LOVING A ROGUE
By Marie Higgins
Copyright © 2019 by Marie Higgins
Cover Art by Sheri McGathy
Edited by Lynda Floyd, Teresa Pearson, and Barbeloangel Cherub Eagle Eyes
Edition License Notes
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Table of Contents
Copyright Page
Loving a Rogue (How to Love Series, #3)
ONE
TWO
THREE
FOUR
FIVE
SIX
SEVEN
EIGHT
NINE
TEN
EPILOGUE
Author’s Bio
What more can the second daughter of a tradesman hope to gain in life than becoming the companion to the Dowager Duchess of Englewood? Especially when she was resigned to being a spinster? However, misfortune strikes Priscilla Benson’s world once again, when one of the men who had broken her heart, returns and brings more havoc. She’s determined not to let the rogue steal her heart again. And yet, she finds she’s drawn to him now more than ever before.
Gavin Hamilton’s duties as the newly titled Duke of Englewood are more difficult than he could ever imagine. Not only does he have to straighten up his own wayward life, he needs to repair the damage done by his deceased father to his family’s name. When Gavin gets caught in a scandalous situation with his grandmother’s new ladies companion, he cannot return to his former ways as a rogue. Instead, he must do all he can to make Priscilla look at him as a true gentleman.
ONE
Northampton, England
Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned / nor hell a fury like a woman scorned.
William Congreve’s poem, The Mourning Bride, had been on Priscilla Benson’s mind for two years now. She experienced firsthand what it was like to have not one, but two men reject her outright and leave her heartbroken and desolate. She had become a spinster at the age of twenty-four. If only she could have been lucky like her older sister, Lyndsey, who’d married the perfect wealthy man.
Priscilla pulled her thoughts out of the past and to the present. The jarring coach she’d been in for several hours now was gnawing on her already tattered nerves. She’d accepted a position as a ladies companion to the Dowager Duchess of Englewood.
Although anxious to move ahead with her life, Priscilla especially wanted to get away from her father who was ruining the lives of every one of his children. Now she would get to wear nicer gowns instead of ones that had been altered every year since she was fourteen. Finally, she would be able to hold her head high at society’s functions without the fear of someone gossiping about her family.
The Dowager Duchess of Englewood was in her early fiftieth year and really didn’t need a companion, but the dowager was very good friends with Priscilla’s grandmother, and so the deal was made that she’d live with the dowager and assist her as the poor woman was crippled and confined to a wheelchair.
The rhythm of the coach slowed, and Priscilla peered out the window at the magnificent three-story estate they were approaching. It was very similar to the one Lyndsey was living in with her adoring husband, Lord Adrian Dorsey.
Priscilla smiled. Perhaps luck was indeed smiling upon her, just in a different way.
She clutched her satchel and scooted closer to the door. The dowager had sent her own coach decorated with the family’s crest of blue and silver on the door. Priscilla had never felt so regal in her life. She prayed this wouldn’t be the last time she felt important.
The coach stopped and a footman opened the door. He helped her down before lifting her trunk off the back of the coach. She walked up the several steps toward the estate. A butler – wearing a black and red uniform – waited at the open door and when he saw her, he bowed slightly.
“Welcome to Englewood Hall. We have been expecting you.” He motioned to her satchel. “I will have that taken to your room.”
She smiled at the older man and handed the satchel to another footman who stood nearby. The butler’s hair was pure white, but he still had a full head of hair. He was still dignified in his later years, and she thought he was quite pleasant. “I thank you for your welcome.”
“Dowager Duchess of Englewood is waiting for you in the sitting room, Miss Priscilla. If you’ll follow me, I’ll take you to her.”
“Of course.”
Nervously, she wrung her hands against her middle as she followed the butler. The tiled floors were polished to perfection, and every lamp, table, and picture was impeccably dusted. Living in this manor would be like living in a museum. But it would be a relief not to have to clean and cook as she had done for several years since their father made very little money and she and her sisters had to do the cooking and cleaning.
As she followed the butler into the sitting room, immediately she recognized her grandmother’s friend, the Dowager Duchess of Englewood. The bony, shriveled old woman with silvery-white hair sat hunched in her cushioned chair, staring toward the hearth. Low flames danced on a burnt log as bits of smoke curled up toward the chimney.
“Your Grace,” the butler announced, “Miss Priscilla is here.”
The older woman’s back straightened slightly and she turned. When the woman’s gaze landed on Priscilla, her eyes widened and she smiled.
“Miss Priscilla.” She motioned with her hand. “Come here so I can see you better. I don’t have my spectacles at the moment, so you are a blur.”
After curtsying, Priscilla grinned and moved closer. “It’s so nice to see you again, Your Grace. Grandmother Benson speaks so highly of you, I feel as if I know you already.”
The duchess nodded and took hold of Priscilla’s hands. “Your grandmother is such a dear friend. I’m so happy to have one of her granddaughters as my companion.” She squinted and peered toward the butler. “Martin? Will you inform Mrs. Jones to have tea brought in?”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
Priscilla was tempted to get the tea service ready herself, but she quickly stopped herself. She must remember she was the companion of a duchess and not her servant.
