Always a Rogue, Forever Her Love (Scandalous Seasons Book 4)

by Christi Caldwell

  Abigail is everything Geoffrey does not need. She upends his carefully ordered world at every encounter. As they begin to care for one another, Abigail carefully guards the secret that resulted in her journey to England.

  Only, if Geoffrey learns the truth about Abigail, he must decide which he holds most dear: his place in Society or Abigail's place in his heart.

  “Always a Rogue, Forever Her Love”

  Book 4 in the Scandalous Seasons Series

  Miss Juliet Marshville is spitting mad. With one guardian missing, and the other singularly uninterested in her fate, she is at the mercy of her wastrel brother who loses her beloved childhood home to a man known as Sin. Determined to reclaim control of Rosecliff Cottage and her own fate, Juliet arranges a meeting with the notorious rogue and demands the return of her property.

  Jonathan Tidemore, 5th Earl of Sinclair, known to the ton as Sin, is exceptionally lucky in life and at the gaming tables. He has just one problem. Well…four, really. His incorrigible sisters have driven off yet another governess. This time, however, his mother demands he find an appropriate replacement.

  When Miss Juliet Marshville boldly demands the return of her precious cottage, he takes advantage of his sudden good fortune and puts an offer to her; turn his sisters into proper English ladies, and he’ll return Rosecliff Cottage to Juliet's possession.

  Jonathan comes to appreciate Juliet’s spirit, courage, and clever wit, and decides to claim the fiery beauty as his mistress. Juliet, however, will be mistress for no man. Nor could she ever love a man who callously stole her home in a game of cards. As Jonathan begins to see Juliet as more than a spirited beauty to warm his bed, he realizes she could be a lady he could love the rest of his life, if only he can convince the proud Juliet that he's worthy of her hand and heart.

  “In Need of a Duke”

  A Prequel Novella to “The Heart of a Duke” Series by Christi Caldwell

  In Need of a Duke: (Author's Note: This is a prequel novella to "The Heart of a Duke" series by Christi Caldwell. It was originally available in "The Heart of a Duke" Collection and is now being published as an individual novella. ***It features a new prologue and epilogue.

  Years earlier, a gypsy woman passed to Lady Aldora Adamson and her friends a heart pendant that promised them each the heart of a duke.

  Now, a young lady, with her family facing ruin and scandal, Lady Aldora doesn't have time for mythical stories about cheap baubles. She needs to save her sisters and brother by marrying a titled gentleman with wealth and power to his name. She sets her bespectacled sights upon the Marquess of St. James.

  Turned out by his father after a tragic scandal, Lord Michael Knightly has grown into a powerful, but self-made man. With the whispers and stares that still follow him, he would rather be anywhere but London...

  Until he meets Lady Aldora, a young woman who mistakes him for his brother, the Marquess of St. James. The connection between Aldora and Michael is immediate and as they come to know one another, Aldora's feelings for Michael war with her sisterly responsibilities. With her family's dire situation, a man of Michael's scandalous past will never do.

  Ultimately, Aldora must choose between her responsibilities as a sister and her love for Michael.

  Non-Fiction Works by Christi Caldwell

  Uninterrupted Joy: Memoir: My Journey through Infertility, Pregnancy, and Special Needs

  The following journey was never intended for publication. It was written from a mother, to her unborn child. The words detailed her struggle through infertility and the joy of finally being pregnant. A stunning revelation at her son's birth opened a world of both fear and discovery. This is the story of one mother's love and hope and...her quest for uninterrupted joy.

  Coming Soon by Christi Caldwell

  October 15, 2014

  First Full-Length Book in the “Heart of a Duke” Series by Christi Caldwell

  “For Love of the Duke”

  After the tragic death of his wife, Jasper, the 8th Duke of Bainbridge buried himself away in the dark cold walls of his home, Castle Blackwood. When he’s coaxed out of his self-imposed exile to attend the amusements of the Frost Fair, his life is irrevocably changed by his fateful meeting with Lady Katherine Adamson.

