The Seduction of Sophie Seacrest

  Love and Betrayal . . . Regency Style

  When Holt Langford, the new Earl of Westover, returns to England after twelve years at sea, he resembles more pirate than nobleman, a far cry from the scrawny youth shipped off by his father to become a man. No one recognizes him and he’ll use this anonymity to enter a game of subterfuge in order to expose the scoundrel who has vowed to destroy Holt’s family business.

  Unfortunately, that scoundrel has a devoted daughter - Sophie Seacrest. Sophie can’t deny her attraction to the unorthodox stranger who stirs her blood and makes her think things no proper lady should. Holt and Sophie are drawn into a seductive tangle and just when he’s about to reveal his true identity and his honorable intentions, she discovers the truth and must choose between love and family duty.

  The Seduction of Sophie Seacrest

  An Unlikely Husband Series – Book One

  by Mary Campisi

  Published by Mary Campisi at Smashwords

  Copyright 2011 by Mary Campisi

  The Seduction of Sophie Seacrest is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and situations are all products of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to real persons, locales, or events, are purely coincidental.

  Discover other titles by Mary Campisi at:

  Pieces of You -- http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/71502

  A Family Affair -- http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/44367

  Smashwords Edition, License Notes

  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 for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Dedication:

  To Mr. Darcy, the perfect hero.

  The Seduction of Sophie Seacrest

  Chapter 1

  England - 1817

  Amidst the openly curious stares of the servants, the tall, dark-haired man entered the Langford mansion. His dusty clothes were travel worn and not at all in keeping with current fashion. Or any fashion for that matter. He wore a sweat-streaked lawn shirt unbuttoned partway across a most expansive chest to reveal a thick pelt of black hair. A ruby medallion hung from his neck, drawing one’s immediate attention to it, though whether the attraction was the brilliance of the piece or the location on the center of wearer’s broad chest, could not be determined.

  The stranger possessed an aristocratic face despite the grime and sun-battered effects covering his skin. If one could sift past the initial shock of the black-haired ponytail and the glint of gold hoop in the man’s left ear, one might note the high cheek bones, the straight nose, the full lips, the arrogant stance that befit the upper class. One might notice many things. If one were able to look past the obvious.

  Jason Langford entered the hallway, caught in the ruckus that had interrupted his reading and had every employable female at Ellswood lined outside the library doors squawking louder than a gaggle of geese on a hunt.

  Did you see those legs?

  And that chest? I could bury myself in it.

  I was thinking he’d be doing the burying.

  Snicker, snicker.

  Maybe he’s come here to ravage us all.

  Sigh.

  He looks like a pirate.

  You’ve heard the tales of pirates, haven’t you? Lusty appetites and it’s said they’re insatiable.

  Like a wild bull.

  And just as strong.

  Giggle, giggle.

  “Julia!” Jason spotted his sister pressed against the wall between two scullery maids. “What are you doing?”

  A rush of pink swept her cheeks and she darted a gaze in the direction of his boots. “Nothing.”

  “Julia.” He loved his little sister but she tried his nerves most days with her excessive energy and contrary opinions, the latest being her steadfast refusal to even consider a Season. How was he supposed to find her a suitable match, not that he wanted to marry her off this very instant, but at some point he would like to see her settled.

  “I’ve done nothing wrong.” She turned to the woman on her right. “Have I, Jane?”

  “No, Lady Julia, not one blasted thing.”

  Julia championed a broad smile in his direction. “There, you have it on good authority.” She stood on tiptoe and whispered in his ear, “Is the stranger in the library really a pirate?”

  Jason sighed and rolled his eyes. “No, he’s not a pirate.” Pirates did not present themselves on a gentleman’s doorstep at tea time. Did they? Pirates clamored about on the docks and in the pubs of London’s south side, not in the libraries of country estates. Didn’t they?

  “May I meet him, too?” Her gray eyes glistened with just a bit too much excitement for Jason’s liking.

  “No. And you should not be listening to such tall tales, either. Now go and wait in your room. When I’ve concluded business with the person in question, you shall be the first to receive the details.” He turned on his heel and headed for the library before she could barrage him with a mouthful of complaints. Julia always had an opinion and was forever of a mind to share it. God help him, she would indeed end up a spinster if she didn’t soon learn to curb that tongue of hers. Then again, perhaps that was her plan. He entered the library, reminding himself to speak with her this evening about the dangers of sabotaging her future.

  The man pacing near the fireplace paused when he entered. He was older than Jason, taller, broader, darker, with piercing eyes which for some bizarre reason were oddly familiar and not a little disconcerting. Jason drew himself up to his full six feet, still a few inches shorter than the other man, and attempted to regain control. "How may I be of service to you?"

  The stranger’s mouth twitched at the corners. “I could use a whiskey."

