A Talent for Temptation: A Sinful Suitors Novella Read online

  Copyright © 2017 Sabrina Jeffries, LLC

  Excerpt from The Secret of Flirting copyright © 2017 Sabrina Jeffries, LLC

  Cover image © Craig White; background © DonLand/Shutterstock

  Author photograph © Jessi Blakely for Tamara Lackey photography

  The right of Sabrina Jeffries to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  Published by arrangement with Pocket Star Books, a division of Simon & Schuster, Inc.

  First published in this Ebook edition in 2017

  by HEADLINE ETERNAL

  An imprint of HEADLINE PUBLISHING GROUP

  Apart from any use permitted under UK copyright law, this publication may only be reproduced, stored, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, with prior permission in writing of the publishers or, in the case of reprographic production, in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency.

  All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Cataloguing in Publication Data is available from the British Library

  eISBN 978 1 4722 4540 3

  HEADLINE PUBLISHING GROUP

  An Hachette UK Company

  Carmelite House

  50 Victoria Embankment

  London EC4Y 0DZ

  www.headlineeternal.com

  www.headline.co.uk

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  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  About the Author

  Praise for Sabrina Jeffries

  By Sabrina Jeffries

  About the Book

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  An enticing excerpt from The Secret of Flirting

  Be seduced by the Sinful Suitors

  Meet the Hellions of Halstead Hall

  Find out more about Headline Eternal

  About the Author

  Sabrina Jeffries is the New York Times bestselling author of 40 novels and 10 works of short fiction (some written under the pseudonyms Deborah Martin and Deborah Nicholas). Whatever time not spent writing in a coffee-fueled haze of dreams and madness is spent traveling with her husband and adult autistic son or indulging in one of her passions – jigsaw puzzles, chocolate, and music. With over 7 million books in print in 18 different languages, the North Carolina author never regrets tossing aside a budding career in academics for the sheer joy of writing fun fiction, and hopes that one day a book of hers will end up saving the world. She always dreams big.

  For more information, visit her at www.sabrinajeffries.com, on Facebook at www.facebook.com/SabrinaJeffriesAuthor or on Twitter @SabrinaJeffries.

  Praise for Sabrina Jeffries, queen of the sexy regency romance:

  ‘Anyone who loves romance must read Sabrina Jeffries!’ Lisa Kleypas, New York Times bestselling author

  ‘Irresistible . . . Larger-than-life characters, sprightly dialogue, and a steamy romance will draw you into this delicious captive/captor tale’ Romantic Times (top pick)

  ‘Another excellent series of books which will alternatively have you laughing, crying and running the gamut of emotions . . . I guarantee you will have a tear in your eye’ Romance Reviews Today

  ‘The sexual tension crackles across the pages of this witty, deliciously sensual, secret-laden story’ Library Journal

  ‘Exceptionally entertaining and splendidly sexy’ Booklist

  ‘An enchanting story brimming with sincere emotions and compelling scenarios . . . an outstanding love story of emotional discoveries and soaring passions, with a delightful touch of humor plus suspense’ Single Titles

  ‘Scorching . . . From cover to cover, it sizzles’ Reader to Reader

  ‘Full of all the intriguing characters, brisk plotting, and witty dialogue that Jeffries’s readers have come to expect’ Publishers Weekly (starred review)

  By Sabrina Jeffries

  Sinful Suitors Series

  The Art Of Sinning

  The Study Of Seduction

  The Danger Of Desire

  The Pleasures Of Passion

  A Talent For Temptation (e-novella)

  Hellions Of Halstead Hall Series

  The Truth About Lord Stoneville

  A Hellion In Her Bed

  How To Woo A Reluctant Lady

  To Wed A Wild Lord

  A Lady Never Surrenders

  About the Book

  Widow Meriel Vyse is stunned speechless when someone tries to abduct her on her way to a ball. Fortunately, Quinn Raines, her secret beau, shows up to foil the attack. Unfortunately, as the two of them are struggling with her abductor, Meriel accidentally stabs Quinn with a knife.

  Unbeknownst to Meriel, Quinn set up the fake abduction so he could play the hero and win her hand in marriage. But now that his plan has gone disastrously awry, can he convince her that he’s still the man for her?

  For more dazzlingly romantic and witty historical romance, don’t miss Sabrina’s other gorgeous series, including The Hellions of Halstead Hall, The School for Heiresses and The Royal Brotherhood.

  To my sister-in-law Audrey Corliss,

  who has always been there for me, my husband,

  and my son. We love you, Audrey!

  One

  Mrs. Meriel Vyse hurried down the stairs of the Fulkham town house in a most unladylike manner. If she could complete this task for her brother-in-law, Gregory Vyse, the Baron Fulkham, before midnight, perhaps—

  “Madam?” their butler, Nunley, said, giving her velvet ball gown a once-over. “His lordship’s mother told me you’re attending an exhibit at Somerset House while she’s playing cards with her friends down the street.”

