The Rakehell Regency Romance Series
Volume 2
Books 4-6 in Series
Sorcha MacMurrough
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Book 4: THE MATCHLESS MISS
Book 5: THE SCARRED HEART
Book 6: THE GUARDIAN OF THE HEART
The Rakehell Regency Romance Series
Book 4
THE MATCHLESS MISS
Sorcha MacMurrough
TABLE OF CONTENTS
SYNOPSIS
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
COPYRIGHT
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 27
CHAPTER 28
CHAPTER 29
CHAPTER 30
CHAPTER 31
CHAPTER 32
CHAPTER 33
CHAPTER 34
REVIEWS
SYNOPSIS
Off the shelf, into the fire!
Bath, England, 1814
Spinster Sarah Deveril is content to live quietly with her brother and his wife in the rolling English countryside, tending house at the vicarage, and working for the benefit of the poor. Though wealthy and beautiful, she has never met any man who stirred her heart, until a mysterious visitor with the same name as her brother appears on her doorstep.
The man she re-christens 'Alexander' is blind and wounded as a result of the Peninsular War, with no recollection of who he really is. Taking pity on the desperate, and exceptionally handsome gentleman, Sarah nurses him back to health, and sets him on the path to discover his past, and how he came to be so terribly injured.
The more Alexander discovers about his true identity, the more he simply wants to linger with the rare woman who has come to mean more to him than life itself. But ignorance is a luxury he and Sarah cannot afford, as the enemies from his past make various attempts upon his life.
Only Sarah stands between Alexander and certain death as the men who betrayed their country for the sake of Napoleon scheme to kill Alexander before he can expose their treason. Can she save her one true love, or will their love become just another casualty of the long, terrible war?
An excerpt from the novel:
"Yes, can I help you?" Sarah Deveril said, raising her voice above the whistling wind.
"Is this the home of Jonathan Deveril?" the tall, shabbily-dressed man asked.
Sarah struggled to keep the door from being torn out of her grasp and nodded and smiled. "Yes, that's right."
He stepped up into the small porch. "Major Jonathan Deveril?"
"Yes, he did hold that rank not so long ago."
The dark-haired stranger, who looked to be in his late twenties, fumbled with his hat and stared at her.
"He isn't at home. Is there something I can assist you with?"
"It's just that, well- Do you not recognize me?" He held out his hand in mute appeal.
She realized with a start that he was blind.
Sarah stared at the handsome face, with a high brow, elegant nose, and the most piercing pair of pale golden eyes she had ever seen. An aquiline nose, generous lips, and a finely hewn chin with a cleft completed his god-like appearance.
The only mar to his absolute perfection was a scar which ran from the corner of his left eye back into his hairline, giving him a Devil-may-care look which was both stirring and disturbing.
"No. I've never seen you before. Should I know you?" she asked in confusion.
"Yes, of course, if I have the right house. My name is Jonathan Deveril."
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Sorcha MacMurrough is a multi-published author from Ireland who has taught English literature and English and Irish history. She has lived all over the UK and Ireland, including London, Edinburgh, and Dublin. Her favorite cities to live in or visit are Bath and York. She loves old houses, castles and estates and can usually be found touring these locales to help make all of her settings come alive for the reader. Sorcha loves the Regency period and the Napoleonic era in particular, which form the beginning of the modern world as we know it.
Her novels have been chosen as monthly "Top Picks" by Romantic Times, and she has also been nominated for a Reviewer's Choice award for best novel of the year by Romantic Times. When she is not writing, researching and teaching, she cooks, knits Aran sweaters, and enjoys spending time with her large family. She loves Irish dancing and music, and beachcombing on the shores of Donegal, Sligo and Galway.
THE MATCHLESS MISS
The Rakehell Regency Romance Novel
Sorcha MacMurrough
HerStory Books
Copyright the author c 2005,
Second Edition 2008
Third Edition 2009
Fourth Edition 2012
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information and storage retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.
