by Lauren Royal
THE BARON’S INCONVENIENT BRIDE
Lauren Royal & Devon Royal
The Baron’s Inconvenient Bride is the SWEET & CLEAN edition of Lily by Lauren Royal
3rd Edition, July 2017
Novelty Books
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Title Page
Book Description
More Chase Family Books
A Message from Devon...
Chase Family Tree
Cover Image
Dedication
1: He'd forgotten about her.
2: "What?" Lily laughed...
3: When Lily entered Violet's...
4: It wasn't that Lily didn't...
5: "I swear, Uncle Ford...
6: Trentingham Manor was...
7: Before Lily had a chance...
8: Rand's bedchamber was...
9: "Rose, don't!"
10: She'd overslept.
11: An hour later, Rose banged...
12: No sooner had the carriage...
13: Downstairs, Lily and Rose...
14: After dinner...
15: It was a week later...
16: For three solid days, Rand...
17: "Lily, are you ready...
18: "Joseph," Chrystabel said...
19: Once in a great while...
20: The burn of overworked...
21: "You cannot go back in...
22: Lily's gaze was glued...
23: The next day, Lily...
24: "I'm flattered, my lady...
25: "Pardon?" Lily blinked...
26: When Lily and Rand told...
27: "Well, Chrysanthemum...
28: The soft drizzle of the...
29: It took three carriages...
30: "The marquess never...
31: After a round of hysterics...
32: The alley that separated...
33: The next morning, Rand...
34: Rand was long gone...
35: When the Ashcrofts...
36: Much sooner than he...
37: "Is Lord Hawkridge ...
38: "Do you like your room?"
39: When Rand returned...
40: "You offered your...
41: Lily learned there was a...
42: "How is he?" Joseph asked...
43: Rand had a restless night.
44: "Randy."
45: The smile froze on Lily's...
46: "Jerome, you may leave...
47: "Bennett is not a murderer!"
48: Lord Bennett Armstrong's ...
49: "We cannot help."
50: Margery took a few...
51: In his small chamber, Rand...
52: Still staring at the spot...
53: Rand set their luggage...
54: The ride to...
55: "Wait!" Lily called.
56: Dinner was a subdued...
57: After a long visit...
58: Chrystabel smiled...
59: Halfway to Oxford, rain...
60: By the time Rand told...
61: Rand showed up...
62: Lily quickly changed...
63: The most logical place...
64: Etta in tow, Margery ran...
65: "I have an idea!"
66: All the way back to...
67: Rand arrived at...
68: Standing in her mother's...
69: Not the sort of man to...
70: While the marquess rode...
71: The negotiations...
72: "Soon," Rand whispered...
Thank You!
BONUS MATERIALAuthor's Note
Explore the Chase Family World
Excerpt from THE GENTLEMAN'S SCANDALOUS BRIDE
Books by Lauren & Devon Royal
Contest
About the Authors
Acknowledgments
Contact Information
Copyright Page
BOOK DESCRIPTION
The Barons’s Inconvenient Bride is the SWEET & CLEAN edition of Lost in Temptation by Lauren Royal
England, 1677
Lady Lily Ashcroft is known for being kind to all creatures—even Rose, her flighty and frivolous older sister. But Lily’s sweet nature is put to the test when she unwittingly falls for the man her sister intends to marry. Betraying her own kin is out of the question, but she can’t seem to bury her growing feelings for Lord Randal Nesbitt…
What Lily doesn’t realize is that Rand, a young Oxford linguist, has been harboring a secret admiration for her ever since she was a girl. But Rose is just as beautiful and shares his passion for languages. Now he finds himself caught in a tug of war between two sisters—the one he's expected to wed and the one who holds his heart…
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A MESSAGE FROM DEVON…
Not gonna lie, I thought it was pretty cool growing up with an author for a mom! I’d always been into books (like, every morning when 1st grade reading time ended, Mrs. Schultz had to physically pry the book from my hands), plus there were perks. Mom was always home with us kids, so we never had to go to daycare. She was also always on deadline, so we got to eat a lot of Pizza Hut for dinner. And I could impress my friends by moseying into Barnes & Noble and casually pointing out my mom’s books on the shelves.
The only problem: I wasn’t allowed to read them!
Her romance novels were for and about adults, and I was just a kid. A kid who loved books and hated rules—so you can imagine my dismay.
Of course, the instant I was old enough, I swiped a full set of her books from the garage and devoured them all in a row. And I wasn’t surprised when I loved every one, because, you guys, my mom is seriously awesome.
Recently the aforementioned awesome lady had an awesome idea: releasing new, revised versions of her novels that are appropriate for all ages, so that everyone can enjoy them. To think, all those dismay-ful years could have been avoided!
I knew instantly I was the girl for the job. My mom and I have been writing together basically since I learned how to type—our first all-new collaborative release, Alice Betrothed, is a project we started when I was in middle school—plus, I was a sweet-romance-reading teenager myself only a few years ago. I literally bumped into walls walking around high school with my nose buried in a book.
