‘Duty can also be pleasure, Lady Alyssa...’
When politician Benedict Tawny set out to save Lady Alyssa from a nefarious plot, he never expected to find himself trapped in a compromising situation with the alluring lady! Now duty demands he propose...and claim her as his bride!
Tainted by his illegitimacy, Ben knows he can’t give Alyssa the life of luxury she deserves. But if he can convince her to succumb to the undeniable heat between them, their convenient marriage might just lead to the love of a lifetime!
Hadley’s Hellions
Four friends united by power, privilege and the daring pursuit of passion!
From disreputable rogues at Oxford to becoming masters of the political game, Giles Hadley, David Tanner Smith, Christopher Lattimar and Benedict Tawny live by their own set of unconventional rules.
But as the struggle for power heats up, so, too, do the lives of these daring friends. They face unexpected challenges to their long-held beliefs and rigid self-control when they meet four gorgeous independent women with defiant streaks of their own...
Read Giles Hadley’s story in
Forbidden Nights with the Viscount
Read David Tanner Smith’s story in
Stolen Encounters with the Duchess
Already available
Read Benedict Tawny’s story in
Convenient Proposal to the Lady
Available now
And watch for the final Hadley’s Hellions story, coming soon!
Author Note
For modern women, it’s almost impossible to imagine the limited choices faced by women of the past. A well-born girl was expected to marry; ladies did not work, and unlike gentlemen, couldn’t indulge in anything as vulgar as earning money. So what did you do if producing art was what you were born for? Lady Alyssa struggles to fit into a world that neither interests her nor appreciates her talent. It will take an uncommon man to see the brilliance in this rough-hewn gem.
It’s also hard for a modern world with its acceptance of out-of-wedlock births to imagine the lifelong stigma carried by a Regency-era individual born outside of marriage. Though well-born bastards, if recognized by their noble fathers, often did lead prosperous lives, there must always have been this hunger to understand why, and a struggle to believe themselves equal to their peers. Although Ben Tawny knows what he’s worked to achieve makes him exceptional, there are always mockers around to remind him he wasn’t born a gentleman. When a quest to save a girl from his mother’s fate lands him in a marriage of convenience, he must face all those demons—including a strong aversion to falling in love.
I hope you will enjoy Ben and Alyssa’s journey to love and fulfillment.
Julia Justiss
Convenient Proposal
to the Lady
Julia Justiss wrote her first ideas for Nancy Drew stories in her third-grade notebook and has been writing ever since. After publishing poetry in college, she turned to novels. Her Regency historicals have won or placed in contests by the Romance Writers of America, RT Book Reviews, National Readers’ Choice and Daphne du Maurier. She lives with her husband in Texas. For news and contests, visit juliajustiss.com.
Books by Julia Justiss
Harlequin Historical
Hadley’s Hellions
Forbidden Nights with the Viscount
Stolen Encounters with the Duchess
Convenient Proposal to the Lady
The Wellingfords
The Wedding Gamble
The Proper Wife
A Most Unconventional Match
One Candlelit Christmas
“Christmas Wedding Wish”
From Waif to Gentleman’s Wife
Society’s Most Disreputable Gentleman
Ransleigh Rogues
The Rake to Ruin Her
The Rake to Redeem Her
The Rake to Rescue Her
The Rake to Reveal Her
Silk & Scandal
The Smuggler and the Society Bride
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To the Birding Brothertons of Daingerfield, Texas, whose guide to local birds and enthusiasm in sharing their expertise on all things avian are the inspiration for my heroine, Alyssa.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Epilogue
Excerpt from At the Warrior’s Mercy by Denise Lynn
Chapter One
The things one does to soothe one’s conscience.
With that rueful thought, Benedict Tawny led his horse stealthily along the grassy verge of the drive curving through a pretty wood to Dornton Manor, early-morning October sunlight just beginning to dapple the few leaves overhead. A gust of wind tugged loose his hat and he jumped to catch it.
If his fellow Hellions could see him now! he thought with a grin, jamming the cap back on his head. Not that he was the delight of his tailor, but in his worn jacket, serviceable breeches and scuffed boots, he hardly looked like a respectable Member of Parliament, one of the leaders of the Reform movement and a rising force in government. Surprising how easily he’d fallen back into the role of intelligence-gatherer he’d performed for the army in India.
All to safeguard the virtue of a female he’d never even met.
But with the Parliamentary session over until Grey could convene a new one later in the year and the other Hellions out of London, he had time on his hands.
He might as well use it to perform a good deed.
A flicker of light in the woods up ahead caught his eye. Through the slender tree trunks, he could just make out the figure of a young female. Shifting his position to get a better view, he saw that she was short, her dark hair thrust up under a sadly out-of-date straw bonnet—and that her entire attention was focused on the sketch pad balanced on her knee.
