To Dare the Devil (Daring Daughters Book 11) Read online

  To Dare the Devil

  The Daring Daughters Book 11

  By Emma V. Leech

  Published by Emma V. Leech.

  Copyright (c) Emma V. Leech 2022

  Editing Services Magpie Literary Services

  Cover Art: Victoria Cooper

  ASIN No: B09XJ9PLGT

  ISBN No: 978-2-492133-42-8

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorised, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners. The ebook version and print version are licensed for your personal enjoyment only. The ebook version may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share the ebook with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. No identification with actual persons (living or deceased), places, buildings, and products are inferred.

  About Me!

  I started this incredible journey way back in 2010 with The Key to Erebus but didn’t summon the courage to hit publish until October 2012. For anyone who’s done it, you’ll know publishing your first title is a terribly scary thing! I still get butterflies on the morning a new title releases, but the terror has subsided at least. Now I just live in dread of the day my daughters are old enough to read them.

  The horror! (On both sides I suspect.)

  2017 marked the year that I made my first foray into Historical Romance and the world of the Regency Romance, and my word what a year! I was delighted by the response to this series and can’t wait to add more titles. Paranormal Romance readers need not despair, however, as there is much more to come there too. Writing has become an addiction and as soon as one book is over, I’m hugely excited to start the next so you can expect plenty more in the future.

  As many of my works reflect, I am greatly influenced by the beautiful French countryside in which I live. I’ve been here in the Southwest since 1998, though I was born and raised in England. My three gorgeous girls are all bilingual and my husband Pat, myself, and our four cats consider ourselves very fortunate to have made such a lovely place our home.

  KEEP READING TO DISCOVER MY OTHER BOOKS!

  Other Works by Emma V. Leech

  Daring Daughters

  Daring Daughters Series

  Girls Who Dare

  Girls Who Dare Series

  Rogues & Gentlemen

  Rogues & Gentlemen Series

  The Regency Romance Mysteries

  The Regency Romance Mysteries Series

  The French Vampire Legend

  The French Vampire Legend Series

  The French Fae Legend

  The French Fae Legend Series

  Stand Alone

  The Book Lover (a paranormal novella)

  The Girl is Not for Christmas (Regency Romance)

  Audio Books

  Don’t have time to read but still need your romance fix? The wait is over…

  By popular demand, get many of your favourite Emma V Leech Regency Romance books on audio as performed by the incomparable Philip Battley and Gerard Marzilli. Several titles available and more added each month!

  Find them at your favourite audiobook retailer!

  Acknowledgements

  Thanks, of course, to my wonderful editor Kezia Cole with Magpie Literary Services

  To Victoria Cooper for all your hard work, amazing artwork and above all your unending patience!!! Thank you so much. You are amazing!

  To my BFF, PA, personal cheerleader and bringer of chocolate, Varsi Appel, for moral support, confidence boosting and for reading my work more times than I have. I love you loads!

  A huge thank you to all of Emma’s Book Club members! You guys are the best!

  I’m always so happy to hear from you so do email or message me :)

  [email protected]

  To my husband Pat and my family … For always being proud of me.

  Table of Contents

  Family Trees

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Epilogue

  Sinfully Daring

  To Dare a Duke

  The Rogue

  A Dog in a Doublet

  The Key to Erebus

  The Dark Prince

  Want more Emma?

  Family Trees

  Chapter 1

  Nic,

  Knight has taken his family and left London. I have just received a note from Evie. She knows not where they go or why or for how long. I fear he has discovered my interest in her and seeks to take her from my reach. They will cut her off from me, Nic, I know it. They’ll not see another letter reach me, nor allow us to be within ten miles of each other. I will lose her.

  Please, I know I have begged you to keep my feelings to yourself, and this does not change, but I pray you will ask Eliza to discover where they have gone. Surely, she would know where her aunt had disappeared to in such a ramshackle manner?

  I do not know how I will endure months without her, brother, when I do not know where she is or if she thinks of me at all.

  ―Excerpt of a letter from Louis César de Montluc, Comte de Villen, to his brother, Monsieur Nicolas-Alexandre Demarteau.

  15th February 1842, Church Street, Isleworth, London.

  Kathy took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Light filtered through her eyelids, flickering in gaudy shades of pink and red. The scent in the glasshouse was a pleasing mix of damp earth, vegetation, and the subtle perfumes of vanilla and cinnamon. Humidity lent the air weight enough to touch her skin like a caress, cocooning and cosy on a bright, wet day. Outside, the weather was chilly, rain falling on the glass with a soft patter, but inside it was warm and peaceful, making her languid and a little melancholy. She liked it here, liked the serenity of it, even if the large, uncompromising figure who dominated the space was not the most relaxing person to spend time with.

