To Bed or to Wed

by Sandra Sookoo

  To Wed or To Bed

  A Darrington family novel

  by

  Sandra Sookoo

  *****

  Kindle Edition

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording or by any information retrieval and storage system without permission of the author.

  Ebooks are not transferrable, either in whole or in part. As the purchaser or otherwise lawful recipient of this ebook, you have the right to enjoy the novel on your own computer or other device. Further distribution, copying, sharing, gifting or uploading is illegal and violates United States Copyright laws.

  Pirating of ebooks is illegal. Criminal Copyright Infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, may be investigated by the Federal Bureau of Investigation and is punishable by up to five years in federal prison and a fine of up to $250,000.

  TO WED OR TO BED ©2014 by Sandra Sookoo

  Published by New Independence Books and Sandra Sookoo

  ISBN- 9781310223266

  Contact Information:

  sandrasookoo@yahoo.com

  newindepdencebooks@gmail.com

  Visit me at sandrasookoo.com

  Book Cover Design by David Sookoo

  Redhead in pink gown with sexy man, REG0277

  ©Kim Killion |Hot Damn Stock

  Seamless floral pattern

  ©Nataliia Natykach|Bigstock

  Publishing History

  First Digital Edition, 2014

  *****

  Blurb

  When an impromptu kiss captures the imagination, either a spark will ignite or family interference will snuff the match.

  Charlotte Darrington adores being adored by the men in her circle. She’s in London at the request of her mother, and though her parent wants her to find an eligible gentleman and start a family, Charlotte delays. In her heart of hearts, she wants a man who can hold his own and won’t be cowed.

  Nathan Brigham, Marquess of Ravenhurst, is annoyed with the interfering redhead leading his nephew into the evergreen maze. When he would have delivered a dressing down, she stops his words with a kiss. No matter that he finds her attractive and a welcome distraction from his darkly brooding life, he refuses to succumb to Charlotte’s charms. Above everything, he won’t become the savage man his father was.

  Once they return to London from a house party at his country estate, the two can’t avoid each other. Stolen kisses and heated glances in shadowy halls as well as a questionable visit to White’s draw them closer. He can’t forget the demons from his past while her persistence to hear a declaration begs the question: to bed or to wed?

  *****

  Excerpt

  One more turn and they’d arrive at the heart of the evergreen maze.

  “Watch yourself, woman. You shouldn’t order me about.” She imagined she felt his anger flowing in her direction. “And if you persist in defying me, I will unleash my temper without regret.”

  “Oh, bother.” Her pulse pounded. That legendary temper. She trembled but couldn’t decide if she wanted to see it or not. “Then, for the love of God, say nothing once we…” There was no more time for further conversation. They both entered a quaint circle in the heart of the maze. On a brilliant summer’s day, a quiet conversation or assignation at one of the stone benches would be ideal, but on a winter’s night, in the clear cold air, it was unfortunate.

  A blond man she assumed was Jamie’s lover sat on a bench, breeches unfastened enough that his erect shaft had sprung free. In her shock, Charlotte pressed a hand to her mouth. She couldn’t look away from Jamie. He dropped a gentle kiss on the man’s lips then knelt in front of him. Seconds later, he took the engorged length into his month. The blond buried his hands into Jamie’s hair and guided him downward. Neither man noticed Charlotte or the marquess. Both men wore expressions of intense bliss. Soft sounds of enjoyment drifted on the air.

  Behind her, Charlotte caught the swift intake of breath that signaled the marquess would either bellow or speak. Quickly, before they were discovered, she pulled him from the maze’s center and back the way they’d come. She gained the first turn before he stopped moving. He simply halted and she had no choice except to stop as well. The man wouldn’t budge. His arm tensed beneath her mittened fingers. The marquess resembled a boulder when he dug in his heels. “Lord Ravenhurst, please allow them privacy,” she whispered. “Let us return to the house and you can ring a peal over my head if you want. I shall be glad to take full responsibility.”

  “I will do no such thing. I need—”

  “Bollocks. Keep your voice down, you impossible man. There are worse things than your nephew finding love, however illicit.” I cannot imagine how this scandal will play out. I’m so sorry, Mother. Desperate that he’d interrupt what was meant to be a private and intimate moment, Charlotte could think of only one way to silence the angered lord. She crushed her fingers in the lapels of his greatcoat, stood on tiptoe, and smashed her lips to his cold mouth in an impromptu kiss.

  *****

  Dedication

  For Paula Farrell. You know why. I love you, babe!

  *****

  Author’s Note

  You’ve heard the saying “Life is what happens when we’re making other plans.” (from John Lennon but originally attributed to Allen Saunders from a Reader’s Digest “Quotable Quotes” article from January 1957.)

  Well, the same can be true of my Regency stories.

  While this book is set in the Regency period, please note this is not your “usual” Regency tale like what was popular in the 1990s or early 2000s. My Regency stories have a dollop of humor, are oftentimes highly improper and are very much a showcase of how life could be when human nature and matters of the heart take over, despite the class a person belonged to or duty they felt they were bound by. When emotions are involved, rules and etiquette are thrown out and love comes flowing in. So, suspend disbelief as well as pre-conceived notions and come fall for the romance of my Regency world.

