When a Rogue Falls

by Caroline Linden

  It was necessary to place her feet at shoulder width and slightly angled from the target. Placing the split end of the arrow against the string, Theo positioned her hands as best she could, sure to keep a firm hold on the arrow while adjusting her fingers.

  The position felt highly uncomfortable and unstable, but was a mirror image of the illustration she’d seen.

  Not a sound could be heard as she pulled the string back approximately fourteen inches to create the force and trajectory necessary to at least have the arrow fly as far as the target, though if it penetrated the circle was anyone’s guess.

  Theo’s arm shook from the strength needed to continue holding the bow high, string pulled back with the arrow aligned and ready to shoot.

  One final calculation and adjustment and Theo was satisfied with her angle.

  She released the string and sent her arrow flying—straight toward the target.

  Theo closed her eyes, she couldn’t bear to see if the arrow landed in the lawn before the target or soared past it entirely. It had been the best attempt she could muster, having never handled the equipment before.

  A loud gasp erupted from the spectator’s area, and Theo kept her eyes tightly shut. Had she hit an unintended target? Had the shot gone wild after leaving her bow? Would she be made to leave the field in disgrace?

  Maybe she’d have no need to write her mother, but be loaded into a carriage this very night and sent back to London.

  Applause sounded behind her with several calls of “fine shot” and “she’s a natural archer.”

  Theo opened her eyes to see her arrow protruding from the exact center of the target. She heard someone say, “It seems you have competition, Adeline.”

  Turning back to face the crowd, two blonde-haired girls stood next to Josie. One girl’s arms were crossed, and a frown marred her delicate face. The other smirked. The displeased girl must be Adeline—and she did not look happy.

  The group broke, and Josie, along with another girl, rushed to Theo’s side, offering their congratulations on a perfect shot. Even Adeline, the most accomplished archer at Miss Emmeline’s hadn’t executed a shot as flawless, Josie crooned, only to gain another nasty look from the girl.

  The urge to confide that she had never picked up a bow before today was strong, but Adeline had finally decided to put her sullen manners aside and approach the group.

  “This is Georgie and Adeline,” Josie introduced the two girls. “It is clear that Headmistress will assign you to our room.”

  “It is lovely to meet you all,” Theo said when Josie took back her bow and returned it to its peg on the half-wall.

  “Come,” Georgie said, her voice far deeper than Theo would have imagined for a girl so tiny. “It is mealtime, and if we do not arrive soon, all the candied desserts will be gone.”

  “She does not look the sort to enjoy sweets,” Adeline snapped. “But, nonetheless, Georgina is correct. If we don’t hurry, there will be no table left except the one next to Headmistress’s…and I do not wish to have her lecture me again on my mealtime manners.”

  “If you hadn’t exchanged her sugar for salt, she would not keep such a close eye on you,” Georgie laughed.

  “That was some time ago,” Adeline muttered. “For a woman of her advanced age, she certainly has a stellar memory.”

  Josie returned and slipped her arm through Theo’s, pulling her after Georgie and Adeline as they advanced back through the double doors of the school. “That was a fine shot, Lady Theo. I know we will be bosom friends, all four of us.”

  Theo allowed her new friend to lead her to the dining hall—all the way chanting silently to herself that she would enjoy her time at Miss Emmeline’s School of Education and Decorum for Ladies of Outstanding Quality—it was either that or return to London and a future under her mother’s thumb and careful watch. Even at the young age of twelve, Theo knew she was not destined to live the tedious life of a sheltered London debutante.

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  Available in print, audiobook, and e-book now!

  About the Author

  USA TODAY Bestselling Author Christina McKnight writes emotional and intricate Regency Romance with strong women and maverick heroes.

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  Her books combine romance and mystery, exploring themes of redemption and forgiveness. When she’s not writing, Christina enjoys trying new coffeehouses, visiting wine bars, traveling the world, and watching television.

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  Email: Christina@ChristinaMcKnight.com

  Follow her on Twitter: @CMcKnightWriter

  Keep up to date on her releases: www.christinamcknight.com

  Like Christina’s FB Author page: ChristinaMcKnightWriter

  A Lady Hoyden’s Secret

  USA Today Bestselling Author Dawn Brower

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

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  A Lady Hoyden’s Secret Copyright © 2018 Dawn Brower

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  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

  For Elizabeth Evans—who truly adores Lady H, and stalwartly proofread this novella while sick, and on Christmas break with a bushel of kids surrounding her. Your level of dependability and unflappable perseverance will forever be considered the highest level attainable. Thanks for being one of my friends, and loving everything I write. You’re the best.

  Acknowledgments

  Special thanks to my editor Victoria Miller. I’m always amazed at her talent, and as an editor—I’ve never had better. Thanks for all the hard work you do and the help you give me to make my stories stronger. I really do appreciate it more than I could ever say.

