The Good, The Bad, And The Scandalous (The Heart of a Hero Book 7)

by Cora Lee

  “Lucy always worries that my hair will take too long to dress,” Sarah smiled. “Just let me put these materials away, and I’ll go right in.”

  Hart helped with the cleanup and escorted his wife from the workshop back to the house, then on to the carriage when she had completed her toilette. She’d chosen a silk ball gown that matched the bottle green waistcoat he wore, right down to the velvet embellishments. Was that a coincidence, or was his wife colluding with his valet?

  He brushed the thought away when he took his seat beside her in the carriage, clasping her gloved hand in his.

  “Ready?”

  “Yes, I suppose so.” Her voice was steady when she spoke, but her eyes were focused on his cravat rather than his face.

  “We don’t have to go,” he reminded her. It wasn’t as if the fate of the realm hung in the balance this evening.

  She smiled dutifully and met his gaze. “It will be good for both of us to be among people again and just be someone’s guests.”

  “But if you aren’t ready...”

  The focus these past weeks had mainly been on Hart’s recovery from the gunshot and Sarah’s from the attempted strangulation. No one had thought much about the mental harm the death threats and assaults had done to either of them, and he certainly didn’t want to put Sarah in a position she wasn’t yet comfortable with.

  She squeezed his hand and scooted closer to him. “I am. And if it all gets to be too much, we’ll simply leave early.”

  “You know I’d never refuse the chance to leave a ball early,” he grinned. Though perhaps this one, with Sarah on his arm, would be different.

  It wasn’t, at least not in the beginning. The line of carriages waiting to get to Lady Stirling’s door was as tiresome as the receiving line. But once they entered the actual ballroom, the evening began to look up.

  “Look, there’s Diana,” Sarah said, waving to her friend.

  Hart still didn’t know Diana Talbot terribly well, but he felt the change in his wife’s demeanor as they walked across the ballroom. Her posture relaxed, her grip on his arm loosened, and her lips curved into a genuine smile.

  “If it isn’t Lord and Lady Hartland,” Miss Talbot said, grinning as they approached. When they’d exchanged the requisite greetings, she lowered her voice. “I’ve only just come back to Town myself. After that threatening letter arrived, Lord Preston sent me to his sister in Shrewsbury—he thought I’d be out of danger there. I’ll admit I had a lovely time, but it meant we had to change my wedding date. You’ve received the new invitation?”

  Thankfully, Sarah handled that question and Hart wasn’t required to chime in at all. A wave of regret passed over him as Miss Talbot went on to describe the preparations for her wedding with the enthusiasm of a child opening long-expected gifts. Had Sarah looked forward to arranging her own wedding day with such eagerness?

  “One more thing, Diana,” Sarah was saying when Hart forced his attention back to the conversation. “Why did you think to introduce me to Hartland in the first place?”

  “What is this, now?” he asked, arching an eyebrow.

  Miss Talbot giggled. “Sarah found out about her mother’s finances just before my betrothal ball, and I offered to introduce her to eligible gentlemen with means. You merely met the criteria, my lord. I never expected anything would come of it, but your marriage seems to have been good for you both.”

  “That it has,” Sarah replied, glancing at Hart.

  He nodded, unable to keep from grinning at his wife. “I would agree.”

  “I would also agree,” another voice chimed in. It was the Marquess of Preston, appearing very self-satisfied. “I didn’t think you had it in you, Hartland, but your lady wife looks happy.”

  “I am, my lord,” Sarah offered with a grin.

  Hart tried not to scowl. Yes, he would love Sarah until the day he died, but there was no need to be smug about it. “I did tell you that we’d rub along well enough together. It turns out, I was right.”

  Preston laughed and took Miss Talbot off to search for her mother, while Hartland wandered into the card room, leaving Sarah on her own in the ballroom. He’d have preferred to stay by her side, but convention dictated that they socialize separately for most of the evening, and she’d wanted to have as normal an outing as possible.

