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Authors: Isabella Bradford

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A Wicked Pursuit

BOOK: A Wicked Pursuit
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Copyright © 2014 Susan Holloway Scott
Excerpt from
A Sinful Deception
copyright © 2014 by Susan Holloway Scott

The right of Susan Holloway Scott to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

First published in this Ebook edition in 2014
by HEADLINE ETERNAL
An imprint of HEADLINE PUBLISHING GROUP

Published by arrangement with Ballantine Books,
an imprint of Random House,
a division of Random House LLC.

Apart from any use permitted under UK copyright law, this publication may only be reproduced, stored, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, with prior permission in writing of the publishers or, in the case of reprographic production, in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency.

All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Cataloguing in Publication Data is available from the British Library

eISBN 978 1 4722 1518 5

HEADLINE PUBLISHING GROUP
An Hachette UK Company
338 Euston Road
London NW1 3BH

www.headlineeternal.com
www.headline.co.uk
www.hachette.co.uk

Cover photo © Gregg Gulbronson

Contents

Title Page

Copyright Page

About the Author

Praise for Isabella Bradford

By Isabella Bradford

About the Book

Dedication

Acknowledgments

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Epilogue

Excerpt from
A SINFUL DECEPTION

Find out more about Headline Eternal

Isabella Bradford is a pseudonym for Susan Holloway Scott, the award-winning author of more than forty historical novels and historical romances. Her bestselling books have been published in nineteen countries and translated into fourteen languages with more than three million copies in print. Bradford also writes as half of the
Two Nerdy History Girls
, an entertaining history blog that is also on Twitter and Pinterest. She is a graduate of Brown University, and lives with her family outside of Philadelphia.

Praise for Isabella Bradford:

‘A delectable tale, WHEN THE DUCHESS SAID YES . . . is a witty, passionate historical romance . . . The characters are engaging and complex while the story is filled with plenty of humor, clever banter, sexy situations, romance and love, making this a story you will remember long after the last page is read and the book is closed’
Romance Junkies

‘Wickedly entertaining’ Mary Jo Putney,
New York Times
bestselling author

‘Richly researched and beautifully written’ Karen Harper,
New York Times
bestselling author

‘A vivid portrait of an intriguing woman with all her flaws and strengths. Rich in period detail, the novel also has all the ingredients necessary for a compelling read: conflict, suspense, intrigue, and the romance between Sarah and John Churchill, one of history’s great love stories’ Susan Carroll, author of
The Silver Rose

By Isabella Bradford

Wylder Sisters
When You Wish Upon a Duke
When the Duchess Said Yes
When the Duke Found Love

Breconridge Brothers
A Wicked Pursuit
A Sinful Deception

London’s most scandalous rakes are about to lose their hearts . . .

As the eldest son of the Duke of Breconridge, Harry Fitzroy is duty-bound to marry well. Lady Julia Barclay, the catch of the season, seems the perfect candidate. But a fall from his horse throws his plan awry and he finds himself trapped in the country in the care of Julia’s younger sister.

Harry has never met a woman like Lady Augusta. Utterly without artifice, Gus seems to care not a fig for society. After a taboo kiss awakens an unexpected passion, Harry realises he’d almost given his heart to the wrong sister. Now he must use his most seductive powers to convince Gus that she belongs with him – as his equal, his love, his wife.

For Junessa,
whose wise suggestions, thoughtful editing, and perpetual sense of humor helped me tell this story the way that Gus and Harry deserved.

May this be only the first book of many!

Acknowledgments

This book would
not be as true to its eighteenth century setting without my friends and acquaintances from the Historic Trades program of the Colonial Williamsburg Foundation. They have generously shared their knowledge and experience with me, and I can’t begin to thank them enough.

From the Margaret Hunter Shop:
Janea Whitacre, Sarah Woodyard, and Abby Cox
Mark Hutter, Jay Howlett, and Michael McCarty

From the Apothecary Shop:
Robin Kipps and Sharon Cotner

From the Historic Foodways department:
Rob Brantley, Barbara Scherer, and Melissa Blank

CHAPTER
1

Wetherby Abbey, Norfolk
April 1768

Charles Neville Fitzroy,
fourth Earl of Hargreave, was not by nature a moderate man. To him, if a thing was worth doing at all, it was worth doing completely, without hesitation or doubt, whether it was urging his hunter over the tallest fence or wagering the deepest stakes at cards.

There was no halfway with Harry—for so he was called by his family and closest acquaintances—not even when it came to love. He was nearly twenty-four, an earl in his own right, and heir to his father’s dukedom as well. As everyone kept reminding him, it was time—past time—for him to marry and sire an heir of his own.

And so, with the same determination that he applied to everything else, he had decided on the most beautiful, most desired, and most perfectly suitable young lady available in Britain: the Honorable Miss Julia Wetherby. She had, of course, been in his orbit for most of the season in London—the beautiful young ladies always were with Harry—and she’d made it charmingly clear that if he chose to pursue her in earnest, she’d agree to be caught.

In the way of such matters, however, he’d only realized how perfect a wife Julia Wetherby would make after she had abandoned London for her father’s distant country house. He had come to this decision yesterday morning over his coffee, and he had left town as soon as his cup was empty and his carriage ready, stopping on the road just long enough to change horses. Julia would be his countess; there was no question or doubt whatsoever in his mind.

All of which explained why he was now here in this benighted corner of Norfolk, and why, too, he was reduced to standing to one side of her father’s drawing room while a small pack of country gentry paraded about before him. He didn’t know any of them, and they didn’t seem to want to know him, either, since it was obvious that he was tired and hungry and not particularly clean. He hadn’t known when he had arrived at the house that there would be some sort of party in progress, in honor of Julia’s older brother, the Honorable Andrew Wetherby, who was leaving soon for a tour of the Continent. While Harry was perfectly happy to wish Wetherby
bon voyage
, he hadn’t wanted to be part of this boisterous country celebration, and he didn’t want to have to pretend that he did. What he wanted was Julia.

“Where the devil is your sister hiding herself, Wetherby?” Harry said to the brother after the customary good wishes. The two were standing together, relegated to the area near the fireplace with the other unattached gentlemen. “She was told I was here at least a half hour ago.”

The Honorable Andrew Wetherby sighed in sympathy and held his glass out for the passing servant to refill. “Julia will show herself according to her own time, not ours. You’d best become accustomed to that, my lord.”

But Harry was not in such a jocular humor, not after his long ride on deplorable roads. He’d imagined this evening much differently. He’d pictured being welcomed warmly by Julia herself, and that she’d take him someplace where they could be alone together so he could surprise her with his proposal.

“I’d rather thought she’d be glad to see me,” he said, not bothering to hide either his disappointment or his displeasure. Perhaps Julia hadn’t been informed of his arrival; the young servant girl he’d told had been thoroughly flustered, a feminine response that he was so accustomed to inspiring, he hadn’t given it much thought. “I’m nearly of a mind to go upstairs to her rooms and flush her out myself.”

“If you do that, Lord Hargreave, then I can guarantee you will have a hairbrush hurled at your head for your trouble, or perhaps an entire vase of flowers,” Wetherby said with brotherly resignation. “French coquettes may enjoy being interrupted as they dress, but Julia prefers—no, demands—that none should see her until she is in perfect readiness. She’s always been like that, you know.”

BOOK: A Wicked Pursuit
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