Page 1 of One Wicked Kiss
Chapter 1
December 1814
Light snowflakes fluttered from the brilliant blue sky and blanketed the ground in unending white. Miss Natalia Benson stared at them as they fell from the library window. Her father was enclosed in his study with Louis Fornier, Comte Foix. A man she disliked and feared—he’d gotten a little too close to her a few times and made her uncomfortable. She wished her father wouldn’t do business with him and Natalia didn’t quite understand why he thought the comte could help. Yes, the man’s wealth was well known in France; however, he had a shadowy side. As black as his hair and cobalt eyes—that sometimes appeared as dark as a raven’s feathers.
Viscount Atherton was her father. He made no secret that Natalia had been born on the wrong side of the blanket. If her mother hadn’t died giving birth to her he might not have bothered to claim her at all. Viscountess Atherton’s apathy toward her was a mixture of distain and aloofness. Natalia had been raised by nannies and then a governess. They hadn’t bothered to send her to a finishing school. She doubted her father had set aside a dowry for her either. Her fate was unknown, and at ten and eight she’d have to discern what to do with her life. Marriage would be far down the list. She had no suitors and no prospects along with no reputation to hold on to—her father would never acknowledge her because of the status of her birth. In truth she was lucky he’d bothered to educate her at all.
Comte Foix stared at her in such a licentious way she believed his intentions toward her were untoward. That was another reason she was nervous about her father’s meeting with him. If it had to do with her… She would have to run away and never look back. Maybe she should start preparing for that inevitability. She doubted the comte would offer marriage—not that it would make much difference to her. Natalia wanted nothing to do with the man.
“Miss Natalia,” a maid called out to her. “Your father asked me to retrieve you. He has something to discuss with you.”
“Is Comte Foix still here?” Please say no… Her apprehension rose with the maid’s arrival. None of the staff had ever been particularly nice to her. She wasn’t a true heir and didn’t afford any sort of recognition. They treated her barely above a servant. This maid didn’t even meet her gaze.
“I wouldn’t presume to know,” the maid answered, then promptly left. Natalia glared at her departing back. She was so tired of being treated as unworthy.
She took a deep breath and prepared herself for the upcoming meeting. As a rule her father ignored her. If he wanted to speak with her that didn’t bode well for her future. The viscount provided for her and had even given her gifts over the years. She had a nice string of pearls and a locket with her mother’s miniature inside of it. Natalia stared at it often and thought perhaps she resembled her mother. She had sable tresses—the same shade as Natalia’s. She even had similarly colored eyes—light green. Natalia liked that she didn’t seem to have any of her father’s traits. She’d hate to turn into someone as immoral as the arse that’d sired her. It was ironic that the ton considered her the bastard because she’d been born out of the bonds of matrimony. As if she’d made the decision to come in the world with that taint… Shouldn’t her father hold that term before her? He’d been the one who’d failed to honor his vows.
Maybe she could sell what jewelry she had and secure passage to France. She might be able to find her mother’s family there. Yes, England was at war with them, but it would still be better than whatever her father had in store for her. She might have a place to live, and food to eat; however, if she was forced to marry the comte she’d be tortured for the rest of her days. She’d rather die than go through that.
She stared out the window one last time and then headed to her father’s study. When she reached the door she halted outside of it. There were two people inside—two men. Their laugher echoed throughout and back at her. She swallowed hard and remained still. The door was ajar so she could hear them clearly.
“Are you sure you want to marry her?” her father asked. He tapped his fingers on his desk in an impatient manner. “Seems like an extreme move to taste her charms.”
The comte laughed even louder. His French accent was thick as he responded. “You, sir are an unnatural father. Why would you willing give your daughter away to a man with the sole intention of whoring her out?” His tone held a hint of amusement in it. It sent shivers down Natalia’s spine. The comte definitely was not a good man.
Natalia peeked inside the slit of the door and did her best to stay out of her father’s line of sight. She’d always known he didn’t truly care for her, but it still hurt to hear him dismiss her so easily. It wouldn’t help any to listen to their conversation any longer. She should run to her room and grab her valise—the one she already packed and leave her father’s home forever. Marrying the comte would be the worst thing she could ever do. But her father… He was far more horrid than she could ever have imagined.