There’s a crazy amount of fantastic romance out there right now—we’re SO excited that you’ve chosen our book! Like, spontaneous-dance-party-excited! I would be doing the robot right now if I weren’t busy typing. Maybe I’ll wrap up this letter so I can go do that.
I so hope you’ll enjoy Lily’s story!
xoxo
September 2016
CHASE FAMILY TREE
To see a larger version of the Chase Family Tree, click here!
For our new family,
the Dantos
ONE
Trentingham Manor, the South of England
August 1677
HE’D FORGOTTEN about her.
Well, maybe he hadn’t quite forgotten about her, but he’d certainly put her out of his mind.
Well, maybe he hadn’t put her entirely out of his mind, but he’d banished all thoughts of her to the outskirts. She was Ford’s sister-in-law, after all, and an innocent, sheltered girl of fourteen. And Lord Randal Nesbitt was far too honorable to let a girl that young anywhere near his…well, thoughts.
But it had been four years since they’d last met at Ford’s wedding. And now, Rand had just realized, Lady Lily Ashcroft must be e
ighteen.
A fetching, dark-haired, blue-eyed eighteen. A marriageable eighteen.
Marriageable? Having never really considered marriage in all of his twenty-three years, Rand found the notion jarring. Perhaps being in a chapel put ideas into a fellow’s head. Though truth be told, he hardly knew where he was or what was going on around him. All his awareness was focused on Lily standing beside him at the altar, her month-old niece cradled in her arms.
“Having now,” the priest continued, sounding distant to Rand though the man stood right in front of him, “in the name of these children, made these promises, wilt thou also on thy part take heed that these children learn the Creed, the Lord’s Prayer, and the Ten Commandments, and all other things which a Christian ought to know and believe to his soul’s health?”
“I will, by God’s help,” Lily replied softly. Gently, gazing down at the babe she held close.
A smile curved Rand’s lips. In four years she had changed, of course. But her gentleness, that unfailing sweetness, hadn’t changed. Couldn’t have changed. It was what made her Lily.
Ford Chase, Rand’s friend—and father of the children in question—elbowed him in the ribs.
“Hmm?” Startled, Rand looked down at the month-old boy squirming in his own arms, its bald little head colored by the sun streaming through the chapel’s stained-glass windows. Ford’s son, he thought, surprised by a rush of tenderness. Rand’s godson…or at least the tiny fellow and his twin sister would soon be his godchildren, provided he made it through their baptism.
“I will,” he answered, echoing Lily’s words.
“By God’s help,” the priest prompted.
“By God’s help.”
A few titters rose from the crowd, but Rand ignored them, shifting on his feet. Sweet mercy, he felt as though he’d been standing for a week. Mass, and then a lesson, and now this ritual at the font—delivering a two-hour lecture at Oxford wasn’t nearly so exhausting. He suspected his knees were now permanently locked.
But even more than he wished to sit down, he couldn’t wait to speak to Lily. Never mind that she’d barely noticed him. He’d scurried into Trentingham’s grand, oak-paneled chapel at the last minute and had no chance to greet her before the ceremonies began.
The priest turned a page in his Book of Common Prayer. “Wilt thou take heed that these children, so soon as sufficiently instructed, be brought to the bishop to be confirmed by him?”
“I will.” Rand and Lily said the words together this time. Their voices, he thought, sounded good together.
“Name these children.”
The bundle in Rand’s arms chose then to begin wailing. “Marcus Cicero Chase,” Rand hollered over the squall.
“Rebecca Ashcroft Chase,” Lily said more softly and with a smile, even though the girl’s cries had joined her twin brother’s, seeming to fill the chapel all the way up to its sculpted Tudor ceiling.
Whoever would have thought such tiny creatures could make such a huge racket?
The priest scooped water into his hand, letting it trickle through his fingers. It ran in rivulets down the backs of the two babies’ heads and landed on the colorful glazed tile floor. “I baptize thee in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost.” He made crosses on the children’s foreheads. “Amen.”
Amen. It was over. Well-wishers crowded close. Still holding his bawling godson, Rand turned to Lily.
She was gone.
How could she have disappeared so quickly? Using his height to advantage, he peered over heads. But she’d vanished.
Nearby, Ford held little Rebecca and spoke with an older gentleman Rand recognized. Or rather, Ford was shouting at the gentleman, since the Earl of Trentingham, Lily’s father, was hard of hearing.
Marveling that his friend looked so natural holding a baby, Rand jiggled little Marc uneasily. Rebecca had stopped crying, apparently content in Ford’s arms, but in Rand’s, her twin brother still howled.
Glancing around for help, Rand was relieved to see Ford’s wife, Violet, moving close. When she reached for her son, Rand offered a grateful smile. But then he found himself oddly reluctant to hand Marc over. Loud little thing though he was, he smelled good and had a soft, warm weight.
