A Ravishing Lady For The Rebellious Marquess (Steamy Historical Regency Romance)

by Violet Hamers

  This wasn’t his first meeting with Leonard since the protests. It had taken a lot of visitations to his brother’s cell, but finally they had fixed their relationship and even made sure it evolved to one between brothers. Leonard, however was still on trial for the part he played in the revolt.

  There was nothing Kenneth could do about that.

  “So are you ready?” Leonard asked, disrupting his reverie in the process.

  “Ready for what?” he remarked in confusion.

  “For your wedding tomorrow, Kenneth.” Leonard laughed.

  “Oh! Of course I am ready. Why wouldn’t I be?” He responded with a chuckle.

  “Well, I can have a carriage waiting for you outside the church if you change your mind. I know people,” Leonard whispered.

  “Oh, you know people? I would never have guessed,” he laughed.

  “I am happy for you, Kenneth. I really am. I wish I could come,” Leonard responded, suddenly turning serious.

  “Thank you, brother. I wish you could come, too,” he responded.

  There was a brief pause before they continued their conversation. They kept on talking till it was time for Kenneth to leave.

  “Give Lady Rose a kiss for me. Tell her I said, if only she had waited, she could have had the best of the Duke’s sons. Now she’s just going to have to settle,” Leonard said, as he was raised to his feet.

  “She’s already getting the best of the Duke’s sons, but not to worry. I’ll pass on your conceited but highly inaccurate message. Surely we can both spare a laugh at your expense,” he fired back.

  “I am sorry. I never meant to hurt you, Kenneth,” Leonard said.

  They shared a look before Leonard was whisked away.

  Kenneth, in turn, stood and walked out of the gaol, climbed aboard his carriage and headed back home.

  On getting home, he found the Duke’s carriage idling in front of his house. He had moved out of the Duke’s manor as a result of his impending marriage. He couldn’t very well have started a family in his father’s house, after all.

  He walked into the house even as the butler met him at the door and told him that the Duke was waiting in the study.

  “Good afternoon, Father,” he said as he walked into the study.

  “I would imagine that on the eve of your wedding, you’d stay at home conserving your energy, especially after you fought so hard to make this happen,” The Duke responded, causing him to chuckle.

  “And here I was thinking the opposite,” he responded, alluding to a wild bachelor’s eve.

  “I hope that is not what you were out planning? We’ve had enough scandal in this family to last a lifetime,” the Duke said, causing him to laugh fully this time.

  “No, Father. I went to see Leonard.”

  There was a brief silence.

  “How is he doing?” his father asked, concern suddenly etched on his face.

  “He is doing all right, considering the circumstances,” Kenneth replied truthfully.

  There was another brief silence.

  “I failed him, son. And my failure sent him down the wrong path,” the Duke confessed, his voice completely solemn.

  “You should go see him, Father,” Kenneth replied.

  The Duke sighed heavily.

  “I can’t. The damage has already been done,” the Duke said in resignation.

  “No damage is beyond salvaging.”

  “Tell that to a broken egg,” the Duke countered, causing him to chuckle again.

  “You are wise, as always. I trust in your wisdom, however, you would see that a broken egg can still find use in the batter.”

  “And you are astute as always, son. I will think of something to do to make restitution for my shortcomings. In the meantime, your mother asked me to tell you to ensure that you do not come late to the church. That she knows you have a penchant for coming late to events and it would be a shame if you were to do same at your own wedding.”

  “Oh my goodness! Mother!” Kenneth burst out laughing.

  There was definitely no way he was going to be late to his own wedding. The exaggeration from his mother and its resulting laugh, however, were most welcome.

  The Duke stayed another hour before leaving.

  After his father’s departure, Kenneth went straight to bed. He had a long day ahead of him tomorrow and needed all the rest he could get.

  He was awakened by Lord Calbrook the next morning.

  His best man had worried so much about him being late that he had shown up at his house earlier than scheduled to wake him up.

  “Dear Lord! It’s not even bright outside yet,” Kenneth complained.

  “It doesn’t matter. Just get up and stay up. If we are late for any reason, your mother is going to make sure that I’m skinned alive,” Lord Calbrook retorted.

  “Please! Mother would do no such thing.”

  “Oh, but she will. She already told me in clear terms,” Lord Calbrook responded.

  “She talked to you, too?” Kenneth grumbled.

  Eventually he got up and began getting ready for his wedding. And in keeping in line with the promise to the Duchess, Lord Calbrook had him in church long before any of the guests began to arrive.

  “I hope you are happy?” he complained to Lord Calbrook for their unusually early arrival.

  “Happy that I get to keep my skin? But of course. I like my skin very much,” Lord Calbrook responded with humor.

  Eventually, the guests had begun to arrive and soon after, the wedding ceremony had begun.

  As he stood waiting in front of the altar with the priest and his best man, his eyes began roaming through the crowd.

