The Hero and the Hellion: A Steamy Regency Historical Romance (The Somerton Scandals Book 3) Read online

  The Hero and the Hellion

  A Steamy Regency Historical Romance

  Ava Devlin

  The Hero and the Hellion

  The Somerton Scandals - Book 3

  Ava Devlin

  Copyright © 2020 by Ava Devlin

  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 publisher

  except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Printed in the United States of America

  First Printing, 2020

  http://avadevlin.com

  Contact the author at [email protected]

  Cover art by BZN Studio Designs

  http://covers.bzndesignstudios.com

  Copyediting by Claudette Cruz

  https://www.theeditingsweetheart.com/

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Free eBook

  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

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Epilogue

  Author’s Note

  Free eBook!

  Free eBook

  Discover the scandal that started them all! The sweet and steamy prequel novella The Dreamer and the Debutante reveals the secrets that kicked off the Somerton Scandals and the history between Callum and Heloise.

  Get your FREE copy now at http://avadevlin.com

  Prologue

  The Princess and the Stable Boy

  A Fairy Tale by Heloise Somers for Caroline Cunningham

  There once was a Princess who wished to be a commoner and a Stable Boy who wished to be a knight. The Princess dreamed of a life in the village, picking flowers and milking cows, free to explore the wilderness and marry for love. The Stable Boy imagined a life of pleasure and wealth, where he would perform acts of great heroism and never have to bow and scrape to those that were born as his betters.

  Despite their differences, the Princess and the Stable Boy played together as children. They didn't know, until many years had passed by, that the two were destined for very different worlds, and that their friendship must someday end. They got into mischief together and had wonderful fun, until one day, the Stable Boy was injured during one of their games and had to wear his arm in a sling.

  The Princess's brother, the King, was furious with her and told her she would be sent away to learn how to be a proper lady. She cried and cried, feeling terribly guilty for how she'd hurt her beloved friend, and fearing what life might be like away from the palace.

  On the day she was to be sent off, the Princess sneaked into the stables to say goodbye to her best friend and to apologize to him for how he was hurt. The Stable Boy smiled and showed off his sling, insisting that he was proud to finally have a battle scar that befitted a knight. The Princess was overcome with love for her friend and kissed him right on the lips! To her great surprise, he kissed her right back, holding her close with his one unbroken arm.

  In that moment, the Princess knew that the Stable Boy would be her one true love.

  Years passed by, and the Princess did indeed learn how to be a lady. Without her best friend in attendance, she often got caught playing her pranks and had no one to laugh with about her mischief. Still, she learned what was expected of her, and did her best to hide her spirit beneath a mask of what was proper.

  When the Princess finally returned to her kingdom, there was a great storm. The night sky lit up with bolts of lightning and terrible booms of thunder as the carriage rocked and swayed its way to the castle. When she finally arrived and the door to the carriage opened, the first person the Princess saw was her old friend, the Stable Boy, who had grown into a strapping and very handsome man.

  Though she was expected to take her place at her brother's side as a respectable young woman, the Princess sneaked out time and again to see her old friend, the Stable Boy. Both of them remembered that long-ago kiss, and neither could resist the temptation to kiss again, all these years later. In this way, the two fell in love, keeping their forbidden romance a secret from the King and all his servants.

  The Stable Boy took the Princess riding across magical mountains, discovering enchanted caves and beautiful wildflowers. They made plans to someday become exactly who they'd always wished, and marry to live happily ever after. They were very much in love.

  But becoming a knight was no easy feat, and the Stable Boy had to go into battle to earn his new status and prove his worth. He became a hero, writing to his fellow servants at the castle about his feats of glory, all while the Princess kept an open ear, hoping to hear how he fared.

  Meanwhile, the Princess discovered that she was to have a child, a magical little girl, who would be at once both a commoner and a royal, and enjoy the best of both of those worlds. The new Little Princess was born at the end of springtime, with all of the roses and bluebells and daisies and daffodils bursting into vibrant bloom to herald the summer. She became very beloved by the King and his people, and now that she was a mother, the Princess could remain at the castle to care for her little girl.

  In this way, both the Princess and the Stable Boy got what they once had wished for, though neither could have predicted how their stories would unfold. The Princess became a commoner, living amongst the townspeople with her basket of wildflowers, and the Stable Boy became a knight, decorated for his bravery in battle.

  The Little Princess grew up in a world where she would be able to choose which path she wished to take, and her future was still ahead of her, waiting for the day she grew up.

  1

  It was snowing again.

