THREE DESPERATE CHOICES: Brothers Mortmain Book 3 Read online

  THREE DESPERATE CHOICES

  Brothers Mortmain Book 3

  Evie North

  Copyright © 2019 by Evie North

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Introduction

  Also by Evie North

  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

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  About the Author

  Introduction

  THREE DESPERATE CHOICES

  Maddox Hawley is as wild and reckless as his two brothers. Then a duel followed by a meeting in a seedy inn makes him rethink the direction of his life.

  Gabriella Jones, disgraced governess, has already made one desperate choice. Should she make another by trusting Maddox?

  Maddox is trying to be a better man. He dare not give in to his passionate attraction for Gabriella. Even when she wants him to.

  Also by Evie North

  The Other Books in the Brothers Mortmain series

  ONE NIGHT OF SURRENDER BOOK 1

  Like his two brothers, Gervais Hawley, son of the Earl of Mortmain, is reckless and wild. But now his days are numbered. Given up to the Bow Street Runners for robbing a coach, he has been sent to Newgate to hang.

  Every man on death row is granted a final wish—if he has the money. Gervais has more money than most, and his final wish is for a taste of something sweeter than mere food. He wants Katherine, a woman falsely imprisoned. For one night in her arms, he will pay the debts that will set her free.

  From the moment she saw Gervais in the corridors of Newgate, Katherine felt the spark of attraction. In exchange for her freedom, she agrees to his terms: one night in his bed, obey his every command.

  Their passionate encounter is more than Katherine ever expected. And as the cock crow draws near, her body and heart crave more. But Gervais is headed for the gallows…unless fate intervenes.

  BUY HERE

  TWO DAYS OF TEMPTATION BOOK 2

  Two years ago, Lord Sebastian Youlden wronged Hannah and their unborn child, and she cannot resume her life until she wreaks revenge.

  After a duel that cost his sight and the woman he loved, Sebastian retreated to his isolated estate, occasionally sending for local women to temporarily assuage his loneliness. Yet there is something compelling about the latest whore sent to pleasure him.

  As passion begins to burn away the veil of secrecy between them, the only thing left standing between them and a love that never died is the naked, painful truth.

  BUY HERE

  1

  MADDOX

  1807 Dover Inn, South Coast, England

  The Honourable Maddox Hawley settled back onto the creaky bed and crossed his booted feet at the ankles. The narrow window opposite was coated with fine dust from the road outside, and there was a lingering odour of meat, bread, and cheese from his supper.

  This certainly wasn’t the best inn, nor was it the worst. Ordinarily Maddox would have gone for the very best but at the moment he didn’t wish to be noticed, and he assumed that anyone looking for him would not look here. In short, he was in hiding.

  He was also in disgrace, and more than likely a wanted man by now. Maddox hadn’t expected to meet anyone he knew in this place, only he hadn’t been so lucky. Lord Rattray was an acquaintance, old enough to be of his father’s generation, and with a reputation for debauching young women.

  There had been an uncomfortable moment when his lordship had come to the door and demanded Maddox give up his room, insisting it was his and that there had been a serious error on the part of the staff. Maddox probably would have let the old fool take it, but he objected to being called a ‘young scoundrel’ and so he had refused. Lord Rattray had huffed for a moment and then marched off, muttering of dire consequences. Maddox could only assume the fellow had not heard of the ‘dire consequences’ that had already befallen him.

  He recrossed his ankles and sighed. The nick in his upper arm ached where the bullet had burned his flesh. The physician who’d bandaged it had been well into his cups, and the memory of the man’s foul breath and dirty fingernails made him squirm. That wasn’t the sort of doctor Maddox was used to, but under the circumstances he’d had to take what he could find.

  He was lucky. He had always been lucky. Although he’d been injured, the man he’d duelled with at dawn this morning was now lying at death’s door. Consensus was that he wouldn’t see another sunrise.

  Maddox’s father, the Earl of Mortmain, hadn’t seemed to appreciate his son’s continuing lucky streak.

  “You bloody fool,” he’d snarled when he’d arrived at the London dive where his son was hiding and was faced with the details of his latest escapade. “Haven’t you learned anything from your two brothers? I wash my hands of you!”

  Only he hadn’t. The earl was the father of three reckless, strong-headed boys, and he had grown used to their scrapes. So, after noisily and metaphorically washing his hands of Maddox, he had then set about arranging for him to vanish.

  As soon as it was dark he was sent off to Dover so that, when the tide was right, he could depart on the earl’s own yacht, by which time it should be ready to make the journey to…

  “Italy!” his father had announced. “We’ll hide you there. And don’t come back until you’re told, do you understand, you young pup?”

