Where Have All the Scoundrels Gone?
by
Donna Cummings
Where Have All the Scoundrels Gone?
That is precisely what the Dowager Lady Thornham wants to know. She devotes her days to reading every scandalous morsel published about London's rakes and rogues, but lately it seems they have all settled down and abandoned their wicked behavior.
Fortunately the Dowager has hit upon a new diversion: matchmaking. She has summoned her three nephews to a house party attended by a score of marriage-minded debutantes, and warned the young men they shall lose their quarterly allowance if they thwart her matrimonial schemes.
Three Scoundrel Heroes. One Determined Dowager. Three Unexpected Romances.
Miles – The summertime gathering is a good excuse for Miles to reminisce with his cousins about the mischief they have gleefully caused their aunt throughout the years. The allowance would benefit his upcoming return to Egypt, financing his quest for antiquities, but a bride is not in his plans...until he rescues the beautiful widow Gemma and her pesky cat Snowball from some treacherous rosebushes.
Richard – His resistance to marriage makes him utterly irresistible to the marriageable females in attendance. Unfortunately for them, he is only interested in Constance, a doctor's daughter who refuses to give her heart again, especially to a charming scoundrel who extracts secrets for a living. When his wooing has little effect, he proves his devotion in another way—with a fairyland hideaway he has created just for her.
William – He is the quiet one that people rarely notice unless he is sketching their likeness. His aunt's paid companion, Honora, a budding artist, has been both his muse and the source of his inability to paint since their first brief encounter two years previously. A series of secret art lessons benefits them both, and their budding attraction is given a chance to finally blossom.
Copyright 2017 Donna Cummings. All Rights Reserved.
Cover by Carrie Peters, http://www.cheekycovers.com
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Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Miles
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Richard
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
William
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Epilogue
About the Author
Connect Online
Available Regency Romance
Future Releases
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Chapter 1
"Oh, this news is just too distressing." The Dowager Lady Thornham snapped the newspaper shut and tossed it onto the settee next to her. "I cannot even bear to peruse the papers anymore."
Honora glanced up from her embroidery. "More news of war?"
"What? No, nothing of that sort. It is this lack of scandal I cannot abide. You know how I am accustomed to reading the exploits of rakes and rogues every day. But now that Lord Wastrel and Lord Rakehell have married and become respectable..."
She sniffed, as if holding back tears, but Honora could not remember a time in the past three years when the Dowager had shed a single genuine tear.
Still, part of the job as paid companion was to distract the Dowager, and what always worked the best was planting an idea her employer could claim as her own.
"What you need is a new diversion."
The Dowager gazed off into the distance, as if lost in her thoughts. After several moments, she perked up. "You know what I need? I need a new diversion."
"What a brilliant notion!"
"Yes, it is. And I have just the thing. I have been pondering what to do about my scapegrace nephews. They have been allowed to do whatever they please for much too long—all three of them—and now it is time to spur them into considering the matrimonial state."
Honora blinked. She had not anticipated the Dowager would choose something as momentous as matchmaking for an amusement. Perhaps another distraction would be necessary, to divert the Dowager from the current, sure-to-be disastrous one she had selected.
"Are you certain this is wise?"
"I cannot see why not. If other scoundrels can find true love, surely they can too. With my assistance, of course."
Honora nodded slowly. "How shall you accomplish that?"
"The way it is always done." The Dowager cackled. "By threatening to withhold their quarterly allowance."
***
Miles Colborne sat on a brocade settee, his long legs crossed, waiting with his cousins for the Dowager to join them in the parlor. William, the eldest, leaned casually against the mantelpiece, the picture of calm, while Richard paced the room as he usually did.
Miles had not seen either of them for quite some time, since he was usually in Egypt, always on the hunt for antiquities. A depletion of funds had coincided with a twinge of homesickness, however, and just as he had returned to England, the Dowager had sent her summons.
"How did she get you here?" he asked. "Did she say she was at her deathbed?"
Richard snorted. "She is the sturdiest person I know. Death is afraid of her."
"Besides," William said with a slow grin, "she used that excuse the last time she had us come round. She knows we will not believe her if she uses it again."
"Is she still using that blasted lorgnette?" Miles glanced at Richard. "I still go off in peals of laughter remembering the time you put coal dust around the edge of the lenses." He mimed circles around his eyes. "How long before she discovered it?"
"Not until after she had greeted everyone for dinner that evening." Richard chuckled. "I suppose I should not have done it when she had so many illustrious guests attending."
William gave both of them a mock glare. "She scolded me incessantly, insisting I had used my charcoals for the prank. I would never treat my supplies so callously."
"Spoken as the artist that you are," Miles said with a grin. "And you were never tempted to tell her who the real culprit was?"
