Scandalous Brides

by Annette Blair

  “Of course. It was the luckiest night of my life.”

  “You don’t think I’m awful?”

  “You’re not awful, except when you leave me. You are actually quite wonderful, Lady Haverstock.”

  She threw her arms around him, melting into him. “And to think, we both thought we were sacrificing ourselves for England.”

  He held her tightly against him, dropping a soft kiss on top her head. “Ah, sweet sacrifice.”

  THIRTY-ONE

  HAYMORE, THREE MONTHS LATER

  DIVESTING THEMSELVES of their pelisses and bonnets, Anna and Lydia entered Haymore through the French windows that faced the terrace.

  Standing in the salon, Haverstock met his wife and took her pelisse, handing it to the butler. “I do not like you wandering about the countryside in your condition,” he told her, hooking an arm around her and gently patting her stomach. “We mustn’t endanger the little earl.”

  She stood on her toes to brush her lips across his. “I keep telling you our baby could very well be a she.”

  “A pity. I suppose I would have to force myself to continue trying for a son.”

  Lydia swept past her brother and kissed Morgie on the cheek. “Did you two succeed in arranging Mother’s portraits to suit her at the dowager house?”

  Morgie threw a questioning glance at Haverstock.

  Haverstock closed the doors. “Morgie has yet to understand that Mother is never quite satisfied with anything,” Haverstock said.

  Lydia smiled. “At least she won’t admit it when she is. Like with Anna. Morgie and I positively begged her to live with us, but she insisted on moving to the dowager house at Haymore, saying she had to assure the future marquess was brought up correctly. When, of course, we all know how much she has come to regard Anna.”

  Haverstock looked at Anna with pride. “Mother can’t bring herself to admit how pleased she is to be here, nor how fine a wife Anna is.”

  “How was your outing?” Morgie asked his bride as they strolled across the broad room.

  “Oh, Morgie, the most wonderful thing! Mr. Archer has died and his heir has decided to sell the abbey.”

  “What’s wonderful about the fellow dying?” he asked.

  “You could buy the abbey, and we could be neighbors with Charles and Anna.”

  He came to a halt, turned to his wife and scowled. “Won’t live so close to that damned squire.”

  She lovingly stroked the thin planes of his face. “You goose. Haven’t we told you the squire plans to wed the vicar’s widow?”

  His face brightened. “Don’t see how he could have gotten over you that quickly.”

  “Because I am persuaded he realized how utterly unsuited we were.” She linked her arm through his. “With his deep sense of propriety, he must count himself fortunate to be rid of a woman who had no more sensibilities than to elope—and on foreign soil at that.”

  “Then he’s the fool I’ve always said he was.”

  “He’s a fine man, really, Morgie,” Haverstock interjected. “By the way, I received a letter today from Captain Smythe. From The Peninsula. He apologized for not coming up to scratch with Cynthia. Said he wanted nothing more than to make her his wife, but with his future so uncertain he had no desire to make her a widow.”

  “How sad,” Anna said. “It sounds as if both of them are now miserable.”

  “I respect him for it. It would hardly be fair to bring a child into the world, then not be there for him,” Haverstock said, giving Anna a mischievous sideways glance.

  “Or her,” Anna countered with mock defiance.

  “I believe Cynthia will wait for the captain,” Lydia said.

  Anna frowned. “Would that Kate’s love were that constant.”

  “Kate never loved Reeves,” Haverstock said, pausing at the doorway. “The news of her London affairs comes as no surprise.”

  “A pity everyone cannot be as happy as the four of us,” Lydia said.

  “Charlotte and Hogart appear to be,” Morgie added. He opened the door and led Lydia into the expansive marble hallway.

  “As well they ought with your fortune behind the sewing school and their other ministries,” Lydia said.

  Anna addressed Morgie. “Speaking of your fortune, I really do think you should buy the abbey for Lydia.”

  “I can’t seem to refuse the vixen.”

  Lydia winked at him. “Come, let me beat you at billiards. I sense my brother and Anna want to be alone.”

