Once Upon a Temptingly Ruinous Kiss: #2 The Whickertons in Love Read online

  Contents

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  Also by Bree Wolf

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgement

  Once Upon a Temptingly Ruinous Kiss by Bree Wolf

  Published by WOLF Publishing UG

  Copyright © 2021 Bree Wolf

  Text by Bree Wolf

  Cover Art by Victoria Cooper

  Paperback ISBN: 978-3-98536-002-4

  Hard Cover ISBN: 978-3-98536-007-9

  Ebook ISBN: 978-3-98536-003-1

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, brands, media, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner.

  Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  All Rights Reserved

  This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  WOLF Publishing - This is us:

  Two sisters, two personalities.. But only one big love!

  Diving into a world of dreams..

  …Romance, heartfelt emotions, lovable and witty characters, some humor, and some mystery! Because we want it all! Historical Romance at its best!

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  Also by Bree Wolf

  The Whickertons in Love

  The WHICKERTONS IN LOVE is a new series by USA Today bestselling author BREE WOLF set in Regency-era England, portraying the at times turbulent ways the six Whickerton siblings search for love. If you enjoy wicked viscounts, brooding dukes as well as head-strong ladies, fierce in their affections and daring in their search for their perfect match, then this new series is perfect for you!

  #1 Once Upon a Devilishly Enchanting Kiss

  #2 Once Upon a Temptingly Ruinous Kiss

  #3 Once Upon an Irritatingly Magical Kiss

  More to follow!

  Prequel to the series: Once Upon A Kiss Gone Horribly Wrong

  Prologue

  London, October 1802 (or a variation thereof)

  Shadows danced everywhere, their eerie movements taunting her with each step she took down the darkened corridor. They seemed to have arms and hands, reaching out for her, tugging upon her skirts and trailing cold fingers through her hair. She felt sharp tugs upon her scalp, her skin prickling with the sense that something evil and dangerous was lurking nearby.

  Somewhere in the shadows.

  In the dark.

  Just out of sight.

  Her teeth began to chatter as she turned her head from side to side, her eyes wide as she tried to glimpse the contours of whatever hid in the dim world around her. Her heart tensed painfully as though afraid to continue on, tempted to simply stop its rhythm here and now, afraid to experience another moment of this torture.

  Still, her steps carried her onward. Somehow, she knew she could not linger. She should not linger. If she lingered—

  Cold hands seized her, appearing out of nowhere and clamping over her arms.

  Her heart contracted painfully, and a scream was torn from her throat.

  One.

  Only one.

  She began to tug upon her arms, desperate to free herself, but the cold hands remained. They felt like iron shackles, ice-cold and unbreakable. She tried to scream again, but no sound fell from her lips.

  Panic swept through her as she was shoved backwards, those cold hands still wrapped around her arms, until her back slammed into the wall behind her. Pain radiated through her body, and she tasted blood as she bit her lip, her eyes momentarily pinched shut.

  She was afraid what she would see if she opened them.

  Something evil.

  Something otherworldly.

  Something…unimaginable.

  A growl rang in her ears, and she felt her body grow cold under his touch. It was a him; she was certain of it. She could feel it in the way those hands moved over her body, sending ice down her limbs, freezing her resistance as though she were a puppet, unable to move on her own.

  And then her eyes flew open, and she found herself staring at a faceless demon. Its eyes glowed in the dark, bottomless pits that held no pity, no concern, no compassion. The sight froze her heart anew, and she knew that there was no escape.

  As though sensing her surrender, he pushed closer, his breath upon her skin as—

  “Leonora!” a familiar voice called. “Leonora, wake up! You’re dreaming!”

  Surging upward, Lady Leonora Beaumont, daughter to the Earl of Whickerton, opened her eyes and found herself looking at the darkened contours of her bedchamber. Her heart beat fast in her chest and her breath came in gasping pants as her gaze turned to look upon her sister, seated beside her on the bed. “Louisa?” she gasped, squinting into the darkness.

  “It’s me,” her sister confirmed, her hands still upon Leonora’s shoulders, giving her one last shake. “It’s me.”

  Again, Leonora closed her eyes, only this time in relief, her lungs drawing in one long, deep breath, hoping that it would chase away the nightmare, knowing that it would not.

