Loving My Wicked Rogue, page 1
Loving My Wicked Rogue
SCANDALOUS GENTLEMEN BOOK ONE
DAWN BROWER
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Epilogue
Thank You
Acknowledgments
About Dawn Brower
Also by Dawn Brower
Excerpt: The Rake Who Loves me
Prologue
Chapter 1
Excerpt: Courting a Christmas Wallflower
Prologue
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Loving My Wicked Rogue © 2022 Dawn Brower
Cover art by Midnight Muse
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.
For all those that find strength when they need it most. Do not give up. You never know what you might discover in the middle of your journey.
You must be the best judge of your own happiness.
JANE AUSTEN, EMMA
Prologue
December 1865
* * *
Lady Francesca Kendall stared at the Christmas decoration she’d made, and frowned. It was lovely to spend time with her cousin, Lady Adeline Carwyn. They were only a few years apart in age. Francesca had turned eight and ten a few months prior, and Adeline was three years older than her. Christmastide was being celebrated at Whitewood Abbey, Adeline’s home, or more accurately the home of her parents the Duke and Duchess of Whitewood. Adeline’s mother was Francesca’s father’s sister. They were close, and had a celebration with their entire family every Christmas.
“What do you think of this?” Francesca asked. She held up a star that she’d colored a pale yellow. It was plain, simple, and in her opinion, elegant. That was how Francesca hoped to present herself to the ton during her first season. She would have her comeout ball in March when the season started. She couldn’t wait until she could attend balls, soirees, garden parties, and more. Francesca couldn’t understand why Adeline hated them so much.
“It is quite lovely,” Adeline said. “It’ll make a nice addition to the tree when we decorate it tomorrow.” She held up her own ornament and asked, “Do you think it is too much?” She was painting an angel in a circular piece of clay. It was exquisite.
“Oh…” She nibbled on her bottom lip and looked back at her star. Maybe she could do better. “You are so talented. I wish I had…something.” Francesca was terrible at the pianoforte, mediocre at drawing and watercolors, and abysmal at needlepoint. In short, she had more failings than winsome attributes.
“Do not be that way,” Adeline said. Her tone held a hint of chastisement. “You’re brilliant, beautiful, and the very epitome of benevolence.” She smiled softly. “And I love you. I do not want to listen to you berate yourself, or what you believe to be your lack of marketable traits.”
She pasted a smile on her face. Francesca didn’t particularly feel pretty or desirable. Perhaps that would change after her comeout. She prayed she wouldn’t become a wallflower, or a spinster like Adeline. Francesca wanted to find love and have a marriage like her parents had. They loved each other so much it almost hurt to watch them. How possible was it for her to find a love as special and strong as theirs? “I’ll try, it’s all I can promise.” She glanced away and started to add more flourish to her star. If Adeline could create something as special as an angel ornament, surely she could make something equally as pretty. Adeline stood and wiped her hands on her apron.
“Are you already finished,” Francesca asked. “I’m not nearly done.”
“I am.” She smiled at her. “I’m weary and am going to lie down until dinner.” She did appear a bit fatigued. “When you’re done do not forget to wash and change. You have a bit of paint in your hair and on your hands. You probably brushed your hand over your hair.”
Adeline glanced at her hands and frowned. She did have paint all over her hands and the apron she wore over her gown. Francesca stared down at herself. “I will, thank you.” She should be more careful, but part of her didn’t care. She’d been trying to be creative after all.
“Will you be joining us for tea?” Francesca asked. She brushed a lock of her strawberry blonde hair behind an ear. Sometimes she wished she had golden blonde hair like Adeline. Her reddish locks were not nearly as fashionable. There was so much about herself she wished she could change, but accepted she couldn’t. Francesca needed to stop comparing herself to Adeline. It would lead her nowhere. All the negativity did not do any good, and she loved her cousin. She wouldn’t hurt her for anything and yet, she couldn’t stop being a brat, at least in her mind.
“I am uncertain,” she told her nonchalantly. “But don’t expect me. I may stay in my chambers longer depending on how I feel.”
“All right,” Francesca said absentmindedly. Francesca had turned her attention back to her ornament already, and frowned again. Maybe she’d do an outline in another color. She wasn’t certain how to make it stand out. “Have a nice rest.”
“I will,” Adeline told her and then smiled softly. “Do not fret. Your ornament really is quite lovely.” With those words Adeline left Francesca alone. She painted a thin dark yellow outline and considered it good. Perhaps Adeline was right. It was beautiful and she should stop doubting herself. She carried it over to the table to dry. They’d add ribbon to their ornaments before putting them on the tree.
Adeline cleaned up her supplies, and then left the craft room. As she was rounding the corner to go up to her bedchamber she stumbled against a man. She mumbled her apologies before she glanced up. Her mouth went dry and she lost all ability to think, let alone speak. He had thick black hair, and eyes so blue they took her breath away. In short, she was a bumbling mess. Francesca had never seen a man as beautiful as this one, and had nothing to fall back on in her interaction with him.
