Candice Hern

THE REGENCY RAKES TRILOGY

by Candice Hern

Omnibus Edition

Includes Three Full-Length Novels:

A PROPER COMPANION

A CHANGE OF HEART

AN AFFAIR OF HONOR

THE REGENCY RAKES TRILOGY

Three-in-One Omnibus

Copyright 2011 by Candice Hern

All rights reserved. No part of this text may be used or reproduced, downloaded, transmitted, or decompiled in any manner whatsoever, whether electronic or mechanical, without written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the internet or any other means without the permission of the author is illegal. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author's rights is appreciated.

* * *

This is a work of fiction. With the exception of real historical figures and events that may be mentioned, all names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

For further information, email

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* * *

Cover art: Detail of "Morning and Evening Dresses" from the May 1807 issue of
Le Beau Monde
. Collection of the author.

A PROPER COMPANION

by Candice Hern

A Regency Romance

Book 1 of the Regency Rakes Trilogy

Prologue

London, June 1785

"Whose is it?" the Countess Pentwick asked for probably the hundredth time. She paced her daughter's bedroom, thoroughly disgusted with the girl. "Whose is it?"

Only this morning an indiscreet chambermaid had been overheard by the countess to say that Lady Gwendolyn had been sick every morning for the last week. Her mother was no fool. She would know that Gwen was increasing.

Ignoring Gwen's silence, the countess continued pacing. "How could you be so stupid? And so ungrateful. After all the plans and money spent to give you a fine Season, you toss it all in our faces by bringing disgrace and scandal upon your family." Lady Pentwick turned to face her daughter, who sat in her bed, staring out the window.

Gwen had not spoken a word since her mother had charged into the room. What could she say?

"Gwendolyn, look at me when I speak to you!" the countess roared. "It's that rogue Townsend's bastard, isn't it? Isn't it?" she shrieked, shaking her daughter by the shoulders.

Gwen turned her head, batting back tears, and refused to speak.

"So. It is Townsend's." The countess sighed as she sank into a chair. "There is no doubt this will be difficult to cover up, even with your father's influence. Good God, girl, the man's a rogue! A gambler, a younger son with no prospects, and, worst of all, a Catholic. Where was your good sense?" Lady Pentwick dropped her head into her hands and did not speak for several minutes.

When she lifted her head, Gwen recognized the look of determination on her mother's face. Lady Pentwick stood and clasped her hands at her waist.

"Well, my girl," the countess said, her lip curling in a sneer, "since you are not fit to run your own life, I will make sure that it is run for you. Your father will see to it that you are married at once." At Gwen's look of hopefulness, she added, "Not to Townsend, you ninny! You cannot imagine your father would countenance a connection to a Catholic. Especially one whose father fought for that pathetic Pretender. You know how your father feels about traitors."

Gwen sank back against the pillows, gripping the linens so tightly that she felt a seam ripping near the edge. My God, she thought, what is going to happen to me? She was not long in finding out.

"Viscount Tarbolton will do nicely, I think," the countess said. "He has a fine old title despite his lack of fortune. In fact, his lack of fortune is a mark in his favor. He can be convinced by appropriately generous settlements from your father to take on a soiled bride. And I'm sure he can be persuaded to accept the babe as his own." The countess's mouth twisted in disgust. "In the meantime you will remain locked in this room until the wedding plans are made. You shall not stir from these four walls until such time as your father has a license in hand and a vicar in the chapel." The countess turned on her heel and marched out of the room.

Lady Gwen jumped out of bed and began pacing the room in much the same manner as her mother. What on earth was she going to do? She would not marry Lord Tarbolton. Why, he was old enough to be her father, was quite fat, and frequently sent showers of spittle flying as he spoke. Gwen shivered in disgust as she contemplated marriage to the man.

She must contact Walter. He loved her. He would not allow her to marry some obnoxious old man and present him with Walter's child. She quickly penned a note to Walter begging him to come for her. She knew he would not fail. Often enough he had talked about wanting to run away with her. Surely he would make good his promises now that she needed him most.

Later, when her maid Molly brought a tray of bread and water for dinner, she slipped her the note, asking her to deliver it to Mr. Townsend, with orders not let to anyone see her leave. It was urgent that the note be delivered tonight. Molly, an empty- headed flibbertigibbet, was nevertheless very loyal to her young mistress and happily agreed to play a part in such a romantic escapade. She returned later that evening and slipped a note under Gwen's door.

It was from Walter! He had agreed to her plan! He would be waiting for her beneath her window at three A.M. If she could contrive to climb out her window, he would take her away to Gretna, and they would be married. Gwen hugged the note to her breast and danced around the room. She then packed a few clothes in a small bandbox. She threw in her jewel case as well. After all, they would probably need the money. She spent the next few hours fashioning a rope from the bed linens, which she attached to the sturdy post of her bed.

At three o'clock she went to the window and saw Walter below. He smiled and blew her a kiss. She threw her bandbox down to him. Then she tossed her makeshift rope over the sill and climbed out the window without a backward glance.

