by Bree Wolf
A Forbidden Love Novella Series
Box Set One
( Novellas 1 - 4 )
by Bree Wolf
A Forbidden Love Novella Series
Box Set One
by Bree Wolf
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, brands, media, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in fictitious manner.
Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Cover Art by Victoria Cooper
Copyright © 2017 Sabrina Wolf
www.breewolf.com
All Rights Reserved
This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
To my Readers
I couldn't have written my stories without your wonderful inspiration
Table of Contents
The Wrong Brother
Prologue
Chapter One − A Brother's Return
Chapter Two − A Perfect Match
Chapter Three − Vows Spoken
Chapter Four − A Moment of Truth
Chapter Five − A Heart Stolen
Chapter Six − A Favour Asked
Chapter Seven − Notorious Norwood
Chapter Eight − The Wrong Sister
Chapter Nine − Unrequited Love
Chapter Ten − An Unbearable Temptation
Chapter Eleven − A Confession Long Awaited
Chapter Twelve − Rewards & Sacrifices
Chapter Thirteen − Duty & Desire
Epilogue
A Brilliant Rose
Prologue
Chapter One − In His Brother's Shoes
Chapter Two − Loyalty
Chapter Three − A Kindred Soul
Chapter Four − The Good & the Bad
Chapter Five − Ties of the Past
Chapter Six − A Mere Acquaintance
Chapter Seven − A Chance Encounter
Chapter Eight − A Night to Remember
Chapter Nine − A Brother's Return
Chapter Ten − A Version of the Truth
Chapter Eleven − A Late Confession
Chapter Twelve − Deception
Chapter Thirteen − The Man She Loves
Epilogue
The Forgotten Wife
Prologue
Chapter One − A Day to be Remembered
Chapter Two − A Daring Plan
Chapter Three − A Stranger
Chapter Four − In the Snow
Chapter Five − A Scoundrel
Chapter Six − A Sleigh Ride
Chapter Seven − A Wakeful Night
Chapter Eight − A Wife Returns
Chapter Nine − Dance Practice
Chapter Ten − Another Wakeful Night
Chapter Eleven − The Christmas Ball
Chapter Twelve − The Truth in a Kiss
Chapter Thirteen − Impossible to Resist
Epilogue
An Unwelcome Proposal
Prologue
Chapter One − Curse you, Wesley Everett
Chapter Two − A Ludicrous Plan
Chapter Three − Whose Brother-in-law?
Chapter Four − Off to Sanford Manor
Chapter Five − A Most Unwelcome Proposal or Two
Chapter Six − Stanhope Grove
Chapter Seven − For a Lady's Reputation
Chapter Eight − Lady Eleanor's Demand
Chapter Nine − To Love or Not to Love
Chapter Ten − A Wife's Return
Chapter Eleven − Dance Practise
Chapter Twelve − A Proposal Repeated
Chapter Thirteen − The Christmas Ball
Chapter Fourteen − A Brother's Advice
Chapter Fifteen − A New Season
Chapter Sixteen − Lady Rigsby's Proposal
Chapter Seventeen − A Truly Lucky Man
Epilogue
About Bree
Also By Bree
Dear Reader,
Love's Second Chance Series - Overview
Read a Sneak-peek
Prologue
Chapter One - A New Wife
Chapter Two - On Becoming a Governess
Chapter Three - The Proposal
The Wrong Brother
(#1 A Forbidden Love Novella Series)
About the Book
She gave him her hand in marriage.
Her heart, however, was stolen by his brother.
Despite her parents' deep love for one another, ISABELLA CARRINGTON has always favoured her mind over her heart.
Upon meeting CHARLES DASHWOOD, she quickly decides that he is the one for her. After all, he has all the qualities she appreciates in a man; he is kind, honest, and most of all dependable.
At least until her wedding day when Isabella suddenly desires someone entirely different, or doesn't she?
In the very moment Isabella whispers her 'I do,' her eyes catch the glimpse of another man. A man whose eyes look unnervingly familiar, and, yet, stir a longing within her heart and soul she has never known.
Just as she gives her hand to Charles Dashwood, her heart is stolen by none other than her husband's notorious twin, Robert.
When mind and heart do not go hand in hand, can there be a happily ever after?
Prologue
England 1802 (or a variation thereof)
“Argh!” Robert screamed, raking his hands through his hair. “This is agonizing! Why do we have to study Latin if it’s a dead language?” Shaking his head, he stared at the pages before him.
“Because it’s the language of scholars,” Charles replied. “Latin and Greek are at the root of every modern language and help us decipher history long forgotten.”
“Ugh!” Robert exclaimed, crinkling his nose as he looked at his younger twin. “You sound just like Mr. Punham.” Pushing back his chair, he sat sideways, eyes intent on his brother. “But you know what? There is a reason why history is long forgotten, and that’s because it is of no importance. What good will knowing Latin do?”