Though the gown was as outdated as the bonnet, the cut and cloth were of good quality—the garment too unfashionable a cast-off to tempt a lady’s maid and too fine to be passed on to a housemaid—so she must be Quality. And only a lady of quality passionate about her art would be out sketching this early in the morning.
Petite, unfashionable, avid artist—the description fit to perfection the lady he sought. Delighted to have been handed the solution to the problem of how an unrelated male would find a way to speak alone with a gently bred virgin, Ben approached quietly, not wanting to alarm her.
But even as he reached the clearing where she sat on a felled log, she remained so absorbed in her drawing that she didn’t seem to notice him. Finally, clearing his throat loudly, he said, ‘Lady Alyssa Lambornne, I presume?’
Gasping, the maiden nearly dropped her sketchbook and the box containing her pastels did
go flying. Ben jumped to nip them up before they fell to the forest floor. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,’ he said.
Straightening, he reached out to hand back the box, met the gaze she’d focused on him—and froze. Shock zinged through him, as if he’d walked across the library carpet on a crisp winter day and touched the metal latch.
Her eyes were magnificent—large, fawn-brown, with an intelligence in their golden depths that drew him in and invited him to linger. There was a fierceness and intensity there, too. Not just in her eyes, he thought dazedly, but in the whole set of her body, as if she were poised to flee—or attack.
Indeed, in her drab gown, a wisp of dark hair escaping from under the shabby bonnet, the shawl slipping off her shoulders, she seemed almost...feral, as if she were as untamed as the woodland she sketched.
Something primal and passionate and powerfully female about her called to everything male in him. Desire thickened his tongue, thrummed in his blood, sent arousal rushing to every part of his body.
Drawn to capture those lips, he reached out for her, rattling the pastels in the box he’d been about to return.
That small noise, loud in the stillness, broke the spell. He shook his head, searching for his vanished wits.
Pull yourself together, Tawny. This is not a passionate Diana, ready for a frolic in the woods, but a modest, virginal girl.
No matter what his erratic senses were telling him.
The response that so unsettled him seemed to have suspended time, but it must have lasted only an instant, for Lady Alyssa was still studying him, frowning as she evidently struggled to place him.
It was not a girl who sat before him, but a woman, he realised as he returned her scrutiny, still fighting the lingering effects of that sensual firestorm. Her face a perfect oval, the cheeks and nose dotted with freckles that were probably the bane of a mama trying to make her fashionably pale, she had a pert little nose shadowing full rose-petal lips.
A ‘little dab of a thing’ she might be, being of shorter-than-average height, and her hair was an unremarkable brown, but that was the only part of the description he’d been given that seemed accurate.
Drab...long on the shelf...a spinster past her last prayers? He’d have rather called her a ‘pocket Venus.’ The unfashionable high-waisted gown emphasised an attractively full bosom and the worn fabric clung in all the right places to some very pleasing curves.
And how could any man meet that fiery gaze and not be swamped with the need to possess her?
Anger stirred anew that Denbry would sacrifice this lovely creature to achieve some petty revenge against her brother.
Since the lady had yet to speak—perhaps she was shy—Ben finally mastered himself enough to give her a pleasant smile. ‘It being such a lovely day, I was walking my mount—ʼ he gestured towards his horse ‘—when I saw a female in the woods. Thinking some lady might have got lost, I came to offer assistance. I see now that you were sketching and apologise for interrupting you.’
Leaning over to hand her the box of pastels, he caught a glimpse of the scene on her sketch pad. ‘Your drawing is excellent, by the way,’ he added in surprise, craning his head to study it. Every young woman sketched; this one was actually skilled. ‘How cleverly you’ve caught the form of the bird, as if he were about to take flight.’
‘Thank you,’ she said at last. ‘But you have the advantage, sir; you know who I am, while I still cannot place you. I am sure we are not acquainted, for had we been introduced, I would certainly have remembered you.’ She scanned him again from head to toe, as if noting every detail. ‘Are you Lord Fulton’s secretary, perhaps?’
She was observant! She’d drawn just the conclusion he’d been aiming for when he donned this disguise: his cultivated tone of voice indicating he wasn’t a farm worker or a labourer; his clothing well made, but too worn and unremarkable to proclaim him the sort of fashionable peer Lady Fulton would have invited to her house party.
‘No.’
‘But not a newly arriving guest, either. You’re not dressed for it, nor do you carry any baggage. How did you know me, then?’
‘I’ve been staying in the village, where the gossip is all about the assembly at Dornton Manor. One of the attendees, Lady Alyssa Lambornne, was described as petite, dark-haired and very fond of sketching.’
Looking wary now, she said, ‘Were you asking about me, particularly, and if so, why? I know we’ve never met!’
