by Dawn Brower
“Very well, Your Grace.” Wilson turned to leave. He halted in the doorway. “I will await the doctor in the parlor. One of the maids will bring up the hot water for your bath. I will instruct them to let you know when it’s fully prepared.”
James slumped down in a chair near the bed. “All right. I will wait here for now. I don’t want to leave her alone.”
“You should know that Rosanna is in residence. She arrived from London earlier this morning.”
James gaze flew to Wilson’s. He didn’t want to deal with his sister, but it looked like he didn’t have a choice. She was being sent off to finishing school the last time he saw her. “I take it she hasn’t found a suitor yet.”
“I wouldn’t presume to know, Your Grace. Perhaps it’s something she wants to discuss with you.”
James scrubbed his hands over his face. One more thing he’d never thought to deal with. His life was falling apart before his eyes—or at least the life he’d planned for himself. “Very well, Wilson. Do me a favor and don’t tell her I’ve arrived yet. I will deal with her once I’m fully rested.”
“As you wish.” Wilson inclined his head. “I will leave you with the young miss to await the doctor’s arrival.”
James shouldn’t be left alone with Alys. It wasn’t proper at all. The gossipmongers would shred them to pieces if they ever found out. Who was she? Would her family descend on him and demand he marry her? Hell, he should offer to do it. It was the right thing to do, but fool that he was, he wanted to pick his own wife. This lovely lady wasn’t meant for him—she already cared for another, and it wasn’t him.
Alys sighed and clutched her bag at her waist. Perhaps he should remove it. It couldn’t be comfortable wrapped around her petite frame. James stood and hobbled over to the bed. His side itched and burned with each movement. He hissed as pain shot through him, but ignored it as best he could. Alys rolled over, making it easier for him to untangle the bag from her shoulder. He yanked it and stumbled backward. The bag hit the floor, some of the contents spilling out. The strange shoes, a weird tube, and a set of keys—Alys moaned loudly diverting his attention so he shoved it all back inside.
Alys moaned again.
James rushed to her side. “Alys?”
Her sea-green eyes met his. “You’re a beautiful man. Have I ever told you that? No, why would I?” She cupped his cheek with the palm of her hand. “Tell me, do you still believe love is for fools?”
James sucked in a breath. “Yes, I do.” How had she known?
“Love is a dream—a whimsical journey constantly surprising you. It’s not meant for fools. At least, not in the way you believe. True love is a journey you willingly leap into.” She sighed. “You’ll see one day. I will help you.”
She pulled his head down and touched his lips to hers. Fire spread through him, lighting him up, burning him from the inside out—he had to stop her. He stumbled backward, putting distance between them. When he looked back down at her, her eyes were closed again.
“What kind of madness is she driving me to?”
“Your Grace, the doctor is here.” Wilson called from the entrance.
“Very well. I will be in my chambers if you need me.”
James hurried out of the room. His breathing heavy and tapered with each step he took. That had been way too close. What was the chit after? Was she truly mad, or did she believe he was his brother? An easy mistake to make—they were identical twins.
Oh, Edward, why did you have to die?
James punched the wall. He slid to the floor and cradled his head in his hands. Tears he hadn’t allowed himself before fell down his cheeks. His body shook, he groaned as agony overtook him. So much loss, too much responsibility, and not enough of him to go around—weariness set through him.
A bath was suddenly too much for him to bear. He told the maid to leave it until morning. He needed to rest. James’s life had just become inherently more difficult. He lusted after the woman he believed loved his brother. James could not, would not, give in to those urges.
He would take care of Alys, but he would not give her his heart. If he did, she’d own him. They hadn’t even had a real conversation—he doubted she’d even seen him when she opened her eyes. Whoever she had seen, he couldn’t live up to those expectations. She was wrong… Love, indeed, was for fools, and James would never play the fool.
