Wickedly Wedded Rogues eBook Bundle (Ebook)

Only an Earl Will Do

Lady Elizabeth Worthingham, a prominent figure in London society, is obligated to marry well without love, owing to her past mistakes. Henry Andrews, the rakish Earl of Muir, who once failed to act as a gentleman in her time of need, is back in England and is determined to make Elizabeth his wife. However, Elizabeth's reception is icy, and as past hurts and deceptions resurface, their love faces numerous obstacles. A mysterious foe threatens to thwart their love, making the future uncertain for the couple.

Only a Duke Will Do

Lady Isolde Worthingham captured the Duke of Moore's heart without a formal season, but a scandal on the eve of their wedding sends her fleeing to Scotland, leaving her plans shattered. The Duke, Merrick Mountshaw, dislikes his unhappy marriage and longs for Isolde's return. When she comes back to London, their love is challenged by societal norms and past hurts, raising questions about whether love can triumph in a world governed by strict rules.

Only a Viscount Will Do

Lady Alice Worthingham defies societal norms with her love for adventure and a sassy attitude. When a highwayman robs her, she discovers that her neighbor, Lord Arndel, leads a double life as the proper viscount by day and the Surrey Bandit by night. Unaware of his dual identity, Lady Alice seeks revenge when she learns the truth, making the gentleman thief pay for his crimes, including stealing his heart.

Only a Marquess Will Do

Lady Victoria, scarred by a failed marriage, helps her brother's friend, the socially awkward Marquess Albert Kester, find a match. As they navigate London's intricate social scene, Victoria unexpectedly finds herself falling for Albert. In this game of love, rules will be broken, and hearts may be at stake as they explore the fine line between duty and desire.

Only a Lady Will Do

Duke Josh Worthingham needs a proper lady as his duchess, but the only woman who captures his attention is the unconventional Miss Iris Cooper. Despite her humble connections, Iris dreams of a future with the duke. Can a stolen kiss make her dreams come true, or will their differences and Josh's dark secret jeopardize their chance at happiness?

Tempt Me, Your Grace

She was banished from England…and she banished him from her heart.

Upon her return to England following her father’s death, Miss Ava Knight becomes the owner of one of the largest racehorse estates in the country. There’s only one problem: the future of the estate requires a strong breeding program with the services of a stallion named, Titan. A shame that the horse is owned by a man she swore to never see again.

The Duke of Whitstone, Tate Wells, was heartbroken when Ava abandoned him on the night of their elopement, and he vowed to never lay eyes on Ava again. Despite Tate’s unwillingness to forgive Ava, she comes to his aid during a deliberately lit fire at his estate. Someone is determined to destroy them. Now, the two are forced to work together to ensure the safety of their horses and their homes.

Will their previous feelings for each other rekindle their love, or will their feelings stall out at the starting gates?

Hellion at Heart

Sifting through the sands in the Middle East while learning of ancient cultures and buried civilizations is all Miss Hallie Evans dreams about. But when an impending scandal forces her back to England, her hopes and dreams are destroyed. Now, as a hired archaeologist for the rich, Hallie explores and studies the ancient ruins excavated on their properties.

The Viscount of Duncannon, Arthur Howard, was beguiled after a chance encounter with Miss Hallie Evans several years ago. She left an impression on him that never faded. But when their paths cross again, Arthur is determined to win Hallie’s heart this time around—at all costs.

But as Hallie’s buried secrets begin to surface, neither can stop society from unearthing the truth. Now, Arthur must choose between love and family duty. Can Hallie cease those who threaten her livelihood for a real chance at true love?

Dare to be Scandalous

After inheriting a small fortune, Willow Perry has everything she’s ever wanted. Except a husband, that is. But not just any husband will do. She’s looking for a grand love—someone who will challenge and excite her. It’s just her folly that the one man who interests her is a notorious rake. He’s as wild and passionate as Willow is sheltered and staid. Love between such polar opposites would be impossible … wouldn’t it?