  *****

  Chapter One

  January 25, 1815—London, England

  “Good Lord, Mother, I’m going to a house party, not a funeral. Why can you not be happy for me?” Charlotte Darrington, eldest daughter of the late Earl of Swandon, resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

  “I understand that, dear, and I would be happy for you if you’d finally settle yourself.”

  “Settled with a man, no doubt. I wish you’d believe I’m happy without one.” She stopped herself from rolling her eyes at the last second. The Season was just getting underway, and some of the best parties were thrown during these weeks. Not to mention Napoleon was in exile and the hostesses breathed much easier knowing the men would soon return to England’s shores.

  “I’d believe that if you acted happy most of the time now,” her mother replied in a sing-song voice. Roberta puttered around Charlotte’s bedroom with a maid, pulling gowns and dresses from an armoire, accepting or rejecting them on a whim. Her red hair, still vibrant though streaked with gray, curled over one shoulder from its tie at her nape. “You’ll miss your chance to find an eligible parti.”

  “I’ll take the chance.” She shrugged. “By the way, I’ll be gone a week at best. I won’t need so many frocks.”

  “You’ll need these and many, many more. Walking dresses, evening gowns, dresses for visiting. The list goes on and on. You know this.”


  “I know I don’t plan on doing nearly the amount of socializing you apparently think I will.” Charlotte gathered the rejected gowns. There were quite a few pretty ones. Just because her mother didn’t deem them worthy didn’t mean they weren’t favorites. “Also, how many times do I need to tell you? I’m not interested in being leg-shackled.”

  “Your brother thought so, too, and now look at him.” Roberta directed the maid to put a particularly hideous day dress of jonquil yellow into the trunk.

  “Oh, don’t throw Felix’s happy martial state into my face.” Her eldest brother, Felix, who was now the new earl, had married his lady love over the Christmas holidays, much to their mother’s grudging approval. Roberta thought it was the height of improper and that anyone of consequence had fled London for their country homes, but Felix had persuaded her with logic, saying Parliament was in recess and he really couldn’t wait to wed Clarice. Afterward, they retired to the Kent property for a honeymoon of sorts. The pair was expected back in Town any day. “The wedded state is fine for him. He had marriage on his mind anyway. I’ve been in London for a while, and I still do not.”

  “But you seem so comfortable around the gentlemen who have come to call. Even Felix’s friends have commented on how easy it is to talk with you.” Roberta frowned as the maid held up a deep purple ball gown. “Do none of them suit you?”

  “What, the gowns?”

  Her mother’s frown deepened. “No, the potential suitors.”

  Charlotte hid a grin. She did so enjoy baiting her parent. “To be honest, no. They’re far too… well, polite, for lack of a better word. And, to me, men are easy to talk to.” Or manipulate. She waved away the gown. There wouldn’t be a ball during the house party. “Besides, I’m having a grand time watching them dance attendance upon me. I enjoy our at-homes, adore the gifts of flowers and candy and books, love seeing those silly, foppish men fight each other for the opportunity to escort me onto dance floors.”

  “Charlotte, don’t be rude,” her mother lectured.

  “When does being confident in whom I am equate to being rude? Why can I not merely enjoy the flirtations without them going anywhere?” She patted her hair, a vibrant dark red much like her mother’s. “Oh, that reminds me. Anne, please be sure to include my tortoiseshell combs as well as the sapphire ones.”

  “Yes, my lady,” the maid murmured.

  “You’re a flirt, Charlotte.” Her mother sniffed. “If you continue down that path for too long, you’ll miss your chance to bring any of them up to scratch. The life of an old maid would not suit you.”

  “Perhaps, but it’s my life at the moment. I’m three and thirty; I passed the mark of the old maid a long time ago. I’m nearly ancient and have been on the shelf for more years than I’d care to remember.” Just like it did every time she thought of her chances for a family, her heart trembled. Though she’d never felt a strong romantic affiliation for any man of her acquaintance, the possibility that they were merely desperate and would make a big show of ignoring her long in the tooth status grated. Not to mention she might be too old indeed to bear children. Have I destroyed my future?

  She didn’t know. Only time would tell, but if striking a love match was so sought after, why did it change the men caught within it? Charlotte knew what love and commitment did to the best of men. Her father had turned into a brow beaten, fat, docile fellow after years of marriage to her mother. Now that Felix had wed, she fully expected the same fate to befall him once the romance and the intimacy had worn away. Marriage made men complacent and content. It made them boring.

  “If you wish to save someone, concentrate on Lauren. She’s still young enough.” Her younger sister would be a prime candidate for her mother’s machinations.

  “Lauren isn’t your concern. As long as she’s in Kent, she’s still within my reach.”