Putting down his quill, Charles turned to his brother. Although they shared the same coppery brown hair and hazel eyes, the smirk that usually decorated his twin’s face spoke volumes of the differences in character they couldn’t seem to overcome. “It allows us to read ancient texts and discover how people lived thousands of years ago, what their form of government was, what science they had and−”
“As I said,” Robert interrupted, “it is nothing but a waste of time.” Lifting his eyes, a longing smile came to his face. “We should be out there.” He gestured to the window and the open fields beyond, running all the way to the horizon, only bordered by a thick-growing forest to the east of Bridgemoore Manor. “That’s the real world. Adventure awaits out there. This,” he gave his book a hard shove so that it went over the edge of the table and hit the floor with a loud thud, “this is just boring.”
Shaking his head, Charles leaned down and picked up his brother’s book. “If you don’t study, Father will not let you come to the exhibit at the British Museum.”
Robert sighed. “Well, I’d say that would be good news…although going to London would be something. I bet there is a lot going on there apart from dusty museums and such.”
“But they have the Rosetta Stone on display,” Charles objected, feeling excitement bubble up in his veins. “It is the key to deciphering−”
> “Why would I care about some old stone?” Robert whined. “Charles, the world is not only what you find between the covers of your books. It is out there.” Rising from his chair, he strode over to the window, an awe-filled expression in his eyes as he gazed at the stretch of green leading from the home he had been born to and the title he was to inherit to adventures unknown. “Let’s go,” he said, then turned and grabbed his brother’s arm.
“Go where?” Charles protested, trying to pull his arm free.
Dragging his brother behind him, Robert yanked open the door then peeked down the corridor. “Let’s shoot some arrows,” he whispered. When the coast remained clear, he proceeded down the corridor, still holding on to his brother’s arm.
“Arrows?” Charles gasped, trying to free himself. “But Father said we were too young. He said−”
“He did when he was our age,” Robert objected. “And besides, what could happen?”
“We could get hurt.” Unable to wrench himself from his brother’s tight grip, Charles reluctantly followed him outside. “How would you know what to do? Have you ever even held a bow and arrow?”
Turning his head, Robert winked at him.
Charles’ eyes bulged. “You have? When? Father said−”
“Father is just as much a bookworm as you are,” Robert snapped. “I taught myself.”
After retrieving a bow as well as a quiver with arrows from a hiding place in the stables, Robert dragged his younger twin toward the tree line, always ducking behind bushes and running from tree to tree so as to stay out of sight.
“Is this truly your idea of fun?” Charles heaved, trying to draw in a deep breath, his face flushed with exertion.
Frowning at his brother, Robert shook his head. “You sound like Aunt Patty, always wheezing as soon as she takes a single step. You should really pull your head out of your books more often and join me in the real world.”
Proceeding deeper into the forest, Robert finally stopped at a fallen log. “This is where I come to practice.”
Staring at him dumbfounded, Charles shook his head, wondering if this boy, who was just now fitting an arrow into the bow, could truly be his brother.
“This is how you do it,” he instructed, eyes concentrated. Never had Charles seen him so focused on anything. “Don’t clench your hand. Then pull back the arrow as much as you can, aim a little higher than the target you have your eye on and…,” he took a deep breath, “release!”
The arrow shot forward, sailing through the air, and hit its mark−feathers and string tied into a circular pattern hung up in a tree at least fifty yards away.
“Yes!” Robert cheered, hopping up and down in a victory dance. “I told you I could do it!” Then he turned to his brother, and Charles knew that something was up. “Do you want to try?”
Eyes wide, he shook his head.
“Just once,” Robert said, holding out his bow. “If you try it, I promise I’ll study all afternoon tomorrow.”
“Really?” Charles whispered, eyeing the bow and his brother suspiciously. “Only once?”
“Only once.”
Reaching out his hand, Charles reluctantly took the bow, surprised how light it was. Then he accepted the arrow his brother offered him and stepped up to the mark. Taking a deep breath, he followed Robert’s instructions, carefully fitting the arrow onto the string. Bracing himself, Charles let it slide over his hand as he pulled back the string and took aim.
Beside him, his brother grinned, and Charles felt goose bumps crawl up his back. What had he gotten himself into?
“I promise I’ll study with you,” Robert said, eyeing his brother with a satisfied grin.
“All right,” Charles said and pulled back the arrow as far as he could, feeling beats of sweat pop up on his forehead. His fingers began to tremble with the exertion.
“But only if you hit the mark,” Robert whispered into his ear.
“What?” Startled, Charles spun around, staring at his brother, who instantly ducked as the arrow was released and shot past his head through the thicket of the forest.
Staring after it, both brothers winced when a pained howl reached their ears mere moments later.
