by Gill, Tamara
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Epilogue
Dear Reader
Kiss Me Duke
Chapter 1
Lords of London series available now!
Kiss the Wallflower series available now!
Also by Tamara Gill
About the Author
Copyright
To Be Wicked with You
League of Unweddable Gentlemen, Book 4
Copyright © 2020 by Tamara Gill
Cover Art by Wicked Smart Designs
Editor Grace Bradley Editing
All rights reserved.
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This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
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All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a database and retrieval system or transmitted in any form or any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the owner of copyright and the above publishers.
Chapter 1
1827, Marlborough, Wiltshire
Finley Stone, Duke of Carlisle, stared blankly at his solicitor. He would not believe what he’d been told. His father would not control his life, even after death. His decree would not be borne.
“Excuse me, Smithers, but can you repeat what you just said? I’m sure I did not hear correctly.”
His solicitor cleared his throat, lifting the parchment yet again. “You have been the duke for one year, may your father rest in peace. However, I am now at liberty to tell you that your father put in a stipulation to his will. If you do not marry within one year of his death, you have sixty days from the anniversary of his death to do so. If you fail this stipulation, the bulk of your fortune, the money, and any assets not entailed, will revert to your cousin, Andrew Stone of Kent.”
Finn leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. His mind balked at the idea of marrying. Not to mention what men were supposed to do with the opposite sex. The idea of being forced into that occupation both terrified and excited him. It terrified him more.
“So I would keep Carlisle Hall in Wiltshire, but will have no money to keep the estate running other than the income it produces, which we all know is not enough.”
“That’s right, Your Grace. As the owner of several profitable estates, to lose those to your cousin would financially impact you severely. And have devastating consequences for those who rely on your estates for their livelihood. I would suggest you marry posthaste, retain your assets, and secure your future as soon as possible.”
A wife? His stomach clenched, and he turned to stare out the window. He couldn’t lose his home, the only place he’d ever loved. God knows his wicked father had been too busy carousing London to care about his family at home.
His mother had passed when he was eight, and his father had rarely bothered with him. Finn had promised to be a better person than that. Someone his servants and friends would respect, a landlord who was reliable and not flippant.
“Well then, I suppose I have to return to London and find a bride.”
His solicitor cleared his throat, and Finn looked up, meeting his gaze. “Is there something else that I should be aware of, Smithers?”
“Your father has decreed that you are to find a wife here in Wiltshire. Someone local to Marlborough is preferable. He’s decreed you marry a woman from your home county as he thought it would be better for the staff if they have a mistress who is familiar with the area and the local peoples.”
Finn stared blankly at his solicitor. Was his father mad? Quite possibly, before his death and his wayward ways in London. Finn certainly had thought his sire had lost his mind. But a wife from Woodstock? There were only two noble families living close by, if he could call them that at all.
One family had several daughters, all of them under the age of ten. They would never do. The second family, The Miltons… Finn tried to remember the dynamics of the family. The father was a gentleman, living off the income from his small estate. He doubted there was any dowry for any of the girls. They did, however, have a son, although he was still in short coats.
“In effect my father is stating I need to marry one of the Milton girls, whom if I remember the number correctly is a total of two.”
Smithers nodded, coming to sit in the chair before his desk, rustling through the paperwork in his leather satchel. “That’s right, Your Grace. The eldest Miss Milton is beyond marriage, but her younger sister, Lucy, is not.”
“Who is the oldest Miss Milton again?” Finn asked, a face echoing through his mind from last season when he was in town.
“Ah,” Smithers said, searching further through the paperwork. “Miss Evie Milton. I believe she is friends with the Duchess of Whitstone and her social sphere.”
A vision of a dark-haired beauty that was well on her way to being on the shelf entered his mind. He’d danced with her if he recalled, their conversation somewhat awkward since she’d been less than engaged to speak. Surprising really, considering her and her friends were some of the most opinionated women in the ton.
“Does not Miss Milton live in London in Marchioness Ryley’s townhouse?” He frowned, certain he’d heard that after the marquess’s marriage, the marchioness had allowed her friends to remain in her London townhouse. Miss Milton being one of them.
“That is correct, Your Grace.”
“Hmm.” Finn leaned back in his chair, wondering what the younger Lucy Milton looked like. If she were as striking as her sister, she would do very well indeed. She was young still, from a respectable family, and the local area. All requirements that would satisfy his late father’s will.
“Do you expect Mr. Milton has any dowry for his daughters?” Not that it mattered, he was beyond wealthy and could afford to have a wife who came with very little or nothing at all. Even so, providing for female children on the off chance that you do not produce an heir told Finn a lot of a man’s character. Whether they were loving, forward-thinking, and honorable. All the characteristics his father was lacking.