Under the 1988 UK copyright laws, the author asserts the right to be identified as the creator of this work.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters and incidents are the product of the author's imagination, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
ISBN: 978-1-58345-102-1
Published by HerStory Books
http://www.herstorybooks.com
HerStory Books is pleased to publish high-quality romances in a variety of genres. Please visit us online for the latest titles, and a free newsletter, free novels and short stories, and more: http://herstorybooks.com/category/xciting-free-reads
Love our novels? Don’t forget to post reviews at our site and on Amazon. You can win free books each month just for posting reviews at the site.
You can also get free novels through our Referral Program:
http://herstorybooks.com/referral-program-free-book
Happy Reading!
Chapter One
Late April 1814
As her horse trotted briskly along the road toward the Brimley vicarage, Sarah Deveril sat back in her carriage seat with the reins firmly in her hands and went over her mental list of important chores.
Her schedule had been severely disrupted and wildly hectic this past month. Now that her brother Jonathan was safely married to his lovely blond wife Pamela, things would finally get back to normal.
Or as normal as they ever could be in a large, busy parish. She only hoped that none of the several local women due to give birth any day had come looking for her whilst she had been over at Eltham Castle enjoying the wedding festivities and then helping with the newlyweds' send-off.
She hurried home in their small gig, her spirits bubbling. She was delighted the ceremony and reception had gone so well. The happy couple were even now heading north for their honeymoon.
Their closest friends the Elthams and Stones had also just departed, going to Ireland for the summer, so she would have few social distractions for the next few weeks and c
ould catch up on her many chores. She could perhaps even have a bit of a holiday of her own once she did.
This happy thought was interrupted by a low growl reminiscent of an animal in pain. She glanced up at the sky quickly. The odd rumbles of thunder she had heard as she had set off for home from Eltham Castle continued even though the sun was shining, except they sounded much closer now.
Sarah whipped up the horse smartly, and pulled into the drive next to the gray stone vicarage a few moments later. She called to her manservant Caleb to put the gelding and gig in the stable, and hurried into the house through the covered front portico.
A small elderly woman with silver hair greeted her in the long narrow hall. "Glad you got home before the storm, Miss Sarah."
She flicked a few stray drops from her shoulders and long fall of midnight-black hair. "Yes, indeed, Jenny. How is everything?"
"Just fine. Beautiful wedding, so it was."
Sarah smiled and nodded enthusiastically. "It was indeed." Sarah shed her pale blue cloak and bonnet and hung them on the hook in the hall, flicked the last of the raindrops off herself, and placed her reticule on the small shelf below the clothes pegs.
"Did the Elthams get away all right?"
She slid off her shoes and scuffed into a comfortable pair of black slippers which she kept underneath the clothes hooks. "Yes, thanks, and the Stones. Plus the Ashtons' house is all closed up now too."
"You're a wonder, Miss. Don't know what everyone would do without you to keep them straight."
Sarah smiled. "Thank you, Jenny. I don't know what my brother and I would do without you keeping both of us sorted. No emergencies?"
The older woman shook her head. "Not a peep."
"Remarkable. Well, it certainly will be quiet around here with all of the Rakehells away."
"It will indeed, Miss. But I daresay you'll find something to keep you busy. Not a waif nor stray comes past this house that you don't help."
She shook her head. "I do little enough. You make me sound like a saint."
The older woman smiled at her fondly. "You do a great deal more than most. It was a wonderful day when the Duke gave your brother this parish."
Sarah smoothed down the skirts of her dark blue day gown and inspected her ebony hair in the small pier glass. "Thank you. We both love it here and count ourselves very fortunate indeed."
"I've emptied your overnight case and hung up your wedding finery. You looked a treat as a bridesmaid. Mark my words, some lucky man will soon come along and--"
She shook her head. "Now, now, none of that. There's far too much work around here to start thinking along those lines. How would Jonathan ever manage without me?"
"He has a wife now, or hadn't you noticed. I know she wasn't much to write home about in her younger day, but Miss Ashton as was has certainly come up to scratch now. And you know what folk do say. No matter how well you get along with her, there aren't many married women who tolerate another woman interfering in her home. Certainly not a spinster sister."
The maid's well-meaning words drew Sarah up short. She had been so delighted for her brother and Pamela that she had never even stopped to think what the marriage might mean to her once they returned home. The vicarage was roomy enough for a bachelor and his sister, but add a wife and children to the equation and it could start getting far too oppressive for all parties concerned....