The viscount shrugged indifferently. “Her mother didn’t mind spreading her legs for me. I doubt my daughter is much different. She’ll go to your bed willingly.” Her father was as evil as the comte. Natalia was done looking for something redeemable in him. He may have taken care of her, but he’d clearly never loved her. She deserved far better than he’d ever offered her. It was time to take control of her life and leave her father’s home.
“You’re so sure of that?” The comte sounded uncertain. “Some ladies don’t find being taken by a man…pleasurable.”
“Then you must not be doing something right.” Her father picked up a glass and took a drink. “This is some fine brandy you’ve brought me. As long as you keep it stocked I don’t give a damn what you do with her. She’ll officially be your problem after the wedding.”
Natalia had heard enough. Her father could rot in hell and the comte could join him there. She didn’t want anything to do with either one of the men. A tear fell down her cheek. She wiped it away and rushed to her room. At least her bedroom wasn’t far away. It was near the servants’ quarters. Since she was illegitimate she didn’t deserve to be with the family upstairs. She had a small room with a narrow bed and tiny armoire. He had provided a nice gown for when he demanded her presence at dinner parties along with a day dress, and a walking dress. The two gowns were easy enough to stuff in her valise with her limited personal items. Her pin money was sewed into a pocket of the day dress she currently wore.
She rushed into her room, grabbed her valise, and headed to the back entrance. Natalia grabbed her cloak from the nearby hook and slid it on as she exited. Her father wouldn’t look for her right away. He was too busy drinking and cavorting with the French man in his study. The viscount didn’t even have any loyalty to his own country. He only looked out for himself. Natalia was completely and utterly disgusted with him. She wished she could claim another man as her father.
The snow was still falling and the wind had picked up. She didn’t care. As long as she made it to the village of Faversham in time to catch the mail coach before it left everything would be all right in the end. Otherwise her escape would take even longer to achieve. The cold seeped inside, but she wouldn’t let that stop her. Natalia kept moving as fast as her feet would take her. After a quarter hour she finally reached the edge of the town. The mail coach was being loaded in front of the inn. She couldn’t let it leave without her. Natalia hugged her valise to her chest and took off on a dead run. When she reached the coach her breathing was ragged.
“Wait,” she said in-between breaths. “Please…wait.”
“You wish to purchase passage?” the coachman asked. He had hair was as white as the snow that fell from the sky, but there was some gray at his temples. His face was red from the winter winds and his cheeks and nose were rosier than the rest.
“I do?” She nodded furiously. “Where is it headed?” Natalia hadn’t thought to figure out what the mail coach’s normal run was. There hadn’t been any real time to plan her departure. Though a part of her believed she should have somehow known her father would betray her in the worst possible way. He’d never really been good to her and only provided what was necessary for her survival. Even her gifts hadn’t been anything more than items that had previously belonged to her mother. She wouldn’t give him another thought. Natalia did her best to focus on the mail coach driver instead. His answer was essential for her to plan the rest of her journey.
“We have several stops.” The coachman nodded toward the road. “We will go through Canterbury with a final stop in Dover.”
That worked. She could see about finding someone to take her to France from there. Maybe a smuggler… A military ship would never take a female to France. Especially with the war… “Thank you,” she replied. “I’d like to purchase passage.”
She paid for her fare and boarded the coach. There wasn’t a lot of room inside, but she was the only one who’d bought a fare. If she’d had a choice she wouldn’t be traveling in inclement weather. Natalia laid her head against the side of the coach and closed her eyes. Maybe if she took a nap the trip would go faster and she’d forget about the cold spreading through her whole body.
* * *
Natalia woke up with a start.The coach rattled around her and shook heavily. The snow was coming down harder than it had been when she’d boarded the coach—some had found its way inside through the open window. Her skirt was soaked through and she could no longer feel her feet. Perhaps falling asleep hadn’t been the best decision she could have made. She glanced around her and could barely make out anything around her. They were amidst a full blown blizzard now.
She stuck her head out of the window and glanced at the coachman. He was weaving back and forth on top of the carriage. Natalia couldn’t figure out if he was in control or not. He didn’t look…right. Panic seized her as she feared for her safety. If the coachman couldn’t drive them at least to the next village what would happen to her?
“Sir,” she yelled out the window, but it seemed futile. He didn’t respond at all. The wind had picked up and she could barely hear herself yell, but she had to try again. “Sir, are you all right?”
