A Wicked Persuasion

A Wicked Persuasion
CATHERINE GEORGE

A flame that never died… One glimpse of James Crawford’s roguish good-looks sparked a fire in young heiress Harriet Wilde that burned red-hot – until her father forced her to break off the relationship. No way was his daughter going to dilute the family line!Ten years later… James, now the head of a multi-million-pound empire, returns to get revenge on the woman who thought she was too good for him. He’ll make her feel every ounce of the humiliation he once did. But he only succeeds in fanning the flames of a fire he’d thought long dead…

But Ms Brewster had not come alone. “Good morning, Harriet,” Charlotte said briskly. “Apropos of our discussion, I’ve brought a possible client for your new venture. James Crawford—meet my accountant, Harriet Wilde.”

Harriet got to her feet, feeling as though all the air had been sucked out of her office, as James, elegant in a dark City suit, strolled in and dominated it. After all the years of fantasising over a meeting here he was at last in the flesh: harder, older and colder, with little resemblance to the man she’d fallen in love with.

“Miss Wilde and I have already met,” he informed Charlotte, the deep voice striking a chord so familiar Harriet’s pulse went into overdrive as he held out his hand. He gave her a hard, bright look. “But it was so long ago you’ve probably forgotten.”

“Of course not.” She shook the hand, and felt a streak of heat along her veins at the contact.

Dear Reader

My life as a Jane Austen fan began when I was fourteen. Although a mere junior I won a role in the school production of Pride and Prejudice as the nasty Miss Bingley, decked out in a black velvet dress with my hair in ringlets.

I went on to read Emma and Mansfield Park in school, but I finally met up with Persuasion many years later when I was living in Brazil. I was confined to bed with a virus in the hottest part of the year, and was delighted when one of my husband’s colleagues lent me selections from his library of classic literature, which included Dickens, the Brontes, Thomas Hardy and, most important of all, a large tome entitled Jane Austen, The Works. I devoured this from cover to cover, ending up with Persuasion, which was, and still is, my favourite of all Jane Austen’s novels.

It was a challenge to achieve a modern romance based on the theme of Persuasion, with its codes of behaviour from a bygone age, but I hope you enjoy the final result as much as I enjoyed writing A Wicked Persuasion.

Love and best wishes,

Catherine

About the Author

CATHERINE GEORGE was born in Wales, and early on developed a passion for reading which eventually fuelled her compulsion to write. Marriage to an engineer led to nine years in Brazil, but on his later travels the education of her son and daughter kept her in the UK. And, instead of constant reading to pass her lonely evenings, she began to write the first of her romantic novels. When not writing and reading, she loves to cook, listen to opera, and browse in antiques shops.

Recent titles by the same author:

UNDER THE BRAZILIAN SUN

THE POWER OF THE LEGENDARY GREEK

(Greek Tycoons) THE MISTRESS OF HIS MANOR THE ITALIAN COUNT’S DEFIANT BRIDE (International Billionaires)

Did you know these are also available as eBooks? Visit www.millsandboon.co.uk

A Wicked

Persuasion

Catherine George

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

With thanks to the immortal Jane

CHAPTER ONE

NOT a single thing had changed in the cobbled streets around the medieval market hall since the stormy day he’d driven away like a bat out of hell, swearing never to set foot in the place again. Ten years on, the steep roofs and stone mullions typical of local architecture glowed in the sun as he left the town centre for Broad Street to walk past graceful old buildings, the private dwellings outnumbered by medical consultants, banks, chartered accountants, solicitors and even interior designers. To satisfy his curiosity he went inside the bank he was aiming for and learned that one thing had changed. But on his way out he heard a voice behind him exchanging greetings with one of the bank clerks and stopped dead, his heart slamming rabbit punches against his ribs. He turned slowly, and felt a jolt of visceral satisfaction when the woman walking towards him turned so deathly pale he almost put out a hand to steady her.

‘James!’ She swallowed, so visibly shocked his satisfaction doubled as he held the door open for her.

‘Why, hello! How are you, Harriet?’ he asked affably.

‘Very well.’ A statement which was such a palpable lie he almost laughed in her face. ‘And you?’

‘Never better.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘Good to see you again, but I can’t stop—running late. Goodbye.’

James Crawford strode down the street without a backward glance, angry because the chance sighting of Harriet Wilde had affected him so violently. She’d changed out of all recognition from the girl he’d once adored. The girl who’d shut him out of her life and changed his own for ever.