“Two hundred pounds per annum. The elder Miss Milton came into her stipend when she turned twenty-five. Of course, they assumed she would be married by then, and well, that did not occur. The younger Miss Lucy is two and twenty years of age.”
“Very good. Well then,” Finn said, standing and bringing this meeting to an end. “Tomorrow I’ll commence my courting of Miss Lucy Milton and have it all settled by month’s end. I will call for you when everything is in place.”
Smithers bowed. “Very good, Your Grace. I wish you well in your endeavors and look forward to hearing the happy news.”
“Yes, well…” Finn said, sitting back down and watching his solicitor stride from the room. Happy news may be too much of an exaggeration. More like resigned would fit in this context.
Finn pulled
a piece of parchment toward him, picking up his quill and scrawling a letter for Mr. Milton to expect him tomorrow at eleven. He would not tell the gentleman as to why, merely let them believe it was a natural attraction and courtship that will bring him to offer for Miss Lucy. That would be best.
One thing he did comprehend was that no bride wanted to hear her betrothed only asked out of necessity. Or, in this case, the pain of disinheritance.
Chapter 2
Three weeks later, Marlborough Wiltshire
The carriage turned into the short drive of her family’s home on the outskirts of Marlborough, her sister’s hastily written letter the week before burning a hole in her gown. It was pure luck that it had taken her a week to organize travel to Wiltshire from London, for she needed a week to prepare herself for the realization that her younger sister was getting married.
The last time she had heard from Lucy, she hadn’t mentioned a word about His Grace, so now to be engaged to him was out of nowhere. Her sister, although high-spirited, was not a silly woman prone to hasty decisions. To be marrying the wicked rakehell, Duke of Carlisle had made her think her sedate, intelligent sister had lost her mind. She would speak to her parents when she arrived, ensure for herself that they too had not lost their minds regarding their daughter marrying a duke.
No doubt, they were overcome with joy at the thought of Lucy marrying into such a lofty title. The duke was their closest neighbor, but never before had he ever shown an interest in the family. Evie glanced out at the passing oak trees that lined the driveway. She’d danced with him in London, had been a little distracted at the time with her friend’s tribulations that evening, but she could still remember his scent. Sandalwood and spice. His hands had been large and strong against the small of her back. She’d had to look up to meet his gaze, and the memory even now made her shiver. One glance from the wicked Duke of Carlisle and one’s knees went a little weak.
So handsome with his cutting jaw and perfect, straight nose. His smile was deadly, and his intense, heated stare worse. Not that she had been on the receiving end of such a look, oh no, he’d shown little interest in her. In fact, he’d seemed bored and uninterested in her attempt at small talk to pass the minutes of the dance, Evie had eventually pretended to be having a lovely time in his arms while counting down the minutes to the end of the dance. She had watched him at times in the ton and envied the women who did capture his attention. How lucky they would be to have such a rogue caught by their loveliness.
That her sister had captured his heart left her at odds. She was happy for her, of course, but a part of her also wished she’d found such a man herself. To marry, to love and be loved in return. Evie sighed, slumping back into the velvet squabs. She supposed it would not happen now. Not at her age, but at least she could content herself with being an aunt someday. Spoil her nieces and nephews to her heart’s content.
Her sister deserved all happiness bestowed on her. She was the sweetest person who Evie knew, other than her favorite friends in London.
The carriage rocked to a halt before her family’s Georgian manor house. Evie stared up at the golden stone home that shone like a beacon in the afternoon sun. The many windows glistening and welcoming her home.
A footman opened the door, and she stepped down, taking his hand for assistance. “Thank you,” she said, starting for the house. A horse stood tied to one of the hitching posts near the front of the residence, and a dreadful thought entered Evie’s mind.
Please don’t be the duke’s beast. She needed to speak to her parents and talk to her sister alone. Ensure this was a welcome marriage. Not merely because a duke offered for a woman who only lived close by. Their lack of a substantial dowry at least told Evie that the union was based on affection.
Evie pulled off her gloves as she strode toward the entrance, glancing up as the door opened and Lucy stood before her, taller than she remembered, but just as beautiful with her golden locks and lithe figure. Evie smiled. “Lucy,” she said, laughing as her sister all but ran toward her and threw her arms about her back. “You’ve grown!” she said, her voice muffled from all of Lucy’s abundant locks.
Lucy chuckled, hugging her tighter before pulling back. “It is so good to see you. I cannot tell you enough how much I need you here. We have so much to discuss.”
