Clara was not Lady Cocwood, but a mere week before she found herself widowed. Her foolish husband died in a horse-riding accident—one that could have been prevented had he refused to jump a fence far too high. With his death, Clara finds herself thrown out of her new home and left without funds. In that moment, she understands what her older sister had gone through years earlier and prays Juliet will forgive her, for now, she desperately needs help.

  Grant Oliver, the Viscount of Oakwood, has returned to England after a long sojourn. His first stop is to visit his cousin, the Duke of Sinbrough. What he does not expect to find is that the former Duke of Sin is now happily married and has given up his notorious parties. The other surprise? A young widow who is as delectable as she is intriguing—and whom he fully intends to seduce.

  Clara never expected to find passion again, let alone love. Grant wants nothing to do with any such elusive emotion as love or anything resembling it. Neither one of them anticipated finding something lasting with each other. Yet, no one ever plans on falling in love, and accepting it is the most difficult decision of all.

  Her Rogue to Kiss Good Morning

  Her Rogue to Kiss Good Morning

  LADY BE WICKED

  WICKED WIDOWS’ LEAGUE

  DAWN BROWER

  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.

  Copyright © 2025 by Dawn Brower

  Cover art by Mandy Koehler Designs

  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.

  “The Very first moment I beheld him, my heart was irrevocably gone.”

  JANE AUSTEN, LOVE AND FRIENDSHIP

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Epilogue

  Also by Dawn Brower

  About Dawn Brower

  Thank You

  Excerpt: A Lady Never Tells

  Prologue

  Excerpt: How to Charm an Earl

  Prologue

  Prologue

  The cold winter wind cut sharply through the streets as Clara James, Lady Cocwood, made her way to her sister’s home. Her breath misted in the frigid air, her steps quick and determined as the snow crunched underfoot. The heavy weight of her shawl barely did anything to ward off the chill, but she barely noticed. There was only one thing on her mind—getting to her sister’s doorstep. She loathed the path her choices had forced her to take. The last thing she wished to do was beg her sister for help. Especially considering how Juliet had been forced to find her own way after Clara’s mother had kicked her out of the house. Juliet must hate Clara, and she likely loathed her mother even more so.

  Her hands, trembling both from the cold and the nervousness that twisted within her chest, gripped the handle of the small bag she had brought with her, the only possession she had truly cared to bring. As she neared the large, imposing door of Sinbrough House, Clara paused for a moment to steady her breath. The massive estate loomed above her, a picture of wintertime grandeur, its dark stonework framed by intricate ironwork that glistened with frost. She had never been to this house. Had never even met the man that her sister had married. It had been years since she had even seen her sister. Now she was brought low by her decision to elope. A decision she regretted more than anything. No that was not entirely true. She also regretted the distance that had been placed between her and Juliet. Her mother had thrown Juliet out of the house and refused to help her. Now her mother had done the same to her. She had been disowned because she had run off and married. That fateful day had ruined her life and mere hours after she had said her vows, her husband, Lord Cocwood, had died in a horrific fall during a horse race. A race he had foolishly thought he would win even though he was far too foxed to have undertaken it to begin with.

  Clara swallowed back the bitter taste of grief that still clung to her throat. She had never imagined herself having to beg her sister for anything, but now she had no choice. Clara prayed that Juliette would help her and that she would not be forced to do something dreadful to survive. The little funds she had left were meager and if Juliet refused to help her… Well, then, she would not survive. She had nowhere else to go. Before she could raise her hand to knock, the door swung open, revealing an imposing butler with hair as white as the snow that fell around her. He narrowed his gaze on her and said in a haughty tone, “How may I assist you?”

  Clara’s voice, usually poised, now faltered with an edge of desperation. “I am here to see my sister,” she said, her words coming out in a rush. “It is urgent.”

  “And who might your sister be?” He raised a brow.

  Clara swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat. She had to get inside this house. It was imperative that she spoke with her sister. She lifted her chin and said in a decisive tone, “Her Grace the Duchess of Sinbrough.”

  He stared her for several moments as if he was not certain if he should believe her and then the butler gave a curt nod and stepped aside, allowing Clara to enter the warmth of the grand hall. The contrast between the biting cold outside and the welcoming heat of the house was immediate, but it did little to ease the heavy weight pressing on her chest.

  Juliet had been married for just a month now to the Duke of Sinbrough, and Clara had not dared to visit sooner. She had not truly thought her sister would welcome her. But there was no one else she could turn to now. Her mother had refused to help her—too concerned with her own reputation to care for Clara’s grief or her plight. But Juliet... Juliet would understand. She had to believe that because the possibility of anything else would prove disastrous.

