What a Wicked Earl Wants (33 page)

C
olin Brockhurst, Earl of Ravenshire, did not give a rat’s arse about the promise that his mother, the Duchess of Chadwick, had made twenty-eight years ago.

The clatter of the horses’ hooves on the curving graveled drive signaled his imminent arrival for the annual house party given by the Duke and Duchess of Wycoff, his parents’ dearest friends. Colin caught glimpses of Padua House, a sprawling mansion that owed its bizarre façade to too many centuries of architectural renovations. His mother said the house had character. That was the kind explanation.

When the carriage rolled to a halt before the grand mansion, there was no one to greet him. Colin shrugged as he walked up the horseshoe-shaped steps. He’d arrived a week later than his family, having made an excuse about illness—anything to delay the misery. After the butler took his greatcoat, hat, and gloves, he directed Colin to the drawing room.

Colin trudged up the stairs, preparing himself for one of Angeline’s cutting remarks and vowing he would not respond. He’d literally spent a lifetime dealing with her rude behavior, but no more. When she attempted to goad him, and he knew she would, he would simply give her a blank stare.

The Duchess of Wycoff welcomed him. “Colin, dear boy, we have waited an age for you. I know Angeline has been on pins and needles.” The duchess turned to her daughter, who was engaged in a tête-à-tête with a gentleman. “Angie, darling, do say hello to Colin.”

“Tardy as usual, Colin,” Angeline said in a bored tone.

He bowed and muttered, “My lady.”

“What, no enthusiasm?” The gentleman sitting with her laughed and turned to Colin. “Sorry, Ravenshire. I cannot resist Lady Angeline’s wit.”

Colin narrowed his eyes at Gordon Crompton, Viscount Sturridge. He was perpetually in debt, due to his well-known gambling habit. How the devil had he gotten an invitation to the house party?

Angeline’s twenty-one-year-old brother, Simon, the Earl of Wescott, tried to affect a bored expression. “I brought Sturridge along for entertainment in your absence, Colin.”

Colin wondered exactly what sort of entertainment Sturridge had introduced to Simon. He intended to speak to Angie’s brother and find out how he’d gotten involved with that ne’er-do-well.

“Ah, here it is,” the Duchess of Wycoff cried as a footman brought in an ancient cradle and set it before the fireplace.

Bloody hell, he hated this ridiculous ritual. Colin’s mother, the Duchess of Chadwick, whipped out a handkerchief to blot her tears. His twin sisters, Bianca and Bernadette, giggled behind their hands. His father leveled a stern gaze at him as if to say,
Do not dare ruin this for your mother
.

Two bright red splotches marred Angeline’s cheeks. “Mama, please, not the cradle.”

Well, at least on that count, he and Angeline were in accord.

The Duchess of Wycoff hushed her daughter and invited the Duchess of Chadwick to join her. Colin folded his arms over his chest and scowled at Bianca, who was whispering to Bernadette. Both of their eyes were dancing with amusement.

The Duchess of Wycoff drew in a breath. “Twenty-eight years ago, I laid my daughter Angeline in the cradle next to Colin. On that day, the Duchess of Chadwick and I vowed that our beautiful babes would marry.” The duchess smiled at Colin. “Of course, we had hoped that day would arrive a bit sooner, but we have not given up hope.” She regarded Colin with a meaningful expression, one he had no trouble interpreting.

Oh, Lord. Colin slid his gaze at Angeline, whose complexion had grown ashen. There had been many blatant hints over the years, but he actually felt badly for Angeline, too. It couldn’t be any easier for her than it was for him.

He’d sworn he wouldn’t cave in to their ludicrous marriage arrangement, no matter how much pressure his family exerted upon him. Of course, his mother had lectured him for allowing Angeline to remain on the shelf, which was absolutely foolish. If Angie wanted to marry, she’d find some poor sod who had no idea of her real nature.

“Well, then,” the Duchess of Wycoff said. “Let us all rest for a bit. Dinner will be served at seven as we keep country hours.”

Colin couldn’t wait to escape.

Angeline hated being an old maid. The only thing that stood between her and ridicule was her father’s title. No one dared jeer at a duke’s daughter. But unless she did something soon, she’d find herself hopelessly on the shelf.

