Rules of Engagement
Page 1
Special Offer
Learn the origins of the Great Family!
The Great Family was not always a great family.
In October 1843, Anna & Rhys, Natasha & Seth, Elisa & Vaughn all face problems, their hearts heavy with the challenges of life.
This is the origins story of the Scandalous Scions series—the first great family gathering, where traditions that will last a generation are born and Anna & Rhys, Natasha & Seth, Elisa & Vaughn meld into a single, united family.
Find out how the couples of Scandalous Sirens learn that together, they are stronger.
This novelette has not been commercially released for sale. It is only available as a gift to readers of the series, who subscribe to Tracy’s Newsletter.
See the link at the back of this book, after you have enjoyed Rules of Engagement.
Table of Contents
Special Offer
About Rules of Engagement
Praise for the Scandalous Scions series
Title Page
The Great Families
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
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Did you enjoy this book? How to make a big difference!
The next book in the Scandalous Scions series.
About the Author
Other books by Tracy Cooper-Posey
Copyright Information
About Rules of Engagement
They loved each other before she died. Now she can’t remember why.
Lady Eleanore Neville, sister to the Duke of Gainford, was thought to have been lost at sea. Miraculously, she was rescued, only now her life is empty of meaning. She reaches for steadily more risqué entertainment and company in an effort to find it.
Cian, Earl of Innesford and the head of the Williams family, whom the Nevilles openly despise, has loved Eleanore for years. He hovers on the edge of Eleanore’s life, helping the Duke curtail the worst of Eleanore’s excesses, despite knowing there is no hope of his beloved Ellie ever truly being his.
The delicate balance begins to unravel when Cian discovers a nude portrait of Eleanore in a public gallery and is forced to act…
Rules of Engagement is the eighth book in the Scandalous Scions series, bringing together the members of three great families, to love and play under the gaze of the Victorian era’s moralistic, straight-laced society.
Reader Advisory: This story contains frank sex scenes and sexual language.
This story is part of the Scandalous Scions series:
0.5 Rose of Ebony
1.0 Soul of Sin
2.0 Valor of Love
3.0 Marriage of Lies
4.0 Mask of Nobility
5.0 Law of Attraction
6.0 Veil of Honor
7.0 Season of Denial
8.0 Rules of Engagement
9.0 Degree of Solitude
…and more to come!
A Sexy Historical Romance
Praise for the Scandalous Scions series
If you are familiar with the previous series, I am sure you fell in love with the huge family like I did.
She is a go to author for me when I need a fix of historical romance.
Tracy Cooper-Posey takes us into the staid yet surprisingly bawdy Victorian Era where appearance is everything and secrets are held inside the family.
Thanks once again, Tracy Cooper-Posey, for giving us another great story and for giving me back my love of historical romances.
I love historical romances and this one filled all my likes, from a dashing, wonderful hero, a beautiful strong heroine, a love story to sigh over, side characters that are interesting, and funny, and move the story along.
I can't wait for the next in this wonderful new series.
I don't often give books five stars, but I really enjoyed the mystery that puzzled all of the characters in this story.
I found the entire extended family intriguing because they, the women in particular, are very aware and careful of what society will think, yet they often have made choices that are deemed semi- scandalous.
A wonderful story set in the Victorian era of such strict social conventions and yet the main characters are shimmering with latent sexual tension. What a fabulous juxtaposition!
Another great series is starting and it looks like it will be great just like all the other series by this author.
Wow, as soon as I started Tracy Cooper Posey’s first book in her new spin off I was hooked.
The Great Families
Elisa and Vaughn Wardell
Marquess of Fairleigh, Viscount Rothmere
1825 Raymond, Viscount Marblethorpe (stepson)
1839 William Vaughn Wardell
1839 John (Jack) Gladwin Lochlann Mayes (fostered in 1846)
1842 Sarah Louise Wardell (D)
1843 Peter Lovell Wardell (January)
1844 Gwendolyn (Jenny) Violet Moore Wardell (adopted in 1848)
1844 Patricia Sharla Victoria Mayes (fostered in 1846)
1849 Blanche Brigitte Colombe Bonnay (adopted in 1851)
1853 Emma Jane Wardell (adopted at birth)
Natasha and Seth Williams
Earl of Innesford, Baron Harrow (Ire.)
1839 Lillian Mary Harrow
1840 Richard Cian Seth Williams
1841 Neil Vaughn Williams
1843 Daniel Rhys Williams (February)
1846 Bridget Bronte Williams & Mairin May Williams
1849 Annalies Grace Williams
Annalies and Rhys Davies
Princess Annalies Benedickta of Saxe-Weiden, of the royal house Saxe-Coburg-Weiden, Formerly of the Principality of Saxe-Weiden.
