The Wicked Wallflowers: Regency Boxed Set (Chronicles of a Bluestocking)

by Tammy Andresen

  “Surprise,” Penny called out. “Isn’t it so wonderful?” She rushed to Chloe’s side. “It’s the most romantic scene I’ve ever seen.” Then her brow crinkled. “Lord Dryden said you weren’t feeling well and needed a rest. Are you all right?”

  “I’m perfect,” she gushed. “It’s wonderful.” Her throat worked and she lifted her hand to her collarbone. It was beautiful beyond her wildest dreams. “How did you do all this?”

  “We’ve had help,” Fin crossed the room, giving her a soft smile. “Much of the staff has pitched in as well. Except for the scullery maids and cook, who are busy prepping the wedding breakfast.”

  She stepped next to the man she would marry and slipped her hand into his. “We’re actually doing this. Tomorrow we’ll be wed.”

  He gave her hand a squeeze. “With your family,” he looked at each of her friends. “And mine.”

  It was perfect.

  Too Wicked to Woo

  Tammy Andresen

  Chapter One

  Lady Penelope Clearwater sat holding her teacup somewhere between her saucer and her lips. “I beg your pardon?” she said to one of her dearest friends in all the world, Lady Chloe Dryden, formerly Miss Chloe Finch.

  “You heard me.” Chloe gave her an innocent smile, but her eyes twinkled with mischief. A sure sign Penny’s friend was up to no good. “An experiment.”

  “On men?” Penny raised her eyebrows and then her cup. She took a deliberate sip of her tea, attempting to compose herself before she said another word. The idea was ludicrous. She looked at her other two friends, seated on either side of her on the settee. Surely one of them would insert the reason this conversation was desperately lacking. To one side, sat Annabelle, tall and fair; she stared blankly at Chloe, not betraying her true feelings. While Caroline, with her raven hair and rosy coloring flushed at the mere mention of such an endeavor.

  Clearly, Chloe’s joy over having married had completely addled her brain. Normally, she was the most intelligent person that Penelope knew. An occasional lapse could be expected but still. This went too far.

  “That is interesting.” Annabelle’s mouth pinched as though she considered Chloe’s words anything but. “And a great gift to society. But the three of us are unlikely to solve such a mystery as that. No matter how much we enjoy a puzzle.”

  Chloe scooted forward in her wingback chair and drew in an excited breath. Penny had seen that look before. Breathless excitement filled her friend’s face. “I’ve already collected some information.” She winked. “And the three of you can only do so much. But together we might get a good base of information.”

  Penny glanced to Annabelle for help. This book was a terrible idea. None of them were equipped to catch the attention of rake, and if they did by some miracle accomplish such a feat, how would they extricate themselves after they’d collected their information? Researching rogues required a great deal of familiarity with the subjects. Annabelle saw the look of desperation Penny gave her and cleared her throat. “Chloe, even if we ran the most regimented of tests, men are too unpredictable to yield any recordable results. We could each have the exact same interaction with three different men and the results could vary wildly based on their individual personalities, their level of attraction, and their desire for change.”

  Chloe nodded excitedly, undeterred by Annabelle’s comments. “You’re right of course. It can’t be a scientific journal. It’s more of a chronicle. Stories that have worked and have failed. We’ll change the names, of course, but it will give ladies an opportunity to know if they may or may not have any hope of reforming the rogues of England.”

  Penny drew in a steadying breath as she carefully placed her teacup back in its saucer and set it down on the side table. Folding her hands, she looked at Chloe. “I know none of us have a reputation to preserve…”

  Chloe nodded with a great deal of enthusiasm, her head bobbing up and down. “Exactly.”

  “But still, the book could be damaging. As could mixing ourselves in with known rakes. While all of us are ruined, none of us have actually…” How did one delicately say none of them had ever been with a man?

  Chloe waved her hand but the both Annabelle and Penny stilled. Caroline shifted in her seat. “Penny is right. I have proven that I am not equipped for cavorting with rakes.”