She had a plan, but she needed Colin’s help. Of course, she might wait until after dark to sneak into Colin’s room, but then she would be far too likely to encounter his valet. The last thing she needed was for the servants to gossip. Mama’s maid Marie knew everything that went on below-stairs and above as well. Angeline meant to conceal the details from everyone except Colin. Hopefully he would cooperate for a change. The sight of that cradle today ought to put the fear of the devil in him, but then he was a man and could wait a decade or more before he chose to marry. She, on the other hand, would become an embarrassment to her own family if she didn’t find a husband soon.

Angeline gritted her teeth. She despised having to ask Colin’s assistance, but she’d run out of options. After she padded down the corridor, she turned right. She knew which room Colin occupied since it had long ago been officially designated for his use during the summer house parties. When she stopped before his door, she almost knocked, but she didn’t want to risk alerting Simon, whose room was at the end of the corridor. So she eased the door open and slowly closed it with a slight
click
.

When she turned around, she gasped.

Colin stood there sans shirt with a towel in his hand. There was a dusting of black hair on his chest, and oh, heaven, an arrow of black hair below his navel. For a moment, her mouth went dry. When she raised her gaze to him, he shook his head. “Have you lost your wits?” he said under his breath.

“I need your help,” she whispered. “It’s in your best interest.”

“Nothing about you is in my best interest. You had better go now. If we’re discovered, they’ll have all the ammunition they need to march us to the altar. Now go.”

She wouldn’t tell him that she feared she’d already become the object of derision among the ton. Drat it all. She ought to have found a husband two years ago, but the reason she hadn’t done so stood before her. “If we go on as before, they will find some way to make us marry,” she said.

“Short of shackling our legs together, they can’t force us to walk down the aisle.” He cupped her elbow. “Now leave here before someone finds you.”

She dug in her heels. “I need a husband.”

“What? You loathe me.”

“I need you to find me a husband,” she said.

He snorted. “You want
me
to make a match for
you
?”

Her face grew hot. “I should have known you would poke fun at me.”

He took her by the shoulders. Even though she’d known him all of her life, she felt more than a little disarmed by the intense expression in his dark eyes.

“Why are you asking me to find you a husband?” he said.

She tried to push him away, but he held her fast. “The truth, Angie. Has this got something to do with Sturridge?”

“Do you think I’m stupid? I know he’s a fortune hunter,” she said. “But consider this. If you find me a husband, we’ll both be off the hook forever. Imagine a life with no more cradle rituals.”

“We’re out in the middle of the country. Where the devil do you think I’m going to find you a suitor, even if I wanted to help you?”

“Invite some of your friends,” she said.

“No. None of my friends are suited for marriage anyway. Why are you so desperate?”

She scowled at him. “Because if I don’t find one soon, I will be on the shelf—or married to you. And you know very well our parents can exert more than a little pressure on both of us. Your father can cut your allowance, and my parents can pile on the guilt about how I’m embarrassing them. Before you know it, we’ll be wed in woe.”

“Angeline, I’m not finding you a husband, and regardless of how much our parents try to pressure us, they cannot force us to marry.”

A knock sounded on the door, startling Angeline. Colin put his finger over her mouth. “Who is it?”

“Your father.”

“A moment, please.” Then he grabbed Angeline’s hand and strode over to the bed. Using hand motions, he indicated she should crawl underneath the mattress.

She shook her head.

He pointed at the door and gave her a furious look.

She lowered to the carpet and scooted beneath the bed. Immediately, she held her hand over her face because she feared she’d sneeze from the dust. She looked at Colin’s boots and saw his father’s shoes as well. This was the most ridiculous thing she’d ever done in her life. She might have laughed if the consequences weren’t so dire.

“Colin, you’ve allowed this to go on too long. Angeline is in danger of becoming a laughingstock. It is past time you proposed.”

Her eyes smarted. She’d been right after all. Everyone thought her an old maid, a woman no one wanted. The only man she’d ever wanted had treated her like a pariah from as far back as she could remember. She ought to hate him for it, and she’d done everything in her power to show that she didn’t like him one bit. But something had happened between them a year ago, and everything had changed for her. Apparently, nothing had changed for him.

“Papa, believe me,” Colin said. “Angeline doesn’t want to marry me any more than I wish to marry her. I know this is Mama’s particular wish, but it is medieval.”

“Colin, hear me well. I know you do not want to give up sowing your wild oats, but I won’t stand for it any longer. Either you do your duty by her or I will cut off your allowance. I’ve said my piece. You will come to terms with your duty before this house party ends.”

