Once and Always Read online

  Dear Readers,

  Once and Always was my second Regency historical (following Whitney, My Love), and I was determined to make Once and Always totally fresh and unique, able to stand on its own, rather than letting it seem like a new version of Whitney.

  To accomplish that, I created Victoria Seaton, a young American who was orphaned while waiting for her devoted fiancé to return to her, and then I shipped her off to England to meet the hero, Jason Fielding, who wants nothing to do with her. In Jason, I created a hero with a much darker background than Clayton Westmoreland’s, and I attempted to portray a different side of life among the nobility.

  For me, every page of every manuscript is like an experiment in ways to please readers, experiments that frequently lead me to some important discoveries about myself as a writer. For example, in writing Once and Always, I discovered that creating cantankerous elderly characters (like the Dowager Duchess of Claremont) is a pleasure for me. They can get away with anything, they’re unpredictable, and they’re colorful, humorous, and wise. I’ve used them often since I “discovered” them while writing Once and Always.

  I hope you enjoy reading all the characters, cantankerous or not, in Once and Always.

  Warmly,

  Judith McNaught

  #1 New York Times bestselling author

  JUDITH McNAUGHT

  is “one of the finest writers of popular fiction”*—with more than 30 million copies of her books in print!

  Be sure to read

  SOMEONE TO WATCH OVER ME

  “A sizzling tale. . . . [An] intriguing suspense plot. . . . A page-turner and pure romance fun!”

  —Romantic Times

  “Skillfully blending suspense with not one but two romances, McNaught has penned a tale that is difficult to put down. The characters . . . are distinctive and deftly drawn, the sexual tension sizzles, then sparks, and there are plenty of plot twists to keep readers guessing. . . . An engrossing tale of romantic suspense . . . and a top-notch mystery.”

  —AOL’s Romance Fiction Forum

  “A compelling mix of dark desires and unexpected dangers. . . . This expertly crafted page-turner is sure to reward McNaught’s eager fans!”

  —Barnesandnoble.com*

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  To my father, who always made me feel that he was proud of me and

  To my mother, who helped me do the things that made him proud

  What a team you are!

  Chapter One

  ENGLAND

  1815

  “OH, THERE YOU ARE, JASON,” the raven-haired beauty said to her husband’s reflection in the mirror above her dressing table. Her gaze slid warily over his tall, rugged frame as he came toward her; then she returned her attention to the open jewel cases spread out before her. A nervous tremor shook her hand and her smile was overly bright as she removed a spectacular diamond choker from a case and held it out to him. “Help me fasten this, will you?”

  Her husband’s face tightened with distaste as he looked at the necklaces of glittering rubies and magnificent emeralds already spread across her swelling breasts above the daring bodice of her gown. “Isn’t your display of flesh and jewels a little vulgar for a woman who hopes to masquerade as a grand lady?”

  “What would you know about vulgarity?” Melissa Fielding retorted contemptuously. “This gown is the height of fashion.” Haughtily she added, “Baron Lacroix likes it very well. He specifically asked me to wear it to the ball tonight.”

  “No doubt he doesn’t want to be troubled with too many fasteners when he takes it off you,” her husband returned sarcastically.

  “Exactly. He’s French—and terribly impetuous.”

  “Unfortunately, he’s also penniless.”

  “He thinks I’m beautiful,” Melissa taunted, her voice beginning to shake with pent-up loathing.

  “He’s right.” Jason Fielding’s sardonic gaze swept over her lovely face with its alabaster skin, slightly tilted green eyes, and full red lips, then dropped to her voluptuous breasts trembling invitingly above the plunging neckline of her scarlet velvet gown. “You are a beautiful, amoral, greedy . . . bitch.”

  Turning on his heel, he started from the room, then stopped. His icy voice was edged with implacable authority. “Before you leave, go in and say good night to our son. Jamie is too little to understand what a bitch you are, and he misses you when you’re gone. I’m leaving for Scotland within the hour.”

  “Jamie!” she hissed wrathfully. “He’s all you care about—” Without bothering to deny it, her husband walked toward the door, and Melissa’s anger ignited. “When you come back from Scotland, I won’t be here!” she threatened.

  “Good,” he said without stopping.

  “You bastard!” she spat, her voice shaking with suppressed rage. “I’m going to tell the world who you really are, and then I’m going to leave you. I’ll never come back. Never!”

  With his hand on the door handle, Jason turned, his features a hard, contemptuous mask. “You’ll come back,” he sneered. “You’ll come back, just as soon as you run out of money.”

  The door closed behind him and Melissa’s exquisite face filled with triumph. “I’ll never come back, Jason,” she said aloud to the empty room, “because I’ll never run out of money. You’ll send me whatever I want. . . .”

  * * *

  “Good evening, my lord,” the butler said in an odd, tense whisper.

  “Happy Christmas, Northrup,” Jason answered automatically as he stamped the snow off his boots and handed his wet cloak to the servant. That last scene with Melissa, two weeks earlier, sprang to his mind, but he pushed the memory away. “The weather cost me an extra day of travel. Has my son already gone to bed?”

  The butler froze.

  “Jason—” A heavyset, middle-aged man with the tanned, weathered face of a seasoned seaman stood in the doorway of the salon off the marble entrance foyer, motioning to Jason to join him.

  “What are you doing here, Mike?” Jason asked, watching with puzzlement as the older man carefully closed the salon door.

  “Jason,” Mike Farrell said tautly, “Melissa is gone. She and Lacroix sailed for Barbados right after you left for Scotland.” He paused, waiting for some reaction, but there was none. He drew a long, ragged breath. “They took Jamie with them.”

  Savage fury ignited in Jason’s eyes, turning them into furnaces of rage. “I’ll kill her for this!” he said, already starting toward the door. “I’ll find her, and I’ll kill her—”

  “It’s too late for that.” Mike’s ragged voice stopped Jason in mid-stride. “Melissa is already dead. Their ship went down in a storm three days after it left England.” He tore his gaze from the awful agony already twisting Jason’s features and added tonelessly, “There were no survivors.”

  Wordlessly, Jason strode to the side table and picked up a crystal decanter of whiskey. He poured some into a glass and tossed it down, then refilled it, staring blindly straight ahead.

  “She left you these.” Mike Farrell held out two letters with broken seals. When Jason made no move to take them, Mike explained gently, “I’ve already read them. One is a ransom letter, addressed to you, which Melissa left in your bedchamber. She intended to ransom Jamie back to you. The second letter was meant to expose you, and she gave it to a footman with instructions to deliver it to the Times after she left. However, when Flossie Wilson discovered that Jam