1835 Benjamin Hedley Davies (adopted in 1845)
1842 Iefan William Davies
1843 Morgan Harrow Davies (October)
1843 Sadie Hedley Davies (adopted in 1845)
1846 Bronwen Natasha Davies
1848 Alice Thomasina Davies (adopted at birth)
1849 Catrin Elise Davies
And their children:
Natasha and Raymond Devlin
Viscount Marblethorpe
1857 Vaughn Elis Devlin (Raymond’s heir)
1861 Richard Seth Devlin
Lilly and Jasper Thomsett
1862 Seth Eckhard Thomsett (heir)
1863 Elise Marie & Anne Louise Thomsett
1864 George Jasper Thomsett (stillborn)
Sharla and Dane Balfour + Benjamin Hedley (Davies)
Duke of Wakefield
1867 Jennifer Jane Balfour & Benjamin Dane Balfour (heir)
1868 Alice Thomasina Balfour
Bronwen Natasha Davies and Archeduke Edvard Christoffer of Silkeborg
1870 Christina Clara Elisa Bronwen
John (Jack) Gladwin Lochlann Mayes and Gwendolyn (Jenny) Violet Moore Wardell-Ryder
Baron Guestwick, heir to the Marquess of Laceby
1864 Jackson Vaughn Ryder
1866 Stuart Theodore Ryder
1869 Phillip Dane Mayes
William Vaughn Wardell & Bridget Bronte Williams
Viscount Rothmere, heir to the Marquess of Fairleigh
1869 Elizabeth Anne Wardell
Chapter One
Paddington Train Station, London. February 1871 CE.
&n
bsp; Ice on the lines slowed the train by two hours, making Cian seethe at the delay. He checked his watch constantly, although it didn’t make the long hand move any faster.
Resentment underscored his impatience. He didn’t want to be on the train in the first place, only Lisa Grace’s wire had been both forceful and mildly incoherent.
YOU MUST COME TO LONDON AT ONCE. TOMORROW. I WILL SHOW YOU THEN.
—LISA GRACE
Lisa Grace was inclined to hysterics and he might have dismissed her summons, for it was a bitterly cold week. The great hearth at Innesford was far more attractive than hours upon a rattling train and the empty streets and fog in London.
Only, Lisa Grace was not in the habit of sending wires to anyone. As long as there was an easel in front of her and a view to capture, she let the world pass her by. Besides, she was his baby sister. For both reasons, Cian had risen early this morning, dressed in his warmest clothes and hurried to the train station at Truro.
The delay had scraped his patience. As soon as the train halted at the London platform, he snatched his valise from the carrier rack, pushed the door open and stepped onto the platform.
There was not a slender blonde woman anywhere on the chilly platform. Had Lisa Grace the sense to return to the house on Park Lane and stay warm, once she learned of the late arrival?
He strode over to the high-arched entrance tunnel. Cabs always lingered at the edge of the footpath beyond, hoping to snag a fare.
The station master’s glassed-in office was half-way along the short tunnel. Warm orange gaslight shone through the big window. Low voices sounded. As Cian drew level with the pool of light, laughter rose.
He glanced through the window, startled to hear such a cheerful sound on such a dismal day. Then he halted.
Four men stood or crouched around the big stove in the corner of the office. Through the stove’s grate door, Cian could see glowing coals.
Seated beside the stove, a teacup and saucer balanced on her gloved hand and a napkin spread over her traveling suit, was Lisa Grace. Her feet were tucked neatly beneath her, her hems arranged prettily around her.
An enterprising station employee had stacked volumes of train timetables beside her to form a temporary side table. A plate with the remains of a slice of fruitcake sat on the table.
Shaking his head, Cian entered.
The air was considerably warmer in the room, in both temperature and temperament. The men stood when they saw him. The station master himself came forward, his brow raised.
“Cian!” Lisa Grace said, delight in her voice. “You’re here!”
“So are you. I thought I would find you at the townhouse, with paint on your nose,” he replied
Lisa Grace put the cup and saucer upon the makeshift table. “When the wire came through advising the train was delayed, Master Stirling very kindly suggested I wait in his office.”
The station master gave Cian a jovial smile. “It was far too cold on the platform for the young miss,” he said.
“I appreciate your kindness,” Cian told him. “I hope Lady Annalies has not too greatly interfered with the running of the station?”
Stirling straightened when he heard Lisa Grace’s title. Cian saw him reassess. “No, not at all, your Lordship,” he said politely. He hesitated. “It’s an odd time of year to be in London, is it not?”
“It is, indeed,” Cian told him. He beckoned to Lisa Grace, as she picked up her reticule and got to her feet.
“I was telling them about the Master Artists on display at the Royal Academy’s winter exhibition,” Lisa Grace said. “No one seems to know about the new winter show.”
“Not everyone is as deeply interested in art as you,” Cian reminded her. He held out his hand to Stirling. “Thank you again, Master Stirling.”
Stirling shook his hand, then hurried to open the door for them. “It was a pleasure to meet you, my Lady,” he told Lisa Grace.
“Thank you for the tea and cake,” she replied. She took Cian’s elbow and waved at the other employees as they left. They all waved back.
