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    My Lord Hercules
    My Lord Hercules
    My Lord Hercules
    Ebook107 pages1 hour

    My Lord Hercules

    By Ava Stone

    4/5

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    About this ebook

    ** Previously found in A Season to Remember and Ladies & Gentlemen

    Miss Miranda Bartlett is on a mission to locate her missing friend. Determined hoyden that she is, she’ll do whatever it takes to get the answers she seeks too, even if that means dressing like a dandy, sneaking into a gaming hell, and surrounding herself with London’s worst reprobates. However, she didn’t plan on bumping into a Herculean gentleman along the way. The handsome and honorable Lord Harrison Casemore immediately thwarts her plans and seems determined to save her at every turn, making it more than difficult to accomplish her task.

    Ever since Harry Casemore spotted the exotic temptress trying to pass herself off as a fop, he’s been drawn to her. He hasn’t figured out what she’s after, but he’s fairly certain he’d sell his soul if she’d just let him help her with whatever it is.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherAva Stone
    Release dateSep 24, 2013
    ISBN9781301529148
    My Lord Hercules
    Author

    Ava Stone

    Ava Stone is a USA Today bestselling author of Regency historical romance and college age New Adult romance. Whether in the 19th Century or the 21st, her books explore deep themes but with a light touch. A single mother, Ava lives outside Raleigh NC, but she travels extensively, always looking for inspiration for new stories and characters in the various locales she visits.

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      Book preview

      My Lord Hercules - Ava Stone

      ONE

      Gioco Place, London – September 1813

      Lord Harrison Casemore tossed his cards to the middle of the table and leaned back in his seat. He glanced at his watch fob and tried to make out the time. Was it 4:25 or 5:20? He opened his eyes wider, willing the whiskey from his foggy mind, trying to focus on the watch hands before him. It felt like 5:20, but it looked like 4:25. Whichever it was, Harry was most assuredly ready to leave and head for Berkswell House.

      Casemore. A hand clapped him on the back and Harry looked over his shoulder to find Tobias Clifton, the Marquess of Woodsworth, standing behind him. The man’s ever-present frown was fixed firmly on his face.

      Harry nodded a greeting to his old acquaintance. You want my spot, Wood? I was just leaving.

      "Vingt-et-un?"

      Harry nodded once more. Perhaps you’ll have better luck than I did tonight. Not that Woodsworth had ever been blessed with luck, but it wasn’t Harry’s responsibility to ensure the man kept what was left of his inheritance, if there was even anything left of it at this point.

      Much obliged.

      Harry pushed his chair back from the table, relinquishing the seat to the marquess. He said his farewell to the other players and started toward the exit, staggering a bit more than he’d like. No wonder he played so terribly tonight; he could barely walk a straight line.

      He glanced toward the main door and stopped where he stood. Was that a girl, dressed like a fop? Harry blinked, hoping to clear his vision. And though he was deeper in his cups than he should have been, there was no mistaking the womanly curves of the young man who’d just entered the hell. Young man, his arse. Harry knew a woman when he saw one. And this one possessed pretty olive skin and full lips made for kissing. He couldn’t see her eyes, however, as the overlarge beaver hat on her head shielded everything above her delicate nose.

      What the devil?

      The girl in gentleman’s clothes breezed past him, and he caught the faint scent of lilacs. No man worth his salt would smell like lilacs. What was the girl up to?

      Tired and foxed as he was, Harry couldn’t make himself leave the hell. Not right now, in any event. As his eyes followed the girl, he realized he wasn’t the only one whose notice she’d captured. A bit o’ muslin a few feet from the chit-in-disguise seemed to assess her as though she was a treat to be gobbled up. Harry couldn’t help but laugh. One or both of those women was sure to be in for a surprise.

      The girl, so very out of place, looked across the sea of patrons. Her lips pursed, and she heaved a sigh. What she was after, Harry had no idea, but watching her was almost as entertaining as sitting in his brother’s box at Drury Lane. He meandered to the closest wall and leaned against it, folding his arms across his chest, waiting for the evening’s performance to continue.

      Seedy. Yes, Miss Miranda Bartlett surmised as she glanced around the gaming hell, seeking her quarry, seedy was most definitely the best word to describe this particular establishment. The blackguard had to be somewhere in this smoky den of iniquity, amongst the litter of brazen light-skirts and other gentlemen of quality. The question was, where?

      Miranda tugged her pilfered beaver cap lower on her head to better shield her face as she scanned the hell. After all, Devlin would murder her if he found out she’d sneaked out, if anyone recognized her. But what choice did she have? Someone had to find Tessie. And the best place to start was with the Marquess of Woodsworth, whom Miranda had seen enter the place not five minutes ago. He had to be here somewhere. But there were so many men who fit his lordship’s build. And the room was terribly smoky. How on earth did men breathe this putrid air night after night?

      A roar of cheers rose above the din in a far corner, catching Miranda’s attention, as did the colorful language that followed the merriment. Men certainly were odd, boisterous creatures, weren’t they? Peculiar, loud, and odiferous. The sooner she found Woodsworth, the sooner she could demand the villain tell her what he’d done with Tessie, and the sooner Miranda could leave this horrid place, never to return.

      To that end, she should probably walk the perimeter of the room for a better view, and perhaps catch a patch of clean air in the process. Doubtful as that was, she chose to be optimistic as it was better than the alternative.

      Just as Miranda took a few steps toward the back of the hell, a woman appeared in her path. The doxy’s face was coated so heavily with cosmetics, she looked like a caricature. Well, aren’t ya a wee thing? she said, her breath tinted with some odor Miranda couldn’t quite place. But a man’s stature has nuffin’ to do wif his size. And then she stuck her hand out and grabbed Miranda’s crotch in her fist.

      Miranda leapt in surprise, not able to contain the yelp of disbelief that escaped her. Good heavens! She’d been assaulted, right in the middle of the crowded establishment! Her mouth fell open in indignation and she couldn’t quite find her voice.

      Though in yer case… The doxy placed a hand to her heart and cackled. Ya might have the smallest cock in all of London.

      The smallest cock in all of London? Who said things like that? Miranda’s face heated and she stumbled backwards, bumping into a something very large behind her.

      Miranda spun on her heel, staring up in to the green eyes of a handsome gentleman who could pass as Hercules’s double. Well, if Hercules wore jackets, waistcoats, and cravats instead of togas. The width of the gentleman’s shoulders was easily twice the size of Devlin’s. Miranda had never seen any man who looked as strong as this one. And when a rakish grin settled on his face, she couldn’t help but gulp.

      Well, my good man, the Herculean gentleman drawled, I don’t believe I’ve seen you before.

      She hadn’t seen him either. A man of his stature, she would have remembered. She lowered her head and said with the deepest voice she could muster, New to Town.

      Indeed? He laughed, which didn’t do much for her confidence. Well, since you’re new to Town, I hardly think Gioco would be the best place for you to acquaint yourself.

      He was certainly pompous, wasn’t he? Who was he to say where a young buck he’d never met could go or not go? I appreciate your advice, sir, but I’m quite content here.

      Again the gentleman laughed, and then he placed one of his enormous hands on Miranda’s shoulder and shoved her, not ungently, toward the exit. Out with you.

      Was he some sort of guard? No, he was dressed much too well to be a paid gaming hell henchman.

      See here— Miranda

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