The Rake Who Loves Me Read online

  The Rake Who Loves Me

  SCANDALOUS GENTLEMEN BOOK TWO

  DAWN BROWER

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Epilogue

  Thank You

  Acknowledgments

  About Dawn Brower

  Also by Dawn Brower

  Excerpt: Once You Love a Scoundrel

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Excerpt: Courting a Christmas Wallflower

  Prologue

  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.

  The Rake Who Loves Me © 2022 Dawn Brower

  Cover art by Midnight Muse

  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 all those that find strength when they need it most. Do not give up. You never know what you might discover in the middle of your journey.

  You must be the best judge of your own happiness.

  JANE AUSTEN, EMMA

  Prologue

  Spring 1866

  Love did not always equal a happy ending...

  Lady Violet Keene wanted to believe it did, but she was no fool. The ton did not allow love to bloom. Society had expectations, and love, unfortunately, would never be a part of them. For her, the daughter of an earl, that meant she would have to find a husband. One with a prestigious title and high annual income preferably, but as long as she married, that didn’t really matter. The marriage part did.

  Today her closest friend, Lady Francesca Kendall, was marrying the Duke of Lindsey. She couldn’t be certain if they would have a successful marriage. In the eyes of the ton, Francesca had achieved something many ladies dreamed about. She had made a fabulous match marrying a duke. There would be several disappointed mothers once the news of the wedding spread through the gossip mill. Francesca would have been happier if her wedding hadn’t been a necessity. Her friend was in a delicate condition that hastened the need for marriage.

  Violet hoped she never made a similar mistake.

  A marriage of convenience was not for her. If she had to marry, she wanted something much more substantial than this cold union between the Duke of Lindsey and her friend. Though something told her it wasn’t cold at all, but a simmering fire ready to burst. The duke’s eyes were heated as he stared at his bride. Perhaps there was some hope for them. They might come to love each other.

  Violet glanced at the other person in the room. The Marquess of Merrifield didn’t smile. He stared at the duke and Francesca with cold fury. She didn’t understand why he seemed so angry, but she wanted to slap him. He wasn’t the one being forced to marry. The least he could do was try to support his friend.

  She sighed.

  The marquess was Violet’s weakness. She found him unbearably attractive. Whenever he was nearby, her gaze wandered in his direction before she realized she was staring. His hair was as dark as the night sky and his eyes were a light blue so fair they were almost icy. When his gaze met hers, a chill spread through her. Only he could look at her and make her both heated and frozen at the same time. God help her, she wanted him, but she could never allow herself to give in to that temptation.

  The ceremony, what little it had entailed, ended.

  Francesca turned to Violet and said, “Thank you so much for being here. It wouldn’t have been the same without at least one of my friends to witness the ceremony…what little of it there was to see, anyway.”

  Violet frowned. “I think he loves you.” She wanted to believe that so much, for Francesca’s sake.

  Francesca shook her head. “I don’t believe Matthew knows what love is.” She sighed. “I have no doubt he feels desire. That he understands and uses it like a weapon. He’s quite good at it.” She placed her hand on her belly. “I know that all too well.”

  “But you do love him, don’t you?” Violet asked in a soft tone. “The way you look at him…”

  She glanced at her husband. “Most of the time he makes it quite easy to love him. He can be sweet and attentive.” There was a wistfulness in her voice as she spoke. “But it’s not enough.” Her friend craved love from her husband. Violet’s heart hurt for her. “I’ll try to be happy and content with what he can give me. My child has the protection of his name now and that is the only reason I married him.”

  “I’m sorry,” Violet said. She wished she could make the duke see how much Francesca loved him and that she needed so much more from him. She pulled her into her arms and hugged her tight. “Do you want me to go with you to speak to your parents?”

  She shook her head and pulled away from Violet. “No, I need to do this myself. I’m going to go now. Would you walk with me?”

  “Yes,” she said immediately. “Of course, I will, but don’t you want to wait for your husband?”

  “He’s busy with his friend.” She lifted a brow. “About that…” Francesca glanced over at the duke and marquess. “What is happening with you and the marquess?”

  “Absolutely nothing,” she said. There would never be anything between them. “I thought he was intriguing, but now I know the truth. He’s an outright bore.”

  They slipped out and started to walk toward Violet’s home. When they reached Dresden Manor, they stopped. “Go on inside. Iris will be waiting for you. I’ll pay a call later in the week.”

  “You’ll be over for our weekly tea, right?” Violet asked.

  “I wouldn’t miss it for anything.” She hugged her friend. “Now go before I start to cry. I don’t know why I’m an emotional mess.”

  “You’re entitled.” Violet stepped back. “It’s your wedding day. You only get married once.” She smiled. “I do hope you’re happy.”