Harriet stood transfixed outside the bank, staring at the man striding away down the hill. At last she let out the breath she’d been holding and turned, shaken, to make for her car. For years after the painful break up she had dreamed of meeting James Crawford again. The result had been too many sleepless nights, and weight loss that ruined her looks, according to the siblings who’d accused her of dieting. And in time she had stopped imagining that every tall, dark male figure she spotted in the distance was James, mainly because in ten long years she had never actually laid eyes on him again. And now she had at last bumped into him, fate arranged it to be after a hard day’s work when she probably looked every minute of the ten years since their last meeting. She hadn’t bothered with lipstick since lunch, either. She smiled bitterly. It would take a lot more than lipstick to mend fences with James Crawford. Who was sure to be a husband and father long since. Harriet’s sharp twinge of pain at the thought was the last straw. She’d been so sure she felt nothing for him any more. But it was only natural to feel something, if only to wonder what he was doing here after all this time. Her phone rang as she turned up the steep, winding drive but she let her father’s call go to message. After the devastating encounter with James she was in sore need of some peace at her own place before tackling the evening ahead.

When Harriet had qualified as a chartered accountant she accepted a job with a local firm instead of a tempting offer from a London-based company, and then astonished her family by announcing that she wanted to move permanently into the Lodge at River House.

‘Why on earth would you want to do that?’ had demanded Julia, the eldest of the three Wilde sisters. ‘It’s so small!’

It was also self-contained, enough distance from the main house for privacy, but near enough to keep a monitoring eye on it. ‘I like it there,’ Harriet had told her. ‘I’ve always used the Lodge to study, anyway. It’s surely not unreasonable at my age to want a place of my own.’

Aubrey Wilde had dismissed the idea instantly. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. Why live down there alone?’

Because it would be infinitely preferable to life alone with him at the main house. Julia, the brilliant one, edited a fashion magazine in London, and rarely made time to come back to River House. Neither did the prettier, but considerably less brilliant Sophie, who was too involved with her child and husband, and her social life in Pennington.

‘If you don’t agree, Father, I’ll get a flat in the town,’ had been Harriet’s impassive response. And because she was the daughter who did everything by the book, other than one teenage episode he preferred to forget ever happened, Aubrey Wilde had reluctantly agreed.

It would be a fight to get his agreement tonight. Harriet’s mouth tightened as she wriggled into her favourite dress for morale. As a further boost she released her hair from its severe daytime coil and went to work with a brush. She alone had inherited her mother’s abundant curling mane, and it gave Harriet a kick to know that envious Sophie had to resort to hair extensions and hours at the hairdresser to achieve anything remotely similar. Julia, of course, wore her black locks in a sleek crop that looked as if it cost a fortune to maintain and probably did. Harriet took a few seconds to slap on some make-up, slid on her tallest heels and, feeling about as happy as Daniel on the way to the lion’s den, walked up the steep, winding drive to the house.

When Harriet entered the beloved old house via the back door a mouth-watering aroma scented the vast kitchen, but otherwise it was deserted. No surprise there. From the animated conversation coming from the drawing room along the hall, her siblings were enjoying pre-dinner drinks with their father, with no thought about the dinner itself. Julia and Sophie expected meals to appear without their assistance and, as she did on a regular basis, Harriet gave fervent thanks to the paragon who kept River House in perfect order. Margaret Rogers came in for three hours daily during the week to keep the house immaculate, supplied Aubrey Wilde with a light lunch when required, and stocked his freezer with dinners suitable to heat in the microwave she’d taught him to use. Consequently, he liked to boast that he was self-sufficient. But the actual yoke of householder lay light on his shoulders. Since his early retirement from the bank, Aubrey Wilde spent most of his time on the golf course, in the bar at its club, or at functions and dinners of various kinds.

Harriet checked the fragrant venison casserole keeping hot in the warming oven, then took the first course to the dining room. Julia, tall, faultlessly groomed and commanding, swept in while Harriet was setting out individual salads at one end of the long table she’d laid ready the night before.

‘So there you are at last,’ Julia said tartly. ‘Pa’s been trying to ring you.’

Harriet kissed the air near the expertly tinted cheek she was offered. ‘My last client ran on a bit; I was late leaving the office.’

‘While I’ve come all the way from London, and missed a very important meeting to get here,’ Julia reminded her.

Harriet raised a cynical eyebrow. ‘And spent the entire train journey on the phone, harassing your underlings.’

Julia made no attempt to deny it. ‘So what’s the big mystery? Why are two or three of us gathered together? It can’t be to pray.’

‘It might come to that. I need your backup tonight.’

‘That’s new.’ Julia’s eyes narrowed. ‘You’re not involved with someone unsuitable again by any chance?’

Harriet gave her a withering look and turned to make for the kitchen.

‘I’ll report back to Father that you’ve arrived,’ called her sister. ‘Want a drink?’