Angeline waited for the door to shut. Then she managed to scoot out from under the bed. Colin took her hand and helped her to her feet. “I suppose you couldn’t help overhearing my father.”

“Just as I predicted,” she said.

“I have an idea,” he said. “It won’t be pretty, but our parents will cover it up to ensure there’s not scandal.”

She regarded him through narrowed eyes. “What is your idea?”

“We’ll pretend to be engaged. Then you will break it,” he said. “After that, they’ll give up this foolish marriage plan once and for all.”

“Wait a minute, you’re making me call it off?” she said.

“Keep your voice down,” he said under his breath. “Only the woman can call it off, as you well know.”

“Very well, but we must pretend to be…in love,” she said.

“Oh, Lord.”

“If we don’t, our parents will know we’ve invented a scheme.”

He considered her with a grin. “Well, perhaps we should practice.”

“All you have to do is look at me as if you cannot live without me,” she said.

He snorted. “I’m no actor.”

“You’d better learn fast,” she said.

“Me? It wasn’t so long ago that you tried to stab my leg with a fork beneath the table,” he said.

She took a step closer. “You deserved it.”

“You deserve to pay for that,” he said.

“Oh, please, I’m shaking in my slippers,” she said.

He pulled her up to his chest. “You don’t believe me, do you?”

She caught her breath. When she started to speak, he lowered his head and captured her lips.

Dear Reader,

Some characters demand center stage. Like Andrew Carrington, the Earl of Bellingham, known as Bell to his friends. Bellingham first walked on stage as a minor character in my third historical romance
How to Ravish a Rake
. I had not planned him, but from the moment he spoke, I knew he would have his own book because of his incredible charisma. He also had the starring role in the e-novella
A Season for Sin
. As I began to write the e-novella, I realized that it was almost effortless. Frankly, I was and still am infatuated with him. That makes me laugh, because he is a figment of my imagination, but from the beginning, I could not ignore his strong presence.

After
A Season for Sin
was published, I started writing the full-length book WHAT A WICKED EARL WANTS so that Bell could have the happily ever after he richly deserved. A chance encounter brings Bellingham and the heroine, Laura, together. Bellingham is a rake who hopes to make a conquest of her, but despite their attraction, there are major obstacles. Laura is a respectable widow, mother, and daughter of a vicar. Bellingham only wants a temporary liaison, but he finds himself rescuing the lovely lady. His offer of help leads him down a path he never could have imagineed.

I’ve dreamed about my characters previously, but my dreams about Bell and Laura were so vivid that I woke up repeatedly during the writing of WHAT A WICKED EARL WANTS. Usually when I dream about my books in progress, I only see the characters momentarily. But when I dreamed about Bell and Laura, entire scenes played themselves in my head, DVD style, and sometimes a few of them in a night. While I didn’t get up in the middle of the night to write those scenes down, thankfully I remembered them the next morning and some of those dreams have made their way into the book. I’ll give you a hint of one dream I used in a scene. It involves some funny “rules.”

This couple surprised me repeatedly when I was awake and writing, too. I was enthralled with Bellingham and Laura. Yes, I know the ideas come from me, but sometimes, it almost feels as if the characters really do leap off the page. That was certainly the case for Bell and Laura.

As the writing progressed, I often felt as if I were peeling off another layer of Bellingham’s character. He is a man with deep wounds and very determined not to stir up the past. Yet I realized that subconsciously his actions were informed by all that had happened to him as a young man. I knew it would take a very special heroine to help him reconcile his past. Laura knows what he needs, and though he doesn’t make it easy for her, she never gives up.

I confess I still have a bit of a crush on Bellingham. :) I hope you will, too.

Enjoy!

VickyDreiling.com

Facebook.com

Twitter @vickydreiling

Frog Crossing
Out West

Dear Reader,

My dog, Millie, doesn’t like salt water, or bath water, or rain—but it is the sight of all seven pounds of her trying to drink Puget Sound that stays with me. Urged to walk into about half an inch of ripples bubbling over pebbles on a beach, she slurped madly as if she could get rid of anything wet that might touch her feet.

That picture just popped into my head once more, just as I thought about what I might write to you about the Chimney Rock books and how stories shape up for me.

We were standing at the water’s edge on Whidbey Island, looking across Saratoga Passage toward Camano Island.
Darkness Bound
, the first book in the series, was finished and now it was time for DARKNESS BRED, on sale now.