  Maddox did understand. For the first time in his life, perhaps, he truly understood. The look in his father’s eyes had stayed with him, half anger and half grief. It gave him a strange and unexpected pang. The duel had seemed like the right thing to do at the time—come to the rescue of a lady’s honour and teach the culprit a lesson. He hadn’t thought of the consequences.

  He never did.

  And now here he was, in a seedy inn waiting for the tide to announce his departure from England for God-knew-how long. Maddox sighed again while trying to get comfortable on the narrow bed and inadequate mattress. With nothing else to do to pass the time, he found himself mulling over the mess his brothers had made of their lives, something he previously hadn’t given much thought to. His elder brother Sebastian, and the trouble he’d gotten himself into, not to mention his younger brother, Gervais, who’d played at being a highwayman and nearly broken their father’s heart. In the past he’d found their behaviour amusing. Now it seemed it was his turn to cause his father pain and misery, and he realised something he had never realised before: It was a damned unpleasant feeling.

  Maybe, at the ripe old age of twenty-six, he might finally have matured.

  Italy wouldn’t be such a bad place to be hiding out in, he supposed. Sunshine and wine and beautiful women. Maddox was sure it would be no great hardship for him to while away the next few months there, until the ripples from his misdemeanour calmed.

  Someone scratched on the door for admittance.

  Blearily Maddox lift
ed his head and peered toward it. The room was unlit—he’d blown out the candle long ago—and he had been lying here, waiting for dawn. He’d finished half a bottle of surprisingly good red wine he’d ordered with his supper, not nearly enough to affect his thought processes, just enough to make him a little mellow.

  And maudlin, perhaps, if he was wondering if the authorities were standing out there in the corridor, ready to arrest him. Duelling was a crime, especially if the other fellow died. If they were about to throw him into gaol then this might be his last free night on earth and it occurred to him now that he had wasted most of it.

  He’d had the wine, but where were the women? There had never been a particular woman for Maddox. Wrack his brain as he might, he could remember no face that had softened his heart or quickened his blood. Unlike his two brothers, who were completely smitten with their respective wives, Maddox had never felt the urge to settle down. It had always been a case of too many women and too little time. He and his friend Lawrence had once taken bets on who could bed the most maidens in a year. Maddox thought they might have ended up a draw. Now his memories of those girls seemed to blend together so that their faces mingled into one. Their bodies too.

  The realisation made him uncomfortable. At the time he had believed it all to be exciting and fun, but now Maddox found he was asking himself why he’d done it. Perhaps he had changed more than he realised. The duel he’d fought earlier, for instance. He’d been visiting his club, bored as usual, and seen an incident in an alleyway outside. A woman had cried out in fear, and although a few passersby had glanced in her direction, no one else had bothered to help. When he’d gone to investigate he’d found her being pushed to the ground by a man who thought he had a right to her, and fully intended to take her there and then. Maddox had recognised the man.

  He had been taught from boyhood that the privilege of wealth and breeding did not give you the right to treat others less fortunate with cruelty or contempt. And yet, would he have intervened a year ago? He hoped so, but he wasn’t sure, and that worried him.

  Perhaps that was why he had used more violence than was necessary on the fellow to make him unhand her. Or perhaps it was his realisation that the woman being assaulted was barely more than a child. The argument between the two had escalated, a duel had been arranged, and…

  The sound came again, and this time it was a knock.

  Maddox sat up slowly, cautiously. When the knock came a third time, he was standing, ready to take on whoever had come for him. His arm still ached, but he ignored it, knowing there would be far worse to come if he was arrested.

  He was halfway across the room when the door opened. Briefly, in the lamplight from the corridor beyond, he could see the shape of a woman in a pale dress. There was the impression of dark hair and eyes, hands clenched tightly at her sides. And then the door closed again.

  There was silence, but he could hear her breathing. She must have seen him when she opened the door, and now he heard her moving toward him, her skirts rustling and her slippers soft on the creaking floorboards.

  She spoke before he could, in a voice that strove to be calm but at the same time wavered with deep emotion. “I have come,” she said. And then, more dramatically, “Now do with me as you will!”

  2

  GABRIELLA

  Gabriella held her breath and waited, but Lord Rattray didn’t answer. She hadn’t seen much of him when she opened the door, only the lower half really. He was wearing boots—polished beneath a fine coating of dust—and tight tan breeches that made his legs look far more muscular than she’d noticed before. His upper body and face were swathed in shadows, and to be honest, she’d been grateful for that. She had no desire to meet his beady eyes and see what was in them.