  Some of the faces he saw, like those of Lord Rockgonie and Lady Anna, pleased him. Some, like that of Lady Charlotte, didn’t.

  He turned his attention to the doors because in that moment, they swung open and in walked the most beautiful lady bride he had ever set his eyes on.

  The smile on her face was radiant and with every step she took closer to him, the vision of the blissful future they were headed towards became clearer.

  “So beautiful,” he whispered, without realizing.

  “And she is all yours from today. Congratulations!” Lord Calbrook whispered back.

  A smile spread across his lips as she continued to advance, her steps syncronizing with the soft music that was emanating from the pipes of the church’s organ.

  By the time she had arrived beside him, everything else had faded into the background. The priest’s voice sounded like an announcer from afar. The music melted in the background, turning into something that was more felt than heard. The guests became blurry figurines in the backdrop of a perfect moment. Nothing else mattered except the lady standing in front of him saying, “I do.”

  Dear Lord! I am certainly the luckiest man alive.

  The End?

  Extended Epilogue

  Eager to know more on how Rose and Kenneth’s relationship evolved? Then enjoy this free complimentary short story featuring the beloved couple.

  Simply TAP HERE to read it now for FREE! or use this link: http://violethamers.com/cb36 directly in your browser.

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  But before you go, turn the page for an extra sweet treat from me…

  Preview: Lustful Memoirs of a Bewitching Lady

  Chapter One

  Penelope Snowley bounded down the stairs of her family’s manor, excitement making her heart beat with a wild rhythm. She had been awaiting this day for months now, and she had woken up well before dawn as anticipation made sleep impossible. If her mother, or any member of the ton for that matter, saw her like this, rushing through her home at a time in the morning when only the working man should be up and about, she would never hear the end of it.

  The potential lecture in proper decorum she risked with her unladylike eagerness was not enough of a threat to slow her steps, however. When she reached the first floor, she turned and hurried towa
rd the dining room, her footsteps echoing off the marble floor. Her father glanced up from his place at the table when she burst through the doors, but he did not seem surprised by her appearance so early in the morning. He was merely amused. Dropping his gaze back to his newspaper, Lewis Snowley, the Baron of Bienholm, took a sip of his coffee before addressing her.

  “Good morning, my dear. What has you up at such an unfashionable hour?”

  “Good morning, Papa.” She continued past him toward the sideboard and the dishes of food resting there. “I could not sleep. Was simply too eager to start the day.”

  Her father chuckled. “Oh? And what plans do you have that have you up and about like a tradesman preparing for his day?”

  Placing a piece of plum cake and toast onto a plate, she poured herself a cup of hot chocolate before joining her father at the table.

  “Did you forget, Papa? Today is the day Harry’s novel is released. I want to be among the first to purchase my copy.”

  Her father looked back up at her with an arched brow. “Could you not just request a copy from your brother? Is it necessary for you to purchase it yourself?”

  She shot him a grin and shrugged. “I want to see it in the shop, displayed alongside his contemporaries. It was such a marvelous sight with his first novel. Besides, you know how I adore visiting the bookstore.”

  “Yes, yes I do, sweet girl.” He shook his head with a small laugh. Though he might not understand it, her father was indulgent of her mild obsession with books. He often teased her, but he also spoiled her with every volume she ever wished for.

  In Penelope’s opinion, there was nothing quite so pleasing as the smell of a freshly printed book. The crisp feel of the pages and the soft leather bindings always sent a delightful thrill running through her. That was nothing compared to the adventures she would find inside, however. The dashing heroes and brave heroines. The romances.

  Those were her favorites. The stories she read most were like the ones that bore her brother’s name. Romances in which the heroes and heroines cast off the stringent rules of society for the sake of love, risking everything for the chance to be together.

  Penelope was no fool. She knew those stories were true fantasy, but the way they displayed and played with emotion was captivating. A young lady trapped within the rules of propriety and duty could find temporary escape in the pages of such romances where passion and desire ruled the day.

  “Will your mother be accompanying you?” her father asked, his tone taking on a stern edge as it often did when they skimmed the subject of propriety and her reputation.

  “Mama is expecting to be called on by Lady Edwardson today, so she is unavailable to go with me. Do not worry, though. She is freeing up Mrs. Stewart so that she might act as my chaperone.”

  Her father gave a curt nod of his head, his expression one of satisfaction. “Very good. Mrs. Stewart is a fine woman, and a dutiful chaperone.”

  Penelope fought the urge to roll her eyes. Mrs. Stewart, her mother’s devoted abigail, was never her first choice as chaperone. She was often her only option when her mother was not free. When called upon, the woman took her chaperoning duties very seriously, and gave Penelope no amount of freedom or space.

  It was no wonder her father thought so highly of her. There was no chance of Penelope stumbling into trouble with the eagle-eyed abigail dogging her every step. Her trip to the bookstore would not be nearly so enjoyable, but the only other option was to not go at all. Mrs. Stewart was a small price to pay in the end.

