Seduced By a Lady's Heart (Lords of Honor #1)

Seduced By a Lady's Heart (Lords of Honor #1)

Christi Caldwell




Acknowledgements


To Katie


Thank you for wanting to read Lieutenant Jones’ story as much as I wanted to tell it. I connected with Jones from the moment he was staring blankly out the window during Lady Emmaline’s visit in “Forever Betrothed, Never the Bride”.

The day I came onto Facebook and read your post asking to know his story, was a wonderful day!





Chapter 1

London, England

Spring, 1819

In all of Lady Eloise Yardley, the Countess of Sherborne’s, twenty-eight years she could likely place the underhanded, questionable things she’d done on one hand. And that unimpressive list of sins included stealing another girl’s peppermints when she’d been a girl of seven.

Her palms dampened under the unease churning in her belly, and to still her trembling fingers she dusted her palms along the sides of her silver, satin skirts. Staring at the modest, marble foyer of London Hospital, Eloise acknowledged that this disloyal act was far worse than stealing peppermints.

“My lady, if you’d rather not visit, it is more than understandable,” the older nurse’s words snapped into her musings.

Startled into movement, Eloise slapped a hand to her chest. “Er, no. I’m quite all right,” she lied. She cleared her throat. “I’m merely…” Terrified. Nauseous. Panicked. And every emotion in between at the prospect of striding down those corridors and entering the sterile rooms of the hospital.

The gentle light in the woman’s eyes indicated she’d detected the lie.

Eloise sighed. “Shall we?”

The nurse’s white eyebrows shot to her hairline in apparent surprise and then an approving glint replaced her earlier concern. She gave a brief nod. “If you’ll follow me,” she murmured.

The older woman didn’t attempt to fill the awkward pall of silence, for which Eloise was grateful. She didn’t imagine she could muster a single, coherent thought. She furrowed her brow. A matter she’d have to rectify if this carefully orchestrated visit went to plan. She eyed the dreary, white walls, the hard plaster devoid of cheer and life. Then, life had taught her early on that nothing ever truly went to plan.

“I am always so grateful to see ladies such as yourself taking time to visit the wounded soldiers,” Nurse Maitland said.

Their footsteps fell into a synchronized rhythm.

Guilt stabbed at Eloise. She’d never felt more ashamed than she did in that moment. For it was not strictly altruistic reasons that brought her into this feared place. Just the opposite, really. Remorse kept her silent.

“Lady Drake, the Marchioness of Drake, has long visited the hospital.”

She’d, of course, known that. “Has she?” Eloise’s voice emerged as a high-pitched squeak, which earned a sideways glance from the woman.

“Indeed. In fact, she is here even n—oh, my! Are you all right, my lady?”

Eloise stumbled and, unfortunately for the older nurse, caught herself using the woman’s tall, narrow frame. “Yes,” she replied, lamely. Mortified heat burned her cheeks. However, the thrill of excitement coursed through her, more powerful than any small emotion of embarrassment. So, the marchioness was here. She quickly yanked her hands back from Nurse Maitland’s narrow, but seemingly capable, shoulders. “Pardon me,” she said belatedly.

The woman passed a concerned glance over her face and then resumed walking. Eloise kept pace alongside her. With each step drawing her closer to those dreaded hospital rooms, panic pounded in her chest. It flared hot and strong until the familiar buzzing filled her ears and she blinked back the black dots that flecked her vision.

Nurse Maitland said something, her words lost to the memories churning at an agonizingly quick pace through her mind. The older woman looked to Eloise with a smile, her unheard words clearly merited a like response and so she told her mind to tell her lips to move. She mustered a weak, clearly sufficient smile for the woman continued on.

Since the dark days, as she’d come to refer to them, she’d detested any and all things pertaining to illness—hospitals, doctors, the color white, the heat of a fever. All of it. It was irrational and insensible and she’d never been accused of being either irrational or insensible. But there you had it.

“Ah, here we are,” the nurse murmured.

And here she was. The last place in the world she cared to be. Feet twitching with the urge to flee, Eloise swallowed past the enormous swell of fear in her throat and stared at the double doors. Yet a place she had come…for him. Finding strength in the memory of him, even as that was all he lived as—a fleeting memory of her past—she drew in a steadying breath.

Nurse Maitland, unaware of Eloise’s inner turmoil, opened a door and motioned her forward.

Eloise hesitated and craned her head inside the doorway and blinked. The cheerful room with rows of beds was nothing one would conjure when they imagined the dreary walls of a lonely hospital. Extravagant blooms in generous vases lent a merry feel to the room. Which was ludicrous, of course. There could never truly be anything joyous in this room, filled with men who’d sacrificed so much, received so little, and, no doubt, forgotten by all. Nay, not all. Most. She swallowed hard at the sight of the men confined to these beds.