Kitabı oku: «Regency Surrender: Scandal And Deception»
About the Authors
CHRISTINE MERRILL lives on a farm in Wisconsin, USA, with her husband, two sons, and too many pets – all of whom would like her to get off the computer so they can check their e-mail. She has worked by turns in theatre costuming, where she was paid to play with period ballgowns, and as a librarian, where she spent the day surrounded by books. Writing historical romance combines her love of good stories and fancy dress with her ability to stare out of the window and make stuff up.
LAURIE BENSON is an award-winning historical romance author and Golden Heart® finalist. She began her writing career as an advertising copywriter, where she learned more than you could ever want to know about hot dogs and credit score reports. When she isn’t at her laptop avoiding laundry, Laurie can be found browsing museums or taking ridiculously long hikes with her husband and two sons. You can visit her at www.lauriebenson.net.
JANICE PRESTON grew up in Wembley, North London, with a love of reading, writing stories and animals. In the past she has worked as a farmer, a police call-handler and a university administrator. She now lives in the West Midlands with her husband and two cats and has a part-time job with a weight management counsellor (vainly trying to control her own weight despite her love of chocolate!).
ELIZABETH BEACON has a passion for history and storytelling and, with the West Country on her doorstep, never lacks a glorious setting for her books. Elizabeth tried horticulture, higher education as a mature student, briefly taught English and worked in an office, before finally turning her daydreams about dashing, piratical heroes and their stubborn and independent heroines into her dream job; writing Regency romances for Mills & Boon.
Born and educated in Scotland, MARGUERITE KAYE originally qualified as a lawyer but chose not to practise. Instead, she carved out a career in IT and studied history part-time, gaining first-class honours and a master’s degree. A few decades after winning a children’s national poetry competition she decided to pursue her lifelong ambition to write, and submitted her first historical romance to Mills & Boon. They accepted it, and she’s been writing ever since. You can contact Marguerite through her website at: www.margueritekaye.com
SARAH MALLORY was born in the West Country and now lives on the beautiful Yorkshire moors. She has been writing for more than three decades – mainly historical romances set in the Georgian and Regency period. She has won several awards for her writing, most recently the Romantic Novelists’ Association RoNA Rose Award in 2012 (The Dangerous Lord Darrington) and 2013 (Beneath the Major’s Scars).
Regency Surrender: Scandal and Deception
Regency Surrender: Wicked Deception
Christine Merrill
Regency Surrender: Powerful Dukes
Laurie Benson
Regency Surrender: Scandalous Return
Janice Preston
Regency Surrender: Forbidden Pasts
Elizabeth Beacon
Regency Surrender: Notorious Secrets
Marguerite Kaye
Regency Surrender: Infamous Reputations
Sarah Mallory
ISBN: 978-1-474-08578-6
REGENCY SURRENDER: SCANDAL AND DECEPTION
The Truth About Lady Felkirk © 2014 Christine Merrill A Ring from a Marquess © 2015 Christine Merrill An Unsuitable Duchess © 2016 Laurie Benson An Uncommon Duke © 2016 Laurie Benson Return of Scandal’s Son © 2015 Janice Preston Saved by Scandal’s Heir © 2016 Janice Preston Lord Laughraine’s Summer Promise © 2015 Elizabeth Beacon Redemption of the Rake © 2016 Elizabeth Beacon The Soldier’s Dark Secret © 2015 Marguerite Kaye The Soldier’s Rebel Lover © 2015 Marguerite Kaye The Chaperon’s Seduction © 2015 Sarah Mallory Temptation of a Governess © 2015 Sarah Mallory
Published in Great Britain 2018
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.
By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.
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Version: 2020-03-02
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Table of Contents
Cover
About the Authors
Title Page
Copyright
Regency Surrender: Wicked Deception
The Truth About Lady Felkirk
Dedication
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
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
A Ring from a Marquess
Dedication
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
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Regency Surrender: Powerful Dukes
An Unsuitable Duchess
Dedication
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
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
An Uncommon Duke
Dedication
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
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Regency Surrender: Scandalous Return
Return of Scandal’s Son
Dedication
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
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Saved by Scandal’s Heir
Dedication
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
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Epilogue
Regency Surrender: Forbidden Pasts
Lord Laughraine’s Summer Promise
Back Cover Text
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
Redemption of the Rake
Dedication
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
Regency Surrender: Notorious Secrets
The Soldier’s Dark Secret
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
Epilogue
Historical Note
The Soldier’s Rebel Lover
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Epilogue
Historical Note
Regency Surrender: Infamous Reputations
The Chaperon’s Seduction
Dedication
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
Temptation of a Governess
Dedication
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
About the Publisher
Regency Surrender: Wicked Deception
The Truth About Lady Felkirk
Christine Merrill
A Ring from a Marquess
Christine Merrill
The Truth About Lady Felkirk
Christine Merrill
To Jim: after thirty years, you must be near to sainthood.