  Foreword

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  Sometimes a secret can be a good thing. Other times the truth can be freeing. It’s up to you to decide which is best for you. This book is for everyone who has a secret and isn’t sure what to do with it. I hope you enjoy Helena and Oliver’s story as much as I did writing it.

  Prologue

  A careless whisper can lead to a scandal of impressive magnitudes. It’s my pleasure to help those whispers along…

  —Whispers from Lady X

  The Season, 1811

  Lady Helena Carter tapped her foot impatiently. It was her third season and sadly, she still had no suitors. As far as wallflowers went, she topped the list of undesirables. Most debutantes or ladies on the verge of spinsterhood would start becoming alarmed at the lack of prospects. In that regard, Helena was far from normal. She had decided to utilize the gift she’d been given and prepare for her future. A husbandless one, but she had accepted that two seasons ago.

  She didn’t need a man. All right, maybe she did—for now. Her father, the Duke of Montford, supported her, and she required that support as she made the steps necessary to take care of herself. Success didn’t happen overnight, after all. She fully planned on taking the world by storm—in secret.

  “Do I want to know what you have spinning inside your head?”

  Helena glanced up at her brother, the Earl of Darcy, and smiled. “I don’t know, Lucas. It might scare you to know my innermost secrets.”

  Her brother was dear to her and always would be, but he was one of those dreaded men who believed a lady couldn’t take care of herself. Perhaps she was a tad modern in her convictions; however, that didn’t make any of them less true. If a woman set her mind to something, she could accomplish a great deal. A lot of women already did and didn’t even realize it. The process of organizing a gala the size of the Loxton ball was a feat in itself. Most men didn’t take that into consideration. They thought a woman’s need for balls frivolous and tedious at best. A lot had to come
together to launch a successful social gathering.

  “I’m already terrified,” Lucas replied. “You’ve been a termagant since the moment you were born.”

  “You wound me.” The corner of her mouth twitched as she held back a smile. “Shouldn’t you be in the card room?”

  Lucas was five years her senior. He showed no signs of looking for a wife and settling down. Actually, the fact that he was there at all was odd. He usually ran wild around town with his closest friend, the Marquess of Dashville. When either one of them decided to attend a soiree of any sort, they were always together and could often be found at the most risqué of entertainments.

  “Shouldn’t you be dancing?” He lifted a brow. “I could be wrong, but isn’t that the point of a ball?” He lifted her dance card and frowned. “Why aren’t there any names on here? You’re the daughter of a duke and have a large dowry. The young bucks should be falling over themselves for a chance to marry you.”

  She held back the urge to roll her eyes. That was a solid assumption—even if it yielded false results. Helena wasn’t hideous. At least, she didn’t think so. Her hair was golden blonde and her eyes the odd color of violet-blue, but she was no great beauty. Even so, her inheritance should have made the men of the ton stop to take notice even if her lineage didn’t. From the moment she had her come-out ball though, nothing had gone as it should.

  “I’m destined to be a spinster,” Helena replied with a shrug. “None of them notice me.”

  She really didn’t care either. Let them continue to overlook her and whisper their secrets. They’d realize their mistake soon enough. She was more than happy to utilize the opportunity to her advantage. The ton might overlook Helena and dismiss her as nothing, but she was all right with that. Invitations arrived daily, giving her entrance into every social event of the season. All the balls and soirees would allow her to plan a life away from it all someday. It was all set and the first step taken for her new venture to begin.

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” he said. “My sister will not be rebuffed. I’ll make sure they pay attention to you.”

  Oh, dear—she had to talk him out of this and fast. “You’re sweet, but I rather you didn’t. I don’t want to make a scene.” If he did though, she could use it to her advantage… “I’ve accepted my fate. I don’t want any man for my husband. It will take someone extra special to capture my heart, and if they can’t see me for who I am, then I don’t want them.” It was a bitter notion to swallow; nonetheless, she’d accepted it. A husband and family of her own were not in her future. That didn’t mean she couldn’t find happiness. Maybe someday she’d take a lover or adopt a child. Once she was settled and had the means of taking care of herself, she’d have a lot of options. Not finding a man to wed wouldn’t be the worst thing to happen. It might even prove to be a good thing… A woman should be able to take care of herself, and she had always thought it rather silly that females were expected to depend on the males in their lives. Some men were idiots, and a great deal tended to be rather foolish.

  “You want to fall in love?” His voice held and edge of disbelief in it. “How unnatural of you—our family doesn’t take matters of the heart into consideration when choosing a spouse.”

  He wasn’t wrong. “Father is most displeased and threatened to pick a husband for me.”

  The corners of his eyes crinkled with amusement. “You really need to tell me these things in advance, so I can be around to watch.”

  Helena sighed. “It’s not as if I plan to give father fits. He does it all on his own. Seriously, why must he lose his temper over the silly idea that I have to wed the first man who pays me any attention?”

  Lucas gave in and laughed. “Darling, most ladies want to marry. I don’t think you actually do. At least pretend to be looking.”

