Following the bridal breakfast, the couple left on a long and happy stay at Winbourne’s house in Somerset, for the bride had insisted that they go somewhere near the sea. Her reasoning had been that neither of them liked the country and town was much too full of unnecessary callers. Winbourne had declared that he would go to the wilds of Scotland if only it amused his sweetest siren, for he was sure that there would not be a dull moment in her company no matter where they went.
When they returned to town, disappointing all the gossips by being obscenely happy, they went on living together in a manner that suggested they had done so all their lives. They still quarrelled, of course, and each enjoyed it as much as the other. Winbourne stubbornly persisted in maintaining his cool façade in public, but it served only to amuse his wife and though many wondered what she saw in so cold a husband, Lorelei did not ever regret her choice.
Constance made regular visits to her sister’s house, and eagerly awaited her own coming-out, when the new Lady Winbourne would sponsor her introduction at court and shepherd her through all the excitement of a London Season.
Con was too young yet to think of husbands much, though she knew already that she meant to have fine dresses, dance all the best dances at Almack’s and make a splash about town. Her brother-in-law teased her by saying that, between himself and the general, they would make sure to keep away all the handsome scoundrels.
Winbourne had taken to the girl as if she were his own little sister and Lorelei knew that, when their own children arrived, he would be the most doting of fathers.
The Winbourne family seat, to which they paid a visit and stayed a week, was a charming and comfortable house, and Lorelei delighted in it (though not as much as Constance, who had insisted on painting and sketching a myriad different country views).
In the course of their stay in the country, they were treated to enough local ghost stories to make Winbourne extract a promise of his young wife that she would not go out in search of any spectres, or at least that she would let him join her. Lorelei knew, however, that she could not remain there for long, taking tea with parsons’ wives and watching the rain fall.
Lorelei then proceeded to thoroughly scandalise the respectable ladies of the neighbourhood by being seen racing her husband across the countryside on horseback.
“I expect I have been quite condemned as a hopeless hoyden,” Lorelei whispered to Winbourne in the dark when they had retired to bed. “It is quite completely your fault for challenging me. I shall, of course, tell them as much should they ever ask me – I see no reason for you to go blameless, my lord Winbourne.”
Winbourne laughed into her shoulder at the very idea. With every blissful inseparable night, it felt more and more right to have his warm presence resting next to hers as they drifted off to sleep, his arm protectively over her as though they rested in their own private world.
Lorelei had heard from many married ladies that matrimony was often a cold and joyless state, a terminal death of affection and regard, and yet she was delighted to discover that, whatever their experiences of marriage, hers was nothing of the sort.
The new Lady Winbourne could make no secret of the fact that she was most unfashionably in love with her own husband.
Fin.
Acknowledgements
There are a lot of people who have helped in the course of this book, and I owe immense gratitude to all of them.
Firstly, I’d like to thank my parents and grandparents for their help and support. (And again to my grandfather, who even spent many uncomplaining hours giving technical advice over a terrible Skype connection, and to mum for reading the whole thing.) I’d also like to thank Ali for proofreading, editing, writing hilarious margin notes and countless other things. Thanks to Richard for catching mistakes and talking me through those pesky bits I’m not very good at – I still think you’re ridiculously good at improvising. Thanks to Andie Blue, a fellow romance writer, for beta reading, sharing her thoughts and making friends over the Internet. Thanks to Chantelle for all the sushi suppers, listening to me rant and general squee and to Kim, Keith and Elinor for talking about books, writing and all those fandom things.
I also owe my gratitude to my dear friend Chris, for being sensible, giving great advice and making me give him his cameo – hope you like it, Goph. Thanks to Jason for hanging out, chatting about publishing, playing the bookshop game and just being wonderful.
And lastly thanks to The Derps for keeping me (relatively) sane at work and sending around all those cat videos.
About the Author
Daphne has always had a passion for literature and history and one day it occurred to her: what better way to use her English Literature degree than to write about Regency romps and romance? She hasn’t looked back since. Admittedly, her addiction to all things Jane Austen from a very young age had probably somewhat informed her choice of subject matter…
Daphne has stacks of notebooks full of stories that still need to be written, which she insists on bringing with her when she moves around the world (she’s done this a lot!). She likes her books full of romance, adventure, witty repartee and a dash of silly humour. When Daphne isn’t writing, she can be found painting, picnicking, reading and listening to all sorts of exciting music.
You can email Daphne at [email protected] or follow her on Twitter @MsDaphneduBois
If you enjoyed The Scoundrel’s Secret Siren…
The Rogue’s Reluctant Rose
Daphne du Bois
Miss Araminta Barrington, clever, pretty and unexpectedly poor, bravely decides to sacrifice her own happiness in a marriage of convenience, in order to save her family from certain ruin. She sets out to win a proposal from the wealthy Sir Timothy Stanton while struggling with her guilt over using a good man so poorly.
Just when success is in sight, she catches the eye of Jasper Devereaux, the scandalous Marquis of Chestleton, whose own growing fascination with the enigmatic young woman compels him to pursue her at all costs. If he can only win her into his bed, his absurd fascination will surely evaporate!
Araminta knows that to be seen in Chestleton’s company could ruin her chances of securing a marriage that will save everything she holds dear. She knows that Chestleton is not the sort of man to take a wife, and with poverty looming, she knows that love is a luxury she cannot afford. When a riding accident forces her to be his unwilling guest at a secluded country house, will her undeniable attraction override her sense of duty? Will a night of passion really be enough for the dastardly lord? And does the strange bitterness she glimpses in his eyes have anything to do with the secrets he is determined to keep close?
Table of Contents
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
Epilogue
Acknowledgements
About the Author
If you enjoyed The Scoundrel’s Secret Siren…
The Scoundrel's Secret Siren Page 23