  Blast, she’d forgotten to tell the servants about the change in plans. “I had intended to, yes.” She jerked on her gloves. “Until Lord High-and-Mighty Undersecretary to the Office for War and the Colonies decided that since he had to be at some secret meeting until the wee hours of the morning, I had all the time in the world to trundle off to a ball and assess some foreign princess for him.”

  Nunley’s lips twitched as if he badly wanted to comment.

  “What?” she demanded. “I know what you’re thinking, so you might as well just say it.”

  “It is not my place—”

  “Oh, don’t play that game with me, Nunley. You and I have been through too much to stand on ceremony now.”

  He huffed out a breath. “Madam, I am trying to improve my skills as a butler for the day when the master ascends to the cabinet. And one of those skills involves not blurting out the first thing that comes into my head.”

  “You’re right, Nunley. I’m sorry.” The last person she should be snapping at was him. “Still, you needn’t be discreet with me. I rely on you for your frank opinions.”

  He softened. “As you wish, madam. If you must know, my opinion is that since you were looking forward to the exhibit, you should perhaps, just this once, refuse to do as his lordship asks.”

  “Nunley! It is most unlike you to suggest such a thing.” And decidedly not what she’d assumed he was thinking. “I can’t refuse Gregory. I owe him too much. Both of us do.”

  “And you have repaid him for it repeatedly in the past four years.”

  “Not enough.” She shook her head. “Never enough.”

  “I believe Lieutenant Vyse would have said otherwise.”

  “Possibly.” And Nunley would certainly
know. Before he’d come to work for Gregory, he’d been a sergeant under John. He probably knew as much, or more, about her late husband as she did.

  And an awful lot about her, too. Like the fact that she craved a normal life free of schemes and spying and subterfuge, something that Gregory didn’t seem to realize. Something she was too much of a coward to tell him.

  She sighed. “In any case, he’s merely asking me to attend a ball. What woman could reasonably complain about that?”

  Though Nunley raised an eyebrow, he dutifully helped her on with her blue velvet cloak. “I called for the carriage before you came down, but we shall have to inform the coachman of the change in direction.”

  “Of course,” she said dully. Nunley was right—she had been looking forward to the exhibit. Or rather, to her tryst.

  As if Nunley had read her mind, he said, “What about your young man? You said he’d be going to the exhibit as well.”

  She winced. “Quinn Raines is not my ‘young man.’ ” At nearly thirty, he wasn’t even all that young. And at twenty-seven, neither was she. “He’s a friend, nothing more.” When Nunley narrowed his gaze on her, she rolled her eyes. “All right, he is more of a . . . flirtation.”

  “A suitor.”

  Nunley could be entirely too perceptive sometimes. “I should never have told you about him,” she complained. “And you’re sure Gregory hasn’t guessed that I spend time with Mr. Raines?” Which was the only reason she’d involved Nunley—so he could keep an ear out for what Gregory knew.

  “I’m sure. But you should tell his lordship yourself.”

  “I can’t. If he knew I was engaged in a flirtation that will go nowhere, he wouldn’t approve. His sister-in-law must behave above reproach, or how can he rise in politics?”

  “Why must your ‘flirtation’ go nowhere? Why not just marry your young man?”

  She stared out the window. “Because we’re from different worlds. His mother is the daughter of a Spanish count, for pity’s sake! You can well imagine what she’d think to hear the truth about me.”

  “She might not care. And if Mr. Raines cares that much, he’s not the man for you anyway.”

  Meriel was afraid to find out how much he cared. Because Quinn was the wealthy scion of the prominent Raines banking family, while she . . .

  . . . was indebted to Gregory. As a result, she felt she must support his furtive work, if only just in the planning. She was his secretary, so to speak. And sometimes his spy.

  Quinn could never be part of that. She wouldn’t want him to be. As the director of his father’s bank, Quinn had to be discreet and cautious and averse to the sort of risks Gregory’s minions took regularly in service to their country. Not to mention that having a wife with her sordid past would ruin him if it ever got out.

  She should never have taken up with Quinn. But it had begun as a flirtation, and by the time she realized it was something more, she’d become so addicted to their little trysts . . . to him . . .

  “Anyway,” she went on, squaring her shoulders, “he may not be at the exhibit now even if I did go. I sent a note by the footman a few hours ago, telling him I couldn’t attend because of a prior engagement.”

  Quinn would be furious at being put off again, but it couldn’t be helped.

  Perhaps this was a sign it was time to end things.

  But then there would be no more shared conversations about the small idiocies of high society. No more stolen walks, where he listened to her rattle on about nothing and seemed to enjoy it. No more “accidental” encounters at balls, where they would sneak out to balconies or gardens so Quinn could put his warm mouth and clever hands on her and make her melt as John never had. It hadn’t gone beyond caresses, but she dearly wished—

  Nunley cleared his throat, and she started. Oh, Lord, had she made some sound to give away her thoughts? How mortifying!

  This obsession with Quinn was absurd. Nothing could come of it except an illicit affair, which was impossible.

  Then again, perhaps if she and Quinn could share a bed just once, he would be content to let her end things. After all, once men had what they wanted from a woman, they generally lost interest in her.

  Perhaps it would work for her, too, and she could go back to concentrating on her missions for Gregory.