Chapter One
Everything hurt.
William Felkirk did not bother to open his eyes, but lay still and examined the thought. It was an exaggeration. Everything ached. Only his head truly hurt. A slow, thumping throb came from the back of it, punctuating each new idea.
He swallowed with effort. There was no saliva to soothe the process. How much had he been drinking, to get to this state? He could not seem to remember. The party at Adam’s house, which had been a celebration of his nephew’s christening, was far too sedate for him to have ended like this. But he could not recall having gone anywhere after. And since he was in Wales, where would he have gone?
His eyelids were still too heavy to open, but he did not need vision to find the crystal carafe by the bedside. A drink of water would help. His arm flailed bonelessly, numb fingers unable to close on the glass.
There was a gasp on the other side of the room and the shatter of porcelain as an ornament was dropped and broken. Clumsy maids. The girl had been cleaning around him, as though he was a piece of furniture. Was it really necessary to shout ‘He is waking!’ so that anyone in the hall could hear?
Then there were hurried footsteps to the door and a voice called for someone to get his Grace and her ladyship immediately.
He opened his eyes at last and tried to sit up, but the room was still a blur and his back did not want to support him. He stared at the ceiling and what little he could see of the bedposts. It was still his brother’s house. But Penelope had never been a ladyship, even before marrying Adam. Even now, she laughed about not feeling graceful enough to be her Grace, the Duchess of Bellston. Though she was just out of childbed, she was not so frail as to cede her duties as hostess to another. Who the devil was her ladyship?
He must have misheard. But the rueful shake of his head made the pain worse, as did the thundering of steps on the stairs and in the hall. Could not a man bear the shame of a hangover in privacy? He tried to sit up again, and as he did, he felt an arm at his back and hands lifting him, like a child, to settle him against the pillows.
‘There’s a good fellow.’ Adam was treating him like an invalid. It must be even worse than he thought. ‘A drink of water, perhaps?’ But instead of the cup he expected, there was a damp rag pressed to his lips.
Will spat and turned his head away. ‘...Hell?’ He must be parched for he could not seem to speak properly. But it had been enough to make his displeasure known.
‘You want a glass?’ Adam seemed to find this extraordinary. ‘Where is Justine? Find her, quickly.’
The rim of the cup met his lips. He reached for it, felt his arm flop, then tremble, and then the hand of his older brother was there to steady it so he could drink.
Crystal goblet. Crystal water. Cool and sweet, trickling, then coursing down his throat, which still felt as though it was full of cobwebs. Some of the pounding in his skull subsided. He paused. ‘Better.’ His voice croaked, but it was clearer.
There was another feminine gasp from the doorway.
‘He is waking,’ Adam said, softly, urgently. ‘Come to his side.’
‘I dare not.’ It was a woman’s voice: a melodious alto, with the faintest hint of an accent to it.
‘After so long, you must be the first thing he sees.’ He could feel Adam rise, and, as he watched, another hand came to guide the water glass.
Something smelled wonderful. No. It was someone. Roses, and cinnamon, close at his side. Muslin leaning against his bare arm and warm silky skin touching his shoulder, then smoothing the hair on his brow. His senses were returning to him, in a series of pleasant surprises.
When his vision could focus past the fingers on the cup, he saw a perfect, heart-shaped face, looking worriedly into his. It was the sort of face that made him wish he could paint, or at least draw, so that he might carry a copy of it with him for ever. Her eyes were the strange green gold of coins at the bottom of a fountain and he could not seem to stop staring at them. They were sad eyes and fearful. For a moment, he thought he saw the beginnings of a tear in one. Her pink lips trembled. Her hair was a mix of sunset golds and reds, partially obscured under a plain muslin cap. The curls swayed gently, as though their owner was eased away from him.
‘Do not be afraid,’ he said. Why was she here? And why was she so hesitant? He was not sure of much, least of all who this might be. But he was quite sure he did not want her to be in fear of him. Adam had been right. To wake to this was a gift, especially when one had such a damnable headache.
‘After all that has happened, he is concerned for you?’ Adam gave a short, satisfied laugh. ‘You have not changed at all, then, Will. We had so feared...’ His brother’s voice cracked with emotion.