‘Let me rectify that. Lady Alyssa, may I present Mr Benedict Tawny, Member of Parliament for Launton.’ He swept her a bow.
Her frown deepened. ‘Excuse me for acting as witless as my father always claims me to be, but I’m afraid your parliamentary status doesn’t enlighten me at all about your purpose for coming here. Are you to consult with Lord Fulton?’
‘No, I’m not acquainted with either Lord or Lady Fulton. I came here to find you, Lady Alyssa, and am delighted to have encountered you where we could have a private chat, without my having to figure out how to steal you away.’
‘You came here to have a private chat with me?’ she echoed. ‘I can’t imagine why! Would you explain, please?’
‘Certainly, and I don’t wonder at your confusion. We have not met before, but I was at Oxford with your brother, Lord Harleton. And I’m afraid I have some rather distressing information to impart to you.’
The woman’s puzzled expression cleared. ‘Now I remember! You were one of the group Harleton called “Hadley’s Hellions”,’ college mates who intended to go into politics and reform government. Although he usually called you the Chil—’ She stopped suddenly, heat suffusing her face. ‘A name I shall not repeat.’
The Chilford Bastard. Ben clenched his teeth against the automatic wave of anger the epithet evoked.
He knew his own experience made him far more sensitive than the rest of society about the disproportionate amount of shame and blame shouldered by a woman caught up in scandal—while the man’s behaviour was passed over. But watching the way his mother, whose only sin had been believing the promise of marriage given her by the man she loved, had been treated after his father’s family brought all their weight to bear to prevent their son wedding a woman they didn’t find suitable, he couldn’t help but be rubbed on the raw by a plan to target an innocent female.
Hence his presence here.
Most women of ruined character had no recourse but the streets, if their families rejected them. His mother had been lucky; though he’d hated his father for years for abandoning her for wealth and a title, the Viscount had made sure they had a place to live and enough to eat. Which hardly compensated for turning his mother into an outcast, and himself into a child who’d grown up taunted by the bully of the moment for being a bastard.
Pulling himself back to the present, he said, ‘Thank you for not repeating the name—though I’m distressed your brother would use such language around his maiden sister.’
‘If you know Harleton at all, you know he does whatever he feels like, whenever he feels like it, without regard for the wishes—or sensibilities—of anyone else.’
‘I’m only too well aware of that,’ he said with a grimace. Though he’d made no attempt to hide the fact that he’d been born out of wedlock, most of his Oxford classmates discreetly avoided the topic. Not so Lord Harleton, who’d never missed an opportunity to point him out as ‘the Chilford Bastard’.
‘So you are not one of his...particular friends?’
‘Far from it. Without wishing to give offence, I must confess that, at Oxford and since, I have avoided your brother whenever possible.’
For some reason, that comment made her laugh. ‘It seems we have at least one thing in common, then. But why have you discovered so much about me and why would you want to speak with me? Has something happened to Harleton?’
‘It does involve you
r brother, but as far as I know, he is in good health. I’m afraid it’s rather complicated.’
‘If Harleton is involved, I’m sure it is. And probably disreputable, as well.’ Setting down her sketchbook, she patted the log beside her. ‘You’d better explain.’
‘It’s disreputable for certain,’ he said as he seated himself rather further away than she’d indicated. Which was only prudent; their exchange of rational conversation might have muted the sensual attraction that had immobilised him upon first seeing her, but nothing save death could eliminate it entirely.
‘As I said, I’m a Member of Parliament,’ he began. ‘Some fellow members and I often gather at a public house near the Houses of Parliament, the Quill and Gavel. Parliament being currently out of session, I was there alone about a week ago when another former Oxford acquaintance noticed me and pulled me into a group of gentlemen who were proposing a wager. Organised by the Earl of Denbry, who is no admirer of your brother.’
‘Denbry!’ she exclaimed. ‘Yes, I’ve heard Harleton snarling about him. Apparently they’ve been trying to best each other at various dubious activities since their Oxford days. Was this some challenge, intended to discomfort my brother?’
‘It was. But of a particularly venal sort. Your brother recently ran afoul of Denbry by overbidding him for a team of horses he wanted. And then, even worse, by stealing away the...loyalty and affection of a woman.’
‘That opera dancer?’ At Ben’s raised eyebrows, she said, ‘My brother’s servants love to gossip about his horses, his women and his gambling, and my maid loves to repeat the stories to me. My brother outbid Denbry for her...affections?’
‘Apparently. Which so infuriated Denbry that he designed a revenge he intended Harleton to remember for the rest of his life. Much as I hate to even speak of so despicable a wager to a lady, I felt you must be warned. What Denbry proposed was to have one of his group...seduce and abandon you.’
Her eyes widening in surprise, Lady Alyssa gasped—and then burst out laughing.
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