A Hero to Hold Read online

  STANDING TALL

  Viscountess Charlotte Haliday has lost her illusions. Scandal took her position in society and the husband she thought she loved, and his mysterious murder followed shortly thereafter. But now is the time to return to London, time to find whatever small portion of happiness remains to her.

  The first step will be proving she is her own person, unafraid of the lies and deceit that came before. Then she will defy her father and all others who try to steal her independence. Never again will Charlotte have a husband or seek the perfect marriage of her best friend Jane, but perhaps she will dare the wrath of the gossip-mongers and indulge her tiniest desire. To do so will bring her face to face with a stranger in an alcove. It will lead to learning Mr. David Scott is not only a war hero soon to be awarded the Victoria Cross, but also the most formidable man she has ever met. Broken in every way except the ones that count, he just might make her believe in love. And only she can show him that he is not alone.

  A HERO TO HOLD

  Sheri Humphreys

  www.BOROUGHSPUBLISHINGGROUP.com

  PUBLISHER’S NOTE: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, business establishments or persons, living or dead, is coincidental. Boroughs Publishing Group does not have any control over and does not assume responsibility for author or third-party websites, blogs or critiques or their content.

  A HERO TO HOLD

  Copyright © 2016 Sheri Humphreys

  All rights reserved. Unless specifically noted, no part of this publication may be reproduced, scanned, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of Boroughs Publishing Group. The scanning, uploading and distribution of this book via the Internet or by any other means without the permission of Boroughs Publishing Group is illegal and punishable by law. Participation in the piracy of copyrighted materials violates the author’s rights.

  ISBN 978-1-944262-18-1

  Ebook formatting by Maureen Cutajar

  www.gopublished.com

  To Elnora King, who made me believe it could happen

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  My sincere thanks and love to author and writing teacher Elnora King. Once a week for eight years I sat at your table learning the craft of writing. You are an amazing woman. I’m so fortunate to have been one of the many you mentored. I’ll always hear your voice saying, “Go deeper!”

  To the other writers at Elnora’s table, for your support and advice and many wonderful memories: Susie Bessinger, C.A. Sharp, Judy Dickey, Kay Sermon, Marie Timlin, Howard Hurtt, Phyllis Brown, Twyla Smith, June Koligian, Carrie Padgett, Terell Byrd, Cyndy Trippel, and Ralaine Fagone.

  To the Witty Wenches critique group for your love, support, advice, ability to make me laugh and pull out my hair: Kimberley Smith, Kris Lynn, Michele Mills, JoAnne Lucas, Christina Gulke, Marie Timlin, and a special shout-out to Sarah Simas, for always being available whenever I needed a special critique. You ladies rock!

  To Kathryn Aycock, the first reader to read the complete manuscript. Your comments and excellent observations were invaluable and helped shape the final novel.

  To my dear Firebirds and Dreamweavers, the best cheerleaders on the planet. Thank you for having my back.

  To my local sisterhood, AKA my RWA chapter, Yosemite Romance Writers. Each one of you helped me get there.

  To Steve Soldo, M.D., and Blake Schug, M.D., for your help brainstorming how a disabled man might manage his world in 1857. You guys are the best. Steve, I’m eternally grateful for your idea on how to get David in and out of a carriage.

  To my editor Chris Keeslar for the spectacular cover, story guidance and editing expertise. No one could be easier to work with.

  And a special thanks to Mom and (my brother) Steve for your unfailing support and belief in me.

  CONTENTS

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  A HERO TO HOLD

  CHAPTER ONE

  London, May 1857

  Four straight hours of smiling had given Charlotte Haliday an ache in her jaw. The corner of her mouth began to quiver, forcing her to bite the inside of her cheek. Pure stubbornness propelled her around the periphery of the room from one group to the next of society’s elite, talking and feigning interest in the ballroom conversation. Sheer willpower kept her pretending ignorance of the skeptical, assessing eyes and whispers that trailed in her wake.

  She kept her shoulders back, chin up, eyes level. The sound of the orchestra barely penetrated, coupled with so many conversations, the melee of whirling silk dresses and the aromatic fragrance of ladies and gentlemen turned out in their finest. Instead Charlotte concentrated on the faces—the reactions—of the people around her. She had a reputation to repair. She’d waited out eighteen months of mourning in the country. Now she intended to right the injustice that had been done her.

  Those closest suddenly turned and watched as if she were about to offer them a treat. An icy little shiver grabbed the back of her neck and streaked down her spine. As casually as she could, Charlotte glanced around.

  Her breath caught. A glorious blaze of yellow silk swayed a short distance away.

  Lady Garret.

  The woman lifted her brows and canted her head. A smug little smile just tilted the corner of her mouth. Charlotte struggled not to show any reaction, but tightness spread deep across her chest and into her throat. Her gaze locked with that of the baroness. The woman’s amber eyes gleamed with amusement—and disdain.

  Blast! How easy it was for the old pain to slip in. But this time Charlotte refused to be prey. She squared her shoulders and snapped her black, folded fan against her palm then answered Lady Garret’s look with one of her own.