  “I will be fine,” she told him, flattening a wayward lapel on his tailcoat. “And if I become distressed, I’ll find you.”

  “Very well then.”

  “Make me the same promise?”

  He’d been in enough life-or-death situations that he liked to think nothing bothered him anymore, but that wasn’t strictly true. “I promise to come find you if I need to.”

  They ended up meeting only twice that night, once for a sedate quadrille and once for an energetic country dance. But when the supper dance came along and the clock approached midnight, Sarah rescued him from a group of gentlemen bent on talking politics. Hart excused himself and offered her his arm.

  “Do you know that it’s possible to be bored to death?” he asked when they were seated in the carriage. “I could feel the life actually draining from my body.”

  Sarah laughed and cuddled up to him, resting her head on his shoulder. “I’ll take boring over the likes of Rebecca any day.”

  “Absolutely.” He kissed the top of her head and wrapped his arm around her. “But something more stimulating than the election would be nice.”

  “Something like one of your special messengers?”

  “They do bring news more stimulating than the election.” He’d had an idea about those messengers when he’d gone to fetch Sarah from their workshop, but hadn’t had a chance to broach the subject in her rush to get ready. “May I ask you a question?”

  “You just did.”

  He didn’t need to see her face to know that she was smirking at him, and he grinned back. “I love you, do you know that?”

  “Yes,” she answered contentedly. “What did you want to ask me?”

  “How would you feel about helping me from time to time with the letters the special messengers bring?” He didn’t tell her about Wellington’s intelligence gathering ring, nor would he involve her in ferreting out the tidbits he passed along. But her strengths compensated for his weaknesses, making him safer when he was out as the Armored Man.

  “What would I do?”

  He counted the possibilities off on his fingers, even though she couldn’t see them in the dark. “Help me plan my strategy when a problem arises. Explain things to me when chemistry is involved. Remind me not to be an idiot when I confront a lawbreaker.”

  She sat up, bracing herself against his chest. “Go with you to confront the lawbreakers?”

  “Possibly.” He winced. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust her to keep her wits about her in times of danger, he just didn’t want to put her in danger in the first place. “If you were properly equipped and trained. You need more than a steel-plated corset and a few defensive moves first.”

  Without warning, her lips found his and her arms came around his neck. “Thank you,” she murmured. “I don’t know if I want to put myself in harm’s way, even to save lives, but thank you for letting me make the choice. I love you for that...and for so many other reasons.”

  He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her onto his lap, closing his eyes and inhaling the scent of lemon verbena that clung to her skin. “I may not be the man you would have chosen, but I will never stop trying to make you happy.”

  “You don’t have to try, my love. You already have.”

  How did he get so lucky? He was so much better with her than he was without her, and all she asked in return was that he continue to be the best version of himself.

  “Is this what marriage is supposed to be, then?” he chuckled, nuzzling her neck. “Two people head over ears in love with each other, keeping each other safe?”

  She ran her fingers through his hair and laid her cheek against his. “It’s what our marriage wil
l be.”

  The Heart of a Hero Series

  No Rest for the Wicked by Cora Lee (prequel novella)

  Only A Hero Will Do by Alanna Lucas

  Once Bitten by Aileen Fish

  Lightning Strikes Twice by Jillian Chantal

  No Hiding for the Guilty by Vanessa Riley

  The Marquis of Thunder by Susan Gee Heino

  The Good, The Bad, And The Scandalous by Cora Lee

  The Archer’s Paradox by Ally Broadfield

  The Missing Duke by Heather King

  The Mercenary Pirate by Katherine Bone

  Chapter One Excerpt from:

  The Archer’s Paradox

  The Heart of a Hero Series

  Copyright © 2017 Ally Broadfield

  Buy The Archer’s Paradox:

  Amazon.com

  Amazon UK

  Amazon CA

  Amazon AU

  Chapter One

  Romney Marsh, Kent

  March 1812

  Colin Hoskins moved to the window. There was nothing to see, but his instincts told him something wasn’t right. It was bitterly cold and definitely too late for anyone to be about outside. Moving quickly, he went up the staircase to the watchtower he had built when he’d purchased the old manor house.

