The Captured Lord Read online

  The Captured Lord

  The King’s League Book Three

  Lucy Adams

  © Copyright 2019 by Lucy Adams - All rights reserved.

  In no way is it legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document by either electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited, and any storage of this document is not allowed unless with written permission from the publisher. All rights reserved.

  Respective authors own all copyrights not held by the publisher.

  For my readers…

  Thank you so much for taking the time to read and enjoy my books. I’m so grateful to you for choosing to read my novels. I hope you enjoy!

  Contents

  Prologue

  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

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  Author’s Note

  Prologue

  “Do not think even for a moment that you can fool me!”

  Lord Monteforte chuckled under his breath as he watched the two men battle against each other, the cards on the table holding fortune for the one and poverty for the other. He had long been out of the game, having deliberately played foolishly and even more deliberately pretending to drink far too much so that the others would lower their guard, and now, it seemed, it was to pay off.

  “I have been lucky!” one of the gentlemen protested, his hand slamming down hard flat on the table. “The cards do not lie.”

  “The ones up your sleeve do!” the second gentleman cried, pointing one bony finger at the first. “I know you much too well, Thornrake! You are known to be nothing more than a liar and a cheat!”

  This sent the first gentleman into a frenzy of anger, and he not only threw himself across the table at the first but began to beat him hard, forcing Phillip to thrust himself back from the table as glasses of liquor, cards, and money went flying across the room. He did not prevent the two gentlemen from fighting, however, but rather merely brushed himself down and shook his head, turning away from both as though he could not bear to watch.

  “They do not appear to be enjoying their game,” he murmured wryly to another gentleman as he wandered through Whites to sit down opposite the fellow. “How unfortunate.” He arched one eyebrow, a rueful smile on his lips. “Although I still regret losing my money.”

  “Indeed,” the gentleman replied, with a smile of his own. “But at least you had the decency to admit that you had lost, Lord Monteforte.”

  Phillip let out a long, pained sigh, pressing one hand to his forehead. “It injures me more than I can say,” he said dramatically. “I shall know not to play with those two oafs again in future.”

  “A wise decision.”

  Phillip’s hopes began to flare bright as he clicked his fingers and gestured for a footman to bring him a whisky. This had been his singular intention for this evening and, thus far, everything had gone just as he had intended. Lord Dayton was clearly just as amused at the antics of the other two gentlemen as Phillip himself was pretending to be, and Phillip had to pray that the invitation he had been longing for would soon be offered to him.

  “Might I get you a whisky also?” he asked, as Lord Dayton – whose grey hair and long, grey moustache did nothing but reveal the number of his years – watched him carefully. “Or a brandy, mayhap?” He had to raise his voice in order to be heard over the furor that Lord Thornrake and Lord Stratton were still making – although various gentlemen and footmen were now attempting to pull them apart.

  Lord Dayton considered for a moment, then inclined his head. “Brandy,” he said, as the footman nodded and moved away. “I thank you, Lord Monteforte.”

  “You are most welcome,” Phillip said, with a broad grin. “I must say that I have chosen my company poorly this evening, which speaks very ill of me.” He sighed and threw a glance back towards the two gentlemen, who now, finally, had been pulled apart. “I shall be much more careful in the future as to whom I sit down with.”

  Lord Dayton tilted his head just a little, watching Phillip with cool, blue eyes that, had Phillip been a lesser man, could have brushed a chill over his skin. Instead, he simply closed his eyes and sat back in his chair, making sure that he gave every impression of being quite at his ease.

  “I think you might be interested in a game of cards that takes place each week, Lord Monteforte,” Lord Dayton said slowly, sending a thrill up Phillip’s spine that he forced himself to hide. “It is not something that every gentleman is aware of, but I think that you are the kind of man that might be more than suited to such a game.”

  Phillip opened one eye lazily, then the other. “Oh?” he said softly, trying not to show too much interest. “There are many card games and the like that go on in London almost every week,” he said, with a small shrug. “Is this one of any particular importance?”

  Lord Dayton laughed, the sound a little harsh and cold, but Phillip merely gave him a small smile, his eyes fixed on Lord Dayton’s face.

  “It may be of some interest, yes,” he said, with a small shrug. “It is only a few gentlemen that are invited, and we speak of all manner of things, Lord Monteforte.”

  Phillip tilted his head just a fraction, showing as much interest as he thought sufficient. “What do you speak of?” he asked, sounding a little doubtful. “I am not certain that I have anything of particular interest nor intelligence to impart to anyone!”

  Again, Lord Dayton laughed. “You do yourself an injustice,” he said, waving a hand. “You and I have been acquainted for some months, have we not, and I have always found you to be quite wise in your remarks.”

  “That is good of you to say,” Phillip began, “but still, I–”

  “As I have said, I believe you would find it an interesting evening,” Lord Dayton finished, with a slight shrug. “I will come for you on Wednesday evening, unless you are already otherwise engaged?”