  “Wait here,” the butler told her. “I must see if Her Grace is home to visitors.” As if Clara was not family… Though she could understand why the butler didn’t consider her to be a relation of Juliet’s. It wasn’t as if they had been a part of each other’s lives for some time now. She stood in the foyer and waited for what seemed like an eternity until the butler returned.

  “Follow me,” he instructed her. The butler led her through the opulent hallway, and Clara’s thoughts swirled back to when they had been children, and their family home had felt more like a sanctuary than a place of obligation. Back when their father had been alive their lives had been vastly different. He had been warm and affectionate. Sometimes she wondered what her father had seen in her mother. They were complete opposites.

  Juliet was seated by the fire in the drawing room, her posture elegant as ever. Her blonde hair was secured in an elegant chignon and her eyes the same bright blue that Clara remembered. The concern in those blue eyes was more than she could have hoped for as Clara hurried forward.

  “Clara?” Juliet’s voice was soft, but it trembled with emotion. “What is it?”

  “Juliet,” Clara said as a sob escaped. “I need your help. I made a terrible mistake and now Mother won’t let me come home.”

  “Come in.” She gestured toward a nearby settee. Juliet glanced at her husband and he only nodded at her with some unspoken communication. “You can stay with us. You don’t need to worry.”

  “Thank you,” Clara said. “I wasn’t certain you would help me. Mother should never have allowed you to be thrown out. I wish…”

  She hated this… Hated it so much. Damn her mother and her unyielding opinions.

  “Don’t wish for anything,” Juliet told her. “You were no more than a child yourself at the time. There was nothing you could do.”

  “I was old enough to know it was wrong,” Clara said vehemently. “I was as close to an adult as I was a child. In between and with no say…” She sighed. “But you’re right. There is no going back. We cannot undo what has already been done.

  “I am happy,” Juliet told her. “I never imagined I could ever be so happy.” She glanced at the duke again. The love in her sister’s gaze was a welcome sight. The duke looked at her in the same way. How lovely... “So do not let the past dictate what you do from now on. Tell me what happened, and perhaps we can help you find your own happiness.”

  “I eloped,” Clara said. “And now I am a penniless widow. My marriage lasted mere hours, and now I have nothing.”

  “Oh Clara,” she said sympathetically. “Come here,” she told her, then hugged her against her. “You have a home with us, and its time it will become easier. Don’t worry about anything. I have you.”

  “I have no other choice, Juliette,” Clara said, her voice breaking slightly. “I’m lost. Completely lost. I... He’s dead… He was such a bloody fool, but I suppose so was I.”

  Juliet rose from her chair, her hands instinctively reaching for her sister. “Tell me what’s happened.”

  Clara’s chest tightened as she recounted the calamity of her marriage. How her wedding day had turned to devastation when her husband had taken a foolish wager, one that ended in his tragic death. “It was only hours after we married,” she murmured, the bitter memory still so raw. “I’ve been left with nothing. No husband, no future.”

  Juliet’s face softened in sympathy as she took Clara’s hands in hers. “And your mother refused to allow you to come home…”

  Clara’s voice dropped to a whisper. “I have nothing... Th scandal…” She sighed. “Mother has disowned me.” She looked at her sister, her eyes filled with a mixture of sorrow and desperation. “I need your guidance. I need a way out of this. I can’t do this on my own.”

  Juliet’s gaze hardened with determination as she pulled Clara close. “You are not alone. Not anymore. We will figure this out together.” She smiled softly. “I know exactly who we can go to for assistance. Tomorrow, I will introduce you to the Dowager Countess of Wyndam. She will know exactly what to do.”

  The two sisters embraced, their hearts bound by a shared history of love and loss. But as the flames of the fire flickered in the hearth, Clara knew one thing—she had finally found someone who would fight for her, and perhaps, together, they could rebuild what had been shattered. Her life was not as over as she had thought. She knew that Juliet would know what to do.

  Clara sank into the settee beside her sister, her shoulders trembling as the warmth of Juliet’s presence seeped into her very bones. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, she allowed herself a measure of relief, though it was tinged with the lingering sting of her mother’s disapproval.

  “You must rest,” Juliet said gently, placing a hand over Clara’s. “The mind cannot mend if the body is worn and exhausted. Tomorrow we will take the first steps toward righting this wrong. You will see, my dear sister, there is always a way forward.”

  Clara gave a small, weary nod, though the knot of anxiety in her chest loosened slightly. “I pray you are right.”

  Juliet’s eyes, bright with unshakable resolve, met her own. “I assure you that I am. There are always allies, Clara, more than you imagine. You must trust that the world is not as cruel as it sometimes seems, and that those who love you will not abandon you.” Her mother didn’t seem capable of love, but at least she could count on her sister.

  The fire crackled, throwing dancing shadows across the room, and for a moment, the sisters sat in silence, comforted by the quiet companionship and the unspoken promise that they would face whatever came together.

