Seduced at Sunset (Love at Pembroke Palace Book 6) Read online

  Seduced at Sunset

  Copyright © 2020 Julianne MacLean Publishing Inc.

  Print edition ISBN: 978-1-927675-88-5

  Ebook edition ISBN: 978-1-927675-89-2

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce or transmit this book, or a portion thereof, in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from the author. This book may not be resold or uploaded for distribution to others

  This is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events, locals or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Cover and Interior Design: The Killion Group, Inc.

  Table of Contents

  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

  Author’s Note

  Excerpt from A Fire Sparkling

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Books by Julianne MacLean

  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  Pembroke Palace, England, 1886

  In every life, there comes a time when one must let go of certain regrets, stop mourning for the paths not taken, and forge ahead into the future with fresh new goals, and somewhat altered expectations.

  Standing at the window, looking out over the vast expanse of green lawns and thick forests reaching all the way to the horizon, Lady Charlotte Sinclair raised her teacup to her lips and settled her gaze on the red brick dower house in the distance.

  “Do you ever wonder if she’s lonely?” Charlotte asked her sister-in-law, Lady Anne, who rose from her chair and came to join her at the window.

  “Are you referring to Adelaide?” Anne replied. “She certainly hasn’t seemed melancholy, not that I can see. It’s been two years now, since the duke passed. I think she is doing remarkably well under the circumstances. Why? Do you feel differently?”

  Charlotte set her teacup down upon the saucer with a delicate clink. “I cannot help but wonder if Mother ever thinks about Dr. Thomas. They haven’t seen each other since Father’s funeral.” She turned her eyes to Anne. “You know the story, don’t you? That she attempted to run off with him and flee the palace through the underground tunnels on the eve of her wedding?”

  “No, I did not know that particular detail,” Anne said with surprise, looking sharply out the window toward the dower house. “I knew, of course, that she and Dr. Thomas were close at one time, and that they had been sweethearts before she married the duke.”

  Anne spoke tactfully, well aware that the two were more than sweethearts, for Adelaide had also left her husband for a brief interval during their marriage and had spent time away from Pembroke with Dr. Thomas. As a result, Charlotte and her twin brother Garrett were born nine months later—one of the many secret scandals hidden within the palace walls.

  For years, the secret had been kept safe. No one outside the family knew that Charlotte and Garrett were illegitimate, and that Dr. William Thomas was their true father.

  “What in the world happened?” Anne asked. “Because obviously, she didn’t jilt the duke at the altar. She went ahead with it. Otherwise she would never have become Duchess of Pembroke.”

  Charlotte turned to sit on the wide painted windowsill and set her teacup and saucer down beside her. “Mother told me everything about it shortly before Father passed away. She said she had no regrets about marrying him—that it was her destiny to be duchess here, and mother to all of us, just as we are. Though she loved Dr. Thomas quite passionately in her youth, I believe, in the end, she was content with the choice she had made.”

  “Naturally I am pleased to hear that,” Anne said as she sat down beside Charlotte on the windowsill. “But you still haven’t told me what happened on the eve of the wedding. Did she keep the duke waiting at the chapel?”

  “No, she was there on time. Her father caught Mother and Dr. Thomas as they were attempting to flee the palace. There was some violence, I believe, and poor Dr. Thomas was dragged away, unconscious. I do not know all the particulars, but Mother chose to walk down the aisle the next day to save him from any further harm. She wrote to him and told him that she had changed her mind, that her father was right, and it was her duty to marry the duke, and that Dr. Thomas must never contact her again. When he found out she had gone through with it, he left England and didn’t return for a few years. It was when he came back that he and mother spent those…intimate hours together.” Charlotte picked up her tea again. “Father knew nothing about her infidelity until much later, when he realized Garrett and I looked nothing like him or our brothers.”

  Anne laid a hand over her chest. “Goodness. That is quite a story,” she said.

  “Yes, indeed, and I have not been able to push it from my mind since I learned of it. Imagine, poor Dr. Thomas being thumped on the head and dragged out of the tunnels. And poor Mother, who was desperately in love with him… How she must have suffered. It is quite a tale of woe, which is why I believe it’s high time someone made it right. Their day has come, Anne. Do you not agree? Mother was a dutiful wife to the very end, but she is a widow now. And Dr. Thomas—so skilled in the art of medicine—was such a good friend to her when Father was ill. He was her knight in shining armor. Surely they both deserve happiness. They have waited so long.”

  Anne considered it. “Do you not think they are old enough, and wise enough, to make their own decisions? If they want to be together, there is nothing standing in their way. They can do so without someone—and that would be you, I presume—making it happen.”