William shook his head slowly, but his lips tilted up in a decidedly mischievous fashion. "I merely sketched out the scene of Richard doing the deed. I plan to blackmail him with it one day."
Richard rolled his eyes, clearly not concerned at being caught out. "As long as nobody divulges the time we replaced her wine with plain grape juice. She still boasts about how she can drink every one of us under the table."
They all laughed at that shared memory, and it reminded Miles how he had missed his cousins. He was glad they would have the next fortnight to visit with each other, and perhaps find new ways to torment their beloved aunt.
"She is likely to harangue us about settling down, you know." William moved away from the mantel and took up a seat next to Miles. "And threaten to tighten the purse strings, to curtail our present activities."
"That is nothing new for her. But as I have not seen the harridan for a long while, I was willing to give her a few weeks of my time."
"Surely she will not attempt any more matchmaking schemes. I have not yet recovered from the last one." Richard shuddered. "In truth, she may have ensured I remain a bachelor until I die."
"I would say she ha
s learned her lesson after that fiasco," Miles said.
"Who has learned their lesson?" The Dowager sailed into the room, pinning each one of them with her intense glare, as if she could get one of them to confess.
They instantly stood up and straightened their shoulders, their demeanor a bit more deferential now that she was surveying them with her ever-present lorgnette. Old habits were definitely hard to overcome where she was concerned.
Miles was the first to recover. He lifted her hand, bowing over it. "Such a pleasure to set eyes on you again. It has been too long since our last visit."
She rapped his shoulder with her fan. "Not because I have been unwilling to see you."
He stood back, frowning, while his cousins did their best to keep from snickering behind him.
"I have brought all of you here for a reason." Her eyes pierced them with unmistakable intent. "It is high time you found yourselves brides."
"But Auntie, we are young men still," Richard attempted, his eyes twinkling.
"Not if you wait much longer," she retorted. She looked them over once more, then shook her head mournfully. "I fear none of you will have the requisite vigor to carry on the family line."
That set up an immediate squawk of protests, but she did not seem to concern herself with their dismay. Instead she headed towards a nearby sofa, getting herself settled while they continued to gape at how she had practically declared them impotent. No one else would dare question their manhood, yet she did it without fail each time she saw them.
They all fought off grins.
"I am quite serious," she insisted. "Miles is always off in the desert, digging for relics that are best left undisturbed, while Richard is traipsing about the continent, doing who knows what for Whitehall. William is the only one content to stay home, though he is always hidden away in his studio—"
"Have you anyone in mind for each of us?" William asked.
"No, not this time. You always seem so unappreciative of my efforts. But I plan to assist in a small way this next fortnight. I am having a house party, with numerous eligible young women. They are settling in now, as we speak, and once they have, you can commence wooing your future bride."
"You expect us to offer for someone before the party ends?" Miles's astonishment could not be contained. They had managed to avoid parson's mousetrap for years. How was it possible they would find someone suitable in a mere two weeks? At least she did not expect them to fall in love too.
"And here we thought you preferred us as rogues and scoundrels," Richard teased. "Once we are finally domesticated—"
Her laugh was a hearty one. "I believe your scoundrel tendencies will never disappear completely. Which is why you must each find a woman who considers that quality as important as anything else about you."
"There are such creatures?" William asked. "I have never encountered any. Have you, Miles?"
"Not in my travels. Perhaps this shall turn out to be an intriguing endeavor after all. Merely to determine if our illustrious aunt knows of what she speaks."
"Hah! I always do." She lifted her lorgnette, gave it a good looking-over before raising it to her eyes, and then studied each one of her nephews. "Now which one of you will be the first to succumb?"
Miles
Chapter 2
Miles was the first to escape, and a stroll around the gardens was just what he was after. No one was about—the heat was a bit more intense than most people could bear. He actually preferred it, after spending the past few years abroad in hotter climes.
He walked past the manicured gardens, grinning at the Dowager's belief that her carefree nephews would be able to find love at her house party. It was easy enough to let her have her way for two weeks' time, especially if it meant she would not retract the allowance she loved to dangle in front of them.
He would survive without it, of course. But it would certainly assist in financing his next excursion...
"Oh you blasted thing!"
Miles halted. That was not the language he expected to hear coming from the numerous rows of yellow rose bushes. Nor did he usually hear such heated words in a soft, melodious voice.
His gaze was instantly caught by a froth of white muslin, near the ground, wedged between two closely-planted rose bushes. He moved closer and saw the sheer fabric was draped over a woman's shapely bottom. It was the only thing visible, since it appeared she had been captured headfirst by the ferocious plants.
He grinned. "Allow me to assist, madam."
"Could you? I would be so grateful." She began to wriggle, which was not what he had anticipated, but he could not deny it was a delightful sight. "Drat! I should never have come through here."
