances
she hopes readers will find both smart and sexy. She makes her home among the
rolling hills of Kentucky horse country, along with her historian husband,
their unstoppable little girl, and a genuinely grumpy cat.
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