  After they left, Anna closed the door and said, “I don’t for a moment believe they’re playing billiards.”

  He lowered his face to hers. “I’ve trained you well.”

  She wrapped her arms around him. “I’ve always credited you with being a gifted teacher.”

  He cradled her face within his hands. “Not so adept as you, my dearest love. Because of you I have learned the infinite depths of my once-cold heart.” His face came so close to hers he could feel her warm breath. “Your love has fed me as sunshine and rain sustain a mighty tree.”

  “And my life began the day I married you.”

  He drew her into his chest and nestled his face in her scented hair. “The day you became my lady by chance.”

  ~ THE END ~

  Continue reading for an excerpt from With His Ring.

  BONUS PREVIEW

  With His Ring

  The following excerpt is from one of the marriage-of-convenience stories I love to write. My heroine is named Glee, and the hero’s name is Gregory Blankenship, who usually answers to Blanks. It's also set in Regency England.

  DIANA WAS ALWAYS RIGHT. Glee’s merino pelisse would have offered little protection against the afternoon’s dank chill. Even the emerald cloak Diana had suggested barely warmed Glee as she trod through the sodden land surrounding Hornsby Manor. Then there was also Diana’s astute observation about Blanks. Her own subsequent admission liberated her from years of secret devotion. Glee’s insides roiled and shook and settled into sweet anticipation as she contemplated Gregory Blankenship and her ardor for him.

  The feelings which currently swamped her had always filled to capacity the innermost chamber of her heart. It had just taken Diana’s sage observation to unleash them, drenching Glee in feelings she could not put a name to. Thoughts of Blanks aroused her in ways she had never before experienced. A bittersweet longing surged deep within her, a longing only Blanks could satisfy.

  She lifted her skirts and crossed the brook over a submerged stone path, feeling feather light and not at all distressed over her wet slippers. She felt unaccountably womanly, ripe for the love shared by a man and a woman. A love that encompassed body and soul. Now she knew what had been missing from her life. Until she could capture Blanks’ prurient heart, she could never be complete.

  But how did one go about snaring such illusive love?Blanks’s life had been little more than a series of playful pranks and illicit love. If only Blanks had admired a lady, then Glee might have some idea what type of woman appealed to him. She would have something to emulate. Instead, she had no clue. Never had he been attracted to a woman whom he could bring home to the stern man who had been his father.

  Perhaps, she thought hopefully, his father’s death—and his own subsequent position as head of the house—would force him to mature, to want a wife and family. After all, he was four and twenty. The same as George. And look at how happily George had embraced matrimony and fatherhood.

  Blanks’ father’s death also secured for him a fortune. Her heart hammered as she thought of how such blessed circumstances would attract lovely fortune hunters. As if his powerful good looks had not already made him one of the most desirable men in England. Drat. One more obstacle to her only happiness.

  After leaving the thicket, she glimpsed a clear view of Hornsby Manor a half mile away. Its three stories of gray stone nearly blended with the murky skies of the same color. She heard the pounding of hooves from behind and turned to see a young man, great coat flapping behind
him, galloping toward the manor. Had her thoughts conjured up Blanks? The man’s mahogany hair and the elegant ease with which he sat his horse most certainly looked like Blanks. As he came closer, she realized the rider was, indeed, her secret love.

  And her heartbeat accelerated. She ran her fingers through her tussled hair and turned to face him, biting into her lips to render them rosier. Now she was sorry she had taken Diana’s advice and worn the ill-fitting voluminous cloak.

  When he was within ten feet of her, a smile of recognition lighted his ruggedly handsome face. Unconsciously, she returned the smile as he dismounted and began to lead his bay behind him.

  “Ah, Miss Pembroke, a pleasure to see you again,” he said.

  Though conversation had always come easily between them, Glee found herself at a loss for words. She stood stone still facing him, her teeth chattering. “Was George expecting you?” she finally managed.

  He shook his head, impish doubt on his beguiling face. “Is that a problem?”

  “Of course not. George will be utterly delighted to have you here, and I confess I, too, am glad of the company.”

