My Lady Rival

PRAISE FOR THE NOVELS

OF ASHLEY MARCH

Romancing t he Count ess

“Ashley March is a glorious new voice in romance. From t he first page, Romancing t he Count ess capt ivat ed me w it h a smart heroine, a sexy, brooding hero, and a sophist icat ed romance t hat vibrat es w it h sexual t ension. Ashley March is t he goods!”

—New Y ork T imes best sel ing aut hor Elizabet h Hoyt

“Pow erful y sensual, beaut iful y t old, compulsively readable —Ashley March has creat ed a hero and heroine meant for each ot her and a romance meant t o be savored.”

—Julie Anne Long, aut hor of W hat I Did for a Duke

“Rivet ing, sensual, and haunt ingly beaut iful. Ashley March ent rances.”

—Laura Lee Guhrke, aut hor of T rouble at t he W edding

“March’s elegant st yle is a joy.” —Publishers W eekly

“W it and repart ee add zest t o March’s t heme of a second chance at love. A fresh new voice, she t w ist s and t urns t he classic plot int o somet hing new .”

—Romant ic T imes (4 st ars)

“Her w rit ing is addict ive, superb, and hopelessly romant ic.” —T he Romance Review s cont inued . . .

Seducing t he Duchess

“Exquisit e prose and an emot ional st ory—t his is my favorit e kind of book.”

—New Y ork T imes best sel ing aut hor Court ney Milan

“A delect able, sensual love st ory.”

—Romant ic T imes (4 st ars)

“Addict ive . . . w icked . . . sizzling . . . lit erary gold.”

—Booklist

“Ashley March joins t he ranks of must -read romance w rit ers.” —Night Ow l Review s

“A bril iant debut .” —Not Anot her Romance Blog

“T his debut novel is one t hat everyone should enjoy!”

—T he Romance Dish

“Addict ing and t horoughly delicious.”

—Y ankee Romance Review ers

“One of t he w it t iest original romances I have read in quit e a w hile.” —T he Romance Readers Connect ion A lso by A shley March

Seducing the Duchess

Romancing the Countess

Romancing Lady Cecily

(A Penguin e-Special)

Contents

Praise

Titlepage

Copyrights page

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

A lso By A shley March

SIGNET ECLIPSE

Published by New American Library, a division of

Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 375 Hudson St reet ,

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Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglint on Avenue East , Suit e 700, T oront o, Ont ario M4P 2Y 3, Canada (a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.) Penguin Books Lt d., 80 St rand, London W C2R 0RL, England Penguin Ireland, 25 St . St ephen’s Green, Dublin 2,

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First published by Signet Eclipse, an imprint of New American Library, a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

Copyright © Ashley March, 2012

Excerpt from Romancing t he Count ess © Ashley March, 2011

Al right s reserved. No part of t his book may be reproduced, scanned, or dist ribut ed in any print ed or elect ronic form w it hout permission. Please do not part icipat e in or encourage piracy of copyright ed mat erials in violat ion of t he aut hor’s right s. Purchase only aut horized edit ions.

SIGNET ECLIPSE and logo are t rademarks of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

ISBN: 978-1-101-58527-6

PUBLISHER’S NOT E

T his is a w ork of fict ion. Names, charact ers, places, and incident s eit her are t he product of t he aut hor’s imaginat ion or are used fict it iously, and any resemblance t o act ual persons, living or dead, business est ablishment s, event s, or locales is ent irely coincident al.

T he publisher does not have any cont rol over and does not assume any responsibilit y for aut hor or t hird-part y W eb sit es or t heir cont ent .

If you purchased t his book w it hout a cover you should be aw are t hat t his book is st olen propert y. It w as report ed as “unsold and dest royed” t o t he publisher and neit her t he aut hor nor t he publisher has received any payment for t his “st ripped book.”

London, A pril 1849

It was not a hearse. Hearses were dark and gloomy things. This was a king’s chariot, a vehicle drawn by finer animals than even the four horses of the A pocalypse. A ngels probably sat up top beside the coachman.

A lex ran his hand over the black squabs he sat upon. He’d done very well with the Holcombe purchase—a London town house replete with enough rooms to sort out all the siblings, enough servants to clean every inch of all the rooms, and a masterpiece of a carriage to cart them around from balls to soirees and possibly even musicales in between.

