Howard - The beast of Beswick

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

Copyright 2019 by Amalie Howard.

Preview of My Darling Duke
copyright 2019 by Stacy Reid.

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.

Entangled Publishing, LLC

2614 South Timberline Road

Suite 105, PMB 159

Fort Collins, CO 80525

Visit our website at www.entangledpublishing.com .

Amara is an imprint of Entangled Publishing, LLC.

Edited by Liz Pelletier and Heather Howland

Cover Artist: Erin Dameron-Hill, EDH Graphics

Photograph by VJ Dunraven/Period images,

Peter Tittmus/123rf.com, and

srongkrod481/depositphotos.com

Interior design by Toni Kerr

MMP ISBN 978-1-64063-741-2

ebook ISBN 978-1-64063-742-9

Manufactured in the United States of America

First Edition December 2019

Also by Amalie Howard

LORDS OF ESSEX

My Rogue, My Ruin

My Darling, My Disaster

My Hellion, My Heart

My Scot, My Surrender

TARTANS & TITANS

Sweet Home Highlander

A Lord for the Lass

What a Scot Wants

For Cameron, the prince of beasties.

Chapter One

England, 1819

Her pulse drumming at a fierce clip, Lady Astrid Everleigh burst through the front doors of her uncles country estate in Southend. The flashy coach in the drive was as unmistakable as its ownerthe arrogant and deeply persistent Earl of Beaumont. A sickening feeling leached into her as she scanned the foyer. No one would meet her eyes, not the butler, not the footmen, not even her uncle Reginald whose pallid cheekbones had gone an ugly shade of puce.

You were s-supposed to be at the market, he sputtered in surprise.

What have you done, Uncle? she demanded, flinging off her cloak. Did you arrange this without my knowledge or consent?

Her uncles color heightened. Now, see here, he blustered, its demmed high time your sister marry, and you know it

Not to him . Never to him.

The pit of sickness in Astrids stomach deepened at the thought of sweet, innocent Isobel in the clutches of such a man. The Earl of Beaumont was scraping the bottom of the barrel as far as Astrid was concerned, even if he was now a peer of the realm.

Throttling the ugly memories his name alone conjured, Astrid turned away from her uncle to her ashen ladys maid, who had appeared upon hearing her voice. Where are they, Agatha?

In the morning salon, my lady. With the viscountess.

Astrids heart plummeted at the sight of the closed doors. Aunt Mildreds chaperonage would be questionable to say the least. How long have they been in there?

Not five minutes, my lady.

A blink of an eye and yet enough time for her sweet sister to be thoroughly compromised. Isobel was barely sixteen. Shed been an unexpected and much welcomed surprise to their parents, and Astrid had always been protective. To her, Isobel was still a child, no matter their uncles declaration of her being ready to wed. She hadnt even had a proper Season yet, and already he wanted to marry her off to the highest bidder.

To a liar and a lecher, no less.

Edmund Cain had inherited the earldom from his uncle a handful of years ago. Though a title made him eligible to most, he was still the heartless brute whod destroyed Astrids reputation without a qualm during her firstand onlySeason, when shed had the audacity to turn down his suit. Hed retaliated with a horrible lie about her lack of virtue, and her entire future had crumbled.

When their parents were taken by illness a year later, she and Isobel had gone into the care of their only living relatives in England. After the year of mourning, Astrid had decided any money left to her would be better saved for Isobels coming out. She was the daughter of a viscount, and when the time came, Isobel deserved her due.

But that was before her uncle had gotten his hands on their inheritance. Most of it was gone, except for specific, unreleased funds, which would come to them only upon marriage or the age of twenty-six. Astrid was one year away, and Isobel was a decade away, unless a marriage came first, which clearly was the goal here. But now, eight years after her parents deaths, the girls were nearly destitute, or so her uncle claimed.

Destitute enough to seek a connection with an utterly unsuitable earl? If money was in question, it was a certainty. Uncle Reginald would sell his own soul if he could get a farthing for it.

Lord Beaumont is a peer now, her uncle said, drawing her attention. Hes not the man you knew.

A leopard cannot change its spots.

Now see here, Astrid, he said, blocking her path. It is done. Lord Beaumont has pledged

You will stay a far step from me, Uncle. And I dont care what that man has promised; he will never Astrid broke off, the threat as empty as the power she heldwhich was none.

Without a husband of her own, the truth was that as their guardian, if her uncle wished to marry Isobel off to a pox-marked pauper, he could, and there would be nothing either of them could do about it. Such was the place of a woman in their world.

Astrid switched tactics, turning toward him, her voice softening. Uncle Reggie, be reasonable. Isobel hasnt even had a Season yet. Perhaps she can make an even better match, one with greater reward. She let the suggestion hang in the air, knowing the promise of coin would make her uncle salivate.

The viscount thinned his lips. Better an egg today than a hen tomorrow.

Spoken by the rooster who has nothing to lose, Astrid said under her breath, though her stomach churned. Had he already made a settlement with Beaumont?

Reasonable discussion was clearly getting her nowhere.

Shooting a look of pure loathing at her uncle, she darted around him to the salon doors and shoved them open, searching for her sister.

Isobels face was pinched and her spine rigid. With fear or shock, Astrid did not know. Thankfully, her sister sat on the sofa, hands clasped in her lap while Beaumont stood a short distance away. Not far enough away in Astrids opinion. No one else was in the room. Gracious, where on earth was her aunt?

I thought I told you I wished to be alone, Everleigh, Beaumont said over his shoulder, annoyance flashing in his eyes for a second before he realized that it wasnt her uncle who had barged in. Ah, its the spinster. Have you come to congratulate us? he drawled, satisfaction creeping over his deceptively handsome features. I assume youve heard that I intend to court your sister.

She let out a breath, but before she could form a reply, her aunt emerged from the far end of the room, her face pulling tight with vexation. Astrid frowned. Good Lord but Aunt Mildreds designs were transparent. Even though they werent in London, her aunt well knew the rules of the aristocracyespecially with respect to chaperoning unmarried young ladies.

Astrid swallowed the spurt of anger when she thought of how easily Isobel could have been compromised. Her eyes narrowed with sudden understanding.

Is that what my fortune-hunting relatives intended?

Astrids frustration pricked as her eyes touched on the smug face of the Earl of Beaumont. She bit her lip, fingers clenching at her sides, her stomach threatening to upend itself. If she hadnt forgotten her market day list, she would never have returned in timeand who knew what else might have happened. Right now, however, Isobel was safe and that was all that mattered. She was safe, right? Swallowing a rise of dread, her gaze shifted to her sister.