The dowager patted the armrest of the sofa next to her. “Please sit so we can chat. There are so many things I would like to know about you.”
Nodding, Priscilla sat on the sofa and folded her hands on her lap. “I, too, have many questions. Although I’m sure I’ll learn quickly, I don’t know how to be a companion to a duchess.”
The older lady chuckled. “Keeping me entertained is probably the thing you’ll do the most. Your grandmother told me you play the pianoforte really well.” She glanced down at her crooked fingers and sighed heavily. “I used to play well, myself, but old age is taking over my body quickly.” She lifted her gaze to Priscilla.
“I love playing.” Priscilla beamed. “Would you like me to play something for you now?”
“Indeed. Help me into my chair and take me to the music room.”
As Priscilla assisted the dowager into the wheelchair, she recalled when she’d first heard about the chair with wheels that her father’s distant cousin, John Dawson of Bath, had invented for invalids. The chair, with two large wheels behind and one in front, had made him very rich. Her father constantly cursed his distant cousin for not helping their family. Then again, if she were John Da
wson, she wouldn’t give her father money, either, since he never spent it on his children.
They reached the music room and Priscilla helped the dowager out of the wheelchair and to the sofa. As Priscilla stepped to the pianoforte, her mind was already putting together a memorized piece that she enjoyed playing. Once she sat on the stool, her fingers moved over the keys as if they had a mind of their own.
Playing had always soothed her, but she couldn’t keep memories from resurfacing. She’d captured the attention of two men over the past six years because of how well she played. The first had been Lord Hanover, who had inherited the new title of Lord Kentwood and was now happily married. But less than eighteen months ago, she had attended one of her aunt’s dinner parties where she was given the opportunity to play. Viscount Lennox had been in attendance. His dashing good looks and charming manner had swept many women off their feet, and the dirty rotten rogue had picked her as his next target.
When the volume of the music increased, her thoughts turned to how the viscount had gazed at her with his smoldering green eyes and kissed her hand with his gentle lips. He’d tried a few times to meet her in private, but something had always complicated their plans. At the time she’d been upset at the interruptions. Now, she was grateful nothing had happened between them. Gavin’s attention was easily diverted to another innocent female, and he never spoke to Priscilla again.
Gavin Hamilton had been just like Collin Dorsey. The two lords knew exactly how to twist up her feelings and shatter her hope of ever finding a man to marry. Of course, it was her family’s misfortune that turned her into a spinster.
She finished Mozart’s piece and rested her hands in her lap. Her whole body shook from the disappointment and anger rushing through her. As the dowager clapped enthusiastically, Priscilla breathed deeply, trying to calm herself.
“Oh, Miss Priscilla, you played wonderfully and dramatically. Indeed, your grandmother did not exaggerate about your special talent. I don’t believe I’ve seen such a great performance before.”
Finally feeling as if she’d rid herself of heartbreaking memories, she faced the woman and smiled. “I thank you for your generous compliment, Your Grace. I fear, I tend to let my feelings go when I’m playing.”
A cheery, middle-aged woman brought in a tray filled with teacups, a tea kettle, and a plate of crumpets. She gave a nod to Priscilla before placing the tray on the nearby table.
“Thank you Mrs. Jones.” The duchess motioned to the servant. “This is my housekeeper.”
Priscilla nodded. “I’m happy to meet you.”
The servant curtsied. “It’s nice to meet you, Miss Priscilla.” She turned back to the duchess. “Your grandson just arrived. He is wondering if he can visit with you.”
The dowager’s face beamed. “Of course, he can. I can’t wait to introduce him to my companion.”
The housekeeper nodded. “Would you like me to pour your tea first?”
“No, Miss Priscilla can pour it. You hurry and fetch that handsome grandson of mine. I haven’t seen him since he took over his new title two months ago.”
“Yes, Your Grace.” The servant curtsied before hurrying out the door.
Without a word, Priscilla moved to the tray and began pouring the tea. In her mind, she pictured the duchess’ grandson to be a scrawny young man, probably just getting ready to enter Eton. But the footsteps coming into the room seemed heavier on the hardwood floor than a young man’s would. The duchess clapped her hands.
“Oh, there you are, my boy. Come here and give me a hug.”
Smiling, Priscilla was glad to hear that the duchess greeted her grandchildren just the way her own grandmother greeted Priscilla’s family. She straightened and turned toward the woman.
“Grams, I don’t dare give you a hug. I had a little mishap, and my saddle broke.”
The dowager gasped. “How terrible.”
From where she stood, Priscilla could only see the back of him, and although his clothes were scuffed up a bit with dirt and mud, one thing was certain. This man was not scrawny or very young at all. His shoulders were wide and the rest of him looked muscular. Her face heated from her inappropriate thoughts.
“But I’m fine,” he said, kissing his grandmother on the cheek. “I must say, you look prettier every time I see you.”
“Oh, posh!” The duchess giggled and playfully swatted his arm. “My dear boy,” the dowager said, “you have to meet my new companion.”
