A Lady Never Forgets: Lady Be Wicked, #3

A Lady Never Forgets

A Lady Never Forgets

LADY BE WICKED

BOOK THREE

DAWN BROWER

...when pain is over, the remembrance of it often becomes a pleasure.

JANE AUSTEN, PERSUASION

Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Epilogue

Thank You

Excerpt: Her Duke to Savor

Prologue

Chapter 1

Excerpt: How to Charm an Earl

Prologue

Acknowledgments

About Dawn Brower

Also by Dawn Brower

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

A Lady Never Forgets © 2024 Dawn Brower

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

For everyone that doubts they can find love. May you find the one person meant for you

Prologue

Lady Portia North was many things, but a great beauty wasn’t one of them… At least she didn’t believe so. She was a realist first and foremost. Her hair was blonde, but not that gorgeous gold that most ladies desired. It was too fair to be truly like spun gold… And her eyes, while blue, were not vibrant. They were a drab blue. Unforgettable really.

That didn’t mean she was unattractive. At ten and six, she had to be practical. In a couple of short years, she would be launched into society and if she hoped to find a husband, she had to understand her shortcomings. Unfortunately, to her way of thinking, there were many.

She sighed and pinched her cheeks, hoping to add some pink to her nearly alabaster skin. There was almost no color on her face. There was no helping it. Portia had to accept it. She was… plain.

Her brother, Emmet, the Marquess of Crawford, was supposed to return from London with a friend that day. Her mother had explained it to her earlier. She wanted Portia to be on her best behavior. As if she ever acted inappropriately. She rolled her eyes at the thought. Portia did nothing untoward. Her mother would have fits if she did. She was almost tempted to act the harridan just to see how her mother would react. It would probably entertain Emmett. He liked to needle their mother, but Portia would have to live with her dramatics. Emmett could disappear for weeks without having to experience the distress his actions caused.

She was jealous of that… A female didn’t have as many freedoms as males did. Sometimes she wished she’d been born a different sex. Maybe she’d have been handsome like her brother, instead of plain and unnoticeable.. Well, Emmett might already be in residence. She should go down to the sitting room. Her mother would expect her to be there. Even if she arrived late..

Slowly she stood and walked to the stairs and descended them. When she reached the sitting room, she was relieved to find her mother alone. Not late then. Good. Hello, mother.

It’s about time you arrived, her mother chastised her. The duchess had her light blond hair up in an elegant chignon. Her father, the Duke of Mansfield, was rarely home. He spent most of his time in London, much like her brother. Sometimes Portia believed he stayed away to avoid the duchess, her mother. She often wondered why he married her. Had it been an arranged marriage? They definitely had no love between them, but there was a mutual respect. She supposed there could be worse things in a marriage. Tea will be served shortly.

My apologies, mother, she said in a soothing tone. I shouldn’t have dallied.

Sit, girl, she ordered.

Portia sat on the settee near the chair her mother occupied. A maid rolled in a cart filled with tea, biscuits, and tiny cakes. Would you like me to pour, Your Grace? the maid asked.

No, the duchess waved her away. You’re excused. The maid curtsied and then left them alone.

They didn’t, thankfully, stay alone for long. Portia didn’t hate her mother, but she was difficult to be around. So it was always nice to have a buffer between them. In this case, it was her brother and his friend. When they entered, Portia glanced up and almost forgot to breathe. Emmett’s friend, to which she had no name to attach to him yet, had to be the most gorgeous man she’d ever laid her eyes upon. He had a light brown hair that had been kissed by the sun with rich golden highlights throughout, and his eyes. They were not a drab blue light hers, but a bright cerulean that reminded her of the sky on a warm sunny day. His lips were full, and those cheekbones were so defined a sculptor would envy them. Her heart skipped a beat, and she almost forgot to blink as she stared at him so intently.

Then he winked at her.

Had he just winked at her? Good grief, he had. He’d noticed her staring at him like a ninny. She tore her gaze away from him. How rude of her…and yet, her heart beat heavily inside of her chest.

Hello mother, Emmett said. Sorry we are late. He gestured toward his friend. This is the Earl of Lyonsdale, he introduced him. Lyonsdale, this is my mother, the Duchess of Mansfield, and my sister, Lady Portia.

It’s my pleasure to make your acquaintance, he said.

She had a name to go with him. Lyonsdale… His name was even decadent. The pleasure is all ours, she said, her tone almost throaty. Where had that come from? She didn’t even sound like herself.

He grinned. The charming scoundrel… He knew his effect on her and reveled in it. Inner shake. She had to come back to reality. Portia had already surmised she was plain. A gorgeous gentleman like the Earl of Lyonsdale would not want her. He might flirt with her out of obligation, but nothing more. You’re having tea, he said. Have you poured yet?

We were just about to, the duchess said. Portia, be a dear and pour the tea. They must be parched after their journey.

Portia did as her mother demanded. She would, even if she hadn’t done so. It gave her a reason to move closer to the earl. She desperately needed to be near him. After she poured the tea, she handed a cup to her mother. The duchess always took it with a splash of cream. Her brother added nothing to it at all. So she handed Emmett his cup. Then she turned toward the earl, How to you take your tea, Lord Lyonsdale?

Sweet, like me, he said in a roguish tone.

She just bet he was sweet. Where had that thought come from? Her cheeks warmed a little, and that wasn’t the only place heat filled her. Portia turned away from him and added sugar to his tea, and then to hers. She liked sugar, too. That’s one thing they had in common. She turned back to him and handed him his cup.

Thank you, my lady, he said in a warm tone.

You’re welcome, she said. Portia had never felt more like a dolt. She wanted to say something else, but words failed her.

She took her own tea and sat. She sipped on it, lost in her own thoughts. Little things filtered through her mind. Like wondering if the earl could ever see past her plain face and fall in love with her. Could someone fall in love at first sight? Because she feared she had fallen the moment the Earl of Lyonsdale had strolled into the sitting room with her brother.