“Drat!” Robert exclaimed, his hand once more closing around his brother’s arm. Dragging him forward, he found his way through the thicket and out of the forest. When the meadow came in sight, voices echoed over from the stables, and they found their tutor, Mr. Punham, lying in the grass, hands wrapped around his left calf, face distorted painfully.
“I hit him,” Charles whispered, staring at the arrow protruding from his tutor’s lower leg. Blood seeped from the wound, staining his stockings as well as the grass.
***
Waiting in their father’s study, Charles couldn’t get the image of Mr. Punham’s distorted face out of his head. “I shot him,” he whispered for the millionth time. The man had taught him Greek and Latin, opened up the world to him of the beauties of ancient societies, and now, he lay bleeding in the downstairs parlour.
“He will be all right,” Robert whispered beside him, his own cheeks a slightly paler colour as well. “After all, it is only a flesh wound.”
Staring at him, Charles shook his head. “How can you say that? How can you−?”
The door opened, and both boys shot to their feet.
Never had Charles given his father cause for displeasure, and so when the man’s stern eyes fell on him, Charles felt tears stinging his eyes. “I am so sorry,” he whispered, eyes fixed on the floor.
Coming to stand before them, their father shook his head. “I am severely disappointed in you.” His voice rang cold, not resembling the kind-hearted man Charles knew him to be. “I might have expected such behaviour from you, Robert, but Charles, what in the devil’s name has gotten into you? Shooting an arrow at your tutor?” Again, he shook his head, disbelief darkening his eyes. “I thought you to be a responsible, young man, not a reckless child.” Sighing, he closed his eyes. “I suppose I was mistaken.”
His gaze shifting from one son to the other, Viscount Norwood crossed his arms, and Charles knew that he was about to find out what punishment he was to receive. “Since I cannot trust that you will display appropriate manners when in London, I am afraid I have no choice but to leave you here.” Charles gasped, feeling the blood rush from his head. “You are to stay at Bridgemoore under Mr. Punham’s strict supervision−should he decide to stay on−and spend your summer reviewing the appropriate behaviour of a gentleman. Am I understood?”
“Yes, Father,” Charles whispered as stars began to dance before his eyes and the breath caught in his throat. “I am so sorry.”
“Well, it is a bit late for−”
“Father!” Robert interrupted, taking a step forward. “Charles is not at fault here; I am.”
Unable to believe his ears, Charles stared at his brother.
Lord Norwood’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean? Did Charles not shoot the arrow? When we came upon you, he was holding the bow in his hand.”
Straightening to his full height, Robert raised his head. “He took it from me. In fact, the only reason he was out there was to try to stop me. It was my idea. The bow and arrows are mine as well. I have been practising for a while now, and when Charles found out, he told me I was not to continue. However, I did not listen.” He took a deep breath. “I know I should have. I did not mean to hurt Mr. Punham. It was an accident.” He glanced at his brother. “Do not punish him. He is merely trying to protect me.”
For a moment, Lord Norwood remained silent, glancing back and forth between his sons, his eyes narrowed with suspicion. “Is that true?” he finally asked, looking at Charles.
Feeling the blood drain from his face once more, Charles didn’t know what to say. He glanced at his brother, stammering unintelligibly.
Nodding his head imperceptibly, Robert’s eyes urged him to agree.
“Well, I…” He took a deep breath and then looked at his father. “Yes, it is.”
Robert drew in a sharp breath before nodding his head. “Yes, father.”
Returning to the seat behind his desk, Lord Norwood bid them to leave. “Oh, and Charles? Although it is noble to want to protect your brother, I would strongly advise against lying to your father! Is that clear?”
Charles nodded, then followed his brother out into the hall. The second the door closed behind them, he pulled Robert back. “Why did you do that? It was my fault. I shot Mr. Punham.”
Robert shrugged. “That may be so, but the only reason you were out there was because I did not give you a choice.”
“That’s not true,” Charles disagreed. “I could have just left. You did not force me to pick up the bow.”
“Maybe not, but I distracted you.” When Charles opened his mouth to protest, Robert lifted a hand to stop him. “Leave it be, Charles. Go to London, see that stupid stone of yours, and who knows, a day may come when I need you to protect me.” Smiling, Robert clamped a hand on his brother’s shoulder then turned around and walked down the corridor.
Charles simply stared after him, for the first time understanding the true meaning of brotherhood.
Chapter One − A Brother's Return
Fifteen Years Later
Breathing in the early night air, Robert Dashwood looked up at the looming structure of Bridgemoore Manor. It had been years since he had been here. Not since his father had died and passed on his title to him.
The very sight of his childhood home made his insides quiver. Memories resurfaced of careless days spent in leisure with his brother, with his friends. A smile drew up the corners of his mouth as he remembered the many days he had spent in detention, punishment for yet another reckless deed he had felt compelled to do. Those days had been good; yet, the moment he had come of age, Robert had left, his feet trembling with the need to get away and see the world.