  It never did.

  “Were you dreaming of…?” Louisa’s voice trailed off, her face contorted in regret and shame.

  Leonora nodded, knowing that what had happened to her had not been her sister’s fault. Yes, it had been Louisa’s idea to sneak out of the house and attend the masquerade, but it had also been Leonora’s choice to follow. Louisa had not wanted her to; except Leonora had insisted.

  She had no one else to blame.

  Only herself.

  And him.

  Whoever he was.

  Louisa pulled Leonora into her arms. “I’m so sorry, dear sister.” She rocked them both from side to side as they clung to one another the way they had from the first. Always had they walked hand-in-hand, which had been the very reason Leonora had insisted
on accompanying her sister that night roughly six months ago.

  It had been her decision.

  “What can I do?” Louisa murmured into her sister’s hair. “Please, what can I do?”

  Leonora heaved a deep sigh. “Go back to bed and sleep,” she whispered, unwilling to place this burden upon her sister’s shoulders. She could feel that deep-seated tremble reach for her limbs and knew that if Louisa did not leave soon, she would see Leonora break apart.

  It was a torturous routine, and Leonora knew it well.

  First came the nightmares.

  Vivid and stirring.

  Stirring in a way that left Leonora a mere shadow of herself.

  Then came the shivers and that violent trembling that shook her to her bones and threatened to undo her in every sense of the word. It was followed by uncontrollable weeping, forcing her into a dark pit from whence there was no escape…before eventually a depressing calm settled upon her, robbing her of every bit of hope and forcing her to accept that life would always be thus.

  Always.

  “I cannot leave you like this,” Louisa protested, tears misting her own eyes, and Leonora loved her sister for her devotion. Yet, she could not allow it.

  “I want you to,” she whispered, gritting her teeth against the first shiver that drew closer. She could feel it approaching like a gazelle might sense the lion hiding in the tall grass. “I need you to.” She swallowed hard, doing her best to hold on. “Thank you for waking me.”

  For a seemingly endless moment, Louisa looked at her sister, the expression on her face torn between reluctance and the inevitable understanding that even if she stayed…she could not help. “Very well,” Louisa finally said and rose to her feet. “I shall see you in the morning.”

  Forcing a smile onto her face, Leonora nodded. “In the morning.”

  When the door finally closed behind her sister, Leonora let go. She did not wish to. She did not wish to feel the pain and fear and terror. Worse, the helplessness. The powerlessness. But she needed to.

  In the early days after the attack, Leonora had fought the onslaught…and it had wrecked her in a way nothing else ever had. She had been unable to recover for days, her body weakened, her mind unable to form a clear thought, her heart twisted beyond recognition.

  She had lost herself in these moments.

  Now, after half a year of practice, Leonora knew better. She knew she needed to let these feelings in. She needed to feel them. She needed to shake and shiver, to weep and sob in order to reclaim at least one small part of who she was.

  And so she did.

  By the time the last trembles ceased, the sun was beginning to rise in the East.

  Exhausted, Leonora slumped back into the pillows, hugging her knees to her chest as she curled into a ball of misery. The bruises of that night had long since faded. She had burnt the gown she had worn that night, ripped beyond repair—although Leonora knew that that had not been the reason why she had burnt it. Every physical reminder of that night was gone, and yet, Leonora still found herself trapped.

  Unable to leave that night behind her.

  Unable to step back out into the light.

  Unable to…live.

  Would it ever stop? Would she ever be free? Or forever remain locked in this prison, tormented by the past? Would she ever forget that moment when he had looked upon her, their eyes locking for no longer than the length of a heartbeat? Would she forever feel his hands upon her? His lips upon hers? Would she forever see him in every man to cross her path, never knowing who he was?

  All these questions and more swirled in Leonora’s head—All day! Every day!—and deep down, she knew the answer.

  Had known it since the night of the masquerade.

  The night she had wandered away from the ballroom, curious to observe those around her. Never had Leonora’s observations guided her toward something dangerous, and she had not expected what had happened then. She had ventured deeper into the darkened maze of corridors and alcoves, and then—

  Her hands still balled into fists at the thought of how he had come upon her. She could still feel his hands upon her, his breath upon her skin, his mouth upon hers, silencing any objection she had voiced.

