All the Ladies Love Coventry Read online

  All the Ladies Love Coventry

  Bluestockings Defying Rogues 5

  Dawn Brower

  Monarchal Glenn Press

  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.

  * * *

  All the Ladies Love Coventry Copyright © 2019 Dawn Brower

  Cover Art by Victoria Miller

  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.

  For everyone who has waited for the Earl of Coventry’s book. I hope this book is everything you hoped for, even if, it is on the shorter side. Coventry had his over version of a happily-ever-after. May all of you find yours too.

  Acknowledgments

  Thanks to my cover artist extraordinaire: Victoria Miller. You have helped me along this long and I’ve learned a lot from you. Without you I fear how many mistakes I’d have made in my writing.

  Also huge shout out to Elizabeth Evans who helps me with so many things. Thank you for sticking with me through so many writing projects. You’re a gem I never expected to find.

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Epilogue

  Dawn Brower

  Excerpt: When an Earl Turns Wicked

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Afterword

  About The Author

  Also by Dawn Brower

  “I cannot fix on the hour, or the spot, or the look or the words, which laid the foundation. It is too long ago. I was in the middle before I knew that I had begun.”

  Pride and Prejudice, Jane Austen

  Prologue

  April 1794

  Charles Lindsay, the Earl of Coventry surveyed the building he was hoping to purchase. The structure was sound and would work splendidly for what he had in mind for it. The street it was located on was also ideal. A secret gentleman’s club would be well hidden in the neighborhood, and its residents wouldn’t question the constant comings and goings that would be involved. He had a lot of plans and this townhouse was only the beginning.

  “The owner is willing to part with it?” He turned toward the solicitor in charge of the sale. Charles didn’t want to seem too eager. It might give the solicitor a reason to raise the price. He wouldn’t pay a penny more than it was worth.

  “He is, my lord,” he answered. His salt and pepper hair was sprinkled around his ears and the back of his head, but the top was completely bald. The solicitor had beady eyes that made him appear untrustworthy. Not a good look on someone that should invoke that particular feeling. “Would you like to make an offer?”

  “No,” he answered. “It needs major renovations and I’m not sure it’ll work for what I have in mind.” That was a lie, but he didn’t want to make the man aware of his complete interest. “The entire bottom floor would need to be stripped and the walls rebuilt. Your employer is asking too much.”

  “I see…” The solicitor swallowed hard. Charles wished he could recall his name, but as it hadn’t been important to him he’d dismissed it upon hearing it. He fumbled with some parchments and then glanced up. “Is there anything that will convince you to purchase it.”

  Charles held back a grin. It wouldn’t work in his favor and he did want the property. He tapped his chin and tried to act as if he was considering his options. The truth was he knew exactly what his next move would be. That was the benefit of being several steps ahead of his opponent. He had a gift of seeing the larger picture and how all the pieces around him could fit together. This project of his was going to be big and he had to do everything right for it to work. “I might consider it if the owner will take off a thousand pounds from the selling price. I won’t pay a shilling more than that.”

  He shuffled his feet and then met Charles gaze. “That sounds reasonable, my lord. I’ll inform the owner that you’re willing to purchase it.”

  Charles lifted a brow. “Is that all?” He shrugged and headed to the exit. As far as he was concerned their business had been concluded. If the owner took the offer the solicitor could send him a missive about it. He had a good feeling though. Soon he’d have the building necessary to start his club.

  He hadn’t reached the exit before the solicitor called out to him. “Lord Coventry.”

  He turned toward him and said, “Yes?”

  “I have the authority to approve the sale within a certain amount. If you want the property it’s yours.”

  This time he did allow the smile to form on his face. The Coventry Club was now one step closer to becoming a reality. He couldn’t wait to tell his good friend the George, the Earl of Harrington about it. They could plan the development and reconstruction of the townhouse together.

  “Wonderful,” he told the solicitor. “I’ll let my solicitor know and you two can handle the details.” Charles nodded at him. “Thank you for your assistance.” With those words he did exit the building and headed home. He had an appointment later with George and they could make their final plans then.

  ***

  Charles tapped his finger on his desk impatiently. Where the bloody hell was George? He was supposed to arrive several hours ago. He sighed and poured a glass of brandy from the decanter on his desk. They would have to discuss his plans for Coventry Club later. He sipped on his brandy and wondered what could have held his friend up. For the life of him he couldn’t discern a reason for George to stay away. His friend never missed an appointment. He was the most reliable man of Charles acquaintance.

  He set his glass down and peered at the deed to his new property. He’d already sent out missives to start the repairs and renovations. In a matter of months, no more than a year, his dream would be a reality. A safe haven for men who had no place else, a den of iniquity for those that needed it, but mostly a place where loyalty would prevail more than anything else.

  The door to his study flew open and George stepped inside. His face lit up with a huge grin as he exclaimed, “I’m a father Charles.”