  Frowning, Phillip regarded Lord Dayton carefully, his brow furrowing as if he were trying to recall if he had anything that might previously engage him. “I am sure that, whatever it is that I might have as a prior arrangement, I can remove myself from it,” he said, eliciting a smile from Lord Dayton. “This game of cards sounds to me to be quite intriguing.”

  Lord Dayton nodded, smiled, and lifted his glass in a half toast. “I am sure that you will find it very enjoyable,” he said, not for the first time. “Wednesday evening then?”

  “I look forward to it,” Phillip answered, before lifting his brandy glass and throwing it back in one mouthful.

  Chapter One

  “Why must I wear this gown?”

  Miss Olivia Spencer sighed heavily, as she shifted her weight from foot to foot. The gown was much too drab for someone of her coloring, she decided. For whilst her aunt had insisted it was silver, Olivia was quite certain it was nothing more than grey. Her own complexion seemed to be almost dulled due to the color of the gown, and her grey eyes matched the dress entirely, pulling all the color from her cheeks. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a most elegant style, but given that it was almost white in its fairness, she was left with nothing more than a white crown on top of a pale face and grey gown. All in all, Olivia decided, she was entirely unattractive and no one at this evening’s ball would give her more than a second look, even though her father had been an earl and her uncle, with whom she now resided, had laid claim to the title some seven years ago.

  “There is nothing wrong with this gown,” her aunt declared firmly. “And you know very well that your cousins will be wearing equally suitable gowns – and you shall hear not a single complaint pass their lips!”

  Olivia held back her sharp retort, knowing very well that her aunt did much more for her own daughters than for Olivia. Olivia had been presented to them as nothing more than a burden and, even though she fit in very nicely with both Margaret and Louisa in terms of age, they had never truly made her feel welcome. Her cousins would be given the very best of everything, whilst Olivia would be given barely a moment of consideration. Complaining did nothing. Tears made no difference. Anger was dealt with in a swift, sure manner. And every day, without fail, Olivia would be reminded of just how grateful she ought to be to her uncle and aunt for what they had done for her.

  “You will finish your preparations and meet us in the drawing room in half an hour,” Lady Dayton finished, a proud look lifting her chin just a little. “And we shall depart for the first ball of the Season, and you shall not make even the smallest amount of fuss, Olivia. Am I quite clear?”

  There was nothing Olivia could do but nod. “Yes, Aunt,” she said clearly, knowing that her aunt would not accept her mumbling. “In half an hour. Of course.” She painted a smile on her face and waited for her aunt to leave the bedchamber, finally collapsing into a chair the moment the door closed behind her. Tears pricked at her eyes, but Olivia pushed them away with ease, having felt this very same emotion many, many times before. Her uncle and aunt were not cruel by any means, but they did not truly care for her and nor did they make any attempts to hide their lack of consideration. When her father had died some seven years ago, his brother – her uncle – had taken both the title and the estate and had b
egrudgingly accepted the responsibility of taking Olivia into his care also. How Olivia had struggled when her uncle had made the estate his own, tearing things from the walls and replacing what her father had once loved with what he himself thought appropriate. She had been forced to accept the company of her two cousins, who were both dark haired and brown eyed in comparison to her pale features. They had not much to say to Olivia and had become a little more aloof when they discovered that Olivia’s late father had left her both an excellent dowry and a small fortune, which would be released to her when she was twenty-one years of age – but only if she was wed. If she was not, then it would be held back until such a time came about. The fortune would remain solely hers and would not go to her husband, which was something of a relief, but still it counted on Olivia finding a suitable husband.

  Perhaps that was why her aunt had been so determined to thrust her own daughters forward in place of Olivia, since they had no great dowry nor fortune of their own to speak of. Although Olivia privately thought that if she were to wed first, then surely that would remove the burden from her aunt and uncle, and in turn, it would permit her cousins to garner all the attention possible. But no, it seemed that such a thing was not possible, for her aunt and uncle wanted their daughters to marry first—and therefore they gave Olivia very little attention. This was not even to be her Season! Yes, she was out, and yes, she could dance, converse, laugh, and enjoy her time here in London, but she would not be permitted to court or any such thing. It had to be her cousins first and herself at the last.

  Sighing heavily again, Olivia rose to her feet and let her skirts swish about her, trying to find some sort of contentment with the gown she was to wear, trying to find something good about it that might lift her spirits, but all she could see was grey. Shaking her head, she was about to slump down into her chair again, only for her maid to appear.

  “The mistress says you are not to be late, Lady Olivia!” she exclaimed, hurrying towards Olivia and giving her a sharp look that came from years of both loyalty and friendship – however much of a friendship one could have with a maid. “Come now, you will need your earbobs and a locket, I think.” The maid, Betty, tilted her head this way and that, scrutinizing Olivia with a well-trained eye. “And some pearls in your hair too, I think.”