Before he could question why she had chosen such a route, he heard a distressed mewling sound.
"There now," he rushed to reassure her, "no need to succumb to tears. We shall have you out of there in no time at all."
An enchanting round of giggles followed his words. "That was not me. That was Snowball, the reason I am caught in this predicament. Such a naughty kitten."
The young miss attempted once more to back away, but there was a distinct sound of tearing. He did not have to imagine the calamity that would ensue if they were caught together, her clothes in shreds.
"Madam, please." He approached her quickly. The thorns had managed to catch her from both sides, which made it impossible for her to retreat. "If you will permit me to remove the thorns from your ensemble, we can get you upright once more." He knelt to one side of her and began working on a large thorn embedded in the delicate muslin. "What possessed Snowball to choose this particular hiding place?"
"I have no idea. We were simply out for a walk—"
He could not contain his laughter. "I had no idea kittens enjoyed going for a stroll."
"This one is a bit unusual." Her laugh was as delightful as her voice. "Not to mention completely wicked. I can see the wretch reclining right in front of me, but can't quite reach..."
There was another determined wiggle, as she obviously tried to grab the instigator of this situation.
"I fear you will rend your dress if you continue—" Miles could not help but imagine such a sight, but it was so craven, he pushed it aside immediately. "Hold still while I disentangle you, and then I shall see about luring Snowball from her lair. Or his lair."
She giggled. "Her lair."
"Snowball is rather clever, for it appears she has lured you into the precise spot with the biggest thorns." He carefully extracted the barbs from the fabric on the left side, and then moved to the other side. "This one appears to be a bit more difficult."
"Why is that?"
"I cannot see where it has caught you. No, do not move about or you shall catch yourself on the one I have just removed."
"Can you attempt to reach it?"
"It would require some—" He swallowed with a bit of difficulty. "Uh, exploration."
"Oh."
"Yes. Precisely."
"I could try to reach my hand back—Ow!" There were some unladylike curses amongst the muttered words, along with several threats of what Snowball was likely to suffer in the very near future. "I had never realized quite how many thorns one rose bush contained. Well, we must do something. I cannot stay like this for the remainder of the day."
"Of course. You must be getting overwarm." He bent and began to work the thorn loose, careful not to touch her in any untoward way. To distract himself, and her, he decided it was best to continue their conversation. "I hope you have not been here a length of time. It would not do to stay in this heat for too long."
"It is rather shaded, which may be why Snowball chose to dart under here. But I must return soon." She chuckled. "I cannot miss the parade of marriage-minded debutantes intent on snaring one of the Dowager's nephews. With two dozen young women in attendance, the hunting is bound to be quite fierce."
Miles found himself enchanted with her voice, filled with amusement rather than distress. He had never enjoyed a tête-à-tête
more than this one, and he had yet to see her face-to-face.
She also had a lot more aplomb than any debutante he had encountered previously. They would have been wailing instead of laughing over a situation such as this. Now, thanks to his aunt, he would be surrounded by numerous such females, each one determined to leave this party with a husband.
He barely bit back a groan. "How many prizes, er, nephews are there?"
"There are three, though the Dowager also invited a few other unsuspecting young men, possibly to give her nephews an occasional respite."
"You are making me feel a great deal of sympathy for the poor nephews. And you are not participating in this endeavor?" He found that regrettable, since he was already anticipating more encounters with her.
"After a fashion. I have been charged with ensuring the young misses have plenty of opportunities to engage with the potential bridegrooms."
"A matchmaker then. Why were you selected for this important role?"
"I have wondered that myself." She chuckled again. "Perhaps because I have a little experience at keeping people entertained. Still, I realized a long time ago it was pointless to ask the Dowager for her reasons, as she does not always know herself."
"Hmm." Miles finally removed one last determined thorn, and her dress was free. "You should be able to back away now. Though I would do so slowly," he instructed. "I shall hold back this branch that seems particularly intent on snagging you once more if given the chance."
"Thank you," she said, slowly moving towards him. "Snowball, I have you in my clutches now, so there is no point in attempting to wriggle free. I have a will just as strong as yours."
Miles laughed once more. In the next instant, she had cleared the rose bushes, and was doing her best to stand up, which was difficult with an unhappy cat in her arms.
"Allow me." He lightly touched her arm to assist. Once she was upright, she straightened her bonnet, moved the cat more tightly into her arms, and then turned to look at her rescuer.
A slow smile appeared on her face, and Miles could only describe his resulting emotion as thunderstruck.
She was a beauty, no doubt about that. What man would not enjoy the sight of her golden curls and spring-green eyes? But the sheer happiness on her face, as if he had delivered her from the depths of hell...it made a man wish to live up to such heroic expectations.
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