  Jason chose this diversion to collect his thoughts. If the man were here to ransom one of the Langford fleet, what would prevent him from returning in two month’s time seeking ransom for yet another ship? Langford Shipping had suffered enough destruction at the hands of that damnable Rendhaven these last several weeks and a barrage of ill-intentioned activities from yet another source would prove quite costly. The situation must be dealt with in such a manner as to prevent any thought of recurrence. But in God’s name how? Those damnable eyes unsettled him. What color were they anyway? Black? Brown? "Who are you and what do you want? You have half this household no doubt with their ears to the door and the other half awaiting a report. I buried my father two months ago and I will not have another upheaval in my life. State your business so we may get on with it."

  "But that is exactly why I have come.” The dark eyes turned even darker. “Because your father died.”

  Jason ignored the man’s insolence. “How much do you want?”

  “Want?”

  “You’re ransoming one of our ships, aren’t you? How much are you asking to release it?”

  Before the man had a chance to reply, the library door burst open and Julia flew in on a whirl of pink and white. The stranger devoured her with those damnable eyes, and not for the first time since he’d entered the room, Jason considered a punch to the man’s jaw.

  Who would not think Julia beautiful with that mass of golden hair curling down her back and those clear gray eyes? Not to mention other womanly attributes which a brother chooses to ignore. But non-relative males were incapable of ignoring his little sister, and this one was no different, pirate or not.

  “Julia! Did I not specifically request you remain in your r
oom?” The stranger’s interest in his sister disturbed him. Best to get her safely sequestered in her quarters before the man developed a notion to add Julia to his booty.

  She dared a glance at the stranger before addressing Jason. “I could not resist the commotion.” She moved toward the stranger, eyeing him boldly. He returned the look. Julia then scrutinized every detail of the man, from his dark eyes to his muddied boots. As if not comfortable with her conclusion, she circled him and began her inspection once again. “Holt,” she whispered, “is it really you?”

  “Julia! What are you doing?”

  Of course, she ignored him. “Are you him?”

  “Stop this at once.” Jason turned to the stranger and said, “My sister thinks you remind her of our brother, which is the most ridiculous bit of nonsense I’ve ever heard.”

  “He does remind me of Holt.”

  Was she joking? The brother he remembered was scrawny and pale, nothing like this monster of a man standing before them. Holt indeed.

  “It’s in the eyes.” She inched closer and squinted. “A rich navy, like Father’s.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” Holt would never present himself with such arrogance. And the pirate outfit? The closest his brother had come to a pirate was in the adventure books he devoured as a young boy.

  The subject of their conversation crossed his arms over his broad chest and replied in a bland tone, “Would you like me to open my mouth so you may inspect my teeth as well?”

  “No,” Jason said, determined to end the charade. “But I would like to see your right shoulder.”

  A half smile shifted over the stranger’s face. “Of course.” He unbuttoned his shirt and eased it from his shoulders. Julia gasped. Three jagged lines of silver flesh gouged the man’s right shoulder. It had healed badly, the skin puckering in uneven gaps, stretching to cover flesh that had been ripped away.

  Jason remembered the incident. Every sordid detail. One did not forget wounds inflicted on one’s brother by one’s own father. He moved closer and studied the man before him. It had been twelve years since Holt was sent away, a mere eighteen, scared and angry his father chose to ship him to the West Indies like a crate of sugarcane. “I never thought to see you again.” Jason smiled and pulled his brother into a fierce embrace.

  “Could you find room for one more? It was I, after all, who recognized my big brother.” Julia placed her arms around their backs and hugged them.

  “God man, what happened to you?” Jason eyed his brother’s broad chest and thick-muscled arms. “The last I saw you I believe you weighed less than Julia.”

  “Jason!”

  “And I do believe the hairs on your chest numbered less than ten,” he paused and added, “and your face had even fewer.”

  Holt shrugged. “The warm climate agreed with me.”

  Jason laughed. “This calls for a celebration. The new Earl of Westover has returned.”

  Holt frowned. “They’ll be no announcement.”

  “Of course there will be,” Julia insisted. “We’ll have a grand party and everyone will attend.”

  “No.”

  Jason’s patience shrunk to a tiny dot. “In God’s name, why not?”

  “I may not remain in England. Actually, I find the possibility rather doubtful.”

  It was Jason’s turn to frown. “You can’t mean that. You’re the new earl.”

  “You can’t leave us.” Julia laid a hand on his broad arm and peered up at him. “Jason and I have been alone for so long and these last years were particularly difficult.”

  Indeed they were. They’d watched the old man rot from the inside out, draping the house in a shroud of misery as he refused their attempts to offer small pockets of comfort. He wanted nothing but the return of his eldest son.

  “I’m sorry,” was all Holt said.

  “Please stay.” Julia offered him one of the smiles that turned most males into quivering idiots. Not that she ever noticed. “I would love for you to stay,” she continued. “I was but nine when you left and I should like nothing more than to discover if the stories I’ve heard about you are true.”