  Heloise Somers stared out the window of her bedroom, watching the lazy drift of snowflakes whirl and spin against the bright shafts of moonlight. The onset of winter this year had been a sudden thing. One day it was a chilly, but colorful autumn in golden light, and then, as though they had slept for a year rather than just a night, the people of Somerton awoke to find a blanket of white on the ground. For the last month, the snows had come almost daily, drowning the spectacular landscape of Yorkshire in an even, white layer of frost, like a gown of satin and lace, sewn for the moors.

  There was no telling what hour it was. This was the third time in a week that she'd found herself ripped from a restful slumber, twisted in her sheets in a cold sweat, battling the demons of her mind, until she rose, panting and gasping for air, haunted by the intensity of her dreams.

  Were they nightmares? Could something that began as utter, blissful perfection count as a nightmare? Sometimes she awoke before the narrative in her fantasy world turned dark, before the clouds began to gather over the story that was only half told. It didn't matter. Wherever in the plot she managed to escape to the waking world, she still found herself wrapped in a heavy cloak of sadness.

  She sighed, frustrated with herself, and flicked at the curtains in irritation.

  In her dreams, the view from this window would have been m
uch greener, wild and lush under a blistering summer sun. In her dreams, the clouds gathered in great, heavy sacks of gray and silver and unleashed a torrent of whipping, shining rain upon the earth. The wind sent up glorious wildflowers and thickets of tall grass. She could see herself, years younger, clinging to the back of her bay mare as they galloped across the green with joyous abandon.

  Surely anyone who dreamt of such a beautiful, warm summer would feel despondent upon waking to remember that the dead of winter was upon them! Surely it was only that. She preferred long days and warm breezes, after all. Who didn't?

  It wasn't the other thing.

  Dreaming of him was only happy and blissful in the distorted reality of dreams, where the truth of the years since dissolved into a strange, forgotten suspension, drowned out by the whims of silly sentimentality. They painted scenarios that ruined a good night's sleep with their idiotic idealism.

  She shook her head, clicking her tongue with impatience, and turned her back on the stark landscape without. She snatched her dressing gown from its post and wrapped it around her body, cinching it just slightly tighter than necessary at the waist. Perhaps a bit of discomfort would pull her completely back to reality before she attempted to sleep again.

  She was a different person now than she'd been that summer. The wild Heloise who'd played tricks and fallen in love was gone, and good riddance. She had been young and naive, reckless with her body and heart, and it didn't matter anymore anyway. It was long past.

  This torment was the fault of that damned book. It had been at least a year since she'd dreamt of Callum Laughlin, but ever since she was given that godforsaken book, he seemed to haunt her every time the moon rose! She had a mind to dig it out of the trunk at the foot of her bed and toss it out the window. It would be buried in snow, and come spring, only a rotting mush of papers would remain, with no spiky handwriting professing a long-forgotten love. Perhaps that would break the spell it had cast upon her.

  No, she corrected herself, it was surely a curse or a hex. Simple spellcraft would never conjure something so painful.

  Like all such dark magic, the book was nothing special in and of itself, just a penny book from a shop in France with a salaciously embellished retelling of the romance between Caesar and Cleopatra. The story had meant something to the two of them, once, but that was beside the point. It was the inscription inside that had sent her world asunder, delivered some 4 years after its arrival at the wrong address in Bath-Spa, where it had languished to her ignorance while her resentment had grown.

  Then, at the most unexpected moment, she’d been handed the cursed thing and had seen the spiky handwriting inside.

  Thinking of you Always …

  Forever Yours - C.L.

  It would have been better to never have known he had sent it, all those years ago. It would have been preferable to carry on, believing he'd left her behind completely. Now, she had to bear the burden of knowing that he had not forgotten her, nor had he intended to leave her for good. Now, she had to wonder what had happened in the years since he'd gone to war and if he thought of her still. Ignorance truly was bliss.

  She didn't bother with slippers, flinging her door open to escape into the heart of the house. Something about her bare feet pacing carefully across the floor at the witching hour felt more honest to her, more primal. The dower house was not as large nor as grand as the manor house on the hill, though her mother had outfitted it beautifully upon taking up her station here as dowager viscountess.

  Heloise never thought she'd consider anywhere but her childhood bedroom a true home, but it had been a kind of relief to come here. She was able to have both the surroundings of Somerton as a familiar comfort and a blank slate, all at once.

  Without warm embers from a fireplace nor hot coals in a bed warmer, tucked snugly beneath the blankets, the halls bit into the skin with their chill. It was a welcome sort of discomfort, a reminder to live within the waking world rather than that of dreams. She shivered, crossing her arms over her body, and quickened her pace just a bit. All that mattered was right now, here in Somerton, some months after her daughter turned three years of age.