Excerpt: The Vixen in Red
Bluestockings Defying Rogues Book Eight
Dawn Brower
Chapter 1
The sun was high in the sky and the wind blew lightly across Lady Charlotte Rossington’s face. The garden at her father’s, the Marquess of Seabrook’s, London house had started to bloom. The flowers were mere buds, but they showed promise of being true beauties when they reached their peak. She reached down and brushed her fingers over the tiny buds and smiled.
“Are you certain this plan of yours is wise?” Her closest friend, Lady Pearyn Treedale asked. Her dark locks were pinned back into an intricate chignon, but a few tendrils had escaped in the breeze. Her blue eyes were the same shade as the sky. She was a true beauty and one day would be a duchess, if her fiancé ever deigned to return to England. Pear didn’t mind his absence. She’d enjoyed being out in society without having to bother with finding a suitor. In some ways Charlotte envied her. She very much did not want to partake in any society events.
“It’s the only way I can make my mother understand my wishes. Her only desire is to see me married and having babies.” Charlotte wrinkled her nose in distaste. “I have more wants and desires than can be found in wedding vows and a lifetime of marriage. She may have found happiness with my father, but I would prefer to have much more than love to sustain me in my future.” Maybe one day she wouldn’t mind finding a man to give her heart to, but not for a long time. Charlotte wanted time to be alone, explore who she was deep inside, and write. She had so many ideas, and she wanted to have time to put the stories inside her head down. Sharing those stories with the world was her greatest dream. She would not be able to do any of that if her mother forced her to participate in the season.
Pear took a deep breath. “I understand, I do, but I cannot help wishing there was a better way.” She twisted her mouth into a frown. It was not a pretty look on such a lovely face. “The scandal…”
“Is the reason I’m doing it at all,” she reminded her friend. “My mother won’t have any choice. She’ll have to let me return to Seabrook. There I can weather the scandal and I’ll be left in peace to write my first novel. It will work, I know it will.” Her mother, Rosanna, the Marchioness of Seabrook, would be livid.
“I still do not like it. With you at Seabrook I’ll be left alone in London all season. I’ll miss you.” Pear sighed. “And with you in seclusion your mother will not have a house party as she usually does. The one at Weston Manor will also be off limits for you. This seems extreme. Is writing your book worth being without any social interactions for months?”
She nodded her head vigorously. “Yes, yes, and yes,” Charlotte said. The very thought of being alone to write…it filled her heart with happiness. “It won’t be so terrible. We can still write each other and I’ll have my family. Well, mother and father. I’m not certain what Rhys will decide to do. He might spend time in London with his wife.”
Before her brother Rhys, the Earl of Carrick had married Lady Hyacinth, Charlotte had been thrilled at the idea of attending balls, soirées, musicals, anything that involved society. Her young heart had seen it as an opportunity, and in some ways it had been. The first year had been wondrous. Until she thought she’d fallen in love, and the rogue broke her heart. She gave up on finding someone. It hurt too much when the gentleman of her dreams crushed her fragile heart. She’d much rather take control of her life, and this scandal was the first step.
Pear tapped her fingers on the bench she sat on as Charlotte paced the garden path near it. “I suppose you wish for me to accompany you on this endeavor of yours.”
/> “I would like it if you would,” she said. “It gives my statement credence.” The ton would notice Charlotte either way, but with Pear they would also gain the attention of any gentleman that happened to be nearby. Considering her affianced state it drew them all to her side. They thought they might coax her in breaking her engagement. What they didn’t understand was that she liked being engaged; however, Pear had no desire to actually be married. She didn’t want love any more than Charlotte did.
“Very well,” she agreed. “I’ll be glad to assist you in ruining yourself.” She sighed heavily. “It is all quite dramatic. I hope that the end result is as you hope. I would hate for this elaborate scheme to be for naught.”
“So you have mentioned several times.” Charlotte grinned. “You truly are the greatest friend a lady could have.” Then she clapped her hands with excitement. “I cannot wait.”
“I can,” Pear said dryly. “Once this is done I’ll not likely see you until Christmastide.”
