To Romance a Scoundrel

by Rosie Wynter

  After Lord Dalton had settled matters with Mr Rosingden, the company planned to return to Holdenwood Manor. Claire was pleased to find the earl as keen as she was to return to the estate and to share the news of their happiness with her sister and brother-in-law. Although, ultimately, it would be Claire’s father in Bradford who would have the final say on the matter, it felt important to both of them that they received a blessing on their union from Grace and Cromford. After all, it was through them that they had first met. The road had been full of difficulty, but both were grateful to have been set on the path by Claire’s sister and brother-in-law.

  The earl’s sister, Amelia, joined the party on the return trip to Holdenwood Manor. Claire was quietly amused to think that she had ever suspected the girl of being romantically linked to Lord Dalton. Studying them with new eyes, it seemed almost obvious that the pair were brother and sister, or at least treated each other as such. Throughout the journey, Lord Dalton teased Amelia by talking about all the new architectural projects he intended to undertake in the future, including the completion of Holdenwood Manor’s west wing. Amelia, as fastidious as the earl had claimed, had much to say on the subject, and seemed eager to direct his attention towards his duties as Earl of Dalton.

  Claire was heartened to see the two conversing together with easy and friendly bickering. In a way, the mismatched pair reminded her of how she was with her own sisters. Although she could not know for certain what Amelia thought of her, Claire saw the potential for a lifelong friend in the girl. At the very least, she was encouraged by the fact that Amelia said nothing against Lord Dalton’s courtship of Claire, nor did she try to dissuade him from his growing relationship with Claire.

  By sheer luck, the four companions arrived at Holdenwood Manor just as an excited commotion was rippling through the property. The first sign that anything was afoot came when the group arrived at the front of the house to find no one waiting to greet them. Even the servants took some time to notice their arrival and had to apologise for not greeting them sooner.

  As Claire was helped out of the carriage by Lord Dalton, she felt a thrill run through her. Her eyes glanced at her aunt. Aunt Lynch wore a quiet smile on her face and puffed out her chest proudly as she looked at her youngest niece.

  “Well Claire, I do believe news of your courtship with the earl will not be the most exciting thing to happen at Holdenwood Manor today.”

  “I pray that dear Grace will deliver her little one into the world safely, and I gladly accept my news playing second fiddle.”

  “I suppose if your sister is in confinement, then you should go on ahead of my brother and I,” Amelia said, cutting straight to the practicalities. “I dare say she will welcome your presence. My brother and I can see to Cromford and ensure that he does not wear himself out, pacing the corridors in worry.”

  Claire nodded at Amelia, and at once the four of them went about their tasks. Claire and Aunt Lynch were directed straight to the upper floors to help support Grace, while Amelia and Lord Dalton went to the drawing room to join the Duke of Cromford.

  As Claire and her aunt were led up the stairs toward Grace’s chamber, they heard the sound of footsteps moving hurriedly along the corridor. They turned to find Catherine running towards them at speed. It was completely unlike the usually demure and quiet woman to sprint under any circumstances. Knowing this, Claire could only guess that the woman had news.

  “Claire! Claire, you have come!” Catherine fell into Claire, wrapping her arms about her in an excited hug. Claire was knocked back several paces by the woman, but she did not mind in the slightest. Everything in Catherine’s excited manner and delighted tone promised good news.

  “Catherine, is it…? Am I… am I an aunt?”

  “Yes, Claire,” Catherine said, sounding as proud as though the babe were her own. “You are an aunt to a beautiful baby girl.”

  Claire’s heart skipped at the news. She beamed a huge smile and looked at Aunt Lynch.

  “Another girl in the family,” the woman said with a smirk. “And here I thought my time as a matchmaker in this family would come to a natural end. Now I will have to trundle on for another eighteen years, to ensure this little bundle has me to look after her when she starts the season.”

  Claire shook her head. “I would perhaps stave off planning for that, Aunt. You have quite some time to wait before Grace’s baby has any need of your skills and talents.”

  “I should think so too,” Aunt Lynch replied. “After all the trouble you and your sisters have caused me, I think I am owed a few years of rest before I get to work again, sourcing suitable husbands for my female family members.”

  “Well, let us not delay. I want to see this little miracle right now.”

  Catherine nodded at Claire. “If you and your aunt wish to go to Grace’s room, I know she will be thrilled to see you. I must go down to Cromford and let him know he is a father.”

  Aunt Lynch followed Claire to Grace’s room but opted to wait outside to give the sisters some time alone together. Claire felt some trepidation as she opened the door. Butterflies danced around inside her, and she felt as giddy as she had on Christmas morning in her youthful days.

  Grace was sat up in bed, a plethora of pillows surrounding her and keeping her propped up. She was holding a small bundle in her arms. Her hair, normally so pristine and well-coiffed, was a mess. A sheen of sweat clung to her and the bedclothes stuck to her skin here and there. Yet, in spite of this, Claire could not recollect a time when her sister had ever looked more beautiful.