  With its position along the coast, Romney Marsh was an ideal location for French agents to attempt to enter England. Though the other sheep farmers in the area thought him eccentric at best, he took his assignment from the Earl of Wellington seriously. That commitment included not letting on that he had been tasked to both gather intelligence and to ensure that no one entered the country through the marsh. The latest reports he had received indicated the French were focused on Russia, but that didn’t preclude them from sending agents into England. In fact, it would be an excellent time to do so when no one would expect it.

  His house was built atop a hill where it was less likely to flood, which also created an opportunity to see for miles in every direction. He reached the watchtower and a brief flash of light shone not far from shore. Seconds later, his guard dog gave a warning bark from below. Someone was on the beach. Reversing his path, he rushed back down the staircase and grabbed his quiver and bow, then exited out the front of the house, where Sampson greeted him. It had taken months for him to teach the Pyrenean Mountain Dog to not to bark excessively, but instead to give one signal bark when he sensed danger. Though his job was to guard the sheep from danger, he also considered humans a threat to his flock, so he served to guard the house as well.

  Together they moved down the hill toward the beach. Cold gusts of wind off the ocean coated them with sea spray. The bleat of a lamb sounded to his left and he stopped. Sampson stiffened, sniffing the air. He took his job of guarding the sheep quite seriously, especially during lambing season. All of Colin’s sheep were in the stable for the night. It was a bit early yet for the lambs to be born, but it wasn’t unheard of for them to begin birthing in early March, and a new born lamb would not survive a night outside in this weather. However, this wayward lamb did not belong to him.

  Sampson took off down the hill to find the lamb and Colin followed behind at a slower place, searching the coastline for signs of a lantern or the slightest flash of light where it shouldn’t be. Though he didn’t wish for the wayward lamb to freeze on this cold night, he was more concerned about someone coming ashore. A sudden thought stopped him in his tracks. What if someone was using the lamb as a distraction to keep his attention away from nefarious activity elsewhere? Pulling an arrow out of his quiver, he nocked it to the bowstring and rushed down to the beach, splashing himself with cold water as he hit low patches in the marsh. A cloud shifted and the moon lit the shoreline. There was nothing there. No boat. Nothing out of the ordinary. Another scan of the visible parts of the beach revealed nothing. Either he had been mistaken about seeing the light earlier, or whoever landed on the beach had already escaped. Another warning bark sent him racing back toward Sampson. Breathing heavily, he caught a flash of the white dog in the moonlight and slowed to a walk. Someone held a lantern up behind his dog, revealing the lamb in his mouth. As he drew closer, the outline of a woman’s cloak took form.

  “Is this your dog?”

  What was a woman in formal dress doing traipsing around on the marsh? Her cloak was much too short for her and the shiny fabric of a ball gown shown below it. “Yes.”

  “Will you please order it to drop my lamb?”

  He stowed his bow and arrow and stopped a few feet from her. “That would be counterproductive, I believe. Were you not attempting to catch the lamb?”

  “Just like a man to underestimate the situation,” she mumbled. “I don’t wish to have the lamb injured.”

  “I should think not, but you have no reason to worry. Sampson is a very well trained guardian of livestock. He will not hurt your lamb, nor will he allow it to wander off again.”

  The clouds shifted and a patch of moonlight shone upon them. The bright green of her gown blended with the grass, aside from the mud caked on the hem. What was she doing out on the marsh, alone, at this time of night? In a ball gown, no less?

  “Please allow me to introduce myself, Miss…?”

  “I am Miss Pottinger, and this is my farm.” She tilted her head to the house that lay about half a mile down the hill from their position.