  “Perhaps.” But Lauren was a hoyden to be sure. She wouldn’t go to the Marriage Mart without complaint. Absently, Charlotte folded undergarments. The thin lawns and silks slipped over her fingers like water. I so adore pretty unmentionables. Dainty embroidery decorated the shifts, drawers and night rails. Exquisite lace bedecked the garments as well, even a lovely wrapper done in pale pink satin.

  “How vain you’ve become, my girl.” Roberta’s strident voice cut into Charlotte’s musings. “Why do you insist that your underthings be so adorned? No one will see them.”

  “I will know.” Charlotte smiled as she handed the stack to the maid for packing. “They make me feel confident, and that, my dear parent, is one trick I have that attracts the opposite sex.”

  “Not that it does any good if you’re not going to accept a suit from any of them.” Roberta tsked. “As long as you keep the men well away from having a glimpse until a proposal is given, I don’t care.”

  “I’ve had proposals, Mother.”

  “Yes, but they didn’t take, did they? Besides, you landed in quite a scrape with one of them. Nearly brought the constable with your screaming.”

  “That was because the poor man had a mouse tucked in his pocket. Said it was trained and would present a ring. How was I to know that?” Charlotte chuckled. “I beat Mr. Lawson with a newspaper until he told me the story.” She’d rather not go through that again. He had nothing else to recommend him past the mouse, and even then, it wasn’t adorable enough to suffer through for the remainder of her life.

  “Well, perhaps in another year you’ll wish you had accepted. Those are few and far between now. You shouldn’t be so picky, Charlotte.”

  “There hasn’t been one who captured my attention enough to even think about such a thing.” She desired a man who could hold his own in a relationship, not be cowed by his woman. To her way of thinking, a man should be mysterious, larger than life, a take charge sort of person who’d have a certain way about him that demanded attention and expected immediate results. To consider a man worthy of her time, he would need to be masculine enough he wouldn’t pander to receive her attentions. He’d win her affections by his will and personality alone, make her bow but not break from his moods.

  Lord, I’ve been reading too many novels. Men of today simply have no backbones or moral substance. All the gentleman of her acquaintance wanted was to further their fortunes and fund their gaming. Modern men wished to take a wife in name only, produce an heir they’d barely spend time with and make merry with their mistresses on the side.

  She moved to a bedside table, opened a drawer, then removed a few books—one of which was a Gothic novel. A shiver raced down her spine at the thought of the broken, wounded, and brooding hero. The other two were racy French romances her mother and Felix said would rot her brain and give her skewed views of men in general.

  “Do you anticipate much reading time while you’re away?” Her mother sent a pointed glance to the dog-eared novels.

  “One never knows.”

  “Those novels will rot your brain and give you a distorted view of men in your world.”

  Right on cue. “Oh, Mother, please. I have a nice view of them already. I know the type of man I want, and he won’t do the pretty like some of the heroes in those books. He’ll refuse to be bullied or bossed, but will accept me because I do so.” Charlotte buried the books beneath the underthings in the trunk. “Besides, since most of the guests will be so much younger than me, I want to be prepared for every eventuality. I detest being bored and reading occupies my mind.”

  “Won’t you be too busy with the Marquess of Ravenhurst’s nephew? That is why you’re attending, correct?”

  “Yes. Jamie is the heir presumptive, and is celebrating his twenty-first birthday during the party. He’s trying his best to avoid match making mamas. Beyond that, I think he’s merely lonely.”

  “And he’s invited you along because?” If there was one thing Roberta Darrington was good at, it was picking at an issue until a confession was forthcoming. She kept on until she had answers. “Does he harbor a tendre for you? He’s more suited to your sister than you, thou
gh she’d still be his senior by eight years.”

  Charlotte grinned, but turned away before her prying parent could question her further. “I’m willing to wager he most certainly does not. He and I are merely friends.” Jamie Grantley, though he would inherit the title someday, was not interested in female bed partners. He wished the secret to remain private at all costs. How she’d stumbled upon it, she had no idea. Males of all ages simply enjoyed talking to her, perhaps because she wasn’t a threat of tricking them into parson’s mousetrap. “He’s asked me there as moral support, and perhaps as a blind to discourage fortune hunters.”

  In the future, he’d need to learn how to avoid such pitfalls by himself, though the sad fact remained, he’d have to marry a woman eventually, simply to silence gossip mongers and keep up appearances. His match would be for name and connections only. I cannot be flitting off to hither and yon whenever he’s feeling threatened. But, he was young yet with the world at his feet.

  “I’m not sure how I feel about having you go to the Ravenhurst country estate. The rumors surrounding him are vague at best, but they say he has a vile temper and is prone to yelling at everyone without provocation.”

  “I shall mind my steps.” But the pull of the mystery sent little chills of excitement up her spine. “Never fear, Mother. I shall be home in a week, and back in your clutches.”

  A frown creased Roberta’s face. “Please promise you’ll settle down soon. I want grandchildren.”

  “There’s more to life than marriage and offspring.” When her parent didn’t comment, Charlotte sighed. “I’m sure Felix is anxious to give them to you. He’s well enough enamored of his wife.” Really, it was scandalous how much her brother was devoted to Claire already.