  “Sister, you made it.” Grace let out a contented sigh and patted the mattress.

  Claire stepped forward, sitting down on the bed next to her sister. For a moment the two of them were silent. Claire stared in awe at the baby girl held in her sister’s arms. She was quite the most beautiful thing Claire had ever seen, and she knew she would struggle ever to be away from her young niece now that she had seen her.

  As she stared in wonderment, Claire felt her sister lean against her. Grace adjusted herself so that her head rested on Claire’s shoulder and they both stared down at the tiny treasure she had brought into the world.

  “I did not think I could feel any happier this day,” Grace mumbled. “I knew bringing my precious daughter into the world would bring me joy, but it means so much more to have you here with me. My happiness is complete, knowing my dear family is with me and to know that you are now as blessed in love as I am.”

  This tore Claire’s eyes away from the baby for a moment. She raised a brow as she looked at her sister. “What makes you say that? In my letter I made no mention of why Aunt Lynch and I decided to return here so quickly.”

  Careful to ensure her baby was secure in one arm, Grace shifted her weight and freed up her other hand. She twined her fingers into Claire’s.

  “When your letter said you would be travelling down with Lord Dalton, I added this to all the strange reports I have heard from London and it did not take much for me to put two and two together. Certainly, I will be disappointed if you have not come here with good news of your own.”

  “I do have good news – the best.” Claire squeezed her sister’s hand more firmly. “But, I will tell you all about it later. For now, can we just stay like this? Let us just enjoy all that we have and have been blessed with.”

  Grace took a deep breath. “That sounds wonderful to me. Would you like to hold your niece?”

  “Of course,” Claire said. Her eyes brimmed with tears as her sister carefully handed the small sleeping bundle over to her.

  “Now, while I’m trying to find some rest, tell me a story… you always know the very best stories. Make it about a young girl who was a nuisance to her older sister and yet managed to find happiness at last with an earl.”

  Claire giggled. “Very well.”

  Eyes fixed on her new niece, Claire began to tell her story.

  The End

  Dear Reader,

  Did you enjoy the romance novel?
If you did, we’d love to invite you to read “To Love A Rogue“, book one in the same series about Rosalie, Claire’s oldest sister and book two titled “To Steal a Duke’s Heart“ about Grace, her middle sister.

  Would you like to be informed as soon as the next volume in the series is published? Then sign up here to Audrey’s mailing list. We will send you a short message via email as soon as the next books are ready to go. Subscribers will receive a chance to read them for free.

  Happy reading!

  Yours,

  Rosie Wynter & Audrey Ashwood

  The Curtis Sisters – Books in the Same Series

  Book 1: To Love a Rogue

  After two failed seasons in London, Rosalie Curtis is taken in by her influential aunt, the Dowager Duchess Lady Lynch. During her stay in London, Rosalie meets Peter Farrell, a man she instantly connects with and who appears to be a true and honest gentleman. However, Rosalie soon discovers that the man is rumoured to be concealing a nefarious and sordid past…

  “I am hooked. The way she writes is truly spectacular.”

  “I stayed up most of the night reading to the last page.”

  “A wonderfully written, steady paced, easy to follow, smooth flowing read that captures your attention from the start. The characters were intriguing, complex and a few deceptions. I was mesmerized following the characters as their personalities transformed and blossomed to life.”

  “A WHIRLWIND REGENCY AT ITS FINEST!!!”

  Book 2: To Steal a Duke’s Heart

  Beautiful Grace Curtis sets her sights on handsome George Blackmore, the newly appointed Duke of Cromford. However, fate seems intent on keeping them apart. When the duke’s younger brother develops an interest in Grace’s friend, Grace is determined to bring the pair together so that she might see the Duke again – and steal his heart…

  “I enjoyed this romance because it took a different turn than most.”

  “All the twists and turns really bring this little gem bursting alive perfectly.”

  “A book with a lot of wit and humor.”

  “This story emotionally touched my heart. The storytelling is marvellous, with a beautiful flow and a great attention to historic details.”

  “How can two brothers be so different? One is honest and straitlaced, the other is a rogue! Another great book by Ms. Ashwood.”

  “The ending was great.”

  Book 3: To Romance a Scoundrel

  After disgracing herself in her first season in London society, Claire is sent to stay with family in the countryside. There, Claire is introduced to the Earl of Dalton, and they begin a courtship. That is, until she meets Mr Ruben Hawkins, a dashing rogue. Claire is drawn to him in the most vexing way and, suddenly, the earl seems dull in comparison…

  Sneak Peek: A Bride for the Viscount’s Cold Son

  A Sweet Historical Romance by Audrey Ashwood

  A poor village orphan.

  An unexpected fortune.

  Can she overcome her humble beginnings to find true love?

  Regency London. Lavinia Talridge is heartbroken. Struggling to survive after her mother’s death, she discovers a wealthy grandmother and a second chance. Before she can believe her new life is true, Lavinia has an arranged marriage to a handsome gentleman and a chance at love.