  “Julia,” Jason warned. This was not the time for his sister to unveil her overactive imagination. “Why not stay, Holt?”

  “Please?” Julia’s voice dipped, her eyes pinned to her eldest brother. She could convince many a male with those eyes, and had done so for years, but Jason doubted it would work now. This Holt bore no resemblance to the timid young man whose voice had quivered when he told them their father was sending him to live with an uncle they hadn’t known existed.

  Holt took a long swallow of whiskey, appearing to contemplate his options. “My sole purpose in returning to England was to see you and Julia.” It was not necessary to add, but not until our father died. That much was understood, even by Julia, who had learned at a young age Edward Langford had ice in his heart. “I’ve lived without titles or restrictions of any kind these last twelve years. So much so, I fear I might find English society suffocating.”

  “Could you at least try it?” Julia was not one to be put aside.

  “Surely, you could do that much.” Jason fought to control his growing annoyance over his brother’s obstinacy.

  Holt did not respond immediately and when he did it was with caution. “Perhaps I could test the waters of English society and life at Ellswood without disclosing my true identity. No one knows I’m here. Even you had difficulty recognizing me.”

  “Had it not been for my superior powers of discernment, your true identity would still be a secret,” Julia acknowledged with a sly smile.

  “I suppose I could travel various circles, dressed as I am, behaving without the slightest modicum of propriety and observing the ton's reaction.”

  Julia beamed. “Of course you could!”

  “Perhaps.”

  “This will be absolutely the greatest fun I’ve had in ages.” Julia clutched his arm and smiled up at him.

  Jason did not share his sister’s exuberance. “It might work, but before I commit myself to this scheme of yours, I need answers.”

  “Such as?”

  “Why the hell did you stay away for twelve years?” Finally, after all the wondering, he would have his answer.

  “Julia,” Holt gently removed her hand from his arm. “Would you excuse us? Jason and I have certain matters to discuss.” His tone softened. “Remember, you must not address me as Holt in front of anyone. For now, I shall be known as Gregory Thurston and you must treat me as you would any male houseguest of casual acquaintance.”

  “But I have a right to these secrets too,” Julia said. “I am one and twenty, no longer a sniveling child.”

  “And old enough to understand when certain matters do not concern you,” Holt countered.

  “Oh, all right. I shall leave, but I am not in the least bit pleased.” Lest her brothers misinterpret her degree of irritation, Julia huffed twice and stalked from the library.

  Holt shook his head and slid a glance toward Jason. “It would appear our sister is a veritable mischief maker. She will drive her husband to Bedlam."

  “No need to worry.” Jason sighed. “With that mouth, no man will have her and that is my biggest fear.” He shrugged and added, “I’ll be stuck with a spinster sister whose mouth is larger than the Thames.”

  “That would be a true burden,” Holt mused.

  “You don’t know the half of it. But how could you? Your letters the last several years have been sporadic at best. And it was not as though I could write you.”

  “Had you needed me, I could have been located.”

  “How?”

  “I had my sources.”

  Jason tried to quell the annoyance inching up his throat, but years spent trying to console an inconsolable father burst out. “Why the hell didn’t you come back sooner?”

  Holt sank into the overstuffed chair next to Jason’s desk and propped one booted leg over the other. He didn’t blame Jason for feeli
ng angry and betrayed. But he couldn’t tell him the entire truth either, so he offered a half-truth. “The sea held an incredible allure, one which I could not ignore.”

  “What happened between you and Father?” Jason handed him a whiskey and sat on the edge of his desk.

  “Nothing.” Not true.

  “Do you take me for a fool? The old man said you’d return in a year. When you didn’t, he contacted our uncle and learned you’d taken to sea with a band of marauders.”

  “They were decent, honest men.” The only marauder was our uncle.

  “Father spent the rest of his days waiting for you.”

  Holt shrugged and downed his whiskey. “His error.”

  “Obviously. You aren’t going to tell me what happened between the two of you, are you?”

  “No.”

  “He was a weak man.”

  Holt snorted. “I hope he suffered until he drew his last breath.”

  “He did,” Jason said quietly. “With your name still on his lips.”

  “I feel no mercy for his soul, may he rot in hell.” He set his empty glass on the edge of the desk and said, “He drove our mother to an early grave.”

  “It was an unfortunate and untimely death. Julia and I returned to a black wreath on the door, a manor filled with grieving servants and a father who refused to discuss anything.”

  “Bastard.”

  “It appears your sources did not have completely accurate information.”

  “Apparently not.”

  “He thought her death would bring you home.”

  “His death was the only thing that could bring me home.” Determined to change the subject, Holt asked, “How is the shipping business?”

  “Rendhaven’s doing his damndest to destroy us.”

  “I thought that messy incident was over.”