Elin and Sean were already my heroine and hero. I knew that much before I finished the previous story, but there were so many other questions hanging around. And so many unfinished and important parts of lives I had already shown you. When we write books there’s a balancing act between telling/showing too much, and the opposite. Every character clamors to climb in but only those important to the current story can have a ticket to enter. The trick is to weed out the loudest and least interesting from the ones we
have
to know about.

The hidden world on Whidbey Island is busy, and gets busier. Once you are inside it’s not just colorful and varied, sometimes endearing and often scary, it is also addictive. Magic and mystery rub shoulders with what sometimes seems…just simply irresistible. How can I not want to explore every character’s tale?

That’s what makes me feel a bit like Millie draining Puget Sound of water—I have to clear away what I don’t want until I find the best stuff. Only I’m more fortunate than my dog because I do get to make all the difference.

Now you have your ticket to ride along with me again—enjoy every inch!

All the best,

Dear Reader,

How many of us had high school crushes, then years later come face-to-face with the boy who will always hold a special place in our hearts? This is what happens with Morgan Dane in HAVEN CREEK. At thirteen she’d believed herself in love with high school hunk, Nathaniel Shaw, but as a tall, skinny girl constantly teased for her prepubescent body, she can only worship him from afar.

I wanted HAVEN CREEK to become a modern-day fairy tale complete with a beautiful princess and a handsome prince, and, as in every fairy tale, there is something that will keep them apart before they’re able to live happily ever after. The princess in HAVEN CREEK lives her life by a set of inflexible rules, while it is a family secret that makes it nearly impossible for the prince to trust anyone.

You will reunite with architect Morgan Dane, who has been commissioned to oversee the restoration of Angels Landing Plantation. As she begins the task of hiring local artisans for the project, she knows the perfect candidate to supervise the reconstruction of the slave village. He is master carpenter and prodigal son Nathaniel Shaw.

Although Nate has returned to his boyhood home, he has become a recluse while he concentrates on running his family’s furniture-making business and keeping his younger brother out of trouble. But everything changes when Morgan asks him to become involved in her restoration project. It isn’t what she’s offering that presents a challenge to Nate, but it is Morgan herself. When he left the Creek she was a shy teenage girl. Now she is a confident, thirtysomething woman holding him completely enthralled with her brains
and
her beauty.

In HAVEN CREEK you will travel back to the Low-country with its magnificent sunsets; slow, meandering creeks and streams; primordial swamps teeming with indigenous wildlife; a pristine beach serving as a year-round recreational area; and the residents of the island with whom you’ve become familiar.

Church, community, and family—and not necessarily in that order—are an integral part of Lowcountry life, and never is that more apparent than on Cavanaugh Island. As soon as you read the first page of HAVEN CREEK you will be given an up-close and personal look into the Gullah culture with its island-wide celebrations, interactions at family Sunday dinners, and a quixotic young woman who has the gift of sight.

The gossipmongers are back along with the region’s famous mouth-watering cuisine and a supporting cast of characters—young
and
old—who will keep you laughing throughout the novel.

Read, enjoy, and do let me hear from you!!!

[email protected]

www.rochellealers.orgs

Dear Readers,

Who can resist a cowboy? Not me. Especially a bull rider, who has the courage to get on two thousand pounds of attitude that wants to throw him in the dirt and dance on his dangling parts. But you don’t need to be familiar with rodeo to enjoy THE SWEET SPOT. It’s an emotional story first, about two people dealing with real-life problems, and rediscovering love at the end of a long dirt road.

To introduce you to Charla Rae Denny, the heroine of THE SWEET SPOT, I thought I’d share with you her list of life lessons:

1. Before you throw your ex off your ranch, be sure you know how to run it.
   
2. A Goth-Dolly Parton lookalike
   can
   make a great friend. And Dumpster monkeys are helpful, too.
   
3. Next time, start a hardware store instead of a bucking bull business—the stock doesn’t try to commit suicide every few minutes.
   
4. “Never trust a husband too far, nor a bachelor too near.” —Helen Rowland
   
5. If you’re the subject of the latest gossip-fest, stay away from the Clip-n-Curl.
   
6. Life is full of second chances, if you can get over yourself enough to grab them.
   
7. “To forgive is to set a prisoner free, and discover that the prisoner is you.” —Louis B. Smede
   

I hope you’ll enjoy THE SWEET SPOT, and look for JB and Charla in the next two books in the series!