by Dawn Brower
Bluestockings Defying Rogues 2
Dawn Brower
To read more click here Coming June 5, 2018
Prologue
A careless whisper can lead to a scandal of impressive magnitudes. It’s my pleasure to help those whispers along…
—Whispers from Lady X
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The Season, 1811
Lady Helena Carter tapped her foot impatiently. It was her third season and sadly, she still had no suitors. As far as wallflowers went, she topped the list of undesirables. Most debutantes or ladies on the verge of spinsterhood would start becoming alarmed at the lack of prospects. In that regard, Helena was far from normal. She had decided to utilize the gift she’d been given and prepare for her future. A husbandless one, but she had accepted that two seasons ago.
She didn’t need a man. All right, maybe she did—for now. Her father, the Duke of Montford, supported her, and she required that support as she made the steps necessary to take care of herself. Success didn’t happen overnight, after all. She fully planned on taking the world by storm—in secret.
“Do I want to know what you have spinning inside your head?”
Helena glanced up at her brother, the Earl of Darcy, and smiled. “I don’t know, Lucas. It might scare you to know my innermost secrets.”
Her brother was dear to her and always would be, but he was one of those dreaded men who believed a lady couldn’t take care of herself. Perhaps she was a tad modern in her convictions; however, that didn’t make any of them less true. If a woman set her mind to something, she could accomplish a great deal. A lot of women already did and didn’t even realize it. The process of organizing a gala the size of the Loxton ball was a feat in itself. Most men didn’t take that into consideration. They thought a woman’s need for balls frivolous and tedious at best. A lot had to come together to launch a successful social gathering.
“I’m already terrified,” Lucas replied. “You’ve been a termagant since the moment you were born.”
“You wound me.” The corner of her mouth twitched as she held back a smile. “Shouldn’t you be in the card room?”
Lucas was five years her senior. He showed no signs of looking for a wife and settling down. Actually, the fact that he was there at all was odd. He usually ran wild around town with his closest friend, the Marquess of Dashville. When either one of them decided to attend a soiree of any sort, they were always together and could often be found at the most risqué of entertainments.
“Shouldn’t you be dancing?” He lifted a brow. “I could be wrong, but isn’t that the point of a ball?” He lifted her dance card and frowned. “Why aren’t there any names on here? You’re the daughter of a duke and have a large dowry. The young bucks should be falling over themselves for a chance to marry you.”
She held back the urge to roll her eyes. That was a solid assumption—even if it yielded false results. Helena wasn’t hideous. At least, she didn’t think so. Her hair was golden blonde and her eyes the odd color of violet-blue, but she was no great beauty. Even so, her inheritance should have made the men of the ton stop to take notice even if her lineage didn’t. From the moment she had her come-out ball though, nothing had gone as it should.
“I’m destined to be a spinster,” Helena replied with a shrug. “None of them notice me.”
She really didn’t care either. Let them continue to overlook her and whisper their secrets. They’d realize their mistake soon enough. She was more than happy to utilize the opportunity to her advantage. The ton might overlook Helena and dismiss her as nothing, but she was all right with that. Invitations arrived daily, giving her entrance into every social event of the season. All the balls and soirees would allow her to plan a life away from it all someday. It was all set and the first step taken for her new venture to begin.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said. “My sister will not be rebuffed. I’ll make sure they pay attention to you.”
Oh, dear—she had to talk him out of this and fast. “You’re sweet, but I rather you didn’t. I don’t want to make a scene.” If he did though, she could use it to her advantage… “I’ve accepted my fate. I don’t want any man for my husband. It will take someone extra special to capture my heart, and if they can’t see me for who I am, then I don’t want them.” It was a bitter notion to swallow; nonetheless, she’d accepted it. A husband and family of her own were not in her future. That didn’t mean she couldn’t find happiness. Maybe someday she’d take a lover or adopt a child. Once she was settled and had the means of taking care of herself, she’d have a lot of options. Not finding a man to wed wouldn’t be the worst thing to happen. It might even prove to be a good thing… A woman should be able to take care of herself, and she had always thought it rather silly that females were expected to depend on the males in their lives. Some men were idiots, and a great deal tended to be rather foolish.
