Book five in my Love's Second Chance Series, Ruined & Redeemed - The Earl's Fallen Wife, is now only ONE month away! The days are ticking down until the book will finally be released and available for purchase. However, I thought you might like a little sneak-peek ahead of time. So, sit tight and enjoy!

 

Prologue

England, spring 1804 (or a variation thereof)

 

Three Years Ago

 

A hand curled around a glass of water, Lady Charlotte Frampton stood by the refreshment table. Doing her best to drown out the cheerfulness of the many attending guests to her father’s rather impromptu ball, she forced the clear liquid down her throat, hoping it would somehow clear her mind and ease her heart.

“You look lovely tonight, my dear,” Lord Northfield whispered from behind her.

His breath brushed over the bare skin on her neck, and she gritted her teeth as a wave of nausea rolled over her. Swallowing, she turned around, eyes hard as she regarded him with all the repulsion that burned in her heart. “I’d appreciate it if you’d refrain from calling me that, my lord.”

Instead of being offended, Lord Northfield chuckled. “How endearing,” he said, then glanced around the large ballroom before leaning closer. “You did not object the other night.”

“I did object,” Charlotte forced out through gritted teeth. “However, how was I to know that you are anything but a gentleman?”

Amused, Baron Northfield laughed. “Be that as it may,” he continued, “Your father will make the announcement within the hour,” his unrelenting eyes held hers for a moment before drifting lower to linger on more intimate places, “and then I shall have every right to call you my dear.” A triumphant sneer drew up his lips as he held her gaze, daring her to fight him, knowing that she could not win.

As his threat echoed in her ears, Charlotte felt her body grow rigid with dread and repulsion and the utter hopelessness of her situation. Her fingers tightened around the glass in her hand until her sinews stood out white and her hand began to ache. And yet, Charlotte welcomed the pain for it was far better than the torturous despair that ate at her soul.

Brushing a golden lock of his meticulously groomed hair behind his ear, Lord Northfield smiled at her, clearly amused with the struggle that coursed through her.

Once, she had thought him handsome with his clear blue eyes and symmetric features. He was tall and striking, and women flocked to him. However, on closer inspection, Charlotte now knew that he was a wolf in sheep’s clothing, a predator who preyed on the weak.

For a reason Charlotte could not fathom, his choice for a target had fallen on her.

And he had taken her down.

The memory of a nightmare flashed before her mind’s eye, and her hand convulsively clenched around the delicate glass in her hand.

A moment later, a soft crack reached her ears, and then the opposing pressure vanished. Cold water ran over her hand as tiny shards of crystal dug into her fingers and palm, others falling to the floor.

Lord Northfield’s eyes narrowed slightly as his gaze shifted to her hand.

Blood welled up between her clenched fingers and dripped to the ground. However, no one seemed to notice. The music continued to play. Couples continued to dance. And the world continued to turn.

Why didn’t anyone notice?

From a distance, a voice echoed to her ears. “Charlotte!”

Hearing his voice, Charlotte’s muscles instantly went slack with relief. Her hand opened, and the remaining shards fell to the floor as she fought the growing dizziness that threatened to knock out her legs from under her.

As she turned her head, she found him rushing toward her, his kind face clouded with concern as his eyes shifted from her face to her bloodied hand.

He was her friend, her protector, her saviour. He always had been, and yet, today, he could not help her.

“Kenneth,” she gasped as he reached for her hand, his watchful eyes examining the small cuts.

“Are you all right?” he asked, pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket. “What happened?” His eyes drifted to Lord Northfield, and she noticed the slight tension that always came to his jaw whenever he wanted to say more than he dared.

“I’m fine,” Charlotte said, allowing his strong arms to hold her upright as white lights began to dance before her eyes. “I’m fine,” she repeated although the meaning of that sentence was lost on her.