  The door to the nursery was well oiled and silent as she pushed it open, waiting a moment for her eyes to adjust to the darkness within. Caroline had finally outgrown her crib this winter, and lay curled on a tiny child's bed, slick with wood polish that managed to gleam, even in the dark. She had her thumb in her mouth and her rag doll clutched to her side. Her mess of auburn hair was spread around her in a halo as she floated from dream to dream. Nothing had ever been so precious in all the world.

  This was why she couldn't throw the book away.

  Some day, her daughter would ask about her father, and this would be the one token of his love that she could pass along. One day, when Callie was old enough to really understand the truth of her birth, she deserved this little piece of that torrential summer that had produced her. It was young love, for certain, and perhaps more irrational than anything else, but it had been love that created her darling girl. Heloise wanted her to know that, to feel that she was the product of something pure and joyous and without regret.

  She leaned her head against the doorframe, her chest clenching with emotion as the dreamy utopia she'd imagined in her sleep began to dissipate into the stark reality of the night. If Callum ever returned from the war, perhaps he would have a chance to know his daughter. Would it be a gift or a curse to tell him he'd sired a child? Surely he deserved to move on with his life, as she had, unburdened by the impulsive choices they'd made that summer. If he survived the danger he'd put himself in, she would have to think long and hard about whether or not to reveal this thing to him.

  Perhaps it should be Callie's choice, when she was old enough to understand.

  She wanted to go sit on the edge of the little bed and stroke her daughter's hair. Nothing would bring her back from the reverie of her haunted dreams like touching her child. The only thing that held her back from doing just that was knowing that it would cause the girl to stir and wake, which was not fair after she'd finally adjusted to this new bed.

  It had been quite an effort moving her into a proper bed this autumn. They had found her on more than one occasion attempting to climb back into the old crib.

  Change was hard. No one knew that as well as Heloise Somers.

  She bit her lip against the urge to shiver as the cold from the halls settled into her bones. She slipped out of the nursery and secured the door, not wishing to allow the cold into the room where Callie slept.

  Her hair was braided, falling nearly to her waist, and leaving the slender column of her neck exposed to the cool night air. She had half a mind to unbraid it and simply sleep with a warm cloak of vibrant red around her, perhaps protecting her from the mystical whims of the winter.

  If her old classmate, the superstitious Miss Tatiana Everstead, were still in the manor, she might go to her for some eclectic cure to her dreams. It had been surreal having so many of the girls from finishing school flitting around the grounds all autumn, each of them a strange contradiction of newfound maturity and enduring personality. If Tia had consulted her deck of tarot cards some months ago and revealed to Heloise that her childhood nemesis, Miss Gloriana Blakely, would soon be marrying into the Somers family, she would have recoiled in abject horror.

  It was strange, wasn't it? Time unfolded in the most unexpected ways, changing people before they even realized anything was amiss. On the night Heloise had realized her brother Alex was in love with a girl she'd once professed to hate, it had somehow filled her heart with warmth instead of ice. She chuckled quietly to herself as she made her way back to her bedroom, remembering the astounded reaction of her brothers when they'd come upon Heloise and Gloriana, heads together, as they planned the particulars of the upcoming wedding.

  It was simply more proof that the girl she'd been four years ago was well and truly put to rest, and a steadier, more responsible Heloise Somers had emerged in her plac
e. It wasn't that she was suddenly enamored of Gloriana. She simply realized that being helpful and supportive was the thing that would best serve her family, and she'd come to understand that family was all that truly mattered in this life. If becoming pregnant out of wedlock had taught her anything, it was that her family loved her, each in their own slightly infuriating way.

  She closed herself quietly back into her bedroom and hurried across the floor to find her place back beneath the warmth of her blankets, dressing gown and all, her braid coiled around her like a tether.

  Perhaps, she reflected, she should tell herself a story to soothe her back to sleep. It worked very well with both her daughter and her nephew when they were restless. She had found she was rather good at making up stories and imparting little lessons within them. Callie's favorite, however, was likely the last thing Heloise needed to reflect upon right now.

  After all, she was no princess, and Callum Laughlin, wherever he was, was no longer a stable boy.

  2

  Callum Laughlin loved the full moon.

  Even on a night like this one, where the frigid waters lapping up against the coast sent a spritz of ice onto anyone who dared tread too close, that brilliant blue light would lift his spirits.

  His return to England had been, thus far, quite the opposite of the mythic "warm" welcome. The Thames was frozen solid, and therefore he'd had to dock a ways from the city, where booking a stage that went so far north as Yorkshire might as well have been a Herculean quest. Still, he was determined to conquer this latest challenge and ideally reach Somerton before the New Year.