“No need to apologize,” he said in a husky tone. She’d somehow managed to find her breath, and shivers went down her spine as he spoke. God help her. “It was all my fault.” He had so much charm no lady would be able to resist. Who was he?
She shook her head still unable to speak. What was wrong with her? So he was gorgeous. That shouldn’t matter! If she had any chance of having a successful season she had to learn to use her voice. “My lord,” she curtsied. “It was indeed my fault. I cannot let you take the blame.”
His lips tilted upward into a sinful smile that promised he could be quite wicked if a lady let him have his way with her. Francesca had never been so tempted to offer herself to a man before. But to be fair, no men like this one lived near her home in Kent. “A gentleman would never let a lovely lady as you carry such a burden.” He held out his hand to her. “Why don’t you stroll with me. I’m only here until morning and I find myself a bit lonely.”
She frowned. Francesca should help out and spend some time with him. This was her aunt’s house, and she did know the layout, and what might appeal to him. “I am afraid we’ve not been introduced…”
“Then let’s rectify that.” He brought her hand up to his lips and pressed down in a soft kiss. “I am Matthew.”
That was not at all what she meant. Using his surname was absolutely scandalous, and she shouldn’t do it. She tilted her head to the side and studied him. What did this man hope to achieve by being wicked with her? “Matthew?”
“Yes,” that rich tone of his voice was a weapon and a gift. More importantly he seemed to understand that and used it to his advantage.
“Do you not believe it’s too familiar?” He was an enigma. Why would he not want to know more about her, or her him?
“Not at all,” he said smoothly. Matthew stared intently into her eyes, and it made her want to believe everything he said to her. “I do believe you and I are destined to be…acquainted. Why stall the inevitable?”
Francesca barely held in a sigh. Was he right? Were they somehow meant to be? “I am Francesca,” she acquiesced. “How do you feel about conservatories?”
“I love them,” he said. “Is there one here? Will you show me?”
Francesca nodded. “The duchess has a lovely orange tree. It’s one of the best conservatories in all of England, though perhaps not as wonderful as the one at Seabrook, I do love it.”
He looped her arm with his. “Lead the way dear Cesca,” he said in a tone so intimate it filled her with warmth. “And tell me about Seabrook. Have you visited there often?”
He didn’t know who she was… Francesca smiled. She should tell him that the Marquess of Seabrook was her great uncle? Perhaps later. She liked this interaction with him and adored the shortened version of her name he used.
They reached the conservatory and Francesca was relieved no one else was there. That gave her more time alone with him. She led him to the orange tree. “Isn’t it beautiful?”
“Not nearly as much as you are.” She glanced at him and sucked in a breath. She may have never experienced desire, but she understood it existed. This man stared at her with so much need it made her insides quiver
“You say such sweet things Matthew.” Her voice was soft and filled with the same need reflected in his eyes. “How sweet are you?”
“Let me show you,” he said as he leaned down, and pressed his lips to hers.
The kiss was soft, coaxing, and as sweet as he promised. Then it turned into something much more passionate and consuming. He brought his hand up to her breast and dipped a finger underneath her bodice. He stroked her nipple and it hardened at his touch. The need between her thighs deepened and she didn’t quite know what was happening.
He pushed the bodice down and lowered his head, sucked in that tight nipple, and she nearly screamed with pleasure. Sweet wasn’t the right word. Matthew was a wicked rogue, and Francesca was falling in love with him. Nothing could stop the feelings spreading through her now.
He lifted her skirts and slid his hand between her thighs. She moaned as tiny quivers rocked her body. “You’re so responsive,” he whispered in her ear. “I want you.” He groaned as he slid a finger inside her. She pressed herself against him. She wanted him to.
And she decided to give herself to him, body, soul, and especially, all the love in her heart… “Yes,” she said. “Yes…” She promised herself she would not regret any of this. He was her destiny, and she’d never believed she’d be so lucky to find the man of her dreams before she started looking. Sometimes fate could be surprising in the best possible ways, and the pleasure Matthew made her feel…simply marvelous.
One
March 1866
Francesca was a fool… How could she have believed he loved her? She’d been hoping, and hoping for weeks now, and it was time to accept he didn’t care for her at all. He’d seduced her, and it hadn’t been particularly difficult either. She’d fallen willingly into his arms and hadn’t regretted that choice.
Until now…
She slid her hand down her belly and fought tears. Her dilemma could no longer be ignored. She had feared her condition and wished it away, but doing either didn’t change anything. Francesca didn’t know what to do. This was not a situation she’d ever believed she’d find herself in.