  With her tight brown ringlets and silly white-ruffled gowns, Lady Katherine Adamson has found her dance card empty for two Seasons. After her father’s passing, Katherine learned the unreliability of men, and is determined to depend on no one, except herself. Until she meets Jasper…

  In a desperate bid to avoid a match arranged by her family, Katherine makes the Duke of Bainbridge a shocking proposition—one that he accepts.

  Only, as Katherine begins to love Jasper, she finds the arrangement agreed upon is not enough. And Jasper is left to decide if protecting his heart is more important than fighting for Katherine’s love.

  Sneak Peak:

  “For Love of the Duke”

  By Christi Caldwell

  ~1~

  Lady Katherine Adamson had discovered very early on that all bad ideas began with her twin sister.

  Far too many erroneously assumed because Katherine was a whole six minutes and seventeen seconds younger than her sister, that she must aspire to the model of ladylike decorum and beauty as evinced by her twin.

  Only Katherine, however, seemed to realize Anne had proven a rather poor influence over the years.

  She sighed. And yet, for all the years of bad decisions, she continued to follow along with her sister’s madcap schemes. After all, that is what you did when you were a sister, a twin sister, no less.

  “It is not here, Anne,” Katherine said gently. Her breath stirred a puff of white, cold winter air.

  Anne, spun around so fast the bonnet atop her golden crop of curls tipped over her brow. She shoved it back and glared at Katherine. “Of course it is here. I have it on good authority the gypsy woman passed along the pendant to a vendor who would be at the fair upon the Thames River. Now, we merely need to find the vendor, and…” She prattled on, and continued tugging Katherine along.

  Katherine fell into step beside her twin. For the better part of a fortnight, she’d tried to convince her sister of the foolishness in hunting around for the small heart pendant their sister Aldora had worn around her neck one time. The pendant had been fashioned as a kind of talisman by Aldora and her four friends. They’d sworn the trinket would lead them to the heart of a duke. In the end, all the ladies had found love. Only one had landed a duke. Which in itself should disprove the validity of the claim, and yet…

  “Ah, it is there, I know it,” Anne exclaimed, drawing to an abrupt stop.

  Katherine stumbled against her side. “Of course it is,” she said dryly.

  Her sister either failed to hear or failed to care about the sarcastic twist to those four words. She spun to face Katherine, her hands clasped close to her emerald green cloak. “I feel it is here. And as soon as we find the merchant, who will sell us the pendant, then I…er, we can claim the heart of a duke.”

  Katherine’s lips twitched with wry mirth. “Does the pendant stipulate as to the qualities of the duke? Must he be handsome? Or can he be a doddering, old letch?”

  Anne wrinkled her nose. “Whyever would any young lady desire a doddering, old letch?”

  “Why, indeed? So then, it is the heart that is more important? Or the ducal title?”

  Anne angled her head, and again the bonnet pitched lower over her eyes. She nibbled at her lower lip, and then said, “Why, I rather think they are of equal importance.”

  Katherine took a deep breath and forced herself to count to ten before speaking. “Anne, there is not an overabundance of eligible young dukes in the market for a wife.”

  Her sister held up a finger encased in the white kidskin glove. “Ahh, but we do not need an overabundance of dukes, Katherine. We merely require two.”

  “But—”

  Anne planted her arms akimbo. “If it is all the same to you, then you can marry
the old, doddering letch. I, well, I shall have the heart of a handsome, young, affable duke. Now, come.” She reached for Katherine’s hand.

  But Katherine withdrew, and took a hasty step backwards. She eyed the frozen expanse of the Thames River, filled with tents and carts and skaters, it seemed entirely safe. And yet…

  “Never tell me you are still afraid of the water,” Anne said with a touch of impatience in her voice. She stomped her boot in apparent frustration.