  Charlotte smiled. “Of course it would be me. Why do you think I brought it up?” She rose to her feet and went to pour herself another cup of tea. “Dr. Thomas is always delighted to see me when I visit my publisher in London,” she said as she picked up the teapot. “I am sure he would be open to an invitation of some sort. Perhaps he just needs a little prodding.”

  “Do you intend to try your hand at matchmaking?” Anne asked, intrigued.

  “I most certainly do,” Charlotte replied. “I am the perfect candidate for such an undertaking. They are my parents, after all, and I know them better than anyone. Besides, I must have some form of romance in my life, even if it is not my own.”

  Anne and Charlotte had been sisters-in-law for twelve years now. They were the best of friends, and for that reason Charlotte did not need to explain why she had long given up dreaming of her own happily ever after. Charlotte was no stranger to heartache and disappointment, which was probably why she and Dr. Thomas rubbed along so well. She felt a deep connection to him, for he had lost his beloved tragically at an early age, just as she had.

  Before that loss, Charlotte had actually believed she was leading a charmed life, for she had met the perfect man during her first week of her first Season in London. Lord G
raham Spencer was the most handsome gentleman she had ever seen, with jet-black hair, piercing blue eyes, and a tall muscular build. If his looks weren’t enough to make a young lady swoon, he was also charming, intelligent, and exceptionally honorable. To top it all off, he was heir to a dukedom, and was soon to inherit his ailing father’s title and estate in Devonshire.

  Charlotte and Lord Graham had fallen in love instantly upon introduction, and the courtship was as passionate and romantic as any woman could ever dream. By the end of the Season Graham had proposed and given Charlotte his grandmother’s gigantic diamond ring, and they fell more deeply in love with each passing day as they anticipated their wedding the following spring.

  It was a passionate love, and they had both been far too impatient…

  Then, three weeks before Charlotte’s highly anticipated walk down the aisle, Graham was thrown from his horse in the middle of London’s Trafalgar Square on a sunny afternoon. The coroner told them he died instantly from a head injury, and Charlotte was left to endure the unbearable agony of losing the man she loved with all her heart, and with that, the happy future of which she had dreamed.

  A month later, she discovered she was with child. While most women would have feared and dreaded the scandal, Charlotte had wept tears of joy. She announced it to her family with pride—and a careless disregard for how Society would judge her—for in her womb, she carried a piece of her beloved that would stay with her forever.

  But fate was cruel to her yet again. At the end of her first trimester, she lost the baby and fell into a deep pit of despair that lasted nearly a year. The grief was immeasurable, and it was a long hard climb back to a life that included any thoughts of the future, for she couldn’t possibly imagine how to ever find happiness again.

  And so, she passed through her best years in a quiet state of melancholy. Her family tried to coax her to begin again at the next London Season, or the Season after that, but Charlotte had no interest in flirting, and surely no man could possibly compare to Graham, the great love of her life, who had been so cruelly ripped from her world.

  Now she was long past a marriageable age, but had found a different sort of happiness from within—through her writing. A year ago, her first novel The Boxer had been published under the pseudonym Victor Edwards, and it was now a literary sensation, which proved to be exceedingly lucrative for Charlotte. The book was in its seventeenth printing and was selling well in Europe as well as America. She had already been commissioned to write a second novel, which was due on her editor’s desk next summer.

  Hence, her life—though it was not what she’d imagined it would be when she was young and full of romantic dreams—had turned out to be surprisingly satisfactory.

  Nevertheless, Charlotte had recently begun to desire something more. She was not a block of ice. She had known passion and desire once before. Though she did not yearn for a life of matrimony—she was financially independent and quite happy in her solitude—her body longed for certain physical pleasures with a man. She wanted to be touched. By a lover. By someone handsome and experienced. Someone compelling.

  She would never be as young as she once was, but by God, she had not lost her looks yet. If she were honest about it, without conceit, she was in fact quite comely, with golden hair and a curvaceous figure. In the right situation, Charlotte was confident she could do what was required to attract a desirable candidate for the sort of encounter she had in mind.

  “How do you plan to begin?” Anne asked as she rose from her seat on the windowsill to return to the sofa. “Will you invite Dr. Thomas to Pembroke?”

  Charlotte shook away the other fantasy that had been on her mind so often lately and sat down beside Anne. She chose a raspberry scone from the biscuit plate. “Eventually, yes, but first I will pay him a call in London. He is always pleased to see me, as I am his only daughter. Since the Season is in full swing, I shall persuade Mother to accompany me this time. I will suggest that we take in the theater and accept a few invitations to dinners and balls. For years she has been trying to convince me to enjoy myself, so I will inform her that I am ready to do just that.”

  “Oh, Charlotte.” Anne laid a hand on her knee. “Please tell me that you are indeed ready to enjoy yourself, and that it is not simply a charade to lure Adelaide to London.”

