Convenient Bride for the Soldier & the Major Meets His Match & Secret Lessons With the Rake (9781488021718) Read online

  Do you dream of wicked rakes, gorgeous Highlanders, muscled Viking warriors and rugged Wild West cowboys? Harlequin® Historical brings you three new full-length titles in one collection!

  A CONVENIENT BRIDE FOR THE SOLDIER

  The Society of Wicked Gentlemen

  by Christine Merrill

  (Regency)

  Georgiana Knight auctions her innocence to ex-soldier Frederick Challenger. To protect her reputation, she must marry him, but if Frederick hopes to tame her he’ll have to think again…

  THE MAJOR MEETS HIS MATCH

  Brides for Bachelors

  by Annie Burrows

  (Regency)

  Lord Becconsall views ton ladies with a cynical eye…until he falls upon fiery Lady Harriet Inskip. It soon becomes clear that the major has finally met his match!

  SECRET LESSONS WITH THE RAKE

  Hadley’s Hellions

  by Julia Justiss

  (1830s)

  Wanting a role in Parliament, Christopher Lattimar accepts courtesan Ellie Parmenter’s offer to reform and refine him. Their plans tumble, however, once lessons in respectability turn to seduction…

  Look for Harlequin® Historical’s September 2017 Box Set 2 of 2, filled with even more timeless love stories!

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  Harlequin Historical September 2017 - Box Set 1 of 2

  A Convenient Bride for the Soldier

  The Major Meets His Match

  Secret Lessons with the Rake

  Christine Merrill

  Annie Burrows

  Julia Justiss

  Table of Contents

  A Convenient Bride for the Soldier

  By Christine Merrill

  The Major Meets His Match

  By Annie Burrows

  Secret Lessons with the Rake

  By Julia Justiss

  Bought for Ten Thousand Pounds!

  Ex-soldier Frederick Challenger may own a share of London’s most secret gentlemen’s club, but he has long since stopped sampling its delights…until a beautiful woman auctions her innocence.

  Georgiana Knight’s plan had been to lure in a villain, but instead she’s trapped the devil himself. And now, to protect her reputation, she must marry him! But if Frederick has hopes of taming this temptress, he’ll have to think again…

  Hidden among the masked revelers of an underground Regency gentlemen’s club where decadence, daring and debauchery abound, the four owners of Vitium et Virtus are about to meet their match!

  Welcome to…

  The Society of Wicked Gentlemen

  Read

  A Convenient Bride for the Soldier

  by Christine Merrill

  September 2017

  An Innocent Maid for the Duke

  by Ann Lethbridge

  October 2017

  And look for stories

  from Diane Gaston and Sophia James

  coming soon!

  Author Note

  One of the most frequent questions I get asked is “Where do you get your ideas?”

  The truth is, I don’t always know. Stories tend to come out of the swamp that is my mind. Sometimes, they are sparked by a single idea, or a desire to write a totally different, happier ending for something I’ve seen in real life.

  In the case of series like this one, they are a group effort, where editors and authors have fun working together on a general road map for the story. But there is still plenty to go crazy on with the details and to make the characters and their love story totally our own.

  In the case of Georgiana Knight, I must admit that some of her obsessions came straight from my own past. I was a child of the ’60s, but not the exciting part of the decade. With a lack of money and only three TV channels, I spent a lot of time making my own fun. That included visiting the mynah bird at the local shoe store and lying on my belly in the driveway, feeding sugar to ants.

  And, in case you’re wondering, I have not experienced any of her other, wilder adventures. Not yet, anyway…

  Happy reading!

  A Convenient Bride for the Soldier

  CHRISTIME MERRILL

  Christine Merrill lives on a farm in Wisconsin with her husband, two sons and too many pets—all of whom would like her to get off the computer so they can check their email. She has worked by turns in theater costuming and as a librarian. Writing historical romance combines her love of good stories and fancy dress with her ability to stare out the window and make stuff up.

  Books by Christine Merrill

  Harlequin Historical

  The de Bryun Sisters

  The Truth About Lady Felkirk

  A Ring from a Marquess

  Ladies in Disgrace

  Lady Folbroke’s Delicious Deception

  Lady Drusilla’s Road to Ruin

  Lady Priscilla’s Shameful Secret

  Stand-Alone Novels

  A Wicked Liaison

  Miss Winthorpe’s Elopement

  Dangerous Lord, Innocent Governess

  A Regency Christmas Carol

  Two Wrongs Make a Marriage

  Wish Upon a Snowflake

  “The Christmas Duchess”

  The Secrets of Wiscombe Chase

  The Wedding Game

  The Society of Wicked Gentlemen

  A Convenient Bride for the Soldier

  Harlequin Historical Undone! ebooks

  Seducing a Stranger

  Virgin Unwrapped

  To Undo a Lady

  Visit the Author Profile page

  at Harlequin.com for more titles.