  But when the Viscount’s son acts coldly towards her, Lavinia assumes her lower-class background is to blame. Afraid to go through with the potentially joyless marriage, can the former villager find a lifetime worth of love?

  “A Bride for the Viscount’s Cold Son” is a sweet Regency romance with a dash of suspense. If you like authentic women, tender moments, and changing fortunes, then you’ll love Audrey Ashwood’s delightful story.

  Reading Sample:

  The vicar invited Lavinia to stay at the rectory for a few days, but she declined his offer. Instead, she left with a hamper of food from the vicar’s kitchen and a few pennies in her pocket.

  The village had always been her home and when she walked along the narrow lanes of Cotes Cross, she realized that she knew every building and every house that crowded the streets. The buildings were old, like the village, and built of grey stone and timber. Today, she felt old too, far older than her years. She also felt alone.

  Lavinia could have accepted the kindness of the vicar and the thatcher’s or the other friendly villagers who kept inquiring about her well-being, but how could she be a burden to any of these people who had barely enough for themselves? She needed time to sort out the thoughts that were swirling in her head. Her chest hurt from the grief, her face was wet from crying, and her feet and hands were stinging from the cold. She saw the sympathetic looks of the people she passed on the street, as she made her way home to the cottage. Everyone in this small hamlet knew everyone else, and there were no secrets in Cotes Cross. Lavinia could feel the pity emanating from her well-meaning neighbours. One day soon, she might need to rely on that pity to live. Today, she needed to be at home, in the one place that reminded her of her mother.

  Opening the wooden door of the cottage, she heard the familiar creak of the hinges. It used to be a welcoming sound when neighbours came to call, bringing their sewing to her mother. For a moment, the creaking hinges brought a smile to her face as she recalled happier times. Then she closed the door behind her and stood alone in the room. The cottage was cold and the thick walls held the chill of winter. She set the hamper down on the rough-hewn table and gazed at the place on the floor where her mother had died.

  The pallet was gone and with it all traces of the tragedy that had stolen her mother away from her. The hearth was swept and a stack of fresh firewood lay in the fireplace. She did not know who had arranged the funeral, or who had paid for the coffin, but she could feel the generosity of her neighbours. In this tiny village in Yorkshire, her mother’s friends were generous to her even in death. This was a moment that would live with Lavinia for a long time.

  Sitting beside her own fireside, she noticed her mother’s sewing box on the table beside the hamper of food, and a pile of mending sat neatly folded beside it. Lavinia wiped her tears from her eyes and wondered if she might find enough work mending and sewing just as her mother had done. She was strong for her age, despite her tiny frame. She could work; she could do odd jobs to earn money.

  Would anyone pay her to do their sewing and mending? She crossed the tiny room and picked up a shirt, holding it up and looking at it. The tiny even stitches were nearly invisible, evidence of her mother’s skill with a needle. She thought of what the vicar had said about her mother’s talent and questioned whether she could do the same.

  Her own sewing skills were coming along, as her mother used to say. She would allow Lavinia to help make mattress ticking or pillow cases, but that was all. Lavinia was not allowed to sew clothes, at least not yet. Her mother had dreams for Lavinia – dreams that she said would come true one day. Her mother prayed that Lavinia would not be a plain-sewing woman; she was not going to do odd jobs around the village to buy food. She was going to be married, perhaps to a tradesman or a farmer?

  How Lavinia wished she shared her mother’s hopes… She folded the shirt and placed it back on the pile. What could a girl of her age do in the world? She and her mother had lived plainly. The cottage and its sparse furnishings were all she had ever known, but she knew that other people did not live the way she had. The vicar, for example, and his wife had a nice house; their sitting room contained two upholstered chairs and a set of polished candlesticks. Maybe she could find work in a kitchen at a great house?

  She thought about working in a manor house, cleaning and polishing all day long. The work would be hard, but she would have plenty of food to eat and a bed of her own. But would she want to leave the only place she had ever known? This cottage with these two tiny rooms had been her home since she was a child. Her neighbours had been the only people, aside from her Mama, whom she knew. Their children were her friends and the women were like aunts to her. She hadn’t lied to the vicar whe
n he asked her about her family, but she felt a twinge of guilt. She did have a family, but they were not related by blood – they were the people of Cotes Cross. If she left the village, she wouldn’t know anyone, and no-one would know her. Lavinia had always been a quiet, timid child and the prospect of striking out for herself was nearly as frightening as starving in the streets.

  The tears came again as she stared into the fire. The vicar had said to have faith. She had faith, but she did not know if faith was enough to save her.

  A loud rapping at the door startled Lavinia so terribly that she jumped. Was it the landlord coming for the rent? I should have stayed at the vicar’s she thought, as she sat still, too panicked to move. She could pretend she was not home, but the smoke coming out of the chimney told a different story. Maybe she could give him all the money she had and promise to pay the rest in a week or two? Trembling in fear, Lavinia opened the narrow wooden box on the mantle and removed the meagre amount of coins, counting them.