When Violet took him, Marc quieted immediately. Resisting the urge to run his fingers over that fuzzy little head, Rand crossed his arms and leaned on one of the intricate carved oak stalls. “I assume you chose his name, Marcus Cicero, for the philosopher.”
Violet bounced the babe in her arms, her brown curls bouncing along with him. She looked more motherly than Rand usually pictured her. Did children change people so much? “It was only fair,” she said. “Ford had the naming of our firstborn.”
“Nicky? Ah, Nicolas Copernicus,” Rand remembered. “Well, I suppose it’s a better choice than Ford’s other favorite scientist.”
“Galileo Galilei?” She laughed, her brown eyes sparkling behind her fancy gold-rimmed spectacles. “Yes, thank heavens Ford had already bestowed that name on his horse.”
“And Rebecca? Who is she named after?”
“No one. I just like the name. And there’s never been a major female philosopher.”
“Yet,” Rand added, knowing Violet hoped to publish a philosophy book of her own someday.
“Yet,” she confirmed with a nod, clearly appreciating his support. She touched her husband’s arm, claiming his attention. “We’d best be heading home,” she said when he turned, “or our guests will arrive there before us.”
When Ford smiled at her, Violet’s return smile transformed her face. Perhaps she wasn’t as pretty as her sisters, Lily and Rose, but she was lovely in her own way. A way that was enhanced by her obvious delight in both the occasion and the magnificent purple gown she’d donned to celebrate it.
Moreover, she made Ford happy. A sort of happiness that glowed from his eyes whenever he looked at her. Through six years together at university, Rand had never seen anything close to that look on Ford’s face.
It was incredible how much his friend had changed.
Ford was still holding his new daughter, her tiny fist tangled in his hair. Giving in this time, Rand skimmed his fingers over Rebecca’s dark curls. “They’re so soft,” he murmured.
Violet nodded. “All babies are soft.”
“I wouldn’t know. I cannot remember holding a baby before.”
”Really?” She looked surprised to hear that.
Rand shrugged. “I was never around younger children save for my father’s ward, who was five years old when she came to us.”
“Well, someday you’ll have babies of your own.”
“Perhaps,” he allowed. “I never say never. But should it happen, I can assure you it won’t be any time soon.”
Her laugh tinkled through the nearly empty chapel. “That’s always what a man says just before he falls in love.”
Ford rolled his eyes. “If you say so, my sweet.” He turned to his friend. “Now, come along—I want to show you the water closet I built. It’s much better than the ones imported from France.”
Rand smiled as he followed his friends out the door. Perhaps Ford hadn’t changed that much, after all.
TWO
“WHAT?” LILY demanded as her friend Judith Carrington pulled her toward a carriage. “What’s so important you couldn’t wait until we got to Violet’s house to tell me? So important you nearly made me drop my niece, not to mention almost dislocated my arm dragging me out of there?”
Before climbing inside, Lily searched for her family in the crowd. Her father was easiest to spot, tall and trim with deep green eyes, his real hair still as jet-black as the periwig he wore for his grandchildren’s baptism. Mum and Rose were both dark-haired and statuesque. They looked elegant in their best satin gowns, her mother’s a gleaming gold and Rose’s a rich, shimmering blue. Lily waved to them, then pointed at Judith, signaling that she would ride with her friend.
The Ashcrofts were a handsome family, in tru
th. Looking at them, one would never guess they were so eccentric.
Mum waved back distractedly, holding her two-year-old grandson, Nicky, as she busily ushered guests out the door to their waiting transportation.
Feeling Judith’s hand on her back, Lily laughed and lifted her peach silk skirts to duck inside the carriage. “What?” she repeated.
“Oh, just this.” Even though they weren’t ready to leave, Judith pulled the door shut. Then she settled herself with a flounce. “I’m betrothed.”
“Betrothed?” Lily seized her friend’s hands. “As in you’re planning to wed?”
“Well, Mama is doing the planning. But it’s ever so exciting. Come October, I’m going to be a married woman. Can you believe it, Lily?”
“No, I cannot believe it,” she confessed, squeezing Judith’s fingers. The third of her friends to marry this year. Yesterday they’d been children; now suddenly they were supposed to be all grown-up. “Who will be your groom?”
“Lord Grenville. Didn’t your mother tell you she’d suggested he offer for my hand? Father says it’s a brilliant match.”
Grenville was wealthy, but thirty-five years old to Judith’s nineteen. “Do you love him?” Lily wondered aloud. She hoped so. Judith was plump and pretty, but even more important, she was genuinely nice. A good friend who deserved happiness.
“We’ve met just twice. But Mama assures me we’ll grow to love each other—or get along tolerably, at least.” Her hands slipped out of Lily’s, moving to worry the embroidery on her turquoise underskirt. “It will all work out fine, I’m sure of it.”
“I’m sure of it, too,” Lily soothed, wishing she were as certain as she sounded. Lily’s parents had promised their daughters they could choose their own husbands, but she knew it didn’t work that way for most young women.
Her family was different. The Ashcroft motto—Interroga Conformationem, translated as Question Convention—said it all.