  He’d forgotten George’s wife was enceinte. That was a damn good reason for his friend to be late. Now that he realized why he felt like a right arse. Charles reached for a glass and poured two fingers of brandy into it, then handed it to his friend. He lifted his own glass and toasted, “To fatherhood.” He sipped his brandy, and then asked. “I must ask—an heir or a daughter?”

  “It’s a boy,” George answered. “The most perfect little bundle of joy I’ve ever held. We named him Jonas after my maternal great grandfather. It’ll make my mum happy.”

  Charles knew he should look for a wife and carry on his line, but the idea of tying himself to one woman for the rest of his life didn’t appeal to him. He hadn’t met a woman that inspired that kind of commitment. George had married his wife because of his father’s demands. The Duke of Southington was a difficult man to say no to. Charles didn’t envy his friend’s situation in that regard. “I’m sure she’ll be ecstatic to just have a grandchild to dote on. I hear women like that sort of thing.”

  “You’re probably correct in that assumption. Either way I’m grateful it’s a boy. The birth was hard on Sarah. I don’t think she could handle another pregnancy.” He sighed. “Jonas is a blessing for us both. My father will finally leave us alone about carrying on the family line.”

  “
Your father is brutal.” He was an overbearing arse who browbeat George whenever he could. Charles wished he could find a way to remove the Duke of Southington from his friend’s life. Unfortunately, it wasn’t up to him to extricate George from the control of his father. His friend had to find the bollocks to do it himself. It was the only way he would ever know what it felt like to be free to make his own decisions.

  “I have news,” Charles began. “I’ve purchased the building I need for Coventry Club.”

  “You did?” His face lit up with happiness. “That’s wonderful. Now you can achieve your goals and we’ll all have a place to escape the realities of life.”

  “I’ll have to discern the rules of the club before we invite new members. I’d like you to be the first head of the club if you’re willing.” He wanted George to have the responsibility so he felt included, and it would give him something else to focus on other than the terror his father was.

  “Me?” George asked surprised. “You don’t want to run your own club?”

  “I’d much rather enjoy it at first. One day I’ll take over the duties, but I’d like the time to experience it first. You’re much more level headed than I am and will be able to enforce whatever rules we put in place. I think the first one will be—the leader of the club is the only one that can be married. I don’t want a bunch of cheating husbands to take their mistresses to the club.”

  “So once they marry they have to hand in their key?” George asked. “That’s not a bad idea. So you’re not going to take over until you find a bride? That’s going to be a long ways off isn’t it?”

  Charles smiled. “I know one day I’ll have to marry someone, but you’re correct, I don’t plan on finding a lady to wed for some years to come. I’m going to depend upon you to keep things running smoothly until then. But there isn’t a requirement to wed to hold the position. If you find it is too difficult I can take over. If I marry before that…I’ll have to take over is all.”

  “Yes,” George agreed. “That makes sense.” He nodded at Charles. “All right I’ll run your club.” His lips tilted upward into another grin. “I can’t wait to get started.”

  Charles picked up his glass and tipped it at his friend. “I already have my friend. Now let’s drink to that new son of yours.”

  “That is a fabulous idea,” George replied. He picked up his glass and clinked it with Charles’s. “And to your future club. It’ll be as successful as you imagined it would be.”

  They both drank the contents of their glasses, and then Charles filled them again with brandy. They drank several glasses before George left. They had all the rules of the club in place by then and the future of his Coventry Club would be a reality before long. Charles loved when a good plan came to fruition.

  Chapter 1

  April 1800

  Lady Abigail Wallace stared down at her insipid white gown and frowned. The only color she’d been allowed to don was a sapphire sash that had been tied around her waist. It did little to make her gown more appealing. At least the color of the sash matched her eyes. White made her skin appear almost sickly though. She had fair skin and a sprinkle of freckles across her face. No one would mistake her for a fair English miss, especially with her brazen red hair.

  Why had she let her father convince her to do a London season? There was nothing the ton had to offer she couldn’t find at home—in Scotland. What was wrong with finding a good Scottish Laird as a husband? Her family’s estate was in the lowlands and her father identified with their English brethren more than the Scottish highlanders, but Abigail would rather have taken a chance in Edinburgh.

  “Quit fidgeting,” her sister, Belinda, hissed under her breath. Her Scottish accent evident even in the low tone she spewed. “No, one will ask us tae dance with yer attitude.”

  She wanted to reply that would make her happy. None of the gentlemen appealed to her. All she wanted was to survive the season and go home. When she returned unmarried her father would have to agree to a season in Edinburgh. He wanted his eldest daughter married after all. Belinda he’d allow several seasons. She was the true beauty and would garner many suitors. Her sister had lovely blonde hair and fair blue eyes. She looked more like an English lady and nothing at all like Abigail. Where Belinda took after their English born mother, Abigail had received her auburn hair from her father. That wasn’t all she’d received from him. Her temperament was a direct result of her Scottish blood. She’d never fit in with polite society. Abigail didn’t suffer fools, and most of the dandies in attendance fit that description.