  “I am.” Her smile wavered a little bit, but she seemed resigned. Violet fought tears. This was all so unfair, and she couldn’t help hating the duke a little for hurting her friend. Besides, I’ll have someone else to love soon.” She placed her hand on her stomach and almost looked serene. Violet hoped that loving that baby would heal some of the hurt.

  “That’s true enough,” Violet agreed. “Good luck.” With that last bit of encouragement, violet left her alone and went inside.

  She had been intrigued by the Marquess of Merrifield, but after speaking with him several times now, and witnessing Francesca’s pain, Violet decided to have nothing to do with him. He was rotten. Much like all of the Scandalous Gentleman. Two had gotten married now, and three remained bachelors. What were the chances they would all fall in love? Violet would hazard a guess of zero. So far only one seemed to truly love his wife—the Earl of Winchester had married Francesca’s cousin Adeline. He had been the first of the scandalous gentlemen to fall. The Duke of Lindsey had married, but as to love, that one might never happen.

  The remaining three: The Marquess of Merrifield, Earl of Hampstead, and Viscount of Goodland—they would probably ensure they didn’t fall into any traps. That was only one reason for her to steer clear of the marquess. The biggest was she didn’t want to live her entire life void of love, and he seemed incapable of giving his heart to anyone.

  One

  December 1866

  Violet stared out the window of the sitting room. Snow floated from the sky in tiny white ice crystals that
were gorgeous, even if they were often a nuisance. Winter was far from her favorite season, but she supposed the snow was preferable to rain. At least she could count on the fluffy white flakes from not completely soaking her to the skin. Still...she much preferred the spring and summer months. Snow accumulation didn’t allow for easy travel, and she hated being cooped up inside.

  “Why are you so melancholy?” Iris asked.

  She turned to face her sister and frowned. Iris was her twin sister, but they were not identical. The only thing they shared alike was the same shade of golden blonde hair. Iris had green eyes, and Violet’s were a light blue. Today her sister wore a sunny yellow day dress that matched her equally cheerful mood. Violet found it distasteful. Not because her sister didn’t look beautiful or that Iris’s demeanor was as chipper as a sunny summer day. No, she couldn’t blame her sister for her mood. Violet woke up with a sour disposition and nothing seemed to soothe her inner growly beast. She didn’t wish to explain herself to Iris, though. It would be long and drawn out, and Violet was already in a surly mood. “Do you ever wish for something so far out of your grasp that it makes you feel as everything in life is impossible?”

  Iris sighed. “Of course I do.” She stood and walked over to Violet and placed a hand on her arm. “I’m certain we both wish for the same thing too.”

  Violet doubted that very much. Maybe at one time they may have, but Violet had different aspirations than she had even a few months prior. “What makes you so certain?”

  “Because I know you.” Iris tilted her head to the side and then blew out a breath. “You’ve lost hope, but you shouldn’t.”

  Violet shook her head. “I have not lost hope.” She hadn’t. Because she never had any to begin with. She couldn’t lose something that she never dared to hold inside her heart. “I’ve decided that I’d much rather live my life with no expectations.” Then she’d no longer be disappointed with what she did have. “But today it is difficult to enjoy my blessings.” She turned away from her sister and glanced outside. “Especially on such a dreary day.” Though she couldn’t blame the weather for her mood. Though it provided a convenient excuse...

  “You are right,” Iris agreed. “On enjoying our life no matter what, and that this weather is dismal.” She glanced outside. “Perhaps if the snow lets up, we can go for a walk. We can visit Francesca.”

  “That’s unlikely and you know it.” The weather would not cooperate, no matter how much either of them willed it to. Besides, we are to visit Francesca tomorrow for tea. There’s no need to go over today.” Their friend was happily married with a daughter. In some ways, Violet was envious of that, but she didn’t want to be a duchess. She wasn’t even certain she wanted to be a wife or mother. Something was missing from her life, though, but she couldn’t pinpoint exactly what.

  “I wish I didn’t agree with you.” Iris’s cheerful demeanor was slipping. “I had hoped wearing something bright today would help me feel better, and for a while it did, but now...” She nibbled on her bottom lip. “I’m as melancholy as you are.”

  “Oh, dear...” She met her sister’s gaze. “You’ve caught my doldrums. I’m terribly sorry.” She hadn’t wanted to inflict her mood on Iris.

  “It’s not your fault.” She moved away from Violet and plopped very unladylike onto the settee. “I’ve been thinking about Lord Hampstead.”

  Violet had to restrain herself from rolling her eyes. “That particular earl is not worth any of your time.”

  Her sister lifted a brow. “Would you say the same if I told you that about Lord Merrifield?”

  “Yes,” Violet said without thinking. “He’s an arrogant rogue who only thinks about himself.” That might not be exactly true. He seemed fond of his friends, and he was mostly polite to everyone else. It was only her he seemed to be rude and temperamental with.

  “You say that now,” Iris began. “But I have seen how you look at him. If he paid you any sort of attention, you would like it.”