  He fell into step beside her. “Devilishly cold, is it not?”

  “Indeed it is.”

  He began to remove his many-layered woolen coat and drape it across her shoulders. “Can’t have your lovely teeth chattering.”

  She looked up at his darkly handsome face as he was looking down at her. The tip of her head barely came to his shoulders. She felt utterly feminine. “I cannot take your coat, Mr. Blankenship.”

  There it was. His bone-melting grin. She could swoon.

  “Mr. Blankenship?” he asked with mock indignation. “Since when did you decide to stop calling me Blanks?”

  “You addressed me as Miss Pembroke, first, then there is the fact you are the head of your family now, and neither of us is a child any longer.” There! Let him think on that.

  He took her hand, patted it and tucked it into the crook of his arm. Suddenly she was no longer cold, but as warm and content as a kitten in the sunshine.

  “I must confess,” she said, “I do prefer calling you Blanks.”

  “And I prefer to remember you as that charming little sister who sneaked away from the schoolroom to follow George and me about in the wood.” He let out a little chuckle. “Are you still afraid of frogs?”

  Of course she was, but she was not about to admit it. “I’m not a silly child anymore,” she said haughtily.

  “How could I forget? The ravishing Miss Pembroke, Belle of Bath. I pray that your rejected suitors do not do in themselves.”

  He had noticed her success! This was very good. She still reveled from his compliment on her teeth and his gesture of shedding his own coat for her comfort. “While I’m languishing on the shelf, another younger lady will be sure to supplant me.” This was good. Let him think of her as old enough to be on the shelf.

  A hardy laugh broke from deep within his powerful chest. “I would hardly say you’re on the shelf.”

  This was not at all what she wanted. “I suppose I’ll have to take a husband next season whether I love him or not. I wish to be a married lady with a home of my own.”

  He stroked her arm. “Your prince will come. Give him time. After all you’re not yet twenty.”

  So he remembered her age. This, too, was good. “I cannot tell you how wonderful it will be to have your company at Hornsby Manor. It’s been dreadfully dull here. As you know, George and Diana are so perfectly besotted over each other, they make for most tedious company. You must promise to be my partner for whist tonight.”

  “You now play whist?”

  She scowled again. “I will have you know I can beat George half the time.”

  “Then I will be happy to be your partner.”

  They walked along the gravel path that would place them at the front door of the manor house in less than a moment’s time, and Glee slowed her steps to keep Blanks with her longer. “What brings you to Hornsby Manor?” She looked up into his manly face, admiring his dark flashing eyes. For once, he was not smiling.

  “I’ve had some rather bad news.”

  Her brows plunged. “No!” First, his father’s death. Now… what?

  “It seems my financial expectations are not to be fulfilled. I need advice from George on how to live within reduced circumstances.”

  “Are you saying your father squandered away his fortune as our father did?”

  “No, nothing like that. He apparently feared I would squander away his fortune.”

  “Then he left it to your younger brother?” she asked, her voice incredulous.

  He nodded solemnly. “He did, indeed. Or close to it. His will stipulated that if I was not wed by my twenty-fifth birthday, the money and lands would go to Jonathan.”

  “Your twenty-fifth birthday is in June, is it not?”

  “The sixteenth day of June.”

  “Then you’ll simply have to marry by then.” Her heart somersaulted. He was here surely for a few days. No other woman could get her clutches into him. Oh, she had her work cut out for her!

  ~ ~ ~

  KEEPING HER MIND on the card game proved difficult when Glee felt the solidness of Blanks’ knee briefly touching hers under the table. An overwhelming envy of his current mistress seized her. What would it be like to lie with him? To have his long brown body stretched out beside her? She could picture his muscled torso, firm and strong. She could imagine trailing her fingers through a mass of hair on his rippled chest, for she instinctively knew dark hair would mat there. She ached to feel his arms come around her, pulling her into him. She grew hot and throbbed low in her belly. She longed to feel his firm mouth settling over her own. When he looked up and met her gaze, her face flushed.