  Lord Rattray had sent her a note with explicit instructions about the room in which he would be waiting for her.

  We should spend the evening together before we catch the packet to France. Sometimes the voyage across the Channel is rough and I tend to feel queasy. We need to make the most of our time together.

  She was to be his secretary on his trip to Paris. When he had made her the offer she had been beside herself, desperate and frightened, and it had seemed too good to be true. Of course it was too good to be true. If she had been in any doubt, Rattray’s servant had quickly set her right.

  “Letter writing? I fear you are under a misapprehension, Miss Jones. His lordship has male secretaries to write his letters. Your job will be to lie on your back with your legs open.”

  It was blunt in the extreme but what came next was worse.

  “And you’d better please him. The last girl who played the reluctant virgin was left behind on the Continent.”

  Gabriella was no longer the naïve innocent she had been when she left the orphanage a year ago. There she had been trained to do as she was told and obey her betters. She’d known nothing of the world beyond those gates and had little experience of men. Her position as a governess to the Laurel family had been a big step, but she’d had no doubt she could do her job well.

  That lack of experience had been her downfall when it came to the Laurel’s eldest son. Dismissed without a reference or any chance of finding similar work, alone and friendless, she faced the stark possibility of starving or walking the streets. Until Rattray had come to her rescue… though the man himself was no angel.

  But Gabriella was resilient. She had no intention of being used and tossed aside, not this time. If Rattray didn’t abandon her on the Continent, she may find a way to persuade him to provide her with a small house in London. Somewhere where he could visit her when he wished to, and maybe, she comforted herself, that wouldn’t be very often. He wasn’t a young man, after all. For the rest of the time she could keep occupied. Make a life for herself.

  She wasn’t sure what that life might be. The orphanage had taken her and moulded her so that she was fit for a productive life, only to have the Laurels cast her off when their son Terrence tried to seduce her. Bad luck. Uncaring Fates. An ill wind. Call it what you like, but it seemed awfully unfair to Gabriella that she was now in this position. And yet she refused to let herself be swept under.

  Best not to remember how Rattray stared at her… those beady eyes assessing her, sliding over her clothing until she felt their crawl. Black scuttling beetles, seeking out any weakness he might exploit.

  There had been a moment, as she descended the stairs toward the open door and the coach outside that was ready to take her to Dover, when she had thought she might bolt for freedom and the consequences be damned. Then Rattray’s servant had appeared and put paid to that idea. She was glad of it really, because what would she do alone on the streets? She feared she knew the answer to that question. It was best if she looked at her current situation pragmatically. She would use Rattray, just as he intended to use her.

  Gabriella had been left on the step of the orphanage when she was a few days old, and she had survived. Somehow she would survive this as well.

  The seedy inn she was taken to by Rattray’s servant was set back from the bustle of the port of Dover. It wasn’t an establishment where one could expect the best service, but then she guessed Rattray didn’t want to be seen with her by any of his acquaintances.

  Once inside the building she asked a porter for directions to the room but other than pointing in the right direction with a weary finger, the man ignored her. No doubt he was used to random strangers making their way to gentlemen’s rooms. Her first knock was tentative and Rattray had not answered, nor did he answer her second knock, and it was in desperation that she had tried the door and found it open.

  She hadn’t meant to speak at all, but when he didn’t acknowledge her the melodramatic words had burst from her. Do with me as you will? What was she setting herself up for?

  Now, with the door closed behind her, there was no escape.

  The room was too dark to see more than the shape of the bed before the square of the window, lit faintly by the moon outside. H
er heart beat so loud it filled the silence. Should she have brought a candle? But then she told herself that it was better not to see, that way she could hide her shame and trepidation.

  She took a step forward, and then another, and promptly tripped on something lying in her path, landing clumsily against his chest.

  “Oomph,” he said.

  His arms closed around her.

  She was surprised by the strength in those arms, and his chest was warm and broad. A lock of silky hair brushed against her face. She had never seen Lord Rattray without his wig, so she should not think this strange, although she did wonder at the muscles beneath her fingers as she gripped his shoulders to steady herself.

  It was time to make good on her desperate decision—there could be no dilly-dallying in the matter, not if she wanted to save herself the only way she could, by establishing herself as Lord Rattray’s mistress.

  “Shall I kiss you, my lord?” she whispered, hearing the tremble in her voice. Terrence had been a rather fine kisser, and she had learned a great deal from him. She didn’t wait for his answer but used those lessons now, capturing his lips with hers, sucking on the lower one and then teasing him with her tongue.