  She snorted. “Oh, he pays attention to me.” Violet paced in front of the window. “He takes the time to tell me everything I’m doing wrong and orders me around as if he has the right to.” She clenched her hands into fists. “Sometimes I want to...” She lifted her hands and squeezed the air. “But that would only cause a scandal and I refuse to give into the urge.”

  Iris chuckled. “I suppose that is somewhere to start.”

  “Start what?” Violet asked in a startled tone. “You’re not suggesting I actually wrap my hands around his neck and give it a good squeeze.”

  “Well, that wouldn’t be a good way to further a courtship along.” She shook her head. “But, sister dear, you have his attention. Use it and steer him in the direction you wish to go.” She frowned. “At least the man you’re in love with is paying some attention to you. “

  Violet stared at her sister. “I’m not in love with him.”

  “Right,” she said, then waived her hand. “Keep telling yourself that.” She took a deep breath. “We should do something to bring everyone together. Francesca isn’t going to her family’s Christmas this year. She doesn’t want to travel with the baby. I’m sure there will be others in London.”

  “What do you propose we do?” Violet was still astonished her sister believed she loved the Marquess of Merrifield. “Have a ball?”

  “That’s a fabulous idea.” Iris beamed. “I’ll ask father, and then we can start planning it.” She practically bounced out of the room, leaving Violet alone.

  What the blazes had she gotten herself into? She hadn’t been serious about suggesting a ball. Too late now to take it back, though. Violet turned back to the window and her dismal thoughts. Even the idea of dancing wasn’t warming the cold that had settled into her. She feared nothing would...

  Zachariah strolled into his club. Once inside, he shook the snowflakes off his coat and handed it to one of the workers. He should have stayed home, but he was feeling restless. With the snow falling down, he couldn’t go far. Not that he would, but it still limited his options. “Are the Earl of Hampstead and Viscount Goodland here?” He knew Lindsey or Winchester wouldn’t be. They were settled at home with their wives and children.

  He shuddered at the thought of that domesticity.

  The very idea of tying himself to a woman and siring children made him feel ill. He did not understand how two of his friends could have succumbed to the very idea of marital bliss. It almost seemed like a misnomer—marriage did not equal bliss. At least not in his limited experience. Oh, he had never been married before, but he’d bore the brunt of his parent’s deep in his soul. They had hated each other to their very cores, and he never wanted to live like they had. He would not marry anyone for any reason.

  “Both Lord Hampstead and Lord Goodland are in a private room. They’ve been here for some time.” The man who held Zachariah’s coat told him.

  “Wonderful,” Zachariah said, then grinned. “Then they plan on being here for a while.”

  “I would believe so,” he answered.

  Zachariah nodded and walked away to go in search of his friends. He planned on getting foxed and forgetting about everything for several hours. There was only one room his friends could be in. They preferred the room in the far back of the club so they wouldn’t be disturbed. The club owners often held it empty for them because they all frequented the club so often. The five of them, the ton dubbed Scandalous Gentlemen, had been inseparable. At least until two of them fell in love... Now there were only three left, and Zachariah hoped it stayed that way.

  He stopped inside the entrance and leaned against the doorframe. Goodland was lounging on a leather chair with a decanter of scotch in one hand and a snifter in the other. “Do you ever wonder why we bother with pouring it out of the decanter?” Goodland asked. “When we often drink it faster than we can keep it filled.”

  Hampstead, who was shuffling cards, answered, “Because we’re supposed to be civilized.”

  “But we’re often not,” Zac
hariah said. “Civilized that is.”

  “It’s about time you joined us.” Goodland sat up and held the decanter to him. “Come here and I’ll pour you two fingers.” He lifted a brow. “Unless you want to try your hand at drinking straight from the source.”

  “For that I think we would need the barrel it came from,” Hampstead drawled, then snatched the brandy from Goodland. “Sit,” he told Zachariah. “We can play a bit of Faro.” He gestured toward Goodland. “He’s too inebriated for it to be any fun.”

  “Is that why you took away his brandy?” Zachariah asked.

  “No,” Hampstead replied. “I wanted some before he drank it all.” He poured brandy into two snifters and handed one to Zachariah, then handed the decanter back to Goodland. “I’d never deprive a friend of brandy.”

  Zachariah chuckled. His mood lifted a little now that he was with his friends, but he still didn’t feel quite right. He wasn’t certain what would help, but at least he wasn’t completely miserable now. “Are we going to gamble or is this game for fun?”

  “Gambling is fun,” Hampstead replied. “It would be boring if we skipped that part.” He dealt the cards, but neither one of them picked them up off the table.

  “What are the stakes, then?” Zachariah asked.

  “How about whoever wins gets to make the other do something they don’t want to.” There was little either one of them wouldn’t do.

  “That sounds like a challenging task either way.” Zachariah grinned.