  “Very well,” Olivia murmured, as the maid went in search of such pieces. “Although I do not think it will do much good, given just how dull I am at present.”

  Betty did not say anything in response to this, fastening a single silver pendant around Olivia’s neck and handing her the ear bobs after that.

  “If you would sit, Lady Olivia,” the maid said, a little sharply. “We only have a few minutes until you will be required below stairs.” Deftly, she began to add some seed pearls to Olivia’s hair, bringing a little more shine and a little more light into Olivia’s grey visage. “There now, my lady. Do you see the difference?”

  Olivia looked back at her reflection in the mirror and was surprised to see a little more brightness in her face. The gown was still the same color as before, the color still faded from her cheeks, but the jewelry seemed to mitigate it somewhat, as though drawing the attention away from just how gloomy she felt.

  “And there is a little rouge here,” the maid murmured, tugging open one of Olivia’s drawers and pulling out a very small tin which, Olivia knew, would have shocked her aunt to know was even present in this house. “Why do you not add the smallest amount to your cheeks?” A faint look of anger was in Betty’s eyes as she handed Olivia the tin, before turning her head to go in search of a brush. “Just a little, mind,” she said as a warning. “Not too much else Lady Dayton will notice and then we both know what will happen!”

  Olivia found herself smiling fondly at Betty, as she handed Olivia the brush for the rouge. “You are very kind to me, Betty,” she said softly, looking at her reflection and adding just the smallest amount of rouge to each cheek, brightening her appearance all the more. “You have always been.” Betty had been Olivia’s lady’s maid for many years and had become all the more protective over her since Olivia’s father had died. It had been a blessing that the new Earl of Dayton had agreed that Betty might stay on as Olivia’s maid, and for that, Olivia was truly grateful. Betty, she was sure, saw how Olivia was treated, even though it was never expressly said that Olivia was a little less in her aunt and uncle’s eyes than that of their own daughters, and thus, Betty had become a little more protective of Olivia. She always made sure Olivia was perfectly turned out, offered encouraging words when Olivia was in the depths of despair, and was always ready to listen to whatever Olivia had to say. They were much more than mere servant and lady, for there was a depth to their companionship that Olivia appreciated desperately – and all the more so on days like this!

  “There,” Betty said, looking at Olivia’s reflection with satisfaction. “You look quite lovely, my lady.”

  Olivia smiled back at Betty, seeing how just the smallest touches had made her appear much more improved than before. There was a touch of color in her cheeks now, and with the jewelry sparkling around her neck and in her hair, Olivia felt as though she might actually garner a second look from one or two gentlemen. Whilst her aunt and uncle did not want her to be courting anyone this Season so that their daughters could be the ones to do so, surely they would not prevent her from such a thing, if it was requested.

  “Thank you, Betty,” she said, getting to her feet and smoothing her hands down her gown – a gown that seemed a good deal less odious than before. “You have done a remarkable job, and I am truly grateful to you.”

  Betty bobbed a quick curtsy, although Olivia could see the smile in her eyes. “It is my pleasure, my lady,” she told Olivia, who believed every word. “I hope you have a wonderful evening.”

  “I am sure I will,” Olivia answered, pressing her maid’s hands and looking down into Betty’s face, seeing the lines across her forehead and next to her eyes and knowing just how much of a bond had been forged over the years. “You have always been quite wonderful to me, and I am truly grateful.” Letting go of Betty’s hands, she smoothed her skirts once more and then lifted her chin, a proud smile on her face. “Now, you must enjoy your evening also, for I will not need you when I return.” Seeing Betty about to protest, she held up one hand. “I am sure one of my cousins will oblige me, or even my aunt herself, if I have any difficulties in removing myself from this gown. Now, I must go before my aunt is angry with me.” A slight strain crawled into her smile as she turned to hurry towards the door, knowing that her aunt would be more than willing to find any sort of fault she could with Olivia, should she be even a little tardy. Hurrying down the stairs, she saw with relief that both of her cousins were only just now making their way to the drawing room and quickened her steps so that she might join them. Her aunt could not criticize her if she was only a step or two behind her cousins!

  “Good evening,” Margaret murmured, throwing a quick glance behind her, her dark eyes assessing Olivia. “You are quite prepared for this evening?”

  “I am,” Olivia answered, not allowing her cousin’s question to strike at her confidence. “More than prepared.” She herself took in her cousins’ gowns, seeing Margaret’s pale yellow and Louisa’s light green gown. They matched their coloring very well indeed, emphasizing the darkness of their eyes and the swirling hazelnut tresses that were curled up on their heads at present. Her cousins were not markedly beautiful but still striking, and Olivia was sure that gentlemen aplenty would come to seek them out.

  “You are not late, Olivia,” her aunt said, sounding quite astonished as though she had been expecting that very thing. “Goodness. Then, I suppose, we are all prepared.”