“You want to fall in love?” His voice held and edge of disbelief in it. “How unnatural of you—our family doesn’t take matters of the heart into consideration when choosing a spouse.”
He wasn’t wrong. “Father is most displeased and threatened to pick a husband for me.”
The corners of his eyes crinkled with amusement. “You really need to tell me these things in advance, so I can be around to watch.”
Helena sighed. “It’s not as if I plan to give father fits. He does it all on his own. Seriously, why must he lose his temper over the silly idea that I have to wed the first man who pays me any attention?”
Lucas gave in and laughed. “Darling, most ladies want to marry. I don’t think you actually do. At least pretend to be looking.”
She didn’t know if she could. Sure, in the beginning, she had actually sought a husband. The flock of lords who had come looking for a wife her first season had been—lacking. None of them sparked any interest. They didn’t make her heart beat faster and leave her with the desire to see them again. She didn’t need them for support. If she held out long enough, she’d have more than enough money to live in comfort. Unfortunately, she had another decade to wait for her inheritance. Without a husband, it would sit in a trust until her thirtieth year.
“Why?” She crinkled her nose. “They’re boring.”
“There has to be someone here you find appealing.”
“Actually, there isn’t…”
A murmur spread through the room, and Helena glanced up to see what caught the other guests’ attention. Anything noteworthy would have to be filed away for future use. The gossip of the ton would be her bread and butter when her father cut her off. It was going to happen sooner or later. He’d all but threatened it earlier when they’d argued. If she didn’t actively look for a husband, he’d take away her pin money, and she could forget about any new gowns or fripperies.
Ah… That’s what they were all talking about. Lord Oliver Hunt, the Marquess of Dashville himself had arrived. He was every bit as handsome as the squeals of delight implied. He’d be a catch for any lady, and not for the title and fortune he held. Dashville’s physique had even caught her notice. Tall, broad shoulders, dark brown hair, and ice blue eyes—a prince charming straight out of every young girl’s fairy tale. Until he opened his mouth and spoke, anyway.
He headed straight for them. She steeled herself for his arrival. He’d come to see Lucas, but she would still have to prepare herself. She had lied earlier. There was one man who left her a jittery mess of nerves. Dashville affected her as no man ever had, and he ignored her even more than the rest. No, ignore wasn’t quite the right description. He saw her, and he even acknowledged her, but he didn’t see her. It would’ve been rude of him to ignore his friend’s little sister.
“Darcy,” he nodded at Lucas. “Lady Helena.” Dashville bowed.
“You were supposed to be here a while ago,” Lucas accused him. “I’d have waited otherwise. Where have you been?”
“I was unfortunately delayed.”
Once again Helena became invisible as they conve
rsed. After he said his greeting, Dashville pretended she no longer existed. It irritated her on every possible level. The woman in her screamed at the unfairness of it all—the one man who made her sit up and take notice continued to be indifferent to her.
“You can make it up to me by dancing with Helena,” Lucas said. “It’s not right that she’s a wallflower.”
Dashville stiffened noticeably. “I…”
“Don’t say you don’t know how. We’re all taught proper.”
Helena really should stop this before it grew legs and ran away from her. She’d never live it down if Dashville was forced to dance with her. She didn’t need a charity dance. Damned if she needed to dance at all.
“Of course I know how to dance,” Dashville said, affronted. “It’s not that.”
Lucas narrowed his gaze. “Please don’t tell me you’re afraid of Helena. She’s not going to bite you.”
“Maybe I will,” she muttered under her breath. Dashville stared at her as if she was a foreign specimen.
“What?” Lucas asked.