Her heart hurt. When Matthew hadn’t come for her she should have realized then he’d used her. She’d made so many excuses for him, and she couldn’t change that. She couldn’t change any of it. If she wasn’t facing the consequences of her choice she’d have eventually found a way to forget him, or at least not cry as much at the loss.
Francesca would like to believe she was smarter now, but there was no way to determine if she’d be so foolish over a man again. Her naïveté had already came out shining on her first interaction with a handsome scoundrel. She wished she’d been at least smart enough to ask for his full name. Francesca wanted to slap him in the face for taking advantage of her.
Someone had to know who he was. He’d been at a family gathering after all. There were always more than family at Christmastide. They had friends of friends there. The question was how to discover his name without spilling her own secret along the way…
She sighed. It seemed too difficult. Matthew had been her downfall, and soon the entire ton would be able to see for themselves the mistake she’d made. There was only so much time left before her belly gave it away. Even in that she wasn’t certain how long it would be. She’d never been enceinte before…
“There you are,” Scarlett Kendall, the Marchioness of Blackthorn, Francesca’s mother said. “Why are you hiding out here?” Francesca inherited her strawberry blonde hair from her mother, though hers was lighter than her mother’s richer red. The marchioness had hers pulled back into a simple plait, and her day dress, while elegant, was also a simple butter yellow with white lace trim around the bodice.
They had arrived in London earlier that week to prepare for the season. Her comeout ball would be in a couple of days. At first she’d been excited for it. Now she wished she could cancel it. Doing so would be a scandal in itself though, and she wouldn’t add to her family’s embarrassment. She’d sneaked out to the garden to find some peace from all the preparations. They had decided to stay at her grandfather, the Duke of Weston’s, townhouse. The ballroom was larger and could accommodate the number of guests invited. After her ball they would retire to the smaller Blackthorn house.
“It’s a lovely day don’t you think?” It was actually quite chilly, but she’d needed the cooler air to help her overheated skin. She’d been ill at odd times of the day, and some days she seemed fine. At first she’d dismissed it as nerves. It wasn’t until a couple days ago she’d realized she couldn’t recall the last time her courses had come. “And there is so many people inside. It was stifling.” That part was the complete truth. Francesca had heard balls were so packed sometimes it was difficult to move. That sounded almost terrifying now considering her condition.
“I’m sorry,” her mother said. “Sometimes when one has to endure society obligations it can become unbearable.” She lifted her hand and brushed a stray lock behind Francesca’s ear. “But the good news is once this is done you can pick and choose what balls you wish to attend. Try to have fun.”
Francesca wished and wished… But wishing didn’t work. Her fate was already sealed. Since cancelling the ball was out of the question she’d see it through, and she would make a decision later what she should do next. She would like to at least attempt to uncover her baby’s father’s identity. If that wasn’t possible then she’d confess all to her parents. She hoped it wouldn’t come to that.
“I will have fun.” She smiled, but she didn’t feel even the slightest bit happy. Francesca wondered if she would ever feel that way again. “I’ve been looking forward to this ball for a while now.” And having her one night with Matthew had ruined it for her. “How could I not enjoy it. The preparations however…”
Her mother laughed. “They are tiresome.” The smile fell from her mother’s face. “Are you certain you are all right? I’ve been having strange dreams.”
Francesca’s heart raced. Her mother had a prognostic gift, and if she had dreams…they might give away her secret. “I’m fine.” She put more effort into her smile. “I promise. What were these dreams about?”
Her mother glanced away. “They were flashes really. You didn’t look happy, there was a man but I only saw him from the back. He had dark hair…” She shook her head. “It’s probably nothing. Maybe he’s the one you’re meant to fall in love with. The path isn’t always easy on the course to true love.”
Her mother couldn’t be more wrong. Matthew didn’t love her at all, and even if she found him Francesca doubted he’d take responsibility for the baby he’d help create. Still she had to try..
“You could be right. The ball is soon, and perhaps this mysterious man will be one of the guests.”
Her mother hugged her. “I hope whoever the man is that wins your heart realizes how lucky he is to have you.”
Francesca fought tears. Her voice was a little husky as she spoke, “I’m sure he will be worthy of it. I wouldn’t pick a man undeserving now would I?”
“No you wouldn’t,” she agreed. Her mother pulled back then came to her feet. “Do not stay out here too long. It’s too cold still.” With those words she left Francesca alone with her thoughts once again…
Matthew Grant, the Duke of Lindsey stared out the window in his study at his country estate, Lindy Castle. He’d grown up there. His parents had left him to the nanny’s and governess’s to raise. He didn’t understand love, so it was no wonder he had been taken low by it when he was a green lad.
One lady, slightly older, and perhaps wiser had stolen his young heart and then crushed it cruelly. After that disastrous mistake he vowed never to give his heart to another. He had none to give either way, and now his heartless mother had decided it was time for him to marry. As if Matthew couldn’t make a decision of his own.