  “Thank you, Juliet,” Clara whispered, a tear escaping despite her best effort. “I was so afraid I would have to face this alone.”

  “You are never alone,” Juliet said firmly. “You have me, and you will have others, too. But for now, do not fret. Let the fire chase away the chill, and let your heart gather strength for what is to come.”

  Clara exhaled slowly, feeling the tension in her body ease, if only slightly. Though her past missteps weighed heavily upon her, she realized she had not been entirely without guidance or compassion. With Juliet at her side, there was hope. Perhaps, she thought with the faintest glimmer of courage, she could reclaim some measure of her dignity—and, in time, her life.

  As the night drew on, the two sisters remained by the fire, talking softly of the past, of shared memories and Juliet told Clara more about her husband. The more she heard the more she liked the duke. He seemed like a good man and though Clara’s path was far from clear, the warmth of family and the promise of guidance made the darkness less frightening. For the first time in weeks, she allowed herself to believe that, even in the aftermath of tragedy, there could be light.

  With Juliet’s hand resting over hers, a steadfast anchor in the storm, Clara felt the first stirrings of hope. Perhaps, in time, she could find her place in the world once more, and she fully intended never to marry again. Once was enough for her and it had proved a disastrous decision. She would gladly remain a widow for the rest of her days. It seemed far more prudent than ever placing her life in another man’s hands again…

  One

  The familiar chill of an English morning greeted Grant Oliver, the Viscount of Oakwood as he descended from the carriage at the gates of Sinbrough House. Years abroad had dulled little of the awe that always accompanied the sight of grand estates, but for Grant, the beauty of his cousin’s home was almost incidental. His thoughts were heavy with memories of a mother lost too soon, of a father more absent in life than in spirit, and of the burden he had reluctantly assumed at the tender age of eight and ten. The estates he had left to stewards all those years ago were secure, at least in name, yet he felt little desire to reclaim the life they represented—at least not fully. Mostly he did not wish to cross paths with his father. The last time he had seen the Earl of Lyonsdale, his estranged father, he had told him that he would never speak to him again. He fully intended to keep that promise. But that had not been the only promise he had made or the most important one. Just the one that sat bitterly in his stomach. But he had to honor one promise he had made no matter what. It was time to return home even if it meant he might see his father again.

  He had made that promise to his mother, and that promise alone would be enough to tether him to England despite the call of foreign lands and adventures that had long soothed his restless spirit after losing her. He could no longer ignore what he needed to do. Now, returning in earnest, he sought neither grand fanfare nor the stifling comfort of familial obligations. His father, if he had noticed the absence of his only son all these years, had shown nothing of it. Even when he had told the man how disgusted he had been with him it had been evident what his father would do with is life. The earl preferred the warm embrace of a bottle of brandy to the weight of responsibility or the love of his wife or son.

  Grant adjusted the gloves at his wrist and drew the collar of his coat closer against the crisp morning air. Winter might have faded away to spring but it still had a tether on the chilly London day. His destination was not the ancestral home that should have been his by right, but rather Sinbrough House itself, where his cousin, the Duke of Sinbrough, held dominion—and perhaps a measure of wisdom that could temper Grant’s own tumultuous thoughts. Sinbrough led a decadent lifestyle, but he had always been a confidant of his. Now that he was home, he hoped the duke would offer some sage advice on how he should proceed with the earl. Their mothers had been sisters and both had died far too young. It had been something that Grant and Sinbrough had bonded over—even if Grant was five years Sinbrough’s junior. He was like the older brother Grant had never had.

  He lifted his hand and rapped the knocker across the door. Not long afterward it opened to reveal Sinbrough’s butler. Grimms had been with the duke for as long as Grant could remember. He never smiled and was always completely composed. “My lord,” he said. “It’s been a while.”

  Grant’s lips twitched as he fought a smile. “It’s good to see you too, Grimms. Is he home?”

  “His Grace is in his study,” Grimms told him. “Please come in. I am certain he will be glad to see that you have returned to England.”

  “Perhaps,” Grant said. “If he isn’t busy with other entertainments.”

  “His Grace rarely entertains these days.” Grimms shut the door after Grant entered. “Her Grace would not approve.”

  “Her Grace?” Grant lifted a brow. Sinbrough had married? Well…that was different and quite unexpected. He had not thought the duke would ever marry and if he did it would not be for several years in the future—once he had finally believed he would need an heir for the title. Though even then Grant had doubted his cousin would settle down with one woman. It had not seemed in his nature to do so.

  “Yes,” Grimms confirmed. “The duke wed this past winter. Her Grace is quite lovely.”

  “Of course,” Grant said. “I would never doubt that Sinbrough would marry a woman that wasn’t beautiful.”

  “Her Grace is beautiful,” Grimms confirmed. “But that isn’t what I meant. She’s an extraordinary woman.”

 

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