  Katherine swallowed, not caring to admit to the shameful weakness. And yet, for all the great logic and reason she prided herself upon, she’d never been able to overcome the gripping terror of the day she’d fallen into the river of her father’s Hertfordshire cottage. She’d been nearly ten years old, and the horror of that moment, the water filling her throat, burning her lungs, stinging her eyes, still gripped her.

  It had been the last time she’d entered the water.

  “Katherine?” her sister prodded.

  Katherine drew in a steadying breath. “Go ahead without me. I’ll wait here.”

  The loud squealing laughter of ladies blended with the rumbling chuckles of their gentlemen upon the ice filtered around them.

  Her sister frowned. “You know I cannot do that.” She glanced around. “We are unchaperoned.”

  Yes, that had been the second foolish part to her sister’s madcap scheme to hunt down a gypsy’s bauble. She could not, however, bring herself to take the necessary steps to move onto the frozen patch of ice.

  She wet her lips. “I can’t do it,” Katherine whispered.

  Anne passed a searching gaze over Katherine’s face. The annoyance seemed to seep from her sister’s pretty blue eyes to be replaced by a momentary contriteness. “They passed an elephant across just yesterday,” Anne said on a rush.

  Katherine shook her head. Even the custom of leading an elephant from one end of the river to the Blackfriar’s Bridge did little to alleviate her fears. What if the enormous creature merely was fortunate enough to miss the single thin patch? What if—?

  “Please,” Anne said, her eyes imploring.

  Ever the romantic, bold-spirited of the sister’s, Anne had always managed to drag Katherine along on whatever flights of fancy she was set on. Because if Katherine was being truthful with even just herself, she yearned to be so lighthearted and adventurous.

  And because it was nearly Christmastide, and the cool, crisp winter air infused her with holiday excitement, Katherine took a tentative step onto the ice. Her breath caught and held in her chest…

  And nothing happened.

  She released the pent up breath, and took another. Then another. And each of her steps felt freeing.

  Anne laughed. She took Katherine’s hand and raised it to her chest. “See, Kat, why there is nothing to be afraid of!” She paused, forcing Katherine to a halt. She perused the barbers, butchers, and bakers tents along the frozen waterway.

  There had to be very nearly thirty tents, perhaps more. Ever the optimist, however, Anne looked over at Katherine with a wide grin. “Come along then. We’ll never find the pendant standing here.”

  They weaved their way in between the couples skating upon the ice, onward toward the boisterous vendors loudly peddling their wares.

  “Would you ladies care for an ale?” a young merchant called out to them. He held out two tankards of ale, a wide-gap toothed grin on his pock-marked face.

  “No, thank you,” Katherine murmured automatically.

  Her sister shot her a reproachful look. “You are so very rude, Katherine.”

  Katherine blinked. “I am not rude.”

  “Well pompous, then.” Anne gestured to the young man in his frayed trousers, who stood in his vibrantly colored crimson red tent. “That young man is merely trying to earn his livelihood, and you’d condescend him.”

  “I am not condescending him.” A defensive note threaded Katherine’s words.

  “Because he isn’t the most neatly put together, as are the other vendors.”

  The young man seemed to hear Anne’s not so discreetly spoken words, for he cocked his head, and his smile dipped.

  Katherine reached into her reticule and withdrew several coins. “Here, sir. Two ales, please,” she said, with a glare for Anne. She most certainly had not been condescending the young man, and she most certainly was not rude or pompous. She merely recognized the folly of two, unchaperoned young ladies purchasing spirits of any sort, in the very public event.

  The peddler’s smile reappeared and he proceeded to hand them two tankards. “ ’ere ye are, my ladies.”

  Katherine handed the coins off to the man, and accepted her ale. As she cautiously picked her way over the ice, trailing after her excited sister’s much more hurried movements, she sipped her ale. She grimaced at the bitter taste of the brew upon her tongue, but then tried another. And another. And by the fourth, it really wasn’t all that bitter, but rather a tad sweet, and a good-deal too delicious.

  Anne paused alongside a purple tent lined with black stripes. “I will speak to this vendor.” She hesitated, chewing at her lower lip.

