Josie Dennis
Classics Rekindled 8
Wicked Persuasion
Anne Ellis lives like a spinster, a dependable sister and favorite aunt. Five years earlier Capt. Patrick Wenworth made her heart pound, but she was persuaded by her aunt to spurn him due to his lack of fortune. Now he's back in her life, a wealthy war hero, and icy cold toward her. His friend, Capt. Jonathan Benton, is the opposite. He flirts and spouts poetry and makes her feel young again. She soon cares for them both, but she's uncertain of their true intentions.
Patrick and Jon both want Anne. They survived battle together, but can they survive their feelings for her? Patrick must let his bitterness go, and Jon must settle down. Anne must learn to trust her heart to make its own decisions. Can she make the choice to finally have the life she wants? Or will she continue to live a half life of duty and obligation?
Genre: Historical, Ménage a Trois/Quatre
Length: 26,638 words
WICKED PERSUASION
Classics Rekindled 8
Josie Dennis
MENAGE AMOUR
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
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A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK
IMPRINT: Ménage Amour
WICKED PERSUASION
Copyright © 2012 by Josie Dennis
E-book ISBN: 978-1-61926-730-5
First E-book Publication: June 2012
Cover design by Jinger Heaston
All cover art and logo copyright © 2012 by Siren Publishing, Inc.
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WICKED PERSUASION
Classics Rekindled 8
JOSIE DENNIS
Copyright © 2012
Chapter 1
England 1818
“Oh, Anne will do it. She has no cause to visit the Cosgroves this evening.”
Anne Ellis did not even flinch at her sister’s dismissive statement. The truth was undeniable, of course. Though she’d dressed for a visit, she was not needed at the Cosgroves, having no connection there save through her sister’s marriage. That the man she’d married had been intended for Anne was of little consequence in Anne’s mind. She hadn’t felt a glimmer of attraction toward Charles then and, now that a few years had passed and the man’s early signs of dissipation were now quite evident in his florid face and spreading paunch, she was pleased she’d redirected his affections toward Mary.
“Anne will see to the child if he’s fussing,” she heard Charles add. “She’s quite suited to that task.”
“Yes,” Anne murmured, not lifting her head from her needlework she’d used to occupy her time as she waited for her sister to dress. “Maiden aunt and convenient child care.”
She did love little Charlie, however. The four-year-old adored his aunt as well. The little boy was the only regret she had where Charles’s courtship was concerned. She couldn’t bear to think of the child she might have borne if another engagement had not ended so abruptly. But it wouldn’t do to think about Patrick Wenworth at this late date. Five years was long enough to pine over losing what might have proven to be the love of her life.
“Anne!” her sister’s shrill voice cried.
Anne set her task aside and stood, fixing a cool expression on her countenance. “Coming, Mary.”
Mary wore a look of exaggerated relief when Anne stepped into the entry.
“Thank goodness,” she sighed. “We are going to the Cosgroves’. Charles’s parents are back in the country and demanding we present ourselves, but little Charlie is feeling sickly.”
“You can stay with him, Anne?” Charles asked.
She eyed them for a moment. They were both dressed for the evening also. Charles’s waistcoat visibly strained at its seams. Mary’s turban had more feathers than a henhouse, but if that was what passed for matronly fashion her sister was welcome to it.
“Did you say Charlie is ill?” she asked.
“Oh, I daresay he ate too many tarts,” Mary said with a wave of her hand. “If it were only Charles’s parents to consider we would tote him along, but there will be guests this evening.”
“A decorated war hero,” Charles said with a nod. “Two of them, to be precise.”
“Louisa will practically swoon,” Mary put in, speaking of Charles’s sister.
Everyone knew that Charles’s sister was on the hunt for a husband, now that she was eighteen years old. Pretty if tending toward plump as her brother, she would undoubtedly catch a suitor now that all and sundry were vacating London for the country. Another season over, and Anne couldn’t help but feel relief that she’d missed it. There was no man to court her now at her advanced age of twenty-five. Sedate dinners with neighbors were all the socializing she could expect. And not even that tonight, apparently.
“Are these relatives of yours, Charles?” Anne asked.
He blinked then shook his head. “My father was good friends with Captain Benton’s father,” he explained. “He and his friend are to be guests tonight.”
Mary’s hands fluttered. “Oh, but Captain Benton isn’t the one Louisa will set her cap for. Mark my words.”
