Diane Gaston - Bound By One Scandalous Night

Disgrace is their middle name!

Left destitute by their philandering parents, the three Summerfield sisters—Tess, Lorene, and Genna—and their half-brother, Edmund, are the talk of the ton …for all the wrong reasons!

They are at the mercy of the marriage mart to transport their family from the fringes of society to the dizzy heights of respectability.

But with no dowries, and a damaged reputation, only some very special matches can survive the scandalous Summerfields!

Read where it all started with tempestuous Tess’s story

Bound by Duty Already available

Read Edmund’s story

Bound by One Scandalous Night Available now

And look out for the rest of the family’s exploits, coming soon!

In my author note for Bound by Duty I said that I’d based The Scandalous Summerfields mini-series on my mother and her sisters and brother. Not their life stories, mind you, but as inspiration. Edmund Summerfield, the hero of this book, represents my uncle Ed.

My mother was very close to her sisters, but her brother was older and never quite a part of that close-knit group. We’d see my uncle Ed at least once a year, but it was always for brief periods—an afternoon visit, an evening meal—always shared with lots of family. As a result, I did not know Uncle Ed very well. What I do remember about him, though, is his infectious laugh. When my uncle laughed, everyone laughed with him.

The only similarity between my uncle Ed and my hero Edmund is that both were somewhat separate from their close-knit sisters. In Edmund’s story I wanted to explore what it might be like to be in a family but not really a part of it. Edmund has dealt with this sense of being separate his whole life. Like so many of us, he pretends it doesn’t matter to him, when in reality he yearns to feel he belongs—as we all do.

Sometimes where we truly belong is not entirely clear to us, but I believe everyone has such a place. Will Edmund believe it as well?

Bound by

One Scandalous

Night

Diane Gaston

www.millsandboon.co.uk

DIANE GASTONalways said that if she were not a mental health social worker she’d want to be a romance novelist, writing the historical romances she loved to read. When this dream came true she discovered a whole new world of friends and happy endings. Diane lives in Virginia, near Washington, DC, with her husband and three very ordinary house cats. She loves to hear from readers! Contact her at dianegaston.comor on Facebook or Twitter.

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To the memory of my uncle, Edward Gelen, with his shock of white hair and infectious laugh.

Contents

Cover

Introduction

Author Note

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

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

Epilogue

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

Early hours of June 16th, 1815—Brussels, Belgium

Brussels was in chaos.

Bugles blared in the streets, their sounds echoing off the huge buildings of the Grand Place, repeating, over and over the call to arms. All officers and soldiers must report for duty!

For battle.

Wellington had learned that Napoleon and his army crossed into Belgium and were marching towards Brussels. Wellington’s soldiers needed to mobilise quickly to stop him.

Lieutenant Edmund Summerfield of the 28th Regiment of Foot wound his way through townspeople of all shapes and sizes and well-dressed gentlemen and ladies still waiting for carriages to bring them back from the Duchess of Richmond’s ball. Everywhere men were shouting, women wailing, children crying. Soldiers in uniforms of all colours rushed to and fro. British and Hanoverians in red, Belgian and Dutch in dark blue, British light cavalry in light blue, Rifles in dark green, Highlanders in plaid kilts. The array of colours mimicked a carnival, but the mood was tense, a tinderbox that with one spark could turn to riot.

Edmund forced himself to remain calm. He shifted his bag from one shoulder to the other and wished his head were clearer. He’d spent the evening in a tavern, drinking and playing cards with fellow officers too low in rank and importance to be invited to the Duchess’s ball. The bugle’s repeated call, still resounding through the tension-filled air, had sobered him greatly.

He pushed his way to the curb of the rue du Marais. Horses, wagons, carriages, men and women dashing on foot, blocked his way. Through the kaleidoscope of colour he spied a vision in white across the street, an angel amidst the tumult. While he watched, a man in labourer’s clothing grabbed her around the waist. She beat on the man’s arms with her fists and kicked his legs, but this man, rough and wild-eyed, dragged her with him.

Edmund bounded into the busy street, heedless of the traffic, narrowly missing being run down. He made it to the other side and chased after the man abducting the woman. Her shimmering white gown made it easy not to lose sight of her. The man ducked into an alley between two buildings. Edmund reached the space a moment after.

‘Let me go!’ the woman cried. Her blonde hair, a mass of curls, came free of its bindings and fell around her shoulders.

The man pinned her against the wall and took the fabric of her dress in his fist.

‘Vous l’aimerez, chérie,’ the man growled.

‘No!’ cried Edmund. He pushed his bag like a battering ram at the man’s head.

The man staggered and loosened his grip.

Edmund dropped his bag and slammed his fist into the man’s jaw, sending him sprawling to the cobbles. ‘Be off with you! Allez! Vite!’

The man scrambled to his feet and disappeared into the dark recesses of the alley.

Edmund turned to the woman. ‘Did he hurt you? Vous a-t-il blessé?’

She looked up and the light from a street lamp illuminated her face.

He knew her!

‘Miss Glenville!’

She was Amelie Glenville. Her brother, Marc Glenville, was married to his half-sister Tess.

Her eyes, wide with shock, looked past him.

‘Miss Glenville?’ He touched her chin and made her look at him. ‘Do you remember me? I am Tess’s brother, Edmund. We met at your parents’ breakfast two days ago.’

Her face crumbled. ‘Edmund!’ She fell into his arms. The beautiful Amelie Glenville fell into his arms. Who would believe this?

When Amelie entered the room that morning, for one heady moment he’d been caught in the spell of her unspoiled beauty. Fair of face. Skin as smooth as cream. Cheeks tinged with pink. Eyes as azure as the sea. Hair, a mass of golden curls, sparkling in the light as if spun from gold. Lips lush and ripe for kissing. Innocent. Alluring.