Evie cast a glance toward the house, linking arms with her sister. “I gather the duke is here now?”
Lucy nodded. “He is. They’re in the drawing room having tea. I heard the carriage and said it would be you. They are waiting to see you. Mama is very pleased that you’ll be home with us for some weeks.”
“I’m pleased as well.” They started toward the house, entering the foyer where Evie gave a waiting-maid her pelisse and bonnet.
“Come, Evie, time to meet my betrothed.”
“This is all so fast. I did not know he was even courting you.” Evie watched Lucy and noted the light blush kissing her cheeks. Had the duke seduced her? She would not put it past the gentleman. His kissable lips were what made up women’s fantasies in town.
“He arrived three weeks ago to call on Papa, something about land or some such, but it was during his time here that we were introduced. He was very kind and attentive and has been back often since then.”
“So it’s a love match then?” Evie asked, hoping that was true. The duke’s reputation made it impossible not to judge and wonder if his motives were honorable.
“I like him very much. He’s very kind. I think you’ll like him too, Evie.”
Evie didn’t bother to mention that she already knew His Grace, no need muddying the water for something so small. In any case, he danced with many women in town. It was highly unlikely that he would remember her.
They walked into the front parlor, a small room, especially with her mother’s crafts and knitting and her father’s many books. The room was where they congregated most evenings before and after dinner, and it was nothing like the parlors of grand homes that dotted the English landscape. This one held few, and with the tall, dominating presence of the duke, the room appeared smaller still.
“Evie,” her father said at the same time as her mama as she appeared. They both started toward her, arms outstretched and she hugged them both in turn. “We’re so delighted you’re home with us for some time. We’ve missed you, our dearest.”
She smiled, pulling back from her mama and her comforting scent of lavender that always reminded Evie of home. “I’m happy to be home. I missed you all.”
She glanced over and met the duke’s calculating gaze. He was staring at her, and Evie looked back to her father to make the introductions.
“Oh, forgive me, my dear. May I present my eldest daughter, Miss Evie Milton. Evie, this is His Grace, the Duke of Carlisle. Lucy’s betrothed.”
Lucy blushed as she went to stand beside the duke, her shorter height against his taller frame making her appear even more dainty and delicate. Beautiful and perfect for him.
The duke bowed. “Miss Milton. How very good to see you again.”
Evie dipped into a neat curtsy. “I… It is, Your Grace.” She watched him a moment, and as if remembering his fiancée stood beside him, thrust out his arm for Lucy to place her hand atop his.
“How is London, Evie?” Lucy asked, bouncing beside her betrothed, her golden curls springing beside her face.
“Busy. Everyone who is everyone is in attendance. Molly and I have taken to riding in the park most days to keep our sanity. We’ve become excellent riders I think, much better than we used to be in any case.”
“Oh, I do worry for you, my dear,” her mama said. “Is Miss Sinclair still ensconced at Marchioness Ryley’s former home?”
“She is, Mama,” Evie said, talking of Willow’s former companion who now chaperoned Evie and Molly about town. “I would not be able to stay there if not.”
“That is very true,” her father said, gesturing for her to sit before the fire.
Evie did as he bade and held her hands
out toward the heat, grateful to be out of the carriage and home. She turned toward her sister and the duke, studying them as they too took their seats.
“I suppose congratulations are in order. I’m very happy for you, Lucy. Your Grace,” Evie said. They were a strange pair, even if they portrayed or at least tried to portray otherwise. The duke sat as stiff as a rod beside her sister who, compared to him, was relaxed and bubbly as per her nature.
Maybe he liked women who were more outgoing than he was, although that went against everything that she knew about him. One would think that a consummate rake, a man who seduced the fairer sex with wicked intentions, would not look so uncomfortable with her sister.
Evie’s eyes narrowed, taking in his features. Was he sweating?
“We’re so pleased you’ll be here for the nuptials, Evie. His Grace is going to have his good friend Marquess Ryley stand in for him, and I would like you by my side if you’re willing.”
Pleasure filled Evie at the thought of helping give away her sister on her big day. Even though there was a relative age difference between them, they had been close as children, and as all young women do, they dreamed of meeting their husbands and having a memorable wedding. “Of course. I would be honored.” She glanced at the duke and tried to ignore his intense inspection upon her. Evie shot a look to Lucy, but her sister seemed oblivious to the duke’s attention. Evie cleared her throat, unsure what the duke was about or why he found her so very interesting. Evie reached up to check that her hair had not slipped from its pins, or that her fichu was missing from her gown. No, all was in order. “Where is the wedding to take place?” she asked, wanting to remain engaged and excited about her sister’s upcoming nuptials.