  Ah, that explained it. Mr. Pottinger had taken ill more than a year ago and was rarely seen outside even in summer, but surely there had to be someone in charge of this young lady who would soon notice her absence. “Sampson.” The dog immediately came to him and dropped the lamb at his feet. The creature was no worse for the wear except for a bit of slobber on his fleece. He picked it up and handed it to her.

  “Thank you, Mr…”

  “Hoskins.” He cleared his throat and tried again. “I am Colin Hoskins. I live on the estate just above you.” He pointed to his house, which stood rather prominently on the highest point on the hill.

  “I see. Papa has not yet introduced me to all of the neighbors since I left school to join him in Kent. My apologies for not inviting you to the dinner party tonight, but it would’ve been very hard to send an invitation to a person of whose existence I was unaware.”

  He had to toss her words around in his head for a few moments before he could make any sense of them. A proper response likely didn’t exist. “Miss Pottinger, may I assist you in carrying your lamb back to the stable before it freezes?”

  “There is no need. I am perfectly capable of carrying a tiny lamb.” She muttered something else that he couldn’t quite hear.

  “I can only agree with your hypothesis, however, I offered to carry the lamb to save you from transferring anymore mud and slobber from the lamb to your gown.”

  “Oh.” She glanced down at the streaks of muck across her abdomen. “Well, that was rather careless of me.”

  The strangeness of the situation swept over him. What if this odd girl was being used to distract him from whatever he had seen earlier? He needed to search the beach as soon as possible and also learn more about this woman. “Since you don’t need any more assistance with the lamb, may I ask that you allow me to accompany you back to the house so I may wash the mud from my hands?”

  “Of course. I need to bring this little hellion into the kitchen to warm him before giving him back to his mother.” She cooed at the tiny creature. “Yes, I do. I’m sure your mother is very worried about you.”

  Colin thought otherwise. There were no frantic bleating noises coming from the stable, or any other signs that any of the sheep were restless. There was definitely something suspicious going on. Having known Mr. Pottinger for years, Colin was certain he was not a threat, but that didn’t mean his daughter couldn’t have been persuaded or even tricked into helping French agents. He would have to watch their house until he could be sure.

  She handed him the lamb and turned to head back down the hill.

  “Miss Pottinger, may I ask where you lived prior to joining your fa
ther here?”

  “I attended Madame Delacroix’s School for Girls in Suffolk, then stayed on to teach French until Papa’s condition deteriorated to the point that I needed to return home.”

  A headmistress of French origin and a woman who was fluent in French. He needed more information about Miss Pottinger, that school, and its proprietor and other employees. Mr. Pottinger had been a tutor to the sons of several noble families prior to acquiring his farm, so it stood to reason that his daughter would be well educated, but his instincts were telling him there was something more to this situation.

  His boots squelched as they completed their wet, muddy journey down the hill. When they arrived at the Pottingers’ home, the door stood ajar, which put him on edge immediately. “Do you always leave your door open when you leave, Miss Pottinger?”

  “Only when I’m chasing an escaped lamb and time is of the essence, Mr. Hoskins,” she threw over her shoulder.

  He gave Sampson the signal to stay, and the dog settled with his back against the house so he could keep watch. Colin removed his bow and quiver and followed her inside.

  The moment they entered the house, she immediately went to the fireplace and threw a few pieces of wood onto the fire and placed the screen on the hearth. After a quick glance around the room, she removed the scarf from her head, took the lamb from him, and wrapped it tightly before placing it on the hearth in front of the screen. Once the creature was settled, she washed her hands in a basin and gestured for him to do the same.

  The first thing he noticed was her rather remarkable golden-red hair shining in the firelight. The second was her emerald green eyes. Her mother must have been stunning because though Mr. Pottinger was a good man, his daughter’s beauty had not come from him. Coming to his senses and remembering his duties, he glanced around the large room. There was no sign that a party, let alone any other gathering, had taken place that night. To his knowledge, Mr. Pottinger had only a woman who came from the village a few times a week to help him. Perhaps she had been hired to help with the party and had left while they were slogging about on the hill.