  Penny inwardly winced. Caroline had been caught kissing a known rake, Lord Parks, in the garden of the Earl of Haversham’s summer estate. Her friend knew better than any of them the consequences of being caught in such an endeavor.

  Chloe leaned forward. “But don’t you see? That puts you in a better position than anyone to inform other debutantes how to avoid such a pitfall. Ladies with pristine reputations could not risk this sort of activity. Don’t you want to help other ladies to keep from being ruined?”

  Caroline cocked her head to the side. “Wait. Are we helping them to tame rakes or avoid them?”

  Chloe placed a finger on her chin. “Consider it a list of what you should and should not do. For example; Do hold yourself away from them. At worst they will lose interest and at best they may decide you are worth pursuing in more serious manner.”

  Caroline stood and crossed to the window. “Do not, under any circumstances, allow them to kiss you under a flowering pear tree,” she said as she pulled back the curtain to look out upon the busy London street. She let out a long sigh. “Even if I agree with your intent, I am not sure I have it in me to pretend enough to gather information.”

  Penny’s insides twisted. She had her own very personal reasons for wanting to avoid rakes. Though she hadn’t been ruined the way Caroline had with rakish behavior, she’d been ruined all the same. And the man had been a rogue of another kind. She shivered despite the warmth of the room. He’d also been her father. “Trust me when I say no good ever comes from consorting with men of this ilk, no matter how good your intentions.”

  Annabelle looked back at her then, her eyes crinkling in sympathy.

  Even Chloe seemed to deflate, her shoulders hunching in her chair as she pressed her hands together. “I understand your hesitation—”

  Penny narrowed her gaze. She loved Chloe but her friend could be single-minded when an idea took hold. “I do not understand your enthusiasm.”

  Chloe gazed up at the ceiling, her eyes not meeting Penny’s. “I could have used some help when Fin was courting me. It’s all worked out of course, but I was afraid his intentions were not pure and I resisted far more than was necessary. It would have been nice to have some guidance.”

  Penny let out a long breath. She was being too hard on Chloe. Her gaze drifted to Caroline’s, her friend’s lovely features still pinched. Maybe this exercise would be good for Caroline. Maybe this would be good for Penny. She clearly was still resentful of how her father had left her in this world. If it hadn’t been for Caroline, she’d be on the street this very minute.

  “Caroline, what do you think?” Penny asked as she once again picked up her teacup and saucer. If Caroline needed this sort of endeavor, she’d do it for her friend.

  The curtain fell from Caroline’s hand as she straightened her shoulders. “We’ll do it. Annie?”

  Annabelle nodded with a sigh. “The lack of science is what concerns me, but I’ll help if I can.”

  Penny nearly flinched. Perhaps her mother would have benefitted from such a book. Drawing in a deep breath, she gave a stiff nod. “We’re creating a book to demystify the elusive rogue.”

  Lord Wesley Preston, Earl of Preston, or Wes as the fellow soldiers in his regiment had called him when they weren’t referring to him as Captain, sat in his small room above the gentleman’s club on Ralston Street. In the back was a secret gaming hall known only to the worst men of English society so he, of course, was intimately acquainted with its interior. Not that he’d graced it recently. One needed funds to participate in such endeavors and he’d run out some months ago.

  But his friend, the Earl of Exmouth, had taken pity on him and allow
ed him to use this room.

  He stood at the window and watched the masked men enter through the back door. When he’d first discovered such delights were available to men of this station, he’d thought he’d been given the keys to a secret garden. It wasn’t until recently that he’d changed his mind. The path he’d been on wasn’t a heavenly garden but an expensive trip to hell.

  Wes had inherited a failing earldom from his second cousin, a duty he’d never wanted. He’d left his successful career in the military to take over the title. Leaving the military had been a mistake. Where in battle, he’d been successful, but he’d been a failure as an earl. Bad investments and a questionable accountant had plagued him as had a drought on his farmland. Rather than shoring up the title, he’d lost every bit that wasn’t entailed and he’d hidden himself in the carnal pleasures available to him.

