Wicked Beauty (Brazen Bluestockings #3)

Chapter 1: Bittersweet Revenge

September 14, 1819
Wilborne Hall, Tilbury, England

She would have her revenge.

Alice Burton crouched behind the bed in the dark bedchamber temporarily belonging to the target of her ire, her insides burning with righteous anger. How dare he sweet-talk her for months, bring her to his bed, and then refuse to marry her!

Her fists clenched in her lap. How had she been so foolish to believe him? But his honeyed words and obvious interest in her had appealed to her, and she had too easily believed his interest in her went beyond bedding her. But when she had asked him about marriage, he had laughed at her. Laughed. As if she had said the most preposterous thing. She had been such a fool to believe he wanted to marry her.

And now she was ruined.

I will be a fool no more. Mr Fitzwilliam Montgomery would have to pay for what he had done. If he didn't want to do the honourable thing after she asked him, she would force his hand. The plan was flawless, if she might say so herself.

After finding out which room was his, she had snuck inside while everyone at the house party was still enjoying the games night her cousin, Lord Ravenscroft, had arranged. She'd extinguished the fire, leaving only some glowing embers in the grate, and pulled the curtains to ensure no moonlight filtered through.

Fitzwilliam would not know she was there until it was too late. And her friend Olivia knew to send her cousin this way shortly after seeing Fitzwilliam leaving downstairs. Ravenscroft would find them alone in this room, ideally with her arms wrapped around her target, and would quickly force a wedding to save her reputation.

Olivia had asked her if she was certain this was what she wanted. To trap an unwilling man in matrimony. Because she wasn't only dooming him to a marriage he didn't want, she was also dooming herself. Maybe it was her anger talking, but it was a sacrifice she was willing to make.

She wanted to punish him. She wanted him miserable. If that meant she had to be miserable with him, then so be it. It was better than having to admit to a future husband that she had been compromised. Her pride would not permit it.

The muffled sound of voices on the other side of the door made her bend lower behind the bed, making sure she couldn't be seen in the light from the hallway when it opened. Soon, darkness enveloped her again as the door shut.

She heard him approach the bed, his shoes echoing against the wooden floor making her pulse quicken. Glancing up, she could just barely see his silhouette by the bottom of the bed, his back towards her as he appeared to look at the fireplace, probably wondering why it had gone out. From her lower position on the floor, he appeared taller than normal, his shoulders broader.

A twinge of pain made her grimace. She had felt something for this man once. Had dreamed of a future together. She would still have that future, but it would be one neither of them wanted. Did she truly want to do this? Maybe Olivia was right and this plan was fuelled solely by anger and resentment. But she refused to back down.

She would not be discarded.

The dark shade that was her former lover pulled at his cravat until it came loose and he could toss it on the bed. Not long after, his coat, waistcoat, and shirt followed. This was turning out better than she had hoped. With him partially disrobed, her cousin would never accept anything less than marriage. When his hands reached for the buttons of his trousers, she saw her opening. Standing, she hoped he wouldn't scream when he realised he wasn't alone.

"Why don't you let me help you with that?" she said in her most sultry voice, hoping he was arrogant enough to believe she would still come crawling to him for a tumble in bed.