Abraham Blackwood has devoted his life to the pursuit of pleasure. He’s perfectly happy to run his gaming den and ignore the expectations of society. But meeting the lovely Willow gives him another goal. Revenge. Making her pay for the sins her family committed against his will be easy. Ignoring how much he wants her—not only beneath him, but at his side, forever? That might prove to be infinitely more difficult.

When Willow discovers Abraham’s true intentions, can the fragile bonds they’ve begun to form survive? Or will the cards remain firmly stacked against their happily ever after?

To Be Wicked with You

Evie Milton knows she’ll never marry. But that doesn’t mean she can’t celebrate her sister’s betrothal to Finlay Stone, Duke of Carlisle. Until the bride-to-be runs off with the wrong man, that is. Now, if they have any hope of avoiding a devastating scandal, Evie and Finlay will need to bring the runaway bride to heel. And Evie will have to somehow ignore her growing attraction to the handsome duke who can never be hers …

In order to avoid disinheritance, Finlay needs a wife, and he requires one now. Finding a match wasn’t terribly difficult. Keeping her, however, was another story. Going after the chit was his last option. What he never expected was how he’d start to feel for Evie. She’s beautiful, kind, mature…and an entirely unsuitable bride. If only he could convince his heart of that …

All it takes is one spontaneous kiss to scatter their best intentions to the wind. But as secrets emerge and truths are revealed, can Evie and Finlay find their way to happily ever after—or is their wicked liaison doomed to end in heartbreak?

Kiss Me, Duke

Molly Clare is living her dream. Being a guest in a gorgeous villa while she explores Rome is everything she could’ve hoped for and more. The man who owns the villa is equally charming—and entirely too tempting. At least, that’s what he appears to be. The truth of who and what he really is…well, that’s infinitely more complicated.

Lord Hugh Farley is living a nightmare. Ruined by rumors of indiscretions he didn’t commit and betrayed by his own family, his only option was to leave London. But any hope he had for a quiet Roman exile is destroyed when she arrives. Molly is everything he’s ever wanted…and nothing he can have. But keeping his mind—and hands—off her quickly proves impossible.

Can Molly and Hugh find a way to clear his name and build a future together? Or is their happily ever after nothing but a fantasy?

The Marquess is Mine

She’ll never let anyone break her heart. Not again, anyway…

Lady Sarah Farley has learned many of life’s lessons the hard way. She now knows the ton will viciously turn on anyone, anytime. And love? That only brings devastation. But when a particularly handsome ghost from her past re-emerges, she can’t help but wonder if life is about to teach her poor wounded heart yet another painful, unwanted lesson.

Lord Giles Longe, Marques Gordan, never wanted to hurt Sarah. But he couldn’t have married her back then. His father wouldn’t have allowed it. Everything is different now, though. He will make amends. And if it’s the last thing he ever does, he will make her remember the friendship—and pleasure—they once shared.

Is a Christmas ball at St. Albans Abbey the perfect setting for Sarah to regain her trust in love–and in Giles? Or is their second chance at happily ever after doomed to end as badly as their first?