  Until those delights weren’t. His fist clenched against the wood frame of the window. He had no money left, not even enough for a bottle of brandy. This room had been provided to him out of pity only. He was a man who’d fought the French, led other men into battle. Now? He was a man others took pity on. Pathetic.

  Pushing off the window, he crossed to the desk on the other side of the small room. A few pieces of parchment and an inkwell and pen sat on top. Seating himself at the desk, he began to write a letter to his old friend, the Earl of Dryden. They’d known each other for near a decade and Dryden had recently taken a leap into matrimony. Surely, he could help Wes find the correct path again. Wes ran his fingers through his hair. This felt like his last chance.

  Chapter Two

  Wes’s situation seemed no less dire as he walked to the Earl of Dryden’s home, the October wind biting through his coat.

  In the end, he couldn’t hire a servant to deliver the letter, so he’d decided to do it himself. His hands shook from the cold. The only silver lining was they no longer held a tremor from the lack of alcohol in his body. What a wretch he’d become. Three years prior, he’d been courting a plump little filly. Her head had been full of air but her purse had been overflowing with gold. Where would he be if he’d married her? Likely sleeping off a night of debauchery. But he’d be warm, fed, and properly clothed. No woman of status would touch him in this state.

  He rounded the corner to Dryden’s London address just as a carriage pulled up to the gates. The heavy metal doors opened and the carriage pulled through. He picked up speed to follow in the vehicle’s wake. As he came up the drive, he watched two ladies step from the vehicle. The first was a petite, brown-haired girl, the second, taller, darker, with a grace that near left him breathless. Or had he simply been running too hard in his current state?

  The brunette looked back at him, her brow crinkling. Then she grabbed her friend’s arm and began pulling her toward the door as she shouted to her driver. “Peasley. See that man there?”

  Damn. She likely thought him a vagabond or a ne’er do well. “It’s all right,” he called back, raising his hand. “I’m an old friend of the earl’s.”

  The ladies did not stop but continued shuffling toward the door as the driver approached on halting feet with whip in hand. “Stop right there, or I’ll be forced to take action.”

  Wes planted his feet and brought his hands up in front of him. “Honestly. Fin and I go way back. There’s no need to whip me.”

  The ladies stopped and the beautiful brunette left her friend on the stairs and approached him. Up close, he regarded the hazel in her eyes and the fullness of her lips. Her cheeks were stained with a light pink blush from the cold, highlighting her cheekbones and adding a sparkle to her eye. “You do know Lord Dryden?” She took a breath. “Who should I tell him would like an audience?”

  The cold air numbed his fingers. He flexed them around his letter. He should just hand her the note and return to his room. But he didn’t know how long Exmouth’s good grace would last where his lodgings were concerned. And he might freeze before he returned. His clothing was not sufficiently warm for the weather. So he decided to try for an audience now. “The Earl of Preston,” he said with a slight bow.

  She blinked several times, as though to clear her vision. “The Earl of Preston?” Behind her the other woman gasped.

  “I am afraid so,” he said as he straightened his shoulders, refusing to be pitied.

  “I thought I heard a carriage,” someone else called. “Penny, what are you doing out on the drive in this cold?”

  Wes didn’t look up, he was busy studying the woman in front of him. Calling her a beauty had been an understatement. The more he studied her, the more pleasing she seemed to grow. Lovely shape to her jaw, highlighted by a few artful locks peeking out from under her hat.

  “A friend of your husband’s has arrived for a visit. Lord Preston?” Penny called back.

  Penny. He liked the name. It suited the kind and gentle curve of her mouth.

  “Lord Preston?” The woman he’d yet to look at gasped. “Do come in from the cold.”

  That caught his attention. He hadn’t expected to be welcomed. Finally breaking his gaze, he glanced at the woman in the doorway. A pretty lady with honey hair, she beckoned them all forward.