  Hartley de Beauvoir was her brother, though they shared no blood. Inigo and Minerva de Beauvoir had adopted both him and Kathleen, Hart when he was six years old, and Kathy within hours of her birth some years later. An act of charity by two of the most loving parents they could possibly have wished for. They were a happy if unconventional family, and they both knew their lives could have been horribly different. Hart strove to repay them for their unconditional love and support by working all hours to make a success of himself, by making their parents proud. His gratitude and love for them made him push himself to succeed, no matter that Mama and Papa would have loved him no matter what and wanted nothing but his happiness.

  It was easier for a man to find a role in life,
however. At least, it seemed that way to Kathy. She wished she had Hart’s passion for his work, for his purpose… or that she had a purpose at all. Her parents had encouraged her to take an interest in science, but it had never sparked in her mind as it did for Papa and for Hart, though Hart’s interest had shifted to the science of plant propagation and gardening. It was an incongruous sight, to watch her big brother, built like a warrior of old, delicately nurturing his orchids with the tender care of a fretful nursemaid.

  “Stop sighing. It’s like living with a defective windmill,” Hart grumbled, not looking up from his work repotting a peculiar tangle of roots. “Orchids don’t like draughts.”

  Kathy rolled her eyes.

  “And don’t roll your eyes at me. If you’re bored, find something to do.”

  “I didn’t roll my eyes,” she lied, folding her arms and shifting on the stool.

  “Yes, you did.”

  “You weren’t even looking, Hart,” she retorted, reaching for a small wooden dibber and turning it in her hands.

  Hart looked up, snatched the dibber from her and set it back where it had been on the workbench. “I don’t need to look. You sigh, you roll your eyes, throw your hands in the air, tut and toss your pretty curls. Haven’t you a dress fitting to go to?”

  “This afternoon,” Kathy grumbled. “And a fat lot of good it will do me.”

  “Tell Mother you don’t want to go,” Hart said, a weary note to his words that suggested he might plant her in the compost headfirst if she didn’t change the subject. She had worn it rather thin.

  “And disappoint her after everything she’s done to prepare me for the season? I’m not so spoilt as that.”

  Hart snorted, so Kathy kicked him in the shin, muttering a curse as her thin slippers offered no protection to her toes. Hart didn’t even blink.

  “You’re supposed to get married and produce babies too, I might remind you. Two and thirty next birthday,” she added in a singsong voice.

  Hart glowered at her. “I’m not marrying, which is why you need to find a bloody husband. We can’t both disappoint her. She’ll be heartbroken if she doesn’t get grandchildren, and you love babies, so you can do it.”

  Kathy frowned. Hart was an independent man with a home of his own and a successful business propagating and selling exotic plant specimens. The orchid house he’d commissioned built at his new premises was not yet ready for use, which was why he was often back home, tending the overspill which he’d left here with his parents. She couldn’t argue with his logic, for she could not imagine him married. He held himself too separate, had never gained the knack of sharing his thoughts and feelings. It would leave any wife out in the cold, unlike the blasted orchids. And she did love children and babies, but, surely… there was something more than that?

  Mama had found more. Though no scientist herself, she was a brilliant organiser and the motivating force behind many of their father’s and other leading scientists’ publications, also in securing sponsors and funding for many budding scientists and inventors. Kathy had tried to find an interest in that too, she really had, but though she also had a knack for organising, the subject did not inspire her. Reading was a delight, and she devoured anything that landed in her lap, finding a particular delight in ghoulish medical texts, but nothing stuck. She needed something else.

  “If you don’t stop fidgeting, I shall throw you out,” Hart muttered, his dark eyes glinting with irritation.

  Kathy sighed and slid off the stool, admitting defeat. “Don’t bother. I shall throw myself out. I’m going to make a nuisance of myself in the kitchen.”

  “If you’re baking something, make some gingerbread,” he demanded as she headed for the door.

  She snorted, shaking her head. “What, so you can eat the lot? I think not.”

  “You’re mean,” he grumbled, turning back to his orchids.

  “And you’re a big oaf,” she returned sweetly, and hurried out through the rain to the kitchen to make gingerbread.

  15th February 1842, Lower Square, Isleworth, London.

  “Not that I’m complaining, but I assume there is a reason you’ve brought us to a muddy field on a cold, wet day,” Lady Elizabeth said, her lips quirking into a smile.