  The baroness stiffened, lips tight. Good. She’d correctly interpreted Charlotte’s look as a challenge.

  The golden skirts shifted and Lady Garret started forward, the pugnacious jut of her chin like a spearhead. Charlotte waited until the last moment to swivel her head and break their locked gazes. She was finally ready to stand up to the ruthless woman, but she wasn’t about to do so in the middle of Lord and Lady Elliott’s ballroom.

  She turned and headed with alacrity for the door to the veranda. Glancing over her shoulder, Charlotte saw Lady Garret halted by a gentleman who must have asked her to dance, but the baroness shook her head and resumed walking. Ahead of Charlotte several couples exited o
nto the veranda, effectively depriving her of it. Her only option for confronting the evil shrew in private was a shadowy alcove that had been all night offering weary dancers an opportunity to sit and rest.

  It would have to do. At least the palms arranged at each side of the nook nearly obscured the interior.

  Sweeping into the alcove, Charlotte found a solitary man seated on a tufted velvet divan. Disappointment kicked hard before determination forged in. The man would just have to leave.

  He looked at her, his eyes narrowing a bit, and Charlotte was taken aback by the intensity of that gaze. With a stern expression upon clean male features, his was a commanding rather than handsome visage. Fine lines radiated from the corners of his eyes and made her think this a man accustomed to gazing at distant horizons. The ruffled look of unpomaded red-gold hair showed a disregard for fashion. A wide, expressive mouth sat above a chiseled chin dented by a masculine dimple. His apparel—finely tailored black and white evening dress—was unexceptional, though the breadth of his shoulders set the gentleman apart. Charlotte’s gaze dropped to his hands. Encased in white kid, she couldn’t tell if they held the same strength as the shoulders.

  He scowled, and Charlotte realized she’d been gazing upon him far too intently. Now he returned the favor. His eyes swept slowly from her elegantly styled black hair to the hem of her purple gown, on the return trip hesitating for the merest second on her bosom. The pause stole her composure and left her fumbling for words.

  “Sir, how do you do? I apologize for my forwardness, but I fear I…I must have a private conversation here. Now. Would you mind…? Would you be so gracious?” She couldn’t believe she was asking him to leave. It was incredibly brash of her, and rude as well, but she had no choice.

  He did not speak for a moment, his cold blue eyes making her stomach clench. But, blast it! She had to use the alcove. She braced herself to stand up to the iron-hard will she sensed behind that wary and disapproving look, straightened, adopted an expectant mien and tapped her toe impatiently.

  “I’m afraid that’s not possible.”

  He didn’t even make an attempt to smile or be apologetic, and impatience overwhelmed Charlotte. In tandem with her tapping foot, she slapped her fan against her skirt. Despite appearances to the contrary, this was no gentleman. Why, he hadn’t even attempted to introduce himself—!

  Suddenly, all Charlotte’s vexation drained away to be replaced by something else. Perhaps he knew who she was, had heard the rumors about her. Perhaps he was offended by her peremptory attempt to confiscate his quiet corner. Mayhap her appearance—unescorted—had shocked him, and her intrusion confirmed to him that the speculation he’d heard was true. Perhaps he felt she merited none of the courtesy he’d show any other lady.

  After all she’d borne at the hands of society, Charlotte had thought herself immune to insult, but for some reason this man’s failure to show her the most basic courtesy cut sharp. A lump lodged in her throat. Then his gaze went past her. She’d run out of time.

  She turned to find the baroness. Everything about the woman glowed: her satiny dress, her golden hair, the breathtaking necklace of yellow diamonds at her throat, even her amber eyes. Charlotte and Lady Garret were of similar height, yet the woman’s aura left Charlotte feeling dwarfed. This was the witch who had destroyed her marriage, made her a pariah among her peers, fabricated a despicable persona that all of society now assumed was Charlotte herself. It had been almost two years, but it seemed like yesterday Lady Garret penned her novelette, published and distributed it amongst her acquaintances. Those pages had left Charlotte blackballed from society.

  “Lady Haliday, what a pleasure.”

  The malicious edge of humor in the baroness’s voice made her words a parody, and resentment speared Charlotte. “You’re a poor liar, Lady Garret, and you really needn’t expend the effort. I’m immune to your poison.”

  The baroness noticed their silent companion, whose gaze was fixed upon her. “What, no introduction, my lady?”

  The man did not react in any way. Well, Charlotte decided, at least he dealt out rudeness impartially.

  The man shot her a look, brows lifting as if in question—as if he knew her and was silently communicating. Following blind instinct, Charlotte settled herself next to him on the empty half of the settee. She felt immediately and impossibly steadied.

  Lady Garret’s mouth firmed, and her attention returned to Charlotte. “I’m surprised to see you here, my lady. Especially tucked away in a corner with a gentleman. It’s been a mere eighteen months since your husband passed. I’d go so far as to say this makes a mockery of his memory.”

  Charlotte schooled her expression to one of polite interest. She would not show Lady Garret even an inkling of distress.