“It is nothing,” Lord Northfield interjected, a disapproving frown on his face as he glanced from her to Kenneth. Then he held out his hand to her. “Allow me to escort you to the terrace for some air.”

Staring at her own hand as though he’d just threatened to cut it off, Charlotte took a step back and then shook her head. The mere thought of being alone with that man terrified her to her very core.

At her rejection, Lord Northfield’s jaw clenched and his eyes hardened, revealing the unfeeling heart that beat in his chest. “You will do as I say,” he snapped, advancing on her.

“That’s enough, Northfield,” Kenneth commanded, stepping in front of her, shielding her with his body. He glared at her enemy. “Leave. Now.”

A snarl on his face, Lord Northfield took a deep breath as the glare in his eyes promised retribution. Squaring his shoulders, he raised his head, looking down at them with unconcealed disgust. Then he turned on his heel and walked away.

Closing her eyes, Charlotte took a deep breath. Although she held no hope in her heart for herself, she prayed that Kenneth would not suffer for his gallant heart. Who knew of what else Northfield was capable?

“What is going on, Charlotte?” Kenneth asked, his warm eyes searching her face as he held his handkerchief pressed to her wounded hand. “What just happened?” The look in his eyes told her that he was not referring to her bleeding hand.

Swallowing, Charlotte forced a smile on her face. “Nothing.” She shook her head, unable to look him in the eyes and lie. “Everything’s fine. Let me just go and take care of this.” Withdrawing her hand from his, she stepped around him and hastened toward the door before he could object.

Tears burned in her eyes, but she held them back until the solitude of the corridor engulfed her. Then the dam burst, and all the pain and misery of the past fortnight poured down her cheeks.

Unable to hold back the agonising sobs that tore from her throat, Charlotte fled through the first door she could find and retreated to the very back of the library, hoping that the distance would drown out her sobs. With hands curled into fists, she leaned back against a tall bookshelf, resting her head against its precious volumes, before her knees gave in and she sagged to the ground.

Then she heard the door open and footsteps approach.

Instantly, Charlotte froze, her sobs stuck in her throat as images of that one fateful night flashed before her eyes and her heart doubled over in pain. Not again! Her mind screamed, and she pushed herself to her feet. Had he come after her as he had then?

“Charlotte? Are you in here?”

For the second time that night, Kenneth’s voice washed over her strained nerves and put them at ease.

Taking a deep breath, Charlotte swallowed as her heart hammered in her chest. “I’m here,” she whispered, all strength gone from her body.

Footsteps echoed closer, and then Kenneth stood before her, his dark eyes searching her face. “Tell me what’s going on? What did he do?”

Averting her eyes, Charlotte shook her head. “Nothing,” she insisted in a feeble voice as she could not bear the thought of him looking at her the way her parents had. Not him. Not Kenneth. She needed him to look at her the way he always had. Only then did she stand a chance to come out of this with her soul intact.

As she tried to step around him, his hand settled on her shoulder and held her back…and Charlotte loved him for it. For knowing her so well. For being able to tell that something was wrong. For wanting to help her.

His other hand settled under her chin and gently tilted up her head. “Look at me,” he whispered, and when she finally did, a soft smile curled up his lips. “Tell me, and I will protect you.”

Wishing with all her heart that he could, Charlotte felt herself begin to tremble. “You cannot. There’s no way. You have to let me go.”

The expression in his eyes hardened. “Let me be the judge of that,” he said, his voice insistent. “Tell me. Did he say something to upset you? You’ve been acting strange for the past fortnight. Ever since the night of Lord Radcliffe’s ball, you’ve been…” His voice trailed off as his eyes narrowed in suspicion. “The way he spoke to you…” His eyes drilled into hers. “What did he do to you?”

Blinking back fresh tears, Charlotte shook her head. “That doesn’t matter now. I−”

A strangled growl rose from Kenneth’s throat as he stepped back, his hands balling into fists. Pacing the floor in front of her, he clenched and unclenched his hands, occasionally running them through his hair as though trying to pull them out by the roots. His eyes were dark and threatening, and the pulse in his neck hammered with such speed that Charlotte feared for him. Never had she seen him in such a rage.