England 1805 – Surrey

“You’re ruined.”
Elizabeth stood motionless as her mother, the Duchess of Penworth, paced before the lit hearth, her golden silk gown billowing out behind her, the deep frown between her eyes daring anyone to follow her. “No. Let me rephrase that. The family is ruined. All my girls, their futures, have been kicked to the curb like some poor street urchins.”
Elizabeth, the eldest of all the girls, swiped a lone tear from her cheek and fought not to cast up her accounts. “But surely Henry has written of his return.” She turned to her father. “Papa, what did his missive say?” The severe frown lines between her father’s brows were deeper than she’d ever seen them before, and dread pooled in her belly. What had she done? What had Henry said?
“I shall not read it to you, Elizabeth, for I fear it’ll only upset you more, and being in the delicate condition you are we must keep you well. But never again will I allow the Earl of Muir to step one foot into my home. To think,” her father said, kicking at a log beside the fire, “that I supported him to seek out his uncle in America. I’m utterly ashamed of myself.”
“No,” Elizabeth said, catching her father’s gaze. “You have nothing to be ashamed of. I do. I’m the one who lay with a man who wasn’t my husband. I’m the one who now carries his child.” The tears she’d fought so hard to hold at bay started to run in earnest. “Henry and I were friends, well, I thought we were friends. I assumed he’d do the right thing by our family, by me. Why is it that he’ll not return?”
Her mother, quietly staring out the window, turned at her question. “Because his uncle has said no nephew of his would marry a strumpet who gave away the prize before the contracts were signed, and Henry apparently was in agreement with this statement.”
Her father sighed. “There is an old rivalry between Henry’s uncle and me. We were never friends, even though I noted Henry’s father high in my esteem, as close as a brother, in fact. Yet his sibling was temperamental, a jealous cur.”
“Why were you not friends with Henry’s uncle, Papa?” He did not reply. “Please tell me. I deserve to know.”
“Because he wished to marry your mama, and I won her hand instead. He was blind with rage, and it seems even after twenty years he wishes to seek revenge upon me by ruining you.”
Elizabeth flopped onto a settee, shocked by such news. “Did Henry know of this between you and his uncle? Did you ever tell him?”
“No. I thought it long forgotten.”
Elizabeth swallowed as the room started to swirl. “So, Henry has found his wealthy uncle and has been poisoned by his lies. The man has made me out to be a light-skirts of little character.” She took a calming breath. “Tell me, does the letter really declare this to be Henry’s opinion as well?”
The duke came and sat beside her. “It is of both their opinions, yes.” He took her hand and squeezed it. “You need to marry, Elizabeth, and quickly. There is no other choice.”
She stood, reeling away from her father and such an idea. To marry a stranger was worse than no marriage at all and falling from grace. “I cannot do that. I haven’t even had a season. I know no one.”
“A good friend of mine, Viscount Newland, recently passed. His son, Marcus, who is a little simple of mind after a fall from a horse as a child, is in need of a wife. But because of his ailment, no one will have him. They are desperate to keep the estate within the family and are looking to marry him off. It would be a good match for you both. I know it is not what you wanted, but it will save you and your sisters from ruin.”
Elizabeth stood looking down at her father, her mouth agape with shock and not a little amount of disgrace. “You want me to marry a simpleton?”
“His speech is a little delayed only, otherwise he’s a kind young man. I grant you he’s not as handsome as Henry, but…well, we must do what’s best in these situations.”
Her mother sighed. “Lord Riddledale has called and asked for your hand once more. You could always accept his suit.”
“Please, I would rather cut off my own hand than marry his lordship.” Just the thought was enough to make her skin crawl.
“Well then, you will marry Lord Newland. I’m sorry, but it must and will be done,” her mother said, her tone hard.
Elizabeth walked to the window that looked toward the lake where she’d given herself to Henry. His sweet whispered words of love, of wanting her to wait for him, that as soon as he procured enough funds to support his Scottish estate they would marry, flittered through her mind. What a liar he’d turned out to be. All he wanted was her innocence and nothing else.