  Charlotte popped the last bite of the scone into her mouth. “I believe I am more than ready,” she replied. “I have been too bookish of late. It’s time to live a little. Do you not agree? Heaven forbid I become a recluse in my old age.”

  The maid entered to collect the tea tray, and Anne smiled with encouragement. “Will you write to me from London?” she asked. “And tell me everything?”

  “I will write to you each day,” Charlotte replied.

  Though she was not certain she would be able to divulge all the details – for some of the activities she planned to engage in might turn out to be exceedingly private.

  Chapter 2

  London

  Immediately following the meeting with her publisher, Charlotte instructed her coachman to take her to Dr. Thomas’s medical offices on Park Lane. A short while later she was greeted by the clerk at the front desk and shown into her father’s study, which was located down a narrow red-carpeted corridor at the rear of the clinic.

  As always, Charlotte paused at the door to behold the cluttered yet cozy state of the room, with books and papers piled high and spread everywhere, and a faded coat of dark green paint on the walls. Aside from the fact that there was a skeleton standing by the window, the room was quite inviting, though definitely in need of a woman’s touch. Dr. Thomas needed some help with organization. Charlotte suspected, however, that too much of it might upset his professional balance. He was a brilliant surgeon who specialized in diseases of the brain, and he probably knew the exact location of every book and document in the building.

  This was obviously his sanctuary, his place of private reflection, where he researched the newest methods of scientific investigation. Charlotte was exceedingly proud of her father and pleased that he derived so much pleasure from his work. He had once told her that his work gave his life meaning, even when he had been forced to endure certain disappointments.

  He was referring, of course, to the loss of his great love—Charlotte’s mother Adelaide, now the Dowager Duchess of Pembroke. It had been years since Charlotte and Dr. Thomas spoke of it, but she knew the hole in his heart would remain there forever, just as the hole in her own heart would always be a part of her. ‘Like father like daughter,’ he once said to her. ‘We are two peas in a pod.’

  Not exactly, however, for his lost love was still alive and now attainable. There was hope for them yet.

  Charlotte heard her father leave one of the examination rooms and approach her from behind. “Dr. Thomas,” Charlotte said with a warm smile as she waited in the doorway. (They were on intimate terms, but he refused to let her call him ‘Papa,’ for it was not to be acknowledged.)

  “My darling girl,” he said, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek. “What brings you to London? Another meeting with your publisher, I suspect? They must be so pleased with the success of your book.”

  “Yes, and they are eager for me to finish the next one. My editor had all sorts of questions about it this morning.”

  “What sorts of questions?” he asked as he moved into the room and closed the door behind them.

  Charlotte took a seat in the leather chair in front of the desk and told him more about her meeting.

  After they had caught up on each other’s news, Charlotte sat forward on the edge of her chair and folded her hands primly on top of her reticule. “Did I mention that Mother is here in London as well?” she asked. “We intend to stay for what is left of the Season and will probably attend the theater this week. Thursday, perhaps. Tomorrow we will walk in the park. What plans do you have this week, Dr. Thomas? Anything of note?”


  She spoke in a light, casual tone, so as not to ram too forcefully through the gate in the first five minutes, for she firmly believed that matchmaking required a certain…subtlety. The persons involved in the potential match must not feel they are being pressured, persuaded, or manipulated. They must each believe they, alone, are the source of the attraction, and that they are making their own choices without any outside influences. Each must believe they are holding the reins.

  Dr. Thomas sat back in his chair, removed his spectacles, and laid them on the desk. “My plans for the week,” he replied, “involve a great deal of research and reading. Which is exciting enough for a man like me.”

  She inclined her head at him. “What do you mean? A man like you. You speak as though you are a dull sort of fellow, which is the farthest thing from the truth. Your work is fascinating. I am sure Mother would love to hear about your latest research. She is very much looking forward to our walk in the park tomorrow. The coachman will take us to the Marble Arch entrance around two o’clock, I believe. I do hope it will be a fair day. If it rains, we will hold off until the following day, but two o’clock is such a fine time to walk in the park, don’t you agree? And Marble Arch is a convenient spot to begin. It is not far from here.”

  Dr. Thomas inclined his head and studied Charlotte with some curiosity.

  She forced herself to stop talking, for she was quite sure her subtlety had just slipped from her grip like a wet frog and was hopping like mad out the open window.

  “Are you trying to play the matchmaker, Charlotte?” he asked with an amused look on his face.

  She found herself relaxing slightly and chuckled as she dropped her gaze. “There it is. My secret is out. You know me too well, I suppose. I thought I could lure you innocently to the park, where you would take one look at Mother and remember what you were to each other at one time.” Her eyes lifted. “You haven’t seen her since the funeral. That was two years ago.”