But now was not the time to worry about that. Only time would tell, and in the meanwhile, time was getting on.
She shook of Jenny's words as she strode into the chamber she used as a small study. "Well, there might not have been many callers, but I'm sure there's a mountain of correspondence to sort though."
"Aye, right enough, a fair few letters."
"Can you please fetch me a pot of tea?"
The older woman beamed. "Gladly, Miss. Supper at the usual time?"
Sarah had already begun flicking through the letters on the tray, sorting them into hers and Jonathan's. "Oh, yes, thank you."
Another rumble of thunder shook the house.
Jenny looked up in mild alarm. "My, that sounds close."
"Never fear. Let's just be grateful none of us is out on such a wild evening, though one does have to feel sorry for the poor beasts in the fields." She peered out the window and saw nothing but the rain cascading down the glass outside.
"Aye, but I am glad you hurried back smartish. Caleb says he heard tell that the Almanac gives wild storms indeed. Anyway, I'll just fetch that tea."
As Sarah worked, she could hear the wind howling all around the house, circling like a wild animal stalking its prey. A sudden thought set her to put the letters back on her desk for a moment while she hurried through the lower rooms to make sure all of the windows in the house were shut tightly against the against the furious gusts.
The last room she entered was the front sitting room, where she found the ferocious gale tearing at the lace curtains. She was shaken in the wind's icy jaws as she struggled against the spring storms's might and power while she tried to slam the last casement closed.
Her task finally completed, Sarah chafed her upper arms to warm them and then pushed her heavy fall of dark hair out of her eyes. She crammed her hairpins in more tightly to try to tidy her wind-swept hair. She only hoped everything outside was more secure than her coiffure.
"Caleb, are the horses and milkers all safe in the outbuildings, and everything battened down?" she called down the hall towards the back of the house.
"I'll go back out just to check one more time, Miss," Jenny's husband said.
"Thank you, Caleb. Do be careful."
"Aye, Miss. No need to worry about an old reprobate like me." He waved and stepped out of the kitchen door.
Sarah was just about to settle herself by the roaring fire in her small study to rely to all her letters when she heard a rap at the front portal.
She hurried out into the hall and reached to open the latch herself without standing on ceremony and waiting for Jenny to answer it.
A huge flash of lightning lit up the sky behind the towering figure, throwing him into shadow. For a moment she thought the ground was shaking under her feet. Then she realized the strength of the wind was actually tugging at the woven mat she was standing upon, snatching at the hem of her skirts.
"Yes, can I help you?" Sarah Deveril said, raising her voice above the whistling wind.
"Is this the home of Jonathan Deveril?" the tall, shabbily-dressed man asked.
Sarah struggled to keep the door from being torn out of her grasp and nodded and smiled. "Yes, that's right."
He stepped up into the small porch. "Major Jonathan Deveril?"
"Yes, he did hold that rank not so long ago."
The dark-haired stranger, who looked to be in his late twenties, fumbled with his drenched hat and stared at her.
"He isn't at home. Is there something I can assist you with?"
"It's just that, well- Do you not recognize me?" He held out his hand in mute appeal.
She realized with a start that he was blind.
Sarah stared at the handsome face, with a high brow, elegant nose, and the most piercing pair of pale golden eyes she had ever seen. An aquiline nose, generous lips, and a finely hewn chin with a cleft completed his god-like appearance.
The only mar to his absolute perfection was a scar which ran from the corner of his left eye back into his hairline, giving him a Devil-may-care look which was both stirring and disturbing.
"No. I've never seen you before. Should I know you?" she asked in confusion.
"Yes, of course, if I have the right house. My name is Jonathan Deveril."
Sarah stared at him. This had to be some sort of prank.
Yet he didn't look like a rogue or rattle. The man had a most dignified bearing, tall and straight, aristocratic even despite his badly-mended, poor-quality brown homespun garments.
She guessed he had to be one of the other Rakehells, her brother Jonathan's group of Radical friends who ha
d gone to school and then served in the Army together. He must have been delayed in his journey and thus missed the wedding.
The Rakehell Regency Romance Collection Volume 2 Page 1