Anger thrummed through her and she grit her teeth. How dare Henry trick her in such a way? Made her fall in love with him, promised to be faithful and marry her when he returned. He never wished to marry her. Had he wanted to right now he would be on his way back to England.
She turned, staring at her parents who looked resigned to a fate none of them imagined possible or ever wanted. “I will marry Viscount Newland. Write them and organize the nuptials to take place within the month or sooner if possible. The child I carry needs a father and the viscount needs a wife.”
“Then it is done.” Her father stood, walking over to her and taking her hand. “Did Henry promise you anything, Elizabeth? The letter is so out of character for him, I’ve wondered since receiving it that it isn’t really of his opinion but his uncle’s only.”
“He wanted me to wait for him, to give him time to save his family’s estate. He did not wish to marry a woman for her money; he wanted to be a self-made man, I suppose.”
“Lies, Elizabeth. All lies,” her mother stated, her voice cold. “Henry has used you, I fear, and I highly doubt he’ll ever come back to England or Scotland, for that matter.”
Elizabeth swallowed the lump in her throat, not wanting to believe the man she’d given her heart to would treat her in such a way. She’d thought Henry was different, was a gentleman who loved her. At the look of pity her father bestowed on her, she pushed him aside and ran from the room.
She needed air, fresh, cooling, calming air. Opening the front door, the chilling icy wind hit her face, and clarity assailed. She’d go for a ride. Her mount Argo always made her feel better.
It took the stable hand only minutes to saddle her mount, and she was soon trotting away from the house, the only sound that of the snow crunching beneath her horse’s hooves. The chill pierced through her gown, and she regretted not changing into a suitable habit, but riding astride in whatever they had on at the time was a normal practice for the children of the Duke of Penworth. Too much freedom as a child, all of them allowed to do whatever they pleased, and now that freedom had led her straight into the worst type of trouble.
She pushed her horse into a slow canter, her mind a kaleidoscope of turmoil. Henry, once her father’s ward, a person she’d thought to call a friend, had betrayed her when she needed him most. Guilt and shame swamped her just as snow started to fall, and covered everything in a crystal white hue.
She would never forgive Henry for this. Yes, they’d made a mistake, a terrible lack of decorum on her behalf that she’d never had time to think through. But should the worst happen, a child, she had consoled herself that Henry would do right by her, return home and marry her.
How could she have been so wrong?
She clutched her stomach, still no signs that a little child grew inside, and as much as she was ruined, could possibly ruin her family, she didn’t regret her condition, and nor would she birth this child out of wedlock. Lord Newland would marry her since his situation was not looked upon favorably by the ton; it was a match that would suit them both.
Guilt pricked her soul that she would pass off Henry’s child as Lord Newland’s, but what choice did she have? Henry would not marry her, declare the child his. Elizabeth had little choice. There was nothing else to be done about it.
A deer shot out of the bracken, and Argo shied, jumping sharply to the side. Elizabeth screamed as her seat slipped. The action unbalanced her and she fell, hitting the ground hard.
Luckily, the soft snow buffered her fall, and she sat up, feeling the same as she had when upon her horse. She rubbed her stomach, tears pooling in her eyes with the thought that had she fallen harder, all her problems would be over. What a terrible person she was to think such a thing, and how she hated Henry that his refusal of her had brought such horrendous thoughts to mind.
Argo nuzzled her side as she stood; reaching for the stirrup, she hoisted herself back onto her mount. Wiping the tears from her eyes, Elizabeth promised no more would be shed over a boy, for that was surely what Henry still was, an immature youth who gave no thought to others.
She would marry Viscount Newland, try and make him happy as much as possible when two strangers came together in such a union, and be damned anyone who mentioned the name Henry Andrews, Lord Muir to her again.