  It was terribly difficult to concentrate on her cards. His solemn face proved far more enticing. When he studied his cards, she studied him. She couldn’t remember Blanks without that devastating smile of his revealing perfectly even, chalk white teeth. When he grinned, a dimple pinched his smooth tanned cheek on one side only. But now as she watched him, he seemed somber, his jaw tightening, his mouth firm. She watched the flickering candlelight play with his closely cropped, slightly curly mahogany brown hair. Brows in the identical shade of brown hooded eyes the color of deep amber. His dark lashes lifted, and he shot her his familiar heart-stopping smile. Like an image reflecting off the pond, she instantly returned the smile.

  She forced herself to keep her mind on the game. After all, she had to convince him she was mature and intelligent, to purge his mind of memories of a childish Glee. She counted trumps diligently. She defended her hand cunningly. She bid intelligently.

  And she and Blanks won the first rubber. With his comforting grin dimpling his bronzed skin, he met her gaze. “It seems our Glee has grown up to be an admirable whist player.”

  Our Glee. Could she dare hope? She merely smiled demurely and concentrated on the next hand. At least she gave the appearance of concentrating. Men did not desire to share their lives with talkative misses. And the only person in the world she wanted to share her life with faced her across the table. She dare not appear to be a talkative miss.

  “She’s a devilishly good whist player,” George snapped. “I wish I could be smarter than one of my sisters. Daresay they’re wise because they’ve always got their heads in a book.”

  “You are very wise,” Diana assured her husband. “I doubt that Felicity or Glee could have turned the estate around as you have.” Diana gave Glee an embarrassed look. “I mean no offense, dear sister.”

  “You only spoke the truth,” Glee said.

  “A good thing Diana forbid me to wager on the game,” George said.

  “Speaking of wagers, Blanks,” Glee said, “you owe me a sovereign.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I wagered that Jason Pope would marry before the year was out, and you insisted he would never be… shackled. I know it’s terribly difficult for you to admit you were wron
g.”

  His eyes hard and cold, Blanks tossed her a sovereign, still incapable of admitting he had been mistaken.

  Glee turned back to her brother. “Shame on you for saying Diana forbid you to wager. “I daresay my sister is not so forceful as to forbid you anything.”

  “She has fooled you,” George said. “My wife commands most sweetly.”

  “And George jumps happily through her hoops,” Blanks declared.

  George laughed. “You wait, my friend. Before the year is out I expect to find you shackled.”

  Diana’s lovely face went solemn. “Shackled?”

  Glee watched as George set his hand on his wife’s, stroking it tenderly. “For Blanks, it’s shackled. For me, it’s heaven.”

  How Glee envied the love that bound her brother and Diana as eternally as the tide. She was almost embarrassed as Diana pursed her elegant lips and sent a kiss across the table at her beloved.

  It was apparently more than Blanks could stand. “Who’s bid?” he asked.

  “I think it’s yours, pet,” George said to Glee. He never called his wife pet. She was always my love.

  They played in relative silence, with Glee and Blanks winning the next rubber before the foursome retired for the night.

  ~ ~ ~

  SLEEP ELUDED GREGORY. The solution to his dilemma had seemed so obvious to everyone. To Willowby. To Glee. And to George. Only Gregory knew how useless it was for him to contemplate marriage. He had long ago vowed to never marry. All of his sexual intimacies had been conducted with experienced women who knew how to prevent pregnancy. He had no desire to impregnate a woman he valued and loved to lose her in childbed as he had lost his mother.

  He had grown to hate his father for his mother’s death and for forcing an uncaring step-mother on him. Aurora had always despised Gregory for usurping her precious Jonathan from their father’s vast fortune.

  And now she had won. The fortune would be Jonathan’s.

  ~ ~ ~

  SLEEP WAS THE LAST thing Glee wanted. This all-encompassing love she felt for Blanks demanded contemplation. She could almost curse him for disrupting her heretofore placid existence, yet the sweet rapture of her love was intoxicating. It seemed her entire nineteen years had been but a prelude for this. This. This brink of fulfillment. This delicious arousal. This yearning to intertwine her life with his.