  “I’d guess your actions will provide society with some entertainment,” the baroness continued. “A bit of a scandal is always appreciated. At least, it amuses me. It might even inspire me to pen another novel.”

  A slow smile curled her enemy’s lips, and a quivering beset Charlotte deep inside. She kept her vision fixed on the baroness’s glittering eyes and wrapped her hand around the edge of the divan seat, anchoring herself. Over and over, for the past year she’d imagined this meeting. God willing, she would prevail.

  She leaned back against the divan and forced her shoulders to relax. She had to appear confident, so she concentrated on keeping her voice composed. “I’m no longer that naive young woman you manipulated and tried to destroy. This time I won’t stand by while you spread lies about me. I’m not afraid of you, and I won’t crumble.”

  The gentleman beside her turned his head, the chilly look gone from his eyes. Like heat from the sun, waves of quiet strength radiated from him and emboldened Charlotte. She marshaled her thoughts, leaned forward just enough to lend emphasis to her words, and continued with a harder voice. “You tell lies about me again, and I’ll make sure all of London is familiar with your machinations and your wicked soul. Until then, I’ll leave you be.”

  Lady Garret’s eyes narrowed to mere slits. “How dare you threaten me?”

  Charlotte did not look away. Didn’t this woman understand that she had already been consumed by the fire of scandal and risen from the ashes?

  “You can say whatever you like about me,” she vowed. “You can tell all of London you saw me walk naked down the center of Regent Street. I don’t care. If it happens again, this time I won’t hide myself away—and I’ll make sure no one believes you.”

  She felt the man sit straighter beside her, and a sudden desire to do something actually outrageous overcame Charlotte. To do something worthy of gossip, possibly even scandalous, and to do it without a care for the watchful eyes of Lady Garret. The thought left her giddy, and Charlotte closed her eyes to steady herself. Such an act would prove beyond all doubt that she had no fear of the baroness.

  The gentleman beside her still radiated waves of quiet heat. His hand rested on the divan, and before she could consider the wisdom of her idea, Charlotte found herself caught up in it. She placed her hand atop his and laced their fingers. He tensed, and her heart began to race. What was she thinking? And yet, her daring thrilled her as nothing ever had, and when Charlotte looked at Lady Garret and saw the baroness struggling to hide her surprise, suddenly she was sure.

  “At least this time,” she announced, “what you write will be based on truth instead of falsehood.”

  In the grip of something foreign and reckless, Charlotte turned to the gentleman, gazed into his eyes and curled her hand around the back of his head. He resisted a bit as she drew him near, but she couldn’t afford to hesitate now. She didn’t relent.

  A little shock ran through her as their lips touched. She felt his hesitancy and tightened her hold, some part of her still aware. Then his lips moved, and what had started out as the softest touch became firm.

  A tremor took up residence in her marrow as she returned the pressure of his mouth. She’d kissed no man but Haliday, and she’
d thought one kiss must be much the same as another, but this man’s kiss was…different. Even the smell of him—the starch of his shirt, the enticing aroma of citrus and cloves and maleness—was unique. For a long moment Charlotte was lost in his solid heat, in the slide of his gloved hand along her jaw. Then, in the periphery of her awareness, she heard the rustle of skirts. Lady Garret was leaving.

  Too dazed to feel triumphant, Charlotte placed her hand on the strange man’s chest and gently pushed until their lips separated. She stared into bottomless blue eyes that brimmed with warmth, felt the tension in him, knew his breathing came as hard and fast as hers. Then his hand gripped her waist and pulled her back. His lips dragged over hers, nudged hers apart, and he captured her again in a warm, luscious kiss that burst upon her senses with a completeness that obliterated everything else.

  She was lost. She’d been married four years, but never had desire swept over her like this. It confused her, frightened her even, but soon all thought fell away and Charlotte was left to revel in sensation. The man’s hands slid up her back and brought her breasts and hip hard against him. His chest was broader and firmer than her husband’s had been, and she nestled into his arms as if she’d been made to fit there. His tongue stroked hers, and her breath caught and heat ripped through her.

  A confused, distressed little noise escaped her. The man abruptly pulled away.

  Trembling, gasping, Charlotte looked into a shuttered face and humiliation crashed down. What had she done? What had she been thinking? She didn’t even know this man’s name. Fiery heat enveloped her, and her face burned. She thought she might expire of embarrassment. How could she have done such a thing?

  “Oh!” She pressed her fingers to her lips, staring.

  If Charlotte thought the man looked unhappy before, he now looked absolutely thunderous. Lips narrowed to a grim line, he held his shoulders rigid like a soldier standing at attention.

  “Oh!” She jumped to her feet and saw his eyes flare. She had to leave, find someplace quiet and try to figure out what had happened tonight. She opened her mouth to ask the man’s name, to tell him hers and apologize, but the ridiculousness of the situation stopped her. The man had spoken no more than one sentence in her presence. Perhaps if they remained strangers she could pretend this event hadn’t occurred. She didn’t even know if he was married!