The man straightened and turned toward Priscilla. Just as she met the man’s gaze, her mind captured the structure of his handsome face and his wavy dark hair. As recognition struck, rejection tugged at her heart just as painfully as it had eighteen months ago. Panic gripped her throat, squeezing tightly.
Gavin Hamilton? A small gasp broke through her tight throat. What was Viscount Lennox doing here? Recognition showed in his wide eyes and his smile quickly disappeared.
“Gavin, I’d like you to meet my new lady’s companion, Miss Priscilla Benson. Miss Priscilla, this is my grandson, the newly appointed Duke of Englewood.”
Duke? Priscilla’s head started to spin and her stomach lurched. If he was the duke, would he preside over this estate? She hoped not. She didn’t think she could tolerate a rogue like him and act like a lady trying to keep her temper in check. She’d certainly lose her position with the duchess, and she’d probably never find work again.
Perhaps it was best to bite her tongue and not make a scene. But, could she do it when all she wanted to do right now was scream at him? Maybe she’d kick him in the shins or a place on his body that would hurt him as much as his treatment of her eighteen months ago had injured her heart.
TWO
Gavin stared at Priscilla and his mind drew a blank of what to say. He remembered her from a year and a half ago, but he’d quickly forgotten her. As he had the other women he’d met over the years. However, she seemed to have changed. He recalled her being a mousy sort of girl who was afraid of her own shadow. But it was her intense blue eyes and her soft voice that had first attracted her to him. Then, of course, it was her innocence that kept him trying to seduce her. Back then, he would have described her as plain even though she was slightly pretty.
But now... she didn’t resemble a girl anymore. Instead, she was a fully-grown woman with delicate facial features and pretty ash-blonde hair coiled up in a bun. Wisps of hair were left loose around her ears and near her temples. The gown she wore hugged her bosom, displaying her womanly figure.
There was only one word to describe her now. Breathtaking.
She blinked and lowered her gaze to the floor as she curtsied. “It’s a pleasure to see you again, Your Grace.”
Gavin had only had the title for a few months, but he didn’t think he’d ever get used to hearing Your Grace. After all, that had been his father’s title before he died.
Remembering his manners, he bowed slightly. “Oh, no. The pleasure is all mine, Miss Priscilla. I’m very glad you are here to help my grandmother. I’m sure she appreciates you as much as I do.”
“It is I who appreciates the opportunity, Your Grace,” she said as she looked at his grandmother.
“You two know each other?” Grandmother asked as her gaze switched back and forth between them.
“Yes,” Gavin answered. “We met over a year ago at her aunt’s dinner party.”
“Oh, how lovely,” Grandmother said with a bounce to her voice. “Then I’m sure you were able to hear Miss Priscilla play the pianoforte. She’s magnificent.”
Priscilla wasn’t meeting his eyes, but her cheeks turned pink from his grandmother’s compliment. “Yes, Grandmother. I did hear her play and she was indeed, magnificent.”
Priscilla’s face beamed red. “I thank you, Your Grace.” She cleared her throat and turned toward the tea service. “Would you like me to pour you some tea?”
“I appreciate you thinking of me, but I must decline.” He bent and kissed his grandmother’s cheek again. “Please forgive
me, but I have a meeting with my solicitor, and after the mishap with my saddle and I fell to the ground, I fear I’m in great need of cleaning myself up.”
“Of course, dear.” The dowager patted his arm. “But I hope you’ll make me happy and be here for dinner.”
“Yes, of course.” He grinned. “I have missed your company.” As he took a step toward the door, he glanced at Priscilla again. “I shall see you later.”
She nodded and quickly snubbed him as she took a cup of tea to his grandmother.
After he left the music room and closed the door, he scowled. Obviously, Miss Priscilla was going to give him the cold shoulder for a while. He probably deserved it. After all, he was only after one thing while he charmed her all those many months ago, and when he didn’t get even a kiss, he’d given up and moved on. However, he knew she had really started to like him.
Blowing out a breath of frustration, he climbed the stairs and headed for his bedchamber. He hadn’t planned on staying long at the manor, but now he was rethinking his plans. He couldn’t leave knowing that Miss Priscilla loathed him. He must make amends somehow.
An idea popped into his head, and he imagined how she had felt in his arms. He’d actually enjoyed how well she had fit against his chest. But now that she was so much more a woman. His heart leapt. Good grief! Why was he picturing them alone together as he kissed her sultry lips? And why, pray tell, did the idea of seduction look better and better?
ALTHOUGH THE DOWAGER retired to bed early, Priscilla could not. Her mind was still wide awake. She’d stressed herself sick right before dinner, not wanting to see Gavin again, but then the inconsiderate rogue hadn’t shown up. Instead, he’d sent his grandmother a note stating that his meeting was running longer. The old woman laughed it off, telling Priscilla that Gavin had become a busy man since he’d taken up his new title. She knew the real reason he hadn’t come. He was afraid to face her, and it had nothing to do with him feeling guilty. Men like that had cold hearts.
Loving a Rogue (How to Love Book 3) Page 1