“Don’t be sour,” Charlotte chastised her. “It is unbecoming.”
“Now you sound like your mother,” Pear said distastefully. “I don’t think you’re as unalike as you claim.”
They might have some similarities, but there were not many. “We don’t even look much alike. My coloring is more like my father’s.” Her hair had the same golden hue as her father’s but her eyes were a blue shade somewhere in-between her mother and father’s. Even her brother favored their father in looks. It was odd that neither one of them looked much like their mother. “Mother has complained about that often enough. She once said that if she hadn’t given birth to us she wouldn’t have believed us to be her children. It was very crass of her to say aloud.” She giggled. “Though to be fair we were being minxes at the time.”
“I do not doubt that,” Pear told her. “You can be quite the hellion from time to time.” She narrowed her gaze. “After this they’ll consider you more of a vixen. Are you prepared for all the negative gossip?”
She had thought long and hard about it. Charlotte wouldn’t enjoy what some in society would openly say about her. Some of it might even…sting. “It won’t be anything resembling enjoyment, but I do believe I can withstand even the harshest of criticisms.” Most of which would come from her own mother’s sharp tongue. “Once I’m back at Seabrook I won’t be privy to it any longer. So I can pretend they aren’t saying anything at all. I’ll be peacefully writing and forgetting the scandal. I will be all right.” She smiled at Pear. “I do appreciate your concern for my welfare.”
“Since you are resigned,” Pear began. “Then we should prepare for this scandal of yours. I’ll have the stables prepare our horses. Meet me there after you’ve made your wardrobe adjustments.”
“Perfect,” Charlotte said. “I’ll meet you in the stable in twenty minutes. It should not take me long. We need to be away from the house and in Hyde Park before my parent’s return from their luncheon with the Duke and Duchess of Weston.”
“Shoo,” Pear replied and waved her hands at her. “There isn’t a moment to lose.”
Charlotte sprinted to the house and ran up to her bedchamber. Once there she stripped her gown, chemise, and shift off. Then she proceeded to change into a pair of her brother’s old breeches, linen shirt, waistcoat, and jacket. She had been lucky enough to locate an old pair of his riding boots as well. Charlotte let her hair down from the chignon and plaited it, then twisted it in a knot at her nape. Once her hair was secured she slid a gentleman’s hat on top her head. If not for her bosom and curves she might have been mistaken for a man at first glance. Satisfied with her handiwork she rushed down the stairs; careful to ensure no one noticed her, then went out to the stable.
Pear was already seated on her horse, and a groomsman held the reins to Charlotte’s mare. She didn’t ask him for assistance mounting. Charlotte strode to the block and slid on to the horse herself. Breeches were so freeing! She would have to figure out ways to wear them more often. She could ride like a man and not worry over a sidesaddle. Charlotte had instructed Pear to request a regular saddle. She was glad to see the groom had followed her directions. She turned to Pear and asked, “Are you ready?”
“Are we taking a chaperone?”
“That would defeat the purpose don’t you think?” She nibbled on her bottom lip. “Are you worried about your reputation?” Charlotte didn’t want to cause her friend any harm.
“I will be all right either way,” Pear told her. “I don’t have to worry about securing a good match. I’m flush with funds and I even have a fiancé if he decides traveling the continent is boring and returns to England. I was uncertain how much of a scandal you wished to cause is all.”
“Well if you don’t mind…”
“I do not,” Pear reassured Charlotte, then pressed a knee into the side of her horse and guided the mare into a walk. Charlotte did the same, and then they started on their path to Hyde Park.
They did not converse for most of the trek to the park. Charlotte was too nervous to find words. So far everything had gone as planned. The rest had to follow suit. Otherwise the entire scheme would have been for nothing. She pressed her lips into a line as she anxiously rode beside Pear. Finally, they reached the park and steered the horses to the correct path. Hyde Park was the place to be seen and a large portion of the ton showed up to walk or ride in the late afternoon. There were perhaps not as many in the park as usual, but that was in large because it was not yet the full season. Early in spring was still early for the Season, as the gentry would not start to fully return to town until May. Still, there was enough of the upper crust in Hyde Park for Charlotte’s purpose.
