Zachary Black: Duke of Debauchery. Carole Mortimer

      

       ‘You have run out of time, I am afraid.’

      Zachary returned her gaze coldly as the carriage came to a stop outside Hawksmere House.

      ‘Perhaps you would care to come inside and finish the conversation there?’

      Said the spider to the fly, Georgianna mentally added as she gave another shiver of apprehension. Being alone with him in his carriage had been more than a test for her nerves. Entering Zachary Black’s home would push her well beyond her limits of daring.

      What would he say or do if he were to learn exactly who she was? Would he shun her, as all of society now shunned her? Or would he exact the revenge she had long been waiting for?

      Zachary Black, with his reputation as the coldly ruthless Duke of Hawksmere, was not an enemy any sane person would voluntarily wish upon themselves.

       DANGEROUS DUKES

       Rakes about town

      Carole Mortimer introduces London’s most delectable dukes in her new mini-series.

      But don’t be fooled by their charm, because beneath their lazy smiles they’re deliciously sexy—and highly dangerous!

      Coming this month

      ZACHARY BLACK:

      DUKE OF DEBAUCHERY

      And don’t miss

      DARIAN HUNTER: DUKE OF DESIRE

      Available November 2014

      Zachary Black: Duke of Debauchery

      Carole Mortimer

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      To all of you, thank you for reading my books.

      CAROLE MORTIMER was born in England, the youngest of three children. She began writing in 1978, and has now written over one hundred and fifty books for Harlequin Mills & Boon®. Carole has six sons: Matthew, Joshua, Timothy, Michael, David and Peter. She says, ‘I’m happily married to Peter senior; we’re best friends as well as lovers, which is probably the best recipe for a successful relationship. We live in a lovely part of England.’

      Contents

       Cover

       Excerpt

       Title Page

       Dedication

       About the Author

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

       Copyright

       Chapter One

      Late February, 1815, outside White’s Club, London.

      ‘What the—?’ Zachary Black, the Duke of Hawksmere, came to an abrupt halt as he climbed into his carriage and noticed the shadowy figure already seated on the far side. The lantern inside was turned down low, preventing him from seeing if it was a man or woman who sat back in the shadows. ‘Lamb?’ He turned to look accusingly at his groom, silver eyes glittering in the soft glow of the flickering lamp.

      The middle-aged man straightened to attention. ‘She said as ’ow you was expecting ’er, your Grace,’ he offered questioningly.

      His intruder was a woman then, Zachary processed grimly. But certainly not one he had been expecting.

      Unless...

      He had just spent the evening and part of the night at his club with his four closest friends celebrating the forthcoming nuptials of one of them, Marcus Wilding, the Duke of Worthing, and his ladylove, Lady Julianna Armitage. Their wedding was due to take place later on today.

      Zachary had briefly toyed with the idea of marriage himself the previous year, a decision forced upon him by the circumstances of his father’s will. But his attempt to secure a wife had gone so disastrously wrong he was reluctant to repeat the experience. However, his cynicism did not prevent him from wishing Worthing well in the venture. Indeed, he had done so until almost dawn.

      Which now caused Zachary to wonder if perhaps the woman in his carriage was a part of those wedding celebrations? Possibly a gift from Worthing? And perhaps each of Zachary’s other three close friends would all find a similar present awaiting them in their own carriages?

      Maybe so, but Zachary intended to remain cautious until convinced otherwise. The war with Napoleon might be over, and the Corsican currently incarcerated on Elba, but these were still dangerous times, and finding an unknown woman waiting for him in his carriage was certainly reason enough for him to stay on his guard.

      ‘Hawksmere House, Lamb,’ he instructed tersely as he climbed fully into the carriage and the door closed behind him. He took a seat across from the mysterious woman, placing his hat on the seat beside him as the carriage moved forward.

      Zachary’s sight had now adjusted enough to the gloom for him to note that the woman wore a black veil, one that covered her from her bonneted head to her booted toe. Such an effective covering prevented Zachary from being able to tell if she was old or young, fat or thin.

      Deliberately so?

      No doubt.

      Zachary maintained his silence. This woman had sought him