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KEEP READING TO LEARN MORE ABOUT THE AUCTION LORD MOSELEY MENTIONED & OUR NEXT HERO INBARONS ADORE CURVES!
PROLOGUE
London, England 1798
SIX YEARS OLD
“Leave Mama alone!” Noah Gentry beat tiny ineffectual fists against his father’s back as the angry man kept a tight hold around Noah’s mother’s neck.
“Kevin… stop…” His mama choked out the labored words. “Think… of your son…”
Whipping a hand backwards to grab a scruff of Noah’s hair, his father jerked him forward causing a yowl of pain to burst from the young child. “You mean this little maggot? He’s no son of mine.” Gentry shook the boy in his wife, Eileen’s, face as she scurried to her knees, gasping for air. “Just a pesky rodent intent on bleeding me dry with all the food and clothes you buy him.”
“I only use what little is left from the sale of my grandmother’s necklace. He’s a growing child; he needs proper nutrition and well-fitting clothes.”
“What he needs is to be put to work. And to know when to stay out of adult business.” Gentry tossed Noah towards his mother before shaking his head in disgust, stumbling out of their humble flat, no doubt heading towards the nearest tavern. Drinking was his favorite habit. It didn’t matter if he was already three sheets to the wind—the elder Gentry would always find more of his favorite vice.
Once gone, Mama wrapped Noah in a tight embrace, swiping at his tears. “Don’t listen to him, dear. You’re a wonderful boy. My fierce protector.” She buried her face in his wavy hair, determined to remain strong for him. “Remember you must always protect those weaker than you. Your father never learned that lesson, but you’re smarter than him. And stronger.”
“But I’m only six.” Noah sniffled, trying to show the tender age with a couple of fingers.
“I know! How impressive! Imagine when you’re older!”
“I can’t wait,” he muttered. “I’ll always protect you, Mama.”
“Oh, my sweet boy. I know you’ll try…”
***
EIGHT YEARS OLD
Mama was dying.
That’s what the doctor said.
Con-sump-tion.
Noah sounded the unfamiliar word out in his head and wondered if it meant he was dying, too.
It wasn’t fair.
Papa died five months earlier after a tavern brawl. He and Mama were finally happy.
“I don’t want you to worry, Noah.” His mother glanced nervously out the carriage window as they passed through iron gates. “The Kents are a proud family, but they’ll help us in our time of need. They’ll take care of you… after…” She brought a weathered handkerchief to her mouth, covering a hoarse cough before facing Noah and gripping his hand in a show of force that belied her weakened state. “Promise me, dear. Promise me you’ll be a good boy for your grandparents. They weren’t happy when I married your father, so they’ll be inclined to—”
The carriage jolted to a halt, and her words were left unsaid as they quickly disembarked. Hefting both of their meager traveling bags over his shoulders, Noah followed Mama up stone steps and waited for the massive wooden doors to open.
***
TWELVE YEARS OLD
Noah peeked again from his hiding spot behind the hay stacks to watch the girl with strawberry curls play pretend with a bevy of sticks, rocks, and a crown twined together from weeds.
"Ivy, get in here this instant! Are you stupid, girl? Playing in the dirt like one of the farmer's children! I swear if your mother could see you now... But it seems God had other plans, making you my burden to bear instead of hers." Her evil witch of an aunt ripped Ivy's arm up, dragging the girl forward and causing the paltry crown on her head to fall. Forgotten on the ground. Bound to be stomped to its demise.
He hated her aunt. The harsh way she spoke to Ivy. The purple bruises left etched on her skin. One day, he'd put an end to it. To her tyranny over Ivy.
A rough hand grabbed Noah by the collar and yanked him backwards until he slammed into the stableman's familiar form—stocky and stinking of horseshit along with the cheap alcohol he hid in his pocket. "What do you think you're doing, eyeing Miss Ivy again, boy? Didn’t I warn you? Something that fine will never let your grubby paws touch her! You're not good enough to even steal the scraps of food from her table, you worthless son of a bitch!"