  Maxwell Drake, seventh Earl of Vane, laughed, admiring the picture the young woman made against the rain-swept surroundings. Lady Elizabeth Demarteau might have married a bastard nobody in the eyes of the ton, but she was the daughter of a duke and everything about her screamed good breeding and wealth. Her outfit was the height of fashion, her cheeks glowed with health, her green eyes sparkled, and the considering look her husband was giving him reminded Max that he was behaving himself these days.

  “There is, my lady,” he assured her earnestly. “As the buildings we have visited to date have been less than satisfactory, I thought perhaps a different option might work better for us. I own this land and I would be happy to donate it to the cause and use the funds I have already promised to build a school here. Something that would perfectly meet your requirements. I know you wanted to begin at once and it would take far longer, of course, but I think in the long run, this would be the best option.”

  Lady Elizabeth’s eyes widened, and she gave a little gasp. “Well, I wished to begin at once, yes, but I know that is my impatience at work. Building the perfect school would be better, only finding the land close enough to town and— Oh, Lord Vane, this is simply marvellous! Thank you.”

  Maxwell grinned. There was certainly something in this do-gooding lark. He had never realised that making other people happy made him feel good too, but then he’d never tried it until after he’d come so close to losing everything. Until recently, he would have lived up to every description of a spoiled, vain, self-centred and loathsome parasite of an aristocrat, but no longer. Some beneficent deity had given him a second chance, a chance to redeem himself, and he’d grabbed hold of that chance with both hands.

  “I have taken the liberty of having some preliminary plans drawn up, if you’d like to see them,” he offered.

  Lady Elizabeth was practically bouncing on her toes, and her enthusiasm for her project, for life itself, made Maxwell want to hug her. Well, obviously that would be unwelcome and inappropriate coming from him. Her husband obviously felt the same impulse however, and put his arm about her shoulders, leaning down to kiss her temple. Despite all his good intentions, Max could not help a little envy creeping into his soul as she gazed up at her husband with adoration. His old self would have seen that as a challenge and immediately set out to charm and seduce the lady into his bed. These days it chagrined him to discover that not only did he not wish to spoil what was obviously a happy marriage, but he rather thought that was the bit he envied. He desired the closeness, the obvious affection and accord between her and her husband. It must be nice not to be alone in everything, to have someone to share your days, your triumphs and your disasters.

  Maxwell blinked, disconcerted to discover Mr Demarteau had spoken to him and he’d not heard a word.

  “I beg your pardon, I was wool-gathering,” he said, feeling like a prize twit.

  “I said, could we discuss this somewhere warm and out of the rain before my lady catches pneumonia?” the big man replied dryly.

  Maxwell nodded at once. “Of course, forgive me. I’m afraid the weather is not being kind to us today.”

  “It’s of no matter. I won’t dissolve under this brief shower, and I am so pleased you brought us to see it, my lord. It will be quite perfect, thank you,” Lady Elizabeth said with a warm smile, laying her hand on his arm in a friendly gesture. Maxwell darted a glance at her husband, who regarded him, his placid expression daring him to read anything into the touch beyond her gratitude and a naturally welcoming nature. Maxwell damned his own vile reputation, smiled and handed the lady up into the carriage.

  “Forgive me, Mr Demarteau. Let’s get your wife out of the cold. I have an excellent brandy, which I believe will chase the worst of it away.”
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  Mr Demarteau nodded his agreement. “I’ll not refuse such an offer,” he said politely.

  Maxwell hesitated and then decided to give being honest a go. It was something else he was working on, and it had produced mixed results thus far. He did not discount the possibility of getting his nose broken, but it was clear to him this man was well aware of his reputation and feared he would make inappropriate advances to his wife given the opportunity. “You’re a lucky man, Mr Demarteau. Lady Elizabeth is quite remarkable. I’ve met no one like her before. Beautiful and clever, and so very determined.”

  “That she is,” Demarteau replied, the tone of his voice at once a warning, and giving Maxwell the distinct impression the man could not quite believe his own luck.

  “I envy you,” Maxwell admitted in a rush. “I think… I think I should like to marry, if I could find something close to what you two have.”

  Demarteau’s expression relaxed, and his smile was somewhat warmer this time. “Then this new Lord Vane is here to stay? I can’t say I shall miss the old one.”

  Maxwell rubbed the back of his neck, his expression wry. “Yes. I’m still finding my way, to be honest, and I am aware I have many bridges to mend, and some that are beyond repair, but I mean to do everything I can to make amends. I know you’ve no reason to think well of me. The gossip mill never ceases and I cannot pretend most of it isn’t true.”

  Demarteau shrugged. “We all have a past. Make amends where you can, and marry a woman who will love you despite everything and hold you to account. Perhaps you’ll sleep at night. Worked for me,” he added with rather more honesty than Maxwell had been expecting.