  He unstuck his feet from the frozen ground and, passing by Penny, stopped to offer his arm. He might look like a wretch, but he could still act the gentleman. She slipped her gloved hand into the crook of his elbow, not hesitating a bit. She had gumption and admiration swelled in his chest. Or was that attraction? An energy he hadn’t felt in ages made his shoulders snap straight as he walked with her on his arm.

  Turning toward him, her soft voice tickled his ear. “My apologies for our…misunderstanding.”

  “No need,” he rumbled as he turned to study her face, and as she looked away, her profile. “The fault is mine.”

  She said no more as they stepped through the door. She didn’t have to. Her body warmed his left side, even as her hand heated his arm. He caught the occasional whiff of her scent. She smelled of fresh winter air and holly with a touch of sweet. Cinnamon perhaps? Maybe allspice? After years of being on his own, she smelled like he remembered Christmas with his family. He ached just thinking about how nice it would be to belong somewhere again.

  They stepped through the door and the heat of the room made him shiver without meaning to. She squeezed his arm. He’d like to press her bare palm to his face. He’d wager her skin was soft as silk and her scent would fill his nose.

  Wes closed his eyes for just a moment. What would it be like to taste lips such as hers? He’d bet she tasted even better than she smelled. The muscles in his abdomen clenched. He drew in a deep breath. He was losing his faculties. Talking of her scent like home?

  But as her gloved hand slipped from his arm, he had the distinct urge to pull her close again. She belonged next to him.

  “Lord Preston, I am so glad you’re here. I’m Lady Dryden and I’ve heard a great deal about you. Fin will be glad you’ve come.”

  Glad he’d come? Those were words he hadn’t heard for some time. “Thank you kindly for saying that, Lady Dryden.”

  “Penny, Caroline,” Lady Dryden called to her friends. “Please feel free to step into the sitting room.”

  He watched as the lovely Penny did as her friend bid. She looked back at him once, her hazel eyes holding a question. Which one did she want to ask? How he’d ended up like this? How would he go on? He may as well put her out of his mind. He’d used up all his chances to gain a woman like the lovely Miss Penny.

  Penny sat down in Chloe’s sitting room, her insides twisting with uncertainty. First and foremost, Lord Preston had unsettled her. When she’d first seen him, he’d appeared a thief with his worn clothing and shifty posture.

  Until she’d taken a closer look. Though gaunt, his features were still quite handsome. Dark hair and piercing blue eyes that near left her breathless.

  And when she’d touched him her insides had fluttered in the strangest way.

  He was clearly in distress and though curiosity a
te at her, she would not ask what had happened. She’d come here for her own purposes.

  Though her father hadn’t seen fit to appoint her a guardian before his death, Chloe’s husband, Lord Dryden, had been making discreet inquiries into her father’s estate through his barrister. He’d called her here, saying that he had news from his investigation.

  Caroline sat next to her, giving her several long looks before Penny finally turned to her friend. Clearly, Caroline had something on her mind. “Is your neck stiff?”

  “No. why?”

  “You keep swiveling it back and forth.” She turned to Caroline, giving her a small wink.

  “Very funny,” Caroline whispered. “That man. Do you think he is a rogue?”

  Penny’s eyes widened. She wasn’t sure she wanted to discuss Lord Preston. “I couldn’t say. He’s certainly fallen on hard times.”

  Caroline tapped her chin. “You could use him for research for the book. He’s interested in you. I could tell by the way he was looking at you.”

  Penny shook her head. “Please. I don’t want to discuss the book now. I’m more worried about what Dryden has discovered.”

  “Of course.” Caroline patted her arm. “No good ever comes where your father is concerned.”

  She let out a long sigh. “Isn’t that the truth.” Then she perked up. “On the bright side, I can use my father to begin our chronicle. He’s left me all sorts of pearls of wisdom about rogues.”

  Caroline let out a rush of breath. “You’re right there, I’m afraid. You’re so strong and kind, I sometimes forget how terrible your childhood was.”