  Oh, dear. Katherine recognized her sister’s distracted movement.

  “We shall never manage to speak to all the merchants before dark falls.”

  The first bells of warning rang in Katherine’s head.

  “It would be much wiser if…”

  The ringing grew louder.

  “We speak to different peddlers.”

  Katherine took another sip, and frowned as she realized her tankard was empty.

  “Katherine?”

  She jerked her head up and pondered her sister. What had Anne said? Katherine knew there had been a bad idea there, but the warmth that filled her from the ale had also warmed her resolve and stolen her ability to think with the clarity she usually prided herself upon. “Er, yes, fabulous idea,” she said, instead.

  Anne’s eyes widened, and then her smile grew. “Lovely!” She stuck her finger toward a nearby sapphire blue tent. “Off you go, then.”

  Without waiting to see if Katherine followed her succinct instructions, Anne turned around and disappeared within the purple tent lined with black stripes.

  Katherine alternated her stare between the tent her sister had disappeared into and the sapphire blue tent. She sighed. Yes, all bad ideas began with her sister. Dear, fanciful Anne, she’d somehow retained all traces of innocence. At nineteen, Anne still possessed girlish hopes and silly dreams. She’d somehow remained untouched by their father’s sins…sins that had left their family destitute, and forced their eldest sister,

  Aldora to sacrifice herself at the marital altar to save their family. Granted, Aldora had ultimately found love. But that was neither here, nor there…men were fickle, unreliable, inconstant creatures not to be trusted. Unfortunately, her romantic of a sister was only drawn by the drivel written about by poets.

  A snowflake drifted down and settled upon her nose. Katherine looked up into the thick gray-white winter sky at the sea of flakes that danced a path down onto the frozen river.

  Except, just then, with the warmth of the ale and the crisp cleanliness of the holiday air, Katherine was filled with the spiritedness she didn’t recognize in herself.

  Suddenly, the ice which she’d earlier feared seemed like a very magical gift.

  Katherine made her way back to the vendor who’d sold them the tankard of ale, returning the now empty glass to him. She waved off his offer for a second, and made to leave.

  She walked into a solid, unyielding wall.

  Whoosh. All the air left her lungs, and she and teetered unsteadily upon her feet. The jolting movement displaced the bonnet atop her head. Her breath fanned little wisps of white into the cool air as she managed to right herself. When she’d regained control of her breath she blinked several times, and looked up at the gentleman who’d nearly bowled her over.

  A towering, broad bear of a man, he paused to glare down his slightly crooked Roman nose at her. His black
, condescending look dared her to speak.

  So she did. Katherine tossed her head back. “Pardon me.”

  The pompous prig jerked his attention forward and without so much as a murmured apology, continued on his way. The gentleman at his right, a lean, lithe fellow offered her a sheepish smile. His eyes expressed the other man’s apology.

  Katherine gave a curt nod and turned on her heel, determined not to let the foul fiend spoil the lovely day that portended the coming of Christmas.

  Mindful of the fact that she and Anne flouted propriety by being out, unchaperoned, Katherine tugged her green velvet bonnet down more around her eyes. She adjusted her thick fur-lined cloak closer and peeked around.

  But the passersby’s moved with an excited step, lords and ladies giggling and chuckling as they slipped upon the ice and righted themselves before tumbling onto the sleek surface. Merchants barking out the contents contained within their vibrant hued tents, drew the attention of the would be buyers. Katherine realized in that moment, no one noticed the actions of two unchaperoned young ladies. Everyone was too engrossed in the spirit of the day.

  The practical and rational of the twins, Katherine felt herself hopelessly lost in the beauty of the day… and she set out to explore. She made her way down the long row of tents, past the pretty sapphire blue one she’d been instructed by Anne to explore. Ever onward to the end of the row, to where a drab brown tent rested on the fringe of the activity. Katherine was drawn to it; perhaps feeling a connection to its somber, isolation from the festivities.