“I appreciate the effort,” Helena told him. “But you don’t need to coerce your friend to dance with me. I’m sure you have other plans.”
“See, she doesn’t want to dance with me.” Dashville jumped on her statement as a way out. She should be offended, but she understood.
“I don’t care,” Lucas said. “She needs to dance at least once. It’ll make father happy, and it’ll make our lives easier. I’d do it, but I don’t count. Can’t very well marry my own sister.”
Dashville’s eyes widened. “Now listen here, I’m not marrying your sister. That’s taking things a bit far. I would like to choose my own wife, and I’m not nearly ready to do that.”
Both men were talking over her as if she was no longer there. Was this to be her fate for the rest of her days? Men always talking over and around her as if she didn’t exist? No, that wasn’t right either. They wouldn’t be arguing about her otherwise. The idiots thought they knew better than her. That was the real problem.
“Don’t worry, my lord,” Helena interrupted them and glared at Dashville. “You’re the last man I’d ever deign to marry. You’re safe from my scheming ways.”
“It’s not…” Dashville started to explain. “That is, I’m sure you’re lovely,” he stammered. “Oh hell, Lady Helena, would you do me the honor of dancing with me.”
He’d pushed himself into a corner and thought that was the only way out for him. Too bad. She wouldn’t let him have that easy of an escape. The marquess would realize one day that he missed out, and too bad for him. She was a catch, darn it.
“Don’t bother,” she replied. “It’s not worth it. Go play cards with my brother. It’s why you’re here, isn’t it?”
“I can bloody well dance once before I do.”
Great, now he wasn’t going to let it go. She’d yell at Lucas later for his interference. “I don’t mind. Truly.”
The strands of music died as the current dance ended. Dashville didn’t give her a chance to say no again. He reached out and grasped her hand in his and led her to the floor. She glanced over her shoulder to find Lucas grinning smugly at them.
The music started again as the first notes of a waltz played. Oh hell… It had to be this dance too. It was so—daring. She’d be a blubbering idiot by the end of it. He held her hand in his and then placed his other at her waist. Tingles she’d never experienced before flooded her. Helena glanced up and met his gaze. His ice-blue eyes were as cold as the color they depicted. There was no emotion in them, and especially, no indication he even realized who she was. It was demoralizing.
He swung her around the floor with an expertise she didn’t know existed. It was amazing and cold in its execution. If he tried even the littlest bit, she’d be putty in his hands. She wanted him as she’d never wanted a man.
“My, you’re a regular gossip,” Helena teased. “Please, don’t talk anymore. I can’t handle it.”
“Talking is overrated,” he replied. “Why bother when there’s nothing to say?”
That hadn’t gone well. “I suppose that’s true, but generally it is expected that dancers converse. Otherwise, it’ll create talk that is best avoided.”
“I could care less what the ton thinks of me.”
“Said like a person who doesn’t fully understand the disaster of a lost reputation. I wonder if you’d say the same thing if you were truly the subject of the worst kind of scandal.”
He frowned. “As I don’t intend to be, I don’t see your point.”
“No one ever intends to find themselves the talk of the ton. That’s the whole point of a scandal. People find trouble when they least expect it. No one willingly courts disgrace.”
“Be that as it may,” he replied rather smugly. “I’ll never be one of those poor saps. I have a better handle on discretion.”
With those words, he sealed his fate. One day she’d make him eat those words. She was patient enough to make it happen. He didn’t realize the trouble he’d courted—no one ever truly did. She lifted her lips into a sultry smile. “My lord, I hope you do. I’d hate to read about you in the scandal sheets. Especially if you continue to be a friend of my brother’s.”
“What is that supposed to imply?”
“Nothing,” she reassured him. “Wishing you all the best and all that goes with it. I would so hate for Lucas’ dearest friend to experience any kind of upheaval—that’s all.”
Damn him and his handsome face. If only he didn’t have a horrible attitude to go along with it. Thankfully, the dance ended, and he led her back to her brother.