Knight Stables, Berkshire, 1816

Miss Avelina Knight, Ava to those close to her, tightened the girth of her mount, and checked that the saddle wouldn’t slip whilst hoisting herself onto one stirrup. With a single candle burning in the sconce on the stables’ wall, she worked as quickly and as noiselessly as she could in the hopes that the stable hands that slept in the lofts above wouldn’t wake.
Pleased that the saddle would hold, and that her mount was well watered before her departure, she walked Manny out of the stables as silently as possible, cringing when the horse’s shod feet made a clip clop sound with each step.
Ava blew out the candle as she walked past it, and picking up her small bag, threw it over her horse’s neck before hoisting herself up into the saddle. She sat there a minute, listening for any noise, or the possibility that someone was watching. Happy that everything remained quiet, she nudged her mount and started for the eastern gate.
There was still time and she didn’t need to rush, now that she was on her way. Tate had said he’d meet her at their favorite tree at three in the morning, and it was only half past two.
She pushed Manny into a canter, winding her way through several horse yards that surrounded her home and past the gallop her father used to train their racing stock. Or what was once her home. From tonight onward, her life would finally begin. With Tate, she would travel the world, make love under the stars if they so wished, and not have to be slaves to either of their families’ whims or Society and its strictures.
Tate and she would find a new life. A new beginning. Just the two of them until they expanded their family to add children in a few years.
Pleasure warmed her heart at the knowledge, and she couldn’t stop the soft laugh of delight which escaped her.
In time, Ava hoped her father would forgive her, and maybe when they returned, happily married with children even, her father would be pleased.
The shadowy figure of a man stood beneath the tree. Yet from the stance and girth of the gentleman, it did not look like Tate. Coldness swept over her skin, and she narrowed her eyes, trying to make out who was waiting for her. Her stomach in knots, she pushed her horse forward unsure what this new development meant.
Ava looked about, but could see no one else. With a couple of more steps she gasped when she finally made out the ghostly form. Her father.
Her heart pounded a frantic beat. How was it he was here and not Tate? They had been so careful, so discreet. Why, they had not even circulated within the same social sphere to be heard whispering or planning. With Tate being the heir to his father, the Duke of Whitstone and Ava only the daughter of a racehorse notable, their lives couldn’t be more different.
Ava rode her horse up to the tree. She saw little point in turning back.
Pulling up before her father, she met his gaze, as much of it as she could make out under the moonlit night.
“Ava, climb down, I wish to speak to you.”
His tone was not angry, but guarded, and the pit of her stomach lurched at the notion that something dreadful had happened to Tate. Had he been hurt? Why wasn’t he here to meet her instead?
She jumped down, walking up to him, her mount following on her heels.
“Papa, what are you doing here?” she asked, needing to know and knowing there was little point in ignoring the fact that he’d found her out.
She dropped her horse’s reins, and her mount reached down to nibble on the grass.
Her father’s face took on a stern cast. “The Marquess of Cleremore will not be meeting you here, Ava. I received a note late last night notifying me that, as we speak, his lordship has been sent to London to catch the first boat out to New York. From what his father, the Duke of Whitstone, states, this was the marquess’ decision. Tate confided in his father the predicament he’d found himself in with you, and that he didn’t know how to untangle himself from having to marry a woman who was not his equal.”
Ava stared at her father, unable to fathom what he was saying. Hollowness opened up in her chest and she clasped her shawl as if to halt its progress. Tate had left her? No, it couldn’t be true. “But that doesn’t make any sense, Papa. Tate loves me. He said so himself at this very spot.” Surely she couldn’t have been wrong about his affections. People did not declare such emotions unless they were true. She certainly had not.
She loved Tate. Ava thought back to all the times he’d taken liberties with her, kissing her, touching her, spending copious amounts of time with her and it had all been meaningless to him. She had been a mere distraction, a plaything for a man of his stature.
Her stomach roiled at the idea and she stumbled to the tree, clutching it for support. “No. I do not believe it. Tate wouldn’t do that to me. He loves me as I love him and we’re going to marry each other.” Ava stared down at the ground for a moment, her mind reeling before she rounded on her father. “I need to see him. He needs to tell me this to my face.”