  Eventually, Leonora had managed to free herself and gotten away before anything more could have happened. Still, it had not been soon enough.

  The damage had been done…

  …and it seemed irreversible.

  Yet, lately, Leonora could not help but wonder if there were others. Other women who had experienced the same hell she had. Of course, like her, they could not speak of it for fear of repercussions. After all, society was merciless when it came to a woman’s reputation.

  Did no one care?

  * * *

  Close to dawn that very night, Drake Shaw, Marquess of Pemberton, stood in a small clearing in Hyde Park, surrounded by tall-standing trees. His gaze was trained straight ahead, his arms at his sides, one hand holding a pistol, the muzzle pointed upward. He took a step forward, and then another, and another, his strides large and calm. He felt his heart beating in his chest, wondering if indeed it knew any other rhythm but this steady thump he felt against his rib cage. Indeed, he might well die tonight, and yet, not even that seemed to be reason enough for his heart to quicken its pace.

  Mist lingered upon the ground this early in the morning, and the faint light slowly illuminating the sky touched upon a dew-covered world. An owl hooted in the distance, a last call before it would seek out its nest. The aroma of wet dirt under his boots drifted to Drake’s nostrils, and he welcomed the coolness lingering upon his forehead. Indeed, he felt quite at ease or would have if it were not for the man, he had come here to kill this morning.

  Another three steps carried him across the clearing before Drake stopped, his hand steady, and then turned to face Lord Crawford.

  In the dim light, Drake could no longer make out the other man’s features. He no longer saw that self-righteous gleam in his eyes, the hard set of his mouth and the complete disregard for all he had done upon his face. All Drake did see in that moment was a lone figure standing there, his arm extending as he brought the pistol forward, aiming it at Drake.

  Drake, too, was taking aim, not rushing, but instead taking his time to—

  Bang!

  A shot rang out, a deafening sound in the still morning air, and Drake felt a sharp pain pierce his left forearm. The force of the bullet jerked his shoulder backwards, and his brain registered pain. Yet, it did not signify. It did not matter.

  Inhaling a deep breath, Drake steadied his nerves, one eye closed, helping him adjust his aim. Dimly, he noticed the figure on the opposite end of the clearing flinch and imagined Lord Crawford’s eyes filling with utter panic and fear. The thought brought a smile to Drake’s face for it seemed appropriate that the man ought to at least feel the same terror he had caused others in the last moments of his life.

  Drake’s finger tightened upon the trigger. His chest rose and fell with one final breath, his hand steady as a rock.

  Bang!

  Another deafening shot rang through the clearing, and at its opposite end, Lord Crawford crumbled to the ground.

  Dropping the dueling pistol where he stood, Drake cast one last hateful glare at the man who now lay dead or dying upon the ground, his pale-faced second by his side, and then turned and walked away.

  The sun rose swiftly now that another evil had been taken from this world, and Drake felt his chest rise and fall with more ease. The pain in his arm still lingered, but he did not mind it for it only served as a reminder of what he had achieved that night. Nevertheless, Drake knew that far more predators remained, their twisted minds and evil souls hidden behind charming smiles and protected by laws that did not serve to uphold justice.

  This duel had not been Drake’s first, and it would not be his last. He would continue to walk among the ton, eyes and ears wide open, searching for others, wives trapped in a marriage with a monster, unable to protect th
emselves.

  As Drake pulled himself back into the saddle, he momentarily closed his eyes, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose as he remembered the day that had made him the man he was.

  Blood had been everywhere, the knife she had used still in her hand. Her eyes had been closed, the look upon her face was one Drake would never forget. In fact, she had seemed peaceful, unburdened, free. Never had Drake seen her like that before, and in that moment, Drake had realized that he had never truly known her. He had walked the world blind, unaware of the horrors she had faced on a daily basis.

  Now, he knew. Yet, he had been too late. The realization had come to him far too late.

  He would not be too late again. He would do what he had to do in order to prevent the same tragedy from happening again.

  One by one, he would rid the world of these men. He would do it for her.

  If only he had known when that knowledge could still have made a difference to her.

  If only.

  Chapter One

  A First Step