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  To the boys in the basement.

  Not Stephen King’s boys.

  Mine.

  Here’s to getting the band back together.

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  CHAPTER ONE

  The dancers stopped and the musicians set down their instruments. Georgiana Knight had never been so glad to hear a song end.

  ‘You dance like an angel.’ Her partner, Sir Nash Bowles, showed no sign of releasing the hand he was holding, instead attempting to tuck it into the crook of his arm so he could escort her from the dance floor.

  Had she heard the compliment, her stepmother would have been quick to point out that George was as far f
rom angelic as it was possible for a girl to be. In Marietta’s opinion, George was lacking in both good sense and manners. In the years after her mother’s death, her father had allowed her to run wild in the country like a hoyden. The resulting damage to her character was most likely irreparable.

  Which was just fine with George. She was happy, just as she was. She certainly did not want to be anyone’s angel. It made her think of dancing on a pinpoint, instead of the razor’s edge of courtesy on which she was balanced when dealing with Sir Nash. He was Marietta’s cousin. Any rudeness on her part would be reported back to her stepmother, which would result in another tiresome lecture on deportment during the carriage ride home.

  She yanked her hand free of his grasp with such suddenness that she almost left him holding an empty glove. Sir Nash was sure to tattle about it and there would be another row.

  Perhaps it was not too late to mitigate the damage. George gave him the sweetest smile she could manage, but made no effort to take his arm. ‘Thank you, sir. You are an excellent dancer as well.’ It was one of the many virtues, along with wealth and family connection, that Marietta would throw in her face when George refused his inevitable offer.

  Sir Nash reached for her hand again, as though he had more right to touch her than she had to refuse. ‘Another dance, perhaps? I hear the orchestra leader tuning up for a waltz.’

  She had to fight the shudder that rose at the prospect. He had managed to stand far too close to her in the most ordinary of line dances. Lord knew what he might attempt if given an excuse to hold her in his arms. ‘I would not want to stand up, only to stop before the dance was over.’ She reached for her fan and snapped it open, creating a fragile barrier between them. Then she closed it and touched it to her left ear, using the language of signals that ladies had created to avoid embarrassing scenes.

  I want you to leave me alone.

  Then she finished with words that they should both know were nothing more than a polite lie to save him embarrassment. ‘The last set left me quite fatigued. I think it best to sit for a while.’

  ‘I will find us chairs,’ he said, ignoring her hint, her tone, and everything else she had done in the last weeks to dissuade him from pursuing her. There was a faint sibilance when he spoke that always reminded her of the hiss of a snake. Though his body was far too stocky too support the serpentine analogy, his movements, whether dancing or walking, were smooth and silent. Even when she was not with him, she feared that he might appear suddenly to offer an inappropriate word or an unwelcome touch.

  Now she laid the fan against her left cheek.

  No!

  ‘It is not necessary to escort me,’ she said to reinforce the signal, snapping the fan open and giving it a furious flutter. ‘I must attend to necessities.’ It would have been so much easier had he been the sort of fellow who trod on hems. Short of ripping her gown herself she had no excuse to give other than a call of nature, to hide in the lady’s retiring room. Let him think what he wished about her reasons for going there, as long as she did not have to say aloud that she was trying to escape from him.

  He gave a nod of defeat and let her go. But she knew, by the creeping feeling of the hairs at the back of her neck, that he watched each retreating step to make sure of her destination.

  Once safely behind the door, she dropped into the nearest chair, ignoring the bustle of the ladies around her. Why was it that the most unappealing men were always the most persistent? The fact that Sir Nash was from her stepmother’s family made it all the more awkward. Marietta was continually singing the man’s praises in hopes of a match that, if George had any say in it, would never occur.

  She shuddered again. As much as she did not like Marietta, she must make some effort to maintain peace for Father’s sake. But that did not mean she had to dance more than a courtesy set with Sir Nash.

  ‘Georgiana!’ Her stepmother’s voice cut through her introspection like a shard of glass.

  ‘Yes, Marietta,’ she said with a sigh.

  ‘Sir Nash says you are unwell.’

  ‘And you came to see if it was true,’ George finished for her.

  ‘I do not want you malingering in the retiring room when you should be enjoying yourself.’

  ‘I am enjoying myself,’ George replied, unable to contain the truth. ‘I find it much more enjoyable to be here, alone, than dancing with your cousin.’

  ‘Horrible, wilful girl.’ Her stepmother was looking at her with the usual, thinly disguised loathing. The woman liked her no better at nineteen than she had seven years ago, when she had married Father. George had long ago given up trying to gain an approval that would never come.