“Are they all looking at us?” she said in a loud whisper to Pear.
“Oh, yes,” she reassured her. “There are quite a few discussions, and a few pointed glances, and fingers in your direction.
She hated being the center of attention. Charlotte had never wanted to be the belle of the ball. It would be much more to her liking if she could dance a couple of times, then retreat to the library. Occasionally a ball could be fun, but more often than not she’d hated them. “Good.” The influx of gossipmongers would ensure that she would be at Seabrook by the end of the week…maybe sooner.
“You were right,” Pear said. “Wearing men’s clothing certainly caught their attention. Probably more than you anticipated.” There was a bit of awe in her voice as she glanced around the park. “You still want to do one full round around the loop?”
“Yes,” she said. “It has to be complete.”
Though she was starting to wonder if she had lost her mind. The more they moved through the park the more the members of the ton started to talk…and loudly. She heard several unkind words she had wished she hadn’t. Charlotte reminded herself that this had been what she wanted. It didn’t hurt any less…
They reached the end of the path and the exit to the park was finally in sight. She froze. Her parents were strolling into the park with the Duke and Duchess of Weston. Charlotte had not anticipated that outcome. She thought she’d have time to go home and change. Then let the gossip come to them. Her mother’s eyes widened, and her father turned toward her. His eyes glittered with disappointment. That hurt more than the harsh words. She hated displeasing her father…
Charlotte swallowed hard and held her head high. The time for turning back had passed the moment she left the townhouse in men’s breeches. She had done this on purpose and now she had to pay the price for it…whatever that may be.
Chapter 2
The commotion in the park should have drawn Collin, the Earl of Frossly’s attention. It normally would have, but he had too much on his mind. He’d rode into the park more out of habit than because he had any desire to do so. His stallion blew out a breath and lifted his head as if nodding at a nearby horse. That amused him. Were the two horses exchanging some sort of greeting?
Collin pulled on the reins and brought his horse to a halt. His good friend, Cameron, the Duke of Partr
idgdon came to a stop beside him. They had been riding together in communicable silence. Neither one of them had much to say, and seemed to have found comfort in not having to carry a conversation. The duke had returned to England for a short trip. He stayed out of the country more often than not—his way of avoiding the marriage his family had forced him to agree to. If he hadn’t the dukedom would have been in ruins. The betrothal had guaranteed early fund from the chit’s dowry to sustain it. Cameron hated the contract and the idea of marrying a woman he’d been tied to for almost two decades. She’d been a mere child when the contracts had been signed.
Collin’s situation didn’t appear to be much better…
“What do you suppose that is all about?” Cameron broke the silence.
He shrugged. “I’m sure we don’t wish to know.”
“You’re probably correct,” Cameron agreed. He narrowed his gaze and stared across the park. “The one chit looks familiar.”
Collin turned to glance in the direction of the commotion. He didn’t recognize the two ladies. He frowned. “Is the blond chit wearing breeches?”
What had the lady been thinking? He could not ascertain one reason for a woman to dress so brazenly. Although he had to admit he was rather curious about her now. Had that been her purpose? Did she hope to attract a gentleman’s attention? It was still not the correct way to behave. If she’d hoped to gain notice she had certainly done so, but he doubted it would be the kind she wanted. She would attract every rakehell and scoundrel the ton boasted.
“She is,” Cameron said. “Do you know them?”
He shook his head. “I try to stay out of polite society. My sister would probably recognize them. If she were here I’d ask.” His sister, Kaitlin, had been happily married to the Earl of Shelby more than fifteen years now. She had three children that kept her occupied…two sons, and a precocious daughter. “But as she isn’t available I do not dare guess.” He turned to Cameron. “Why are you interested?”