‘Is it true?’ Adam’s wife, Penny, was here now, somewhere by the door. She was out of breath, as if she had rushed to the room.
Adam hissed at her to be silent.
‘The more, the merrier,’ Will muttered, still without the energy to turn away yet another visitor to his bedside. But when he turned his face to the duchess, something was wrong. Very wrong, in fact. She appeared to be pregnant. That could not be right. Just yesterday, he’d thought her rather thin. He’d enquired after her health and had listened to his brother’s complaints that the recent birth had taken too much from her. Today, she stood in the doorway of his bedroom, plump and healthy.
Will frowned. If it was a joke, it was both elaborate and pointless. The whole family was watching him, as though waiting for something. He had no idea what they expected. His head was swimming again. He went to rub his temple, but it took all his strength to lift his own arm.
The woman at his side grasped the hand and brought it down again, rubbing some feeling back into the fingers, flexing joints and massaging muscles. Then she laid it carefully on the counterpane and brought her own fingers up to stroke his forehead. Damn, but it felt good. If he were not still so tired, he’d have sent the family away, to test the extent of her familiarity with his body. Though she had hesitated at first, she did not seem the least bit shy now.
He relaxed back into the pillows that had been leaned against the headboard and sighed. Then, slowly, carefully, he flexed the fingers of each hand. It was difficult, as was moving his toes. But when next he raised his hand, he was able to gesture for the water without embarrassing himself. His beautiful nurse brought the glass to his lips again.
He licked a drop off his dry lips and swallowed again. ‘Is someone going to explain to me what has happened, or will you leave me to guess? Did I take ill in the night?’
‘Explain?’ Adam, again, speaking for the group. ‘What do you remember of the last months, Will?’
‘The Season, of course,’ he answered, wishing he could give a dismissive wave. ‘That blonde chit you were forcing on me. Why you think you can choose my wife, when I had no say in yours, I have no idea. And coming up to Wales with you for the christening. What did you put in the punch to get me into such a state? Straight gin?’
He meant to joke. But the faces around him were shocked to silence. Adam cleared his throat. ‘The christening was six months ago.’
‘Certainly not.’ He could remember it, as clearly as he could remember anything. It seemed distant, of course. But he had just woken up. When his head cleared...
‘Six months,’ Adam repeated. ‘After the party you left and would not tell us where you were going. You said you would be returning with a surprise.’
‘And what was it?’ Will asked. If he was here now, he must have returned, with a story that would explain his current condition.
‘We heard nothing from you, for months. When Justine brought you home, you were in no state to say anything. There had been an accident. She thought it best that you be with your family, when...’ Adam’s voice broke again and he looked away.
‘Who is this Justine?’ Will said, looking around. But judging by the shocked expression on the face of the woman holding his hand, the question answered itself.
‘You really don’t remember?’ she said. And he did not. Although how he could have forgotten a face or a voice like that, he was not sure.
‘I remember the christening,’ he repeated. ‘But I have no recollection of you at all.’
The gold eyes in front of him were open wide now, incredulous.
Adam cleared his throat again, the little noise he tended to make when he was about to be diplomatic. ‘It seems there is much you have lost and much that must be explained to you. But first and foremost, you must know this. The woman before you now is Lady Felkirk.’ He paused again. ‘William, may I introduce to you your wife, Justine.’
‘I have no wife.’ He’d had more than enough of this foolishness and swung his feet out of the bed to stand and walk away.
Or at least he tried. Instead, he flopped on the mattress like a beached fish, spilling the water and sliding halfway out of bed before his brother could steady him, and muscle him back to the centre.
‘It is all right. As long as you are getting better, it does not matter.’ There was the voice of the ministering angel again, his supposed wife. What had they called her? Justine?
The name, though it was as beautiful as its owner, held no resonance.
Adam leaned over the bed again, smiling, although the grin was somewhat stained. ‘Justine brought you home some two months ago, and you have lain insensible since then. I feared you would never...’ There was another pause, followed by a deep sigh. Perhaps fatherhood had made Adam soft, for Will could not recall ever hearing him sound near to tears. ‘The doctors did not give us much hope. To find you awake and almost yourself again...’
So he’d cracked his skull. He did not remember it, but it certainly explained the throbbing in his head. ‘What happened?’
‘A fall from a horse.’
That seemed possible. He sometimes overreached himself, when in the saddle. But his old friend, Jupiter, was the most steady of beasts, as long as he held the reins. And a wife... He stared pointedly at the woman leaning over him, waiting for her to add some explanation.
