The Duke of Wicked Hearts

THE DUKE OF WICKED HEARTS SEDUCTIVE WALLFLOWERS BOOK FOUR TESSA BROOKMAN CONTENTS Claim your Free Book Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Epilogue Bonus Ending Also by Tessa Brookman About the Author CLAIM YOUR FREE BOOK Thank you for buying my book! Your support means the world to me and I really hope you enjoy it. As a thank you gift, I have written a short story for you. The Rake and his Blind Duchess is waiting. Click here to receive your exclusive gift. ABOUT THE BOOK “Do you wish me to stop?” “Can you not already see my answer?” she whispered breathlessly against his lips. Lady Belle, ever the demure wallflower, silently dreams of a love that seems elusive. But when she uncovers her step-mother and father's cruel plan to sacrifice her sister's happiness to a heartless Earl, she offers herself in place… Duke Alistair carries a haunting secret from his past. Anonymously orchestrating lavish balls within high society using his alter-ego as the ‘Ebony-Masked Host’, he plans to depart for the Spanish warfront soon after. But an unexpected encounter with the innocent Lady Belle — and her misplaced diary — sees him with a chance to right old wrongs… With the heartfelt revelations in Belle's diary guiding him, Alistair secretly persuades her against her decision during his final three weeks in England, by fulfilling her deepest, most intimate desires. What he didn’t account for was her falling for him, or him losing his heart to her in the process… CHAPTER 1 London, England “Harriet, what are you doing?” Belle hissed, clutching to the skirt of her narrow gown as she hurried toward her sister. “If father sees you, then God’s wounds, I shudder to think of what he will say. A man with his temper will not be happy to see you pressing your ear to his door.” Harriet stepped back from the door as quickly as she could, waving her hands at Belle to be quiet. Belle held back her laugh and folded her arms, humored by her sister’s reaction. Belle had already whispered the words, without need of any encouragement. There was little chance she was going to risk her father’s wrath by prompting their discovery. “Oh, it is just a little fun, that is all,” Harriet said with innocence, seeming almost childlike in her playfulness for one who had already had their debut in the season. She rounded her shoulders as she laughed, making the pale blonde locks that hung around her ears dance. “Wait until you hear the good news, Belle.” “Good news?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “I wonder what good news can be heard between our father and stepmother.” Her wit prompted her sister to laugh again, then they both placed their hands to their own lips, encouraging the other to be quiet. They waited, silently, ready to hear if anyone opened the door beside them, but no such thing happened. Belle waved at her sister, encouraging her to follow as she receded to the staircase nearby beyond an alcove in the corridor. The grand white staircase inlaid with a painted gold banister, stretched high above them. Belle took refuge on the stairs and begged her sister to follow. “If we are to gossip, then let us at least do it away from their ears,” she pleaded. “They are speaking of a ball,” Harriet declared and clasped her hands together eagerly. “Another?” Belle said wryly. “You make it seem as if we have been dry of invitations. With father’s ambitions, it is a wonder we even stay home some nights.” Despite her smile, Belle kept back her true thoughts. It was a habit she had learned at a young age. After their mother had passed, and Charles had remarried their stepmother, Margaret, neither had shown much interest in seeing Belle or Harriet. Needless to say, they showed even less interest in what either of the sisters had to say. Belle had soon adapted a habit of keeping her thoughts to herself. Harriet was the only one she ever dared share much with since their governess had parted from the house. Her greatest secrets and most intimate thoughts she kept for another place entirely, a diary. “This ball is different,” her sister hissed. “Surely you have read the scandal sheets concerning the mysterious gentleman, you know, the one who keeps hosting all those masked balls, leaving all to guess at his identity,” Harriet continued in a rush with an excited wave of her hands. “The Ebony-Dressed Host?” Belle repeated the name she had read in the scandal sheets that very morning. The term had been coined early on after a few of these balls had sprung up, for apparently, he attended each event wearing a rich black suit, so dark, that no other could compete with his striking presence. Belle had felt a curiosity curling in her gut that morning when she had read the writer’s suppositions and wild guesses as to whom the host could be. They’d suggested dukes, earls, viscounts, and one suggestion had even been so mad as to offer a hint to the Prince Regent himself. It was an absurdity, even for the ton to suppose such a thing. “We are invited to one of his balls?” Belle muttered, moving her hands to the banister of the staircase in surprise. “Yes!” Harriet exclaimed with glee, then covered her mouth again as she looked down the corridor in the direction of the parlor where their father and stepmother were talking. “I cannot hide my excitement. Do you think it possible this is the first night where you and I could dance with a gentleman? Surely at a masked ball, our father could not be as… as…” She chewed her lip, struggling for