  Right. And perhaps the sun would turn into the moon, and the stars fall out of the sky. Sadly, making love with Quinn was unlikely to banish her feelings. She was just grasping at any chance to have him in her bed.

  A footman entered the foyer to whisper something in Nunley’s ear, and the butler turned to her. “There’s an issue with the carriage, madam. I shall return in a moment.”

  While she waited for him, she watched out the front door. A man strolled by whose size and gait looked familiar. For a second, she was almost certain it was Quinn, but it had to be a trick of the gaslights, amplified by the fact that her thoughts were filled with the man. Quinn wouldn’t come here—he knew she wanted to keep their association secret from Gregory.

  After pacing the foyer for a few moments, she glanced out again and saw that their carriage had finally drawn up in front. She walked out and headed down the steps.

  She was nearly to the coach when she realized something was wrong. This was not the Fulkham family carriage. Confused, she halted, and a stranger leapt out and dashed up the steps, seizing her by the arm and dragging her down to his equipage.

  She tried to scream, but the man clamped his hand over her mouth. She tried to bite him, but he had gloves on and she merely got a mouthful of leather.

  That left her only one alternative. As he hauled her toward the carriage, she fumbled in her reticule for the knife she’d carried ever since that horrible night when Gregory had saved her.

  She’d just managed to pull it free of its sheath and was lifting it to stab her assailant over her shoulder when a man came running up the street and cried, “Unhand her, you scoundrel!”

  In a flash, her attacker thrust her at her rescuer, who unfortunately got the brunt of her blade when she fell into him, embedding her knife in his arm. As the brave man grunted in pain, the villain fled to his coach, which raced away.

  Meanwhile, her rescuer was now cursing a blue streak as he jerked her blade free. She barely had time to register the dark red stain spreading over his coat sleeve before the light from the gas lamps fell full upon his face and she gasped.

  “My word, Quinn!” Meriel cried.

  Her panicked voice seeped into Quinn’s brain, despite the throb in his arm and the ringing in his ears. He swayed on the steps, and the blade he’d wrenched free fell from his hands.

  “Are you all right?” Her face was drawn with contrition and worry. “Heavens, I didn’t mean to hurt you!”

  “I figured as much,” he said through gritted teeth. “It’s fine.”

  “It’s not fine!” She tried to examine his wound in the poor light. “I could have killed you!”

  Yes. Though he probably would have deserved that, given that he’d plotted the fake abduction.

  Bloody stupid idea that had been. But he’d been so angry about her canceling yet again that he’d felt he had to act. The plan had been to delay the Fulkham carriage so that his servant could drive up and attempt to carry her off. Then Quinn would gallantly come to her rescue.

  He’d had some fool notion that it might make her consider him in a new light, showing her that he wasn’t the boring banker everyone portrayed him to be, that he could be just as gallant and brave as Fulkham. Then she would swoon in his arms, shower him with kisses, and be grateful to him for saving her.

  He should have known better. Meriel never behaved according to plan.

  But he hadn’t expected her to stab him, for God’s sake. Next time he plotted something like this, he should make sure she wasn’t armed. Not that there would be a next time. He wasn’t idiot enough to try this again.

  “Come,” she said, slipping her slender arm about his waist. “We need to get you inside.”


  Wonderful—now she thought him an invalid. As she tried to guide him up the steps, he muttered, “I can walk perfectly well, you know. I’m not wounded in the legs.”

  “Yes, but you’re losing blood and you might faint.”

  Which would really make him appear the fool. And now that she’d put the idea in his head . . .

  Don’t faint, don’t faint, don’t faint, he chanted to himself.

  “Which is why I need to get you inside where you can lie down,” she added. “I need to tend to that wound.”

  Huh, that sounded promising. And he did rather enjoy having her supporting him. It might even be worth the searing pain in his arm.

  If he didn’t bleed to death first. “Do you actually know anything about tending to a wound?”

  “I know enough,” she said evasively.

  There she went again, throwing out one of her usual enigmatic remarks. Would he ever parse out the mystery that was Meriel? Did he even want to? After all, what sort of woman carried a blade in her reticule?

  But in for a penny, in for a pound. He might as well see this through. As long as she didn’t find out that the “abduction” was staged, he ought to be safe.

  They’d reached the top of the steps, and the door swung open to reveal an alarmed servant, whose livery showed him to be a butler. “Madam, what the devil—”

  “Nunley, this is Mr. Raines,” she said as she led Quinn inside. “He came to my rescue when a man tried to abduct me, and he got hurt as a result.”

  Paling, the butler took her cloak from her. “I knew our carriage had been sabotaged. I was just coming to tell you when I saw that you’d gone out. Thank heaven you weren’t harmed.”

  “Don’t thank heaven,” she said. “We have Mr. Raines to thank for that.”

  Quinn fought a surge of annoyance at her speaking of him as if he were some stranger. Even now, she was reluctant to admit she knew him. It was what any respectable widow would do to preserve her reputation. Still, he’d had enough of sneaking around with her and pretending not to know her, when he yearned every moment of every day to make love to her.