“You really waited here the whole time?” Cian asked her.
“I didn’t want to miss you,” she said. “If I had gone back to the house to wait, I would have begun painting. Then the day would be gone, and this is too important.”
Cian glanced at her as they stepped onto the footpath. She was not smiling.
He held up his hand to the nearest waiting cab. The driver clicked his tongue to walk the horses forward and bring the cab closer to where they waited. “Will you explain, now, what this is all about?” Cian asked.
He opened the cab door and helped her into the carriage. Before he could give the driver the address, Lisa Grace pressed her lace-covered fingers over his. “Not to the house, Cian,” she said quickly. “Piccadilly—the Blake & Steele Gallery.”
Cian raised his brow. He passed the directions to the driver, then got in and closed the door. As the cab jerked into motion, he looked at his sister. “What is all this mystery? Have you yet more paintings on display at the gallery?”
“Oh, not the Blake & Steele Gallery,” she said and gave a little grimace. “It isn’t exactly the Royal Academy.”
“You have paintings at many galleries which are not the Royal Academy,” he pointed out.
“Not at this one,” she assured him. She took his hand. “Thank you for coming when I asked, Cian.”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“Because it is a miserable day in a miserable month and I know you hate art and artists.”
“I don’t hate them,” he said quickly. “I simply have no time for the silliness which goes with it. I am happy to listen to you speak about it, for you at least have kept your head despite success.” He smiled. “Most of the time,” he added.
She gave him a small smile in return. “I should warn you that the Blake & Steele Gallery is rather…forward-looking.”
Cian considered her. “So why are we going there?”
Her smile was even smaller. “It will be easier to show you, Cian. Then you will understand.” She lapsed into silence.
Cian peered through the dirty cab window at the nearly empty streets. This part of London at this time of year was deserted. In another couple of weeks, the peerage would trickle into London for the first session of the House of Lords for the year, while the majority of the ton would not venture back to London until after Easter.
“How was Algeria?” Lisa Grace asked. “That is where you went, isn’t it?”
“Algeria was dry,” Cian said. “And bloody,” he added.
“There was trouble?”
“That is why we sailed there. Daniel was injured—but you must have heard about that by now, surely?”
Lisa Grace frowned. “I did. Was it very bad?”
“Bad enough,” Cian said. “His face will be scarred for life.”
“Oh…” She pressed her lips together. “His pretty face!”
“Iefan, too,” he added. “His leg was badly smashed by a bullet.”
Lisa Grace shook her head. “Iefan is always in trouble.”
“I think that may change now,” Cian said. “Mairin and he are…” He hesitated, for there had been no formal announcement yet. The Natasha Marie had only tied up at Falmouth three days ago and everyone was still recovering from the winter voyage.
Lisa Grace’s eyes widened. “Really? Oh, how simply marvelous! I must write to her and learn the details.”
“You would learn them sooner if you stayed at Innesford or Marblethorpe like everyone else,” Cian pointed out.
Lisa Grace’s mouth turned down. “The winter exhibition is too important to miss.”
“It must be lonely in the townhouse at this time of year,” he remarked.
“I barely notice,” Lisa Grace admitted. “I am getting rather a lot of work done, despite the terrible light.” She stirred. “We will be there in a moment,” she said, as the cab turned into Piccadilly.
He had no idea what
Lisa Grace was up to, although his heart stirred a little at her pronouncement. What lay ahead?
He paid the cabbie while she stood on the footpath, a pretty picture in brown and gold, a fox fur about her neck and a fur hat on her golden curls. There were few pedestrians and all of them glanced at her as they past.
Cian held out his arm once more. “Very well. I am suitably braced and prepared. You had better show me.” He looked up at the dark green visage of the gallery. It had large glass windows in which were displayed framed landscapes…yet the landscapes were oddly portrayed, making it impossible to discern details. The paint was blotchy and indistinct.
“That looks rather a mess,” he murmured.
“That mess is priced at one hundred guineas,” Lisa Grace said, with a smile.
Cian raised his brow. “Really?”
She laughed. “I thought that might impress you.” She led him into the gallery. An attendant nodded at them but left them to browse.
“There are what you would call normal paintings toward the back of the gallery,” Lisa Grace added. “Come along.” She led him through a maze of easels and stands holding more work which, in his uneducated opinion, lacked artistic merit.
The pictures at the back of the gallery were all portraits, most of them full length. Some poses of the subjects were…odd. A woman sprawled on her stomach, her hems splayed and her lower legs revealed. A man in shirt sleeves, his shirt unbuttoned.
Lisa Grace glanced at Cian as they progressed through the portraits. She was no longer smiling.
Cian cleared his throat when his glance fell upon a portrait of a woman with her hair down. The portrait captured only her head and her shoulders, yet her shoulders were bare. With her hair hanging free in that way, it implied she was nude.
He could feel his cheeks heating. He was very aware of Lisa Grace beside him.