“You must admit it smells like death,” Kat said beside him, her voice muffled by the kerchief covering her mouth and nose.

A lex arched a brow at his younger sister, his gaze flicking to the window blinds beside her shoulder. Black blinds. The late Earl of Holcombe had been an unfortunate gambling drunk, but he’d certainly had good taste in matching things.

Black carriage. Black squabs. Black blinds.

If it had been a hearse, Holcombe could have done no better.

“Nonsense,” he replied, smiling indulgently. “It must be the absence of the great unwashed masses outside our doorway that offends your sensibilities. The carriage doesn’t smell like death. It smells of life, of wealth!”

“The house holds a stench, too,” Susan Laurie said from the opposite side. His mother’s hands, encased resentfully in the finest kidskin gloves in all of London, clutched the edge of the seat on either side of her skirts. A s if one careless turn of the horses might upset both her seating and her resolve to abhor every aspect of the evening to come.

“Oh, but you are mistaken, Mama,” Jo said at her side. “It is simply that you are unaccustomed to the scent of life, of wealth!” His older sister stared across at him, her brows raised to meet the high arch of his, condemning and mocking him simultaneously. Of course, that had been the standard line of her countenance for the past few months, ever since he’d informed her that she would be marrying a titled gentleman before their first Season of rubbing elbows with the aristocracy was over. “I’m certain that the houses and carriages of the haute ton are perfect in every way. Just as we soon shall be, too. Isn’t that correct, A lex?”

“No need to grumble, Jo,” he said with a wink. “Even if it takes you longer than the rest of us to attain perfection, a true gentleman will be able to see past your cantankerous outer shell to the soft, mushy insides of your heart.” cantankerous outer shell to the soft, mushy insides of your heart.”

“I’m one and thirty. You mean he’ll see past to the dowry you gave me.” He decided to ignore the reference to her age. Whereas other women might have become morose when dwelling upon the subject, Jo tended to lord it over others—especially A lex, even though he was only a year younger. “A h, yes. The banknotes are soft and mushy, too.” He gestured toward her. “With the money and that very lovely glare you’re wearing, how could any desperate man resist you?”

“A lexander,” his mother reprimanded. He gave her his most charming grin, but she just shook her head. He noted how her grasp of the seat had relaxed, her fingers lingering upon the satin fold of skirt tucked at her thigh, and he stifled another smile. It had taken weeks to gain her agreement to wear the expensive gown for the masquerade. Though not quite an exclamation of delight, the subtle gesture marked the first time she’d expressed approval for anything since his father’s death a year ago. A lex decided to take it as an auspicious sign that the rest of the evening would go spectacularly.

But then she turned her head toward the window. “I agree with Kat. The carriage stinks. A nd the house does, too. More than fifteen servants and it smells worse than a privy.”

“Then I will take them to task and have every surface cleaned, all the curtains and rugs aired out,” he said, knowing she would rather do it all herself. But there would be no more opportunities for her to build calluses on her hands, no more reason for sweat to appear at her brow. Living in Belgrave Square meant that Susan Laurie, for once, would be the one taken care of.

Kat tugged at his arm. “I heard the servants carried the earl’s body all through the house, from one room to another, until the physician came.”

“That explains the stench,” Jo said. Even not looking at her directly, A lex could hear her glare.

His mother nodded.

A lex imagined Holcombe’s flaccid body sloping from one side to the other, his head lolling like a marionette’s as he was trundled back and forth throughout the house by his limbs. “A ridiculous story,” he pronounced. “He would have been taken to his bedchamber—which, I might point out, also does not smell.” It was by far the truth he most preferred, as he currently slept in the former earl’s quarters.

“Peter said the countess refused to have Lord Holcombe put in the master bedchamber. She didn’t want him set so close to her.”

A lex narrowed his eyes. “Peter, you say?”

In the dim light cast from the lamp near his head, Kat’s cheeks reddened. She shrugged, retrieving her hand from his arm. “That’s why they had to carry him from room to room. Lady Holcombe followed them around, crying whenever they put him down.”