  As Penelope tucked into her breakfast, she and her father fell into a companionable silence. Her father read his paper, the crinkling of the pages turning the only sound apart from her own chewing. She hurried to finish her meal, impatient to get on with her errand. When she was finished at last, she wiped at her mouth and pushed away from the table.

  “Off already, my dear?” Her father folded up his paper and set it on the table next to his empty plate.

  “Yes, Mrs. Stewart will be waiting by the door with my bonnet and scarf.”

  “Have fun, but do be careful.” He took another drink of his coffee. “I will be at the office the rest of the day with your brother. A shipment of fabrics is arriving from India. Harry is supposed to be meeting me here…ah, there you are, my boy!”

  Penelope turned toward the door in time to see her brother stroll through, a wide smile on his handsome face. He was tall and long-legged, with chestnut-brown hair and sparkling blue eyes that matched Penelope’s in shape and shade.

  “Good morning, Father. Oh, Penelope! I did not expect to see you this morning.”

  Moving across the room, Penelope pushed up onto her tiptoes to place a quick kiss on this cheek. “Good morning to you, Harry. I was just on my way out to purchase your newest novel.”

  He furrowed his brow. “There is no need for you to go out, I can give you a copy…”

  “Do not bother, son,” their father cut in. “Our dear Penelope is determined to see your novel in the bookstore in all its glory.”

  “A convenient excuse to wander the shelves for hours, no doubt.” Harry’s tone was teasing as he grinned down at her.

  She gave him a light, playful slap to the shoulder. “I am simply supporting my brilliant brother. And if I happen to discover another novel or two while I am there that I believe I might enjoy, all the better.”

  “Our peculiar, clever girl,” her father grinned. “You had best be on your way, my dear. Your mother would not like you to be out all day long.”

  “Yes, Papa.” Shooting one last smile up at her brother, Penelope hurried from the room, eager to find Mrs. Stewart and get on their way.

  Chapter Two

  “Have you heard the wonderful news, brother? Mr. Snowley’s newest novel is available for purchase today!”

  Andrew Wilson, Marquess of Romwich, gazed up from his newspaper to grin at his younger sister. “Is that so, Dorothy? How marvelous.”

  Of course, he was well aware of the book’s release date. Since it had been brought to his attention that the publishing house his father owned was planning to print Mr. Snowley’s second novel after the wild success of his first, Andrew had kept an eye on its progress. He wanted to surprise his sister with her very own copy for her birthday in a week’s time.

  “Oh, I adored his first novel,” Dorothy gushed, her pretty brown eyes sparkling. She sat across from Andrew at the dining table, looking lovely in a light green gown that made the color of her bright red hair seem more vibrant. “He is such a brilliant storyteller. He was all that the ladies of the ton could talk of for months!”

  “Well, let’s hope he can produce such profitable results a second time around,” their father’s deep voice boomed from his place at the head of the table. George Wilson, Duke of Lockeder, shot his daughter a good-natured wink. “That publishing house is proving one of our more lucrative investments, thanks in large part to that young gentleman’s success.”

  Andrew shook his head with a smile, dropping his eyes back to his paper. While the Duke did not have a hand in the day-to-day running of his publishing house, nor most of his other businesses, he had strict orders to his managers that he be kept abreast of all profits, losses, and the reasons behind both. His father was an intelligent and shrewd gentleman with a mind for numbers and a drive for commerce.

  He was also a loving father to his children, and a doting husband to his wife. Andrew admired the gentleman more than anyone else he had ever met, though they often appeared at odds to those on the outside looking at their relationship. The Duke was an old-fashioned gentleman in much of his thinking, and Andrew strove to keep an open mind. They often clashed as a result, but Andrew never felt dismissed or unheard, even when they argued.

  Dorothy shook her head. “His profitability is not what matters, Papa. He is brilliant. An artist!”

  “He writes romantic drivel that appeals to the silly sensibilities of naïve young ladies,” Andrew made the droll observation, peeking back up at hi
s sister to catch her reaction. Her eyes narrowed into a glare, and her jaw clenched. He fought not to grin. Oh, how he loved to tease her.

  “Andrew, you are such a bloody…”

  “Language, Dorothy!” their mother Joan’s shocked voice reverberated through the room from her place at the table.

  Ducking her head, Dorothy offered the Duchess an apologetic look. “Apologies, Mama.”

  When she gave Andrew another silent death stare, he smirked in response. The Duke chuckled, and the Duchess narrowed her eyes at him.

  “Her poor behavior is your fault, you know. You spoil her and indulge her unladylike tendencies too much. How do you expect her to make a fortuitous match when she is prone to swearing like a sailor when her temper is pricked?”

  The Duke grinned at his wife, his love for her obvious in his eyes. “My darling, you have nothing to fear. Our daughter is beautiful, accomplished, and will bring a generous dowry with her into marriage. Any gentleman who dismisses her because of her colorful language in the face of all her assets would be a fool who I would not approve of marrying her anyway.”