“Lord Cleremore has already left for town. And by morning, he’ll be on a ship to America.” Her father sighed, coming over to her and taking her hand. “I thought your attachment to him was a passing folly. His lordship was never for you, my dear. We train and breed racehorses and, in England, people like us do not marry future dukes.”
Ava stared at her father, not believing this was happening. She’d thought tonight would be the start of forever, but it was now the beginning of the end. Her eyes smarted and she was powerless to hold onto her composure. “But I love him,” she whispered, her voice cracking.
Her father, a proud but humble man from even humbler beginnings, straightened his spine. “I know you think you did, but it wasn’t love. You’re young, too young to be throwing your life away on a boy who would have his way with you and then marry another titled, well-connected woman.”
“I’m not ruined or touched, father. Please don’t speak in such a way.” She didn’t want to imagine that Tate could treat her with so little respect, but what her father said was worth thinking over. The past few weeks with Tate had left very little room other than to plan, to plot. Would they have thought differently, would Tate have acted differently if he’d been older, more mature? If his departure showed anything, it was certainly that what her father was saying was true. He had regretted his choice and had left instead of facing her. Letting her down as a gentleman should, had not been his course. It showed how little he thought of her and the love she’d so ardently declared to him.
She swiped at her cheeks, wanting to scream into the night at the unfairness of it all.
“I’m sorry,” she said, looking at her half boots and not able to meet his gaze. How could he have done this to me? She would never forgive him.
He sighed. “There is one more thing, my dear.”
More! What else could there possibly be to say! “What, papa?” she asked, dread formed like a knot in her stomach at her father’s ashen countenance. She’d seen a similar look from him when he’d come to tell her of her mother’s passing and it was a visage she’d never wanted to see again. Ava clutched the tree harder.
“I’m sending you away to finishing school in France. I’ve enrolled you at Madame. Dufour’s Refining School for Girls. It’s located in southern France. It comes highly recommended and will help prepare you for what’s to come in your life; namely, running Knight Stables, taking over from me when the time comes.”
Finishing school! “You’re sending me to France! But Papa, I don’t need finishing school. You know that I’m more than capable of taking over the running of the stables already. And I know my manners, how to act in both upper- and lower-class society. Please do not send me away. I won’t survive without you and our horses. Don’t take that away from me, too.” Not when I’ve already lost the happiness of which I was so certain.
He shushed her, pulling her into his arms. Ava shoved him away, pacing before him.
Her father held out his hand, trying to pacify her. “You’ll thank me one day. Trust me when I tell you, this is a good thing for you, and I’ll not be moved on my decision. We’re leaving for Dover tomorrow and I, myself, will accompany you to ensure your safe arrival.”
“What.” She stopped pacing. “Father, please don’t do this. I promise not to do such a silly, foolish thing again. You said yourself Tate was leaving. There is no reason to send me away as well.” Just saying such a thing aloud hurt and Ava clutched her stomach. To have loved and lost Tate would be hard enough; nevertheless being sent away to a foreign country, alone and without any friends or support was too much to bear.
He came over to her, pulling her against him and kissing her hair. “This is a good opportunity for you, Ava. I have worked hard, saved, and invested to enable me to give you all that a titled child could receive. I want this for you. Lord Cleremore may not think that you’re suitable for him, but we shall prove him wrong. Make me proud, use the education to better yourself, and come home. Promise me you will do so.”
Ava slumped against him. Her father had never been flexible on things and once he’d made a decision it was final. There was no choice; she would have to do as he said. “I will go as I see there is little I can say to change your mind.”
“That’s my girl.” He pulled back and whistled for her mount.
She couldn’t even manage a half-smile as Manny trotted over to them.
“Let us go. I’m sure by the time we arrive back home breakfast will not be far away.”
Using a nearby log, Ava hoisted herself up onto the saddle. The horse, as if knowing her way home, started ambling down the hill. Light shone in the eastern sky and glancing to her left, Ava watched the sun rise over her land. Observed the dawn of a new day, marking a new future even for her, one that did not include Tate, Marquess Cleremore and future Duke of Whitstone.
A lone tear slid down her cheek and she promised herself, there and then, never to cry over Tate again or any other man. She’d given him her heart and trust and he had callously broken them. That the tear drying on her cheek would be the last she ever afforded him.
And his precious dukedom that he loved so dearly. More dearly than her.