  Now she resisted the urge to pull a face and behave like the spoiled child Marietta proclaimed her to be. ‘I am trying to be polite. If I have no interest in his suit, it would be cruel of me to give him false hope.’

  ‘If you think rejecting him without reason is a virtue, you are sorely mistaken,’ Marietta snapped.

  ‘I have reason enough,’ she said, glancing around. Their argument was drawing enough attention without her elaborating on the sordid details of her time with Sir Nash.

  ‘If I thought that your desire to hang on your father’s coat-tails was a reason to avoid marriage, then I would agree with you.’

  ‘Were it true, it would be no different than marrying me off to your cousin, so you can get me out of your house,’ George said sharply. ‘I am more than willing to go. But not if I must marry Nash Bowles.’ Now her face contorted in the grimace she had been trying to contain. But she could not help it. At the mention of the man’s name, all that was in her recoiled in revulsion.

  ‘Georgiana!’

  It was the beginning of what was likely to be a colourful harangue about her deficient character, made all the more humiliating by the dozen or so women and maids who were pretending that they were not listening to every word. She would not stand for it. She would go and sit in the carriage if she had to. Perhaps, if she begged, the driver would take her back to the country where she belonged, for she’d had not a moment’s peace since the day they’d arrived in London. George shot up and out of her chair, pushing past Marietta and through the door, slamming it behind her.

  She had not thought it possible for the evening to get worse. But on the other side, she all but ran into the only person she wanted to see less than Sir Nash.

  Mr Frederick Challenger was lounging against the wall just opposite the door. What reason did he have to lurk outside the ladies’ room? Or was he possessed of some evil instinct that drew him to be where she was, so he might prevent her from regaining even a little of her pride?

  Now he behaved as he did whenever he saw her. He did not bother with the sort of polite acknowledgement she would have got even from a rotter like Sir Nash. Instead, he glanced in her direction with a half-smile and then looked through her, as if she didn’t exist.

  It was just as he’d done since the first moment they’d met. If one could call a glimpse that had not ended in an introduction a meeting. It had been at Almack’s, some weeks past. Marietta had been all but dragging her by the ear towards him. ‘You must meet Mr Challenger, Georgiana. He is the second son of the Earl of Roston, a hero of Waterloo, eligible and rich!’ She had said it loud enough for all in the vicinity to hear.

  At least, it had been loud enough for Mr Challenger to hear and be insulted. He had cast a blank look in their direction, then turned and walked away before they could speak to him. And so it had gone at each meeting since. Apology was impossible, since they had not been introduced. Not that she should have to be sorry for a thing that was none of her doing. In fact, if he were a gentleman, he should have pretended not to have heard words that were clearly not meant for his ears.

  But it seemed that his chief talent was sticking his perfect nose where it did not belong. Wherever she went, he was th
ere, always watching her while pretending not to notice, never speaking, but always smiling as she made one faux pas after another. Why should she be surprised that he’d caught her red-faced and angry, fresh from the latest argument?

  For a moment, their eyes met, accidentally, she was sure. His were already sliding away to make her painfully aware of his disinterest. In response, she directed all the petty irritations of the night at him in a wordless cry that was part anger and part exasperation.

  He awarded her with a slightly raised eyebrow, as if to say he was aware of her presence, but thoroughly glad he did not have to speak to her.

  She took a deep breath to regain control and answered with what she’d hoped was a dignified sniff that would declare him rude and beneath her notice. Then she swept past him, towards the outer doors.

  That was the moment she discovered her skirt had caught in the slammed door behind her. Her grand exit was marred by the sound of ripping gauze and a confetti shower of spangles on the rug at her feet. Since the retiring room was one of the many places she’d been trying to escape, there was no point in going back for a repair. Instead, she grabbed what was left of her skirt and ran for the door, followed by the faint sounds of a man’s chuckle.

  * * *

  ‘…and then she ran through the ballroom, with her petticoat exposed, almost to the waist.’

  ‘It was an accident,’ George muttered for what seemed like the hundredth time. She sat in the carriage seat opposite her stepmother, elbow on the windowsill and her chin resting on her fist, gazing outside at the London traffic.

  ‘Peace, Marietta.’ Her father’s voice drifted from where he sat beside his wife, staring out of his own window. ‘She did not mean to do it.’ Then he sighed.

  Even as he defended her he sounded faintly disappointed. He had loved her once, George was sure. But lately, when he spoke, he always sounded tired. Was it of London and the demands of Parliament? Or was he simply tired of her?

  ‘Georgiana has far too many such accidents,’ Marietta proclaimed. ‘Since you did not bother to teach her manners, someone must. It amazes me that she has attracted any interest at all on the marriage mart.’