“Really, Mary,” Charles griped. “You make courtship sound so mercenary.”
Anne held her tongue again. As if Charles hadn’t courted her due to her dowry.
“Charles, you know that the fortune Captain Wenworth gained in the war puts
him head and shoulders above his friend,” Mary said.
Charles said something in answer, but Anne could not attend. Captain Wenworth? Her heart pounded in her chest and her breath held tight in her throat. It couldn’t be Patrick. He’d been a midshipman when she’d last seen him, with little to recommend him beyond his noble bearing and dashing figure.
“So you will just have to make their acquaintance at another time, Anne,” Mary said, adjusting her shawl about her shoulders. “Charlie will do much better with his Aunt Anne than with his mum, I’m certain.”
Anne managed a nod. “I’ll go change and relieve the nurse.”
Mary and Charles were still out when Anne descended from the nursery two hours later. Charlie had been a bit sick to his stomach but a few stories and a long cuddle from his aunt set him to rights. Alone in the big house that felt less like home with every passing year, Anne settled before the fireplace in the parlor and caught her breath at last.
She and Mary had never been very close, yet now even companionship seemed more than her sister was inclined to provide. Marriage to Charles had given her the stature their father was always chasing, which made her the favored daughter. While Anne didn’t mourn that particular loss, she would have liked to have a true relationship with Mary now. Perhaps then she would have been able to discuss the startling news she’d been given tonight.
Was Patrick really here in Dorset? Why was she to be put through such an ordeal? She was too pragmatic to entertain the notion that her reprieve would continue. Surely she would be dragged into making the newcomer’s acquaintance. She could only hope that his stay would be of short duration.
Thank goodness Mary knew nothing of their past connection. That was one good circumstance that arose from their lack of affinity. There was no telling the discomfort Anne would have to endure if her sister learned she’d nearly married the rich naval captain.
* * * *
“I haven’t seen much of Dorset, but I am eager to explore every hill and dale,” Jonathan Benton said, his tone effusive.
Patrick refrained from rolling his eyes and shifted in his chair. The parlor felt confining, and he longed to step out through the doors behind their hosts into the dark garden. “I’m certain the Cosgroves can indulge your every whim, Benton.”
Jon beamed a smile at him, his eyes bright. “I can scarcely contain my excitement.”
Patrick nodded. They were so different, yet fighting side by side and surviving in the face of too many dangers to count made them like brothers now.
“What of you, Captain Wenworth?” the girl across from him, Louisa, asked. “What are you plans now that you’ve been so richly rewarded for your service to king and country?”
“Louisa!” her brother Charles admonished.
The girl’s parents laughed, though the sounds felt false to his ears. She was obviously on the hunt, but a silly young thing wasn’t what he needed at present.
Patrick squared his shoulders and managed a smile. “I believe I shall begin to live the rest of my life, Miss Cosgrove.”
There was much left unsaid, but it was true he was looking to settle down. There hadn’t been a woman to draw his heart in years, not since Anne Ellis so coldly shredded it. Sailing from port to port had given him ample opportunity to use his cock, however. He’d fucked every woman he’d fancied, often with Jon in tow. Why, there was one evening the two of them took on four wenches—
“Isn’t that right, Wenworth?”
He turned to find Jon and the others staring at him. “Excuse me?”
“I believe you knew someone of the name of Ellis years ago,” Jon said.
Ice settled in his belly. “Some time ago, yes. I am afraid I am unaware of the connection?”
“My maiden name is Ellis,” Mary Cosgrove explained. “Perhaps you knew my father?”
“I don’t believe so.” He studied the woman, seeing something familiar in her green eyes. They were almost precisely the color of Anne’s. No, it was impossible. Though this woman was pretty, there was no other resemblance he could see. Although Anne had less obvious beauty, which seemed to make others overlook her. He hadn’t, damn his youthful self.
“I knew of an Ellis family while visiting in Bath several years ago,” he said at last.
“Oh, my family used to go to Bath all the time! Father used to enjoy the waters, but now he says it has grown too crowded for his tastes. Why, I daresay we haven’t been there in five years at least.”
Five years. “I see,” he said as a comment seemed warranted.
“We traveled there with our aunt, Lady Russell.”
The name struck Patrick like cannon fire. Lady Russell. The bitch who had convinced Anne to spurn him. There was little question of this woman’s relation to Anne now.