  She didn’t know if she could. Sure, in the beginning, she had actually sought a husband. The flock of lords who had come looking for a wife her first season had been—lacking. None of them sparked any interest. They didn’t make her heart beat faster and leave her with the desire to see them again. She didn’t need them for support. If she held out long enough, she’d have more than enough money to live in comfort. Unfortunately, she had another decade to wait for her inheritance. Without a husband, it would sit in a trust until her thirtieth year.

  “Why?” She crinkled her nose. “They’re boring.”

  “There has to be someone here you find appealing.”

  “Actually, there isn’t…”

  A murmur spread through the room, and Helena glanced up to see what caught the other guests’ attention. Anything noteworthy would have to be filed away for future use. The gossip of the ton would be her bread and butter when her father cut her off. It was going to happen sooner or later. He’d all but threatened it earlier when they’d argued. If she didn’t actively look for a husband, he’d take away her pin money, and she could forget about any new gowns or fripperies.

  Ah… That’s what they were all talking about. Lord Oliver Hunt, the Marquess of Dashville himself had arrived. He was every bit as handsome as the squeals of delight implied. He’d be a catch for any lady, and not for the title and fortune he held. Dashville’s physique had even caught her notice. Tall, broad shoulders, dark brown hair, and ice blue eyes—a prince charming straight out of every young girl’s fairy tale. Until he opened his mouth and spoke, anyway.

  He headed straight for them. She steeled herself for his arrival. He’d come to see Lucas, but she would still have to prepare herself. She had lied earlier. There was one man who left her a jittery mess of nerves. Dashville affected her as no man ever had, and he ignored her even more than the rest. No, ignore wasn’t quite the right description. He saw her, and he even acknowledged her, but he didn’t see her. It would’ve been rude of him to ignore his friend’s little sister.

  “Darcy,” he nodded at Lucas. “Lady Helena.” Dashville bowed.

  “You were supposed to be here a while ago,” Lucas accused him. “I’d have waited otherwise. Where have you been?”

  “I was unfortunately delayed.”

  Once again Helena became invisible as they conversed. After he said his greeting, Dashville pretended she no longer existed. It irritated her on every possible level. The woman in her screamed at the unfairness of it all—the one man who made her sit up and take notice continued to be indifferent to her.

  “You can make it up to me by dancing with Helena,” Lucas said. “It’s not right that she’s a wallflower.”

  Dashville stiffened noticeably. “I…”

  “Don’t say you don’t know how. We’re all taught proper.”

  Helena really should stop this before it grew legs and ran away from her. She’d never live it down if Dashville was forced to dance with her. She didn’t need a charity dance. Damned if she needed to dance at all.

  “Of course I know how to dance,” Dashville said, affronted. “It’s not that.”

  Lucas narrowed his gaze. “Please don’t tell me you’re afraid of Helena. She’s not going to bite you.”

  “Maybe I will,” she muttered under her breath. Dashville stared at her as if she was a foreign specimen.

  “What?” Lucas asked.

  “I appreciate the effort,” Helena told him. “But you don’t need to coerce your friend to dance with me. I’m sure you have other plans.”

  “See, she doesn’t want to dance with me.” Dashville jumped on her statement as a way out. She should be offended, but she understood.

  “I don’t care,” Lucas said. “She needs to dance at least once. It’ll make father happy, and it’ll make our lives easier. I’d do it, but I don’t count. Can’t very well marry my own sister.”

  Dashville’s eyes widened. “Now listen here, I’m not marrying your sister. That’s taking things a bit far. I would like to choose my own wife, and I’m not nearly ready to do that.”

  Both men were talking over her as if she was no longer there. Was this to be her fate for the rest of her da
ys? Men always talking over and around her as if she didn’t exist? No, that wasn’t right either. They wouldn’t be arguing about her otherwise. The idiots thought they knew better than her. That was the real problem.

  “Don’t worry, my lord,” Helena interrupted them and glared at Dashville. “You’re the last man I’d ever deign to marry. You’re safe from my scheming ways.”

  “It’s not…” Dashville started to explain. “That is, I’m sure you’re lovely,” he stammered. “Oh hell, Lady Helena, would you do me the honor of dancing with me.”

  He’d pushed himself into a corner and thought that was the only way out for him. Too bad. She wouldn’t let him have that easy of an escape. The marquess would realize one day that he missed out, and too bad for him. She was a catch, darn it.

  “Don’t bother,” she replied. “It’s not worth it. Go play cards with my brother. It’s why you’re here, isn’t it?”

  “I can bloody well dance once before I do.”

  Great, now he wasn’t going to let it go. She’d yell at Lucas later for his interference. “I don’t mind. Truly.”

  The strands of music died as the current dance ended. Dashville didn’t give her a chance to say no again. He reached out and grasped her hand in his and led her to the floor. She glanced over her shoulder to find Lucas grinning smugly at them.