Chapter 1

Bath, May 1812

"
Damn and blast!
" The dowager Countess Bradleigh leaped from her chair, nearly upsetting the tea table, crumpled the latest copy of the
Gazette
, and flung it furiously across the room. "The idiot!" she said through clenched teeth. "The insolent fool! What can have possessed him?" she bellowed as she paced the morning room, nearly treading on the pug Charlemagne. He whimpered and scurried to safety beneath the sofa.

Emily Townsend eyed her elderly employer with caution. The dowager had a notoriously sharp tongue and a biting wit. At age seventy-eight, Lady Bradleigh still took a youthful interest in all the activities of the
ton
and participated in as many of those as she found to be interesting or scintillating. A hint of scandal was known to put her in the most cheerful of moods for weeks. She was seldom given to emotional outbursts, however. In fact, in the year of Emily's employment with the dowager, she could not recall ever having heard her curse.

"Which insolent fool has done what idiot thing, my lady?" Emily asked as she coaxed the whimpering Charlemagne from beneath the sofa. She picked up the pug, placed him on her lap, and began to scratch his belly.

The dowager turned to Emily and stretched her thin frame to its full height. "My odious grandson, Bradleigh," she said, "has announced his betrothal." She paused, thrusting her chin at an indignant angle. "To the daughter of that twit Lady Windhurst!"

This was not exactly the sort of devastating news Emily had expected. "But, my lady," she said, her brows lifting in question, "surely you are pleased that Lord Bradleigh has finally decided to marry?"

Emily was well aware that Lady Bradleigh was very fond of her eldest grandson, despite his rackety reputation. Even prior to her employment with the dowager countess, Emily had heard shocking tales of the rakish Earl of Bradleigh. She had been at first amazed and then amused to note that whenever the dowager was presented with a new
on-dit
involving her grandson, she usually laughed aloud, enjoying his rather scandalous notoriety. Emily could also remember at least as many occasions, however, when the dowager complained that her grandson should stop racketing about and think of producing an heir. She was therefore somewhat puzzled at the dowager's reaction to the news of his betrothal.

"I do not object to his marrying," the dowager snapped, "but I cannot countenance his selection of a bride! The Windhurst chit, of all people!" The dowager sank back into her chair and expelled a gusty sigh.

Emily quietly rose and tucked Charlemagne into his favorite chair, walked to the corner of the room, and retrieved the
Gazette
from behind the fire screen. She scanned the open page until she found the opprobrious announcement, which she read aloud. " 'Benjamin Lord Windhurst and Lady Windhurst announce the betrothal of their only daughter, Miss Augusta Windhurst, to Robert James Frederick Cameron, ninth Earl of Bradleigh.' So, my lady, you find Miss Windhurst, or perhaps her family, objectionable?"

"My dear Emily," the dowager drawled, "you cannot begin to imagine how objectionable. Lord Windhurst can, of course, be disregarded as merely a spineless milquetoast, but Lady Windhurst is a harridan unequaled in all the
ton
. The very thought of her enlarging our family circle is enough to cause palpitations. She is the former Margaret Pinkerton, whose father was a captain in the army—the infantry, my dear—and whose mother was the daughter of a cit." The dowager snorted in a most unladylike manner. Emily bit her lower lip to stifle a giggle as she watched the dowager's face screw up as if she had just smelled something very unpleasant.

"Margaret was notorious in her day for her attempt to crack the
beau monde
," the dowager continued. "My God, what a toad-eater she was! And still is, from what I have heard. How she managed to snare Windhurst, I've never known. More than likely compromised him!"

Emily's hand flew to her mouth as she bit back a hastily suppressed snort of laughter.

"Well," the dowager said with a resigned shrug of her thin shoulders, "I understand the daughter is a beauty. And Lady Windhurst has thrown all her weight behind obtaining a fine title for the child. But how on earth can Bradleigh have succumbed to her vile machinations? How dare he align the Camerons with that odious family? Oh, the impudent scoundrel!"

The dowager was up and pacing again. "And of course he's well and truly stuck with her now. A public announcement already! How could he be such a fool?" Her voice rose, and her pacing quickened. "Well, I can assure you that shrill-voiced, vulgar, encroaching mushroom of a shrew shall never cross my threshold! I shall
never
receive her. Or even acknowledge this ill-considered connection. In fact, I shall tell Bradleigh to his head that I intend to sever all contact with him if he proceeds with a marriage to that common harpy's daughter."

Emily gasped. Her spine stiffened, and she looked away. "You do not really mean that, my lady," she said in a soft, chilly voice.

Emily was extremely sensitive to the idea of family estrangement and knew firsthand the pain resulting from such cruelty. Her own mother had suffered total estrangement from her family as a result of her runaway marriage to Walter Townsend. Emily had never understood the heartlessness that could cause parents to abandon their own child. Her mother had never completely overcome the pain of her estrangement, despite the fact that she was very happy in her marriage to Townsend. That pain had turned to anger in her daughter.

Lady Bradleigh flushed with embarrassment as she must have realized the impact of her words. She reached over and grabbed Emily's hand. "Of course I did not mean it, my dear. It was only my anger and disappointment speaking. You must know that I could never bear to lose contact with Robert. Or with any of my grandchildren."

Emily turned back to face the dowager, smiled, and squeezed her hand. She was really quite fond of the older woman.