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He was a licentious rogue, or was he?
Aubrey St. Clair, Marquess of Leisterbridge, a notorious rake and society fribble, abandons his bride on their wedding night to spite his father, the man who coerced him into the marriage. When his intrepid bride turns up at his personal estate to quash the scandal, they call a truce and finally get to know each other.
Lady Catherine Sturbridge considered ending her betrothal. But a threatening letter sent to her by a convicted criminal whom she chanced upon in London, changed her mind. Marrying the powerful Duke of Gresham’s heir would keep her loved ones safe, even if she must tie herself to a frivolous rogue.
When, despite her silence, her enemy abducts her godchild, Catherine is forced to confide in her husband who agrees to help her. But can she trust him to know what to do when a child’s life is at stake and they’ve been warned not to go to go the authorities?
As they work closely together, they succumb to the passionate side of their marriage. But Catherine is wary, despite finding a different man under the guise of a society dandy, and when Aubrey reveals a long-held secret, she must protect her heart because betrayal is the enemy of trust and their fragile, new-found love is about to shatter.
Read an Excerpt
“A bit solemn, are you not, my dear? If you keep biting your lower lip, I shall have to offer you my handkerchief to staunch the blood, and I would hate to soil it. Smile. This is, after all, your wedding day.”
“And yours, as you now have access to a considerable dowry to fund all of your bad habits.”
The rogue put his hand on her chin and turned her face toward him. A broad grin lit up his face as if taunting her brought him the greatest of pleasures. “Now, now, Catherine. I am not as bad as all that. You might be pleasantly surprised once you get to know me. Gossip would have me sporting horns and a forked tail.”
“I remember seeing a poster with you seated on a bed surrounded by well-endowed, unclad ladies in various positions. Your face, horns, and tail were well-drawn. The only thing missing being signs of the pox.”
The laughter did not leave his face when he clutched his heart. “You wound me, wife. I do not now, nor have I ever, had the pox, if that is the cause of your sour expression.”
“I am relieved to hear it. However, this conversation must be put off. We are nearing my father’s house.”
Horses were drawn to a halt, and the marquess alighted first then turned and grabbed Catherine around the waist, swinging her in a circle before setting her on her feet.
“Milord, are you mad?” she squealed.
He tilted his head and grinned. “Perhaps. Shall we make our grand entrance through the stately front doors?”
Oh lord, what have I done?
About the Author:
Author of eight books on California history and twenty-three romance novels, Pamela Gibson is a former City Manager who lives in Southern Nevada. Having spent several years messing about in boats, a hobby that included a five-thousand-mile trip in a 32-foot Nordic Tug, she now spends most of her time indoors happily reading, writing, cooking and keeping up with the antics of her latest rescue cat, Lady Diana, a dignified senior. She loves red wine, all kinds of chocolate, old Jimmy Buffet sailing songs, and curling up with a good book.
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