  “Ye need not worry, sister dear,” Abigail began, “There are plenty of gentlemen keeping their gazes on ye. It won’t be long before one is brave enough tae ask for a set with ye.” That was the truth too. Several gentlemen had been glancing in their direction, but their gazes always stayed a little longer on Belinda. Abigail had turned one and twenty before they’d departed for their London season. Belinda was three years younger than her. Both of them should already at least be betrothed, but when their mother died their father had been reluctant to see them go. Now he was determined they both find a husband, as was right, in his opinion. Abigail wanted to tell him where he could put his ideas about marriage, and it wasn’t any place nice.

  “Perhaps,” her sister agreed. “If ye stop glaring at them they’ll make the effort.” Her sister glanced at her with a scowl resting on her gorgeous face. “Ye may not wish tae wed a gentleman of means, but I do. Dinna take this away from me.”

  A commotion stirred amongst the crowded ballroom. They all turned to stair at the entrance. Someone important must be arriving to make them all stop and stair with anticipation. Abigail wished she could say she didn’t care, but her curiosity got the best of her. Who could be arriving that garnered so much attention. Many of the ladies started to whisper behind their fans and nearly squealed with excitement. Was the Prince Regent himself making an appearance? Nothing else made sense to her.

  One of the Loxton servants opened the doors above the long sweeping staircase and announced, “The Earl and Countess of Harrington.” A tall man with dark hair and a beautiful ethereal woman with silver blonde hair descended the stairs. Then a man followed behind them. That man caught her attention. He was beautiful—if a man could be described as such. Not classically beautiful, but in a way that took her breath away. He had high cheekbones and the most kissable lips she’d ever witnessed upon a male of good breeding. His dark hair was the color of a midnight sky and she found herself curious about the shade of his eyes. The man hadn’t been announced, but he seemed to be the one everyone had been waiting for. They held their breath as he followed behind the earl and countess. Who was he?

  “Oh he’s lovely,” her sister nearly breathed the words out. “Who do ye suppose he is?”

  “I dinna have any idea,” she said. Her words came out just as breathy as her sisters. “Perhaps we should find out.”

  “How?” Belinda lifted a brow. “We dinna have the connections tae ask and our chaperone won’t be much help.” She gestured toward the matron who’d accompanied them. She was snoring on a nearby settee oblivious to what her charges were doing. Not that Abigail and Belinda did much. No one had asked them to dance or really tried to talk to them. They were immediate wallflowers at the start of their come out in society. She hated to tell Belinda, but they may not leave with husbands. Belinda still had the best chance. Maybe Abigail should stay home next time and the dandies would be more comfortable approaching her sister.

  “Let’s dae little listening tae the ladies. They all seem tae love him,” Abigail answered her. “They’re fairly enraptured by his presence.” She didn’t blame them. The man really was lovely to behold, but they should have a little self-restraint. The man clearly ignored them all because he knew that he had their attention. It was then she realized he was as conceited as he was handsome. That would mean he’d expect a woman to dote on him. Abigail might find his visage appealing, but she refused to be any man’s pawn. “He
might make a fine suitor for ye.”

  “Dae ye think so?” Belinda asked as she tilted her head. “He seems even more unlikely tae pay me any mind than the rest of the gentlemen.”

  Abigail didn’t answer her sister. She was too busy trying to overhear the conversation between two of the ladies near them.

  “Isn’t he handsome,” one of the ladies cooed.

  “And dreamy,” her companion said. “Don’t forget that.” She sighed as she stared at the man making his way through the ballroom.

  Abigail rolled her eyes. They were ridiculous and way to obvious in their affections. She didn’t want to think about how she’d been momentarily stunned by the man. That didn’t matter because she had the good sense to snap out of it. Still she paid attention to their conversation because they still hadn’t mentioned the man’s name. She wanted it for Belinda. At least that was what she kept telling herself…

  “No one ever knows when he’ll come to a ball. He’s one of the most eligible bachelors.” The lady lifted her fan and waved it over her face. “Do you think if I present myself to Lady Harrington she’ll introduce us? Everyone knows he doesn’t come to any society functions unless it is with the earl and his wife.”

  The ladies were long winded, and while a font of information, not the details she craved. She’d have to figure his name out another way. He’d made progress through the room and appeared to be leaving the ballroom as fast as he’d arrived. Was he not staying? He slid out the doors heading toward the garden. Did she dare meet him out there and have a clandestine meeting with him? It wouldn’t work unless she could manage to act coy and uninterested in him. Many ladies before her would have already tried, and failed.