“I know of no Lady Russell,” Jon said. “She lives with you?”
Mary smiled, the expression bringing Anne’s bright countenance to mind. “Oh, no. She tends to stay in town no matter the season. Now that Father will keep to the townhouse as well, I doubt we’ll see her in the country.”
Patrick fisted his hands beneath the table. It was a good thing that lady wouldn’t come into Dorset during his visit. He’d wring her neck, hers and Anne’s both.
“You have a sister,” Patrick said through clenched teeth.
Mary and her portly husband exchanged a look of confusion. Apparently, Anne hadn’t thought enough of his rejected proposal to share the information with her sister and brother-in-law.
“Yes. Anne. She lives with us here in Abbotsbury.”
“A sister?” Jon asked. “I say, is she as pretty as you?”
Mary tittered, an affectation out of place on a woman of her years. She must be just a year younger than Anne, which would put her at twenty-four.
“Anne is handsome, yes,” she said. “Wouldn’t you say so, Charles?”
Charles shrugged. “Yes, yes.”
Talk continued around the room, this time focused on Mary and Charles’s young son. Anne was taking care of him this evening, and the thought of her alone in the nursery with the boy made his heart twist. It should have been his son she tended, not this man’s.
Patrick could not bear another moment in company. He had to be alone with his old anger and sort matters out in his mind. Perhaps Jon would make a fitting sounding board. The man had proven himself level-headed despite his propensity to spout poetry at the oddest times.
Jon came to his feet and bowed. “While I have enjoyed our visit immensely, I daresay my friend and I are quite fatigued from the long journey. Lonely sailors tossed on a sea, longing for shelter in a safe harbor.”
The comment gained smiles as intended, and Louisa Cosgrove seemed to gaze at Jon with rapture. They made their farewells, and Jon made the mistake of accepting an invitation to the younger Cosgrove’s home for a picnic. Patrick couldn’t refuse, not in company. He would have to find a way to either demure or withstand the torture of seeing Anne after five long years.
On the return to their rented rooms, Jon talked ceaselessly about the food and the wine and the company. Patrick poured them each a brandy as Jon settled in the fat chair beside the hearth.
“What say you, Patrick? Is the Cosgrove chit what you’re looking for?”
Patrick shrugged. “She’s pretty enough, but silly as well.”
“She is rather young,” Jon allowed, sipping his drink. “I put her at eighteen. She seemed taken with my speech,” he finished with a grin.
“Good. Let her set her sights on a man without such scars on his soul.” He winced. “Egad, I’m beginning to sound like you.”
Jon’s brow furrowed. “What is troubling you? You seemed to be enjoying yourself until that Cosgrove woman began to speak of Bath. Take a drink of that fetid water, did you?”
“Hardly, no. It was the mention of the woman’s sister that soured me.”
“Anne, was it?” Jon asked. “Did you spend much time in her company? You’ve mentioned her only in passing to me.”
/> “I know.” Patrick downed his brandy. “I asked her to marry me five years ago.”
Jon stared at him for a beat, his mouth hanging open. “What the devil…What happened?”
Patrick met his friend’s gaze. “The bitch turned me down.”
Jon was quiet for a moment, his face still. “You loved her.”
Patrick gave a curt nod. “It is of no consequence.”
“God, I accepted that invitation to their home! How you must despise me right now.”
“You irritate the hell out of me, Jon,” Patrick allowed. “But I do not despise you.”
Jon beamed. “Good. Then we shall go to that picnic at the younger Cosgroves. I shall look this Anne over and assure that you made a timely escape.”
Patrick found a smile at last. He wouldn’t tell Jon that he loved her still. That was a foolish admission to make, even to one’s closest friend.
Chapter 2
“A picnic?” Anne watched her sister serve herself from the sideboard. “When, pray?”
“Two days hence,” Mary said, settling across from her. “The military heroes will attend.”
Anne’s lips thinned with the effort to keep her own breakfast in her stomach. “Oh?”
“Yes, Charles is quite pleased. He is shooting on his father’s land today and no doubt discussing the future arrangements.”
“Future arrangements?”
Mary leaned toward her. “I daresay they would much like Louisa to settle on one of them.”
That couldn’t be right. The Cosgroves were as concerned with fortune as her aunt had been. It was the reason Lady Russell had convinced Anne to send Patrick away, after all.