“Let’s find that card game now,” Lucas said. “But not here. The club will be more fun.”
Dashville nodded. “I agree.”
They both left without a by-your-leave. “Do dash away, gentleman. It’s not as if I need a chaperone or anything.” Helena sighed. Tomorrow would be a brighter day, and she had a new subject for her project. Dashville was in for a rude awakening.
EXCERPT: Searching for My Rogue
Linked Across Time: Book Two
Dawn Brower
To Download click here
* * *
Chapter 1
September 5, 2015
“Aly, have you seen my shoes?”
Alys Dewitt rolled her eyes. “Did you check under the bed?” Her younger sister, Regina, was constantly losing something. They both were in Regina’s chamber wearing their undergarments covered by a silk robe. If it wasn’t one thing, her sister would make something up so the attention would fall back to where she believed it belonged—on her.
Alys plopped down into one of the fancy retro chairs next to the window and pulled a nail file from her overstuffed purse. She slid it across her nails to even them out. Maybe she would get lucky and Regina would find her shoes without asking for help.
“You can help me, you know,” Regina whined. “You are my maid of honor.”
No such luck...
With a sigh, she dropped the nail file back in her purse. She should have known better. Regina couldn’t do anything on her own. Drama queen? Her sister put the very idea to shame. Men loved her though. They weren’t able to look past her perfect frame and flawless heart-shaped face. That Regina’s face was draped with platinum blonde hair and aquamarine eyes didn’t hurt and was enough to give Alys a complex. Her perfect sister...
In truth, Alys was tired of people comparing them. She was content with how she looked and her life choices. So what if she was still single and her sister appeared to have found the man of her dreams. Someday, she’d find a man worth spending the rest of her life with, and if she didn’t, well, that was perfectly fine too.
At least that’s what she kept telling herself. Complex—ugh—okay, I may have one.
“I’m more than aware of my status in your wedding.” The person in charge of making sure she showed up and radiated her perceived perfectness. Just because she organized things down to the last detail didn
’t mean she should have to do it. Her sister was lucky she loved her. She pasted a bright smile on her face and turned toward Regina. “I can’t wait to watch you walk down the aisle and marry Trenton.”
Alys couldn’t wait for this wedding to be over with.
She loved her sister. Honestly. But her attitude grated on her nerves. Regina’s spoiled princess demeanor drove her insane. Alys could only spend so much time with her before she felt her fingers start to twitch. A desire to wrap them around her sister’s neck and squeeze filled her, and it took all of her self control not to act on it.
“You don’t look very happy about it. Don’t you want to be part of my wedding?” Regina pouted. “Your fists are clenched at your side, and you’ve been bitchier than usual.”
Alys tilted her head heavenward, silently praying for patience. She turned her attention to her overwrought sister. “I promise I want to be part of your big day.” She crossed her heart and blew her a kiss. “Now think, where was the last place you saw your shoes?” For once, please remember... So she wouldn’t have to mess up her own hair digging around for her sister’s shoes.
Regina bit her lip and a small tear slid down her cheek. “I don’t know.”
Alys took a deep breath and braced herself for the stream of tears about to descend. “It will be fine, Gina. Let me take a look. I’m sure they’re here.” She crossed the room and patted her on the back. Alys turned and scanned the room. No, her shoes weren’t any place obvious. It appeared as if she’d have to do some serious searching.
“Thank you,” Regina’s voice wobbled. “You are the best sister, truly.”
That’s what she was to everyone: the one they could always depend on. What would they do if she suddenly disappeared? Maybe she should. Teach them all they would have to learn to do for themselves sometimes. Alys couldn’t really do it though. Meanness, along with selfishness, wasn’t her go-to attitude. That was what made people lean on her so much. She was an easy target to get roped into doing everything. She walked around the room and looked under the furniture. No shoes. There was only one place left to check. Alys headed toward the closet.