Then he stopped his frantic pacing and came to stand in front of her, holding her gaze for a long time as though needing one final confirmation. Then he spun around on his heels and stormed toward the door. “I’ll kill him. I swear to God I’ll kill him.”

At his words, panic seized Charlotte’s heart and she rushed after him. “No. No. No. Please, don’t,” she pleaded, reaching for his arm and pulling him back to face her. “Please, I beg you. Don’t do this.”

Looking down at her, his eyes searched her face, confusion mingling with the rage so clearly edged in his features. “Why not? Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t go out there and challenge him.”

“Because he’ll kill you,” Charlotte sobbed, knowing her words to be true. “Believe me. He doesn’t fight fair. If you get in his way, he will kill you. And I’d rather marry him than lose you. You’re the only one who−”

“Marry him?” Kenneth’s eyes bulged. “Are you out of your mind? After what he did to you, why would you even consider−?”

“Because my father insists on it.” Swallowing, Charlotte looked into his eyes, remembering the moment she had gone to her parents for help, certain that they would protect her.

She had never been more wrong.

“What?” Disbelief written all over his face, Kenneth stared at her. “Why?”

As her hands began to tremble, Kenneth reached for her and pulled her into his arms, holding her tight until her body began to still. “He said,” Charlotte began, remembering the look of disappointment on her father’s face, “that I should not have allowed him to take advantage of me.” As fear surged to the surface, she lifted her head and looked at him, her eyes pleading. “But I…I didn’t. I tried to stop him. Believe me.” Agonising sobs tore from her throat as she pleaded her case. “Please, believe me. I tried. I−”

Once more, Kenneth lifted her head and made her look at him. “I never thought I’d say this,” he forced out through clenched teeth, and Charlotte’s heart stopped, terrified to see him turn against her…just as her parents had, “but your father is not the kind of man I thought him to be.” He swallowed, raw emotions underneath his calm exterior. “You,” he looked deep into her eyes, imploring her to believe him, “have done nothing wrong. Do you hear me? This is not your fault. None of it!”

Closing her eyes, Charlotte sagged against his shoulder, and once again, his arms held her tight.

Until that moment, she hadn’t realised how desperately she had needed someone to believe her, to not accuse her of wrongdoing, but to stand by her side…even if there was nothing he could do to help.

“Look at me,” he said once again, and she opened her eyes. Holding her gaze, he smiled, “Marry me.”

Charlotte’s eyes opened wide. “What?”          

“Marry me,” he repeated, “and I swear I’ll protect you. That man will never lay a hand on you again.”

At his offer, a faint hope began to blossom in her heart, but Charlotte immediately crushed it. “No, I can’t let you do that. You can’t−”

“That is for me to decide,” he insisted, his gaze unwavering. “Your parents demand that you marry him to avoid a scandal, is that not so?”

Swallowing, Charlotte nodded.

“Then marry me instead,” Kenneth said, his warm hands wrapped around her chilled fingers. “If all they care about is to avoid a scandal, then marry me.” Holding her gaze, he nodded. “This is the choice you have: either I go out there and kill that bastard,” the muscles in his jaw tensed, and he swallowed, “or you marry me and give me every right to protect you from him.”

“But−"

“It’s either or,” he interrupted. “And don’t for a moment think that you can talk me out of it.”

Surprised beyond comprehension, Charlotte stared up at him; yet, deep down, she had known that he would be her only hope. She had been so afraid for him to find out, not because she’d feared he wouldn’t believe her, but because she’d known that he would sacrifice himself to save her.

A soft smile tugged on the corners of his mouth. “Marry me,” he said once again, and Charlotte wished she had the strength to refuse him.

---

 

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