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  Her Rogue for One Night

  Her Rogue for One Night

  WICKED WIDOWS’ LEAGUE

  BOOK TWO

  DAWN BROWER

  “...when pain is over, the remembrance of it often becomes a pleasure.”

  JANE AUSTEN, PERSUASION

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Epilogue

  Thank You

  Excerpt: To Bargain with a Rogue

  Blurb

  Prologue

  Excerpt: A Lady Never Tells

  Blurb

  Prologue

  Wicked Widows’ Books

  Acknowledgments

  About Dawn Brower

  Also by Dawn Brower

  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.

  Her Rogue for One Night © 2023 Dawn Brower

  Cover art by Mandy Koehler Designs

  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.

  Prologue

  Claudine Grant glanced up at the dark clouds in the sky. They were an omen of some sort. She had a feeling in her stomach that unsettled her and had since she’d woken earlier that morning. That feeling of dread wouldn’t go away, and as the day progressed, it worsened.

  Even if the clouds were not an omen of bad things to come, they alerted her to one thing with certainty. A storm was brewing. She should go back inside, but she couldn’t make her legs move.

  She had a letter from her husband, James, waiting for her inside. Claudine hadn’t opened it yet. Letters from James rarely came. He was away at war fighting against Napoleon. It seemed like an endless war, and she feared she would never see him again. What if this was the last letter she ever received from him?

  They married one day before he left for war. Their marriage had been quick. Well, as quick as it could be done. The banns were read and after the third week they said their vows. They’d had one night together, and then he had to leave. Then she was alone in their small home. Claudine had two servants—a maid and a cook. James was the third son of a viscount. His commission had given him his rank and position. He was a lieutenant in the Calvary.

  All Claudine wanted was for her husband to return to her. She should read his letter. She glanced up at the sky once more and headed home. It didn’t take her long to reach the entrance. She went inside and to her writing desk. Claudine pulled out the letter and broke the seal. Inside another letter had been folded inside. It only had her name scrawled across it. Her hands shook as she picked it up. It wasn’t in James’ handwriting. Who else would send her a letter?

  She set it aside and ran her fingers over the words James had written her. His handwriting was so familiar to her. She finished unfolding it and started to read it from the beginning.

  My Dearest Claudine,

  Today was a good day. There are not too many of those here. The sky was a brilliant blue, and the sun bathed us in its light. The warmth felt wonderful against my skin. I wish I could have enjoyed it more. I wish I could have spent this day with you cradled in my arms.

  This letter I’m writing out of necessity. These words should come from me. If the worst should happen… God, I can’t imagine the worst. Everyone should be able to live their lives with the freedom of not considering that possibility. As a soldier, I am not so fortunate. If I had not chosen this life, I would be with you.

  But if that possibility should happen, I don’t want to leave anything unsaid. My wonderful, beautiful wife—I adore you. There are no words that can adequately describe how much I love you. The greatest day of my life was when you agreed to be my wife. Our wedding day will be forever honored in my memory. As far as regrets go, that is one thing that will not be tallied under that column. My heart will forever be yours. I will always belong to you, and only you.

  My hope is that this letter will be fodder for a fire one day and you will never read it. That soon I’ll be home and kissing you, loving you, and spending the rest of my days by your side. However, I must be pragmatic. If you are receiving this letter, then, my love, I am no longer amongst the living. Confirmation will come from someone of authority, but for now, this will have to do.

  Before I left, I ensured that all my particulars were in order. You will be taken care of, and if you so choose, you may remain in the home we lived in together. If it doesn’t suit you, sell it and find another. And my love…try to let me go. I want you to be happy. Please visit my father. He will handle everything. I’ve already spoken to him about you and what should be done.

  All my love,

  James

  A tear fell down her cheek. She should have avoided reading the letter longer. She could have remained in blissful ignorance. This couldn’t be real. James was not dead. Claudine refused to believe it. She picked up the other folded piece of paper. There was a quick note jotted down there. Almost as if an afterthought…

  She needed to read the letter. Claudine’s hands shook as she stared down at the parchment. The missive wasn’t long. Perhaps that meant it wasn’t the news she feared? No. That possibility was unlikely. She had to read it and find out. All the supposition was not helping her.

  Dear. Mrs. Grant,

  I served with Lieutenant James Grant. He is…was an honorable man. He died in service to his country. You can be proud of the man he was and all that he did. His actions saved the lives of several men in our unit. Without him, there would be more men being mourned. I am sincerely sorry for your loss. Lieutenant Grant will be missed by us all.

  Yours truly,

  Colonel Andrew Roberts

  This letter sounded far more official. She should visit James’ father right away. He should know more about what James’ letter inferred to. She closed her eyes and held back the tears that threatened to fall. Now was not the time for giving in to tears. It was time to plan and get answers.

  Claudine glanced out the window. The storm had rolled in. The sky had opened up and rain poured down. It bang against the window like a constant beat of a drum. The roads would be muddy in the morning, making them nearly impassible. She would not let that fact stop her. This trip was too important. She’d pack and go to London in the morning. There she would visit the viscount and find the truth. Whatever that truth might be…

  One

  Claudine didn’t understand why she was about to visit the Dowager Countess of Wyndam. When she had received the invitation, she had considered declining it, but then reconsidered. She had been staying with her husband’s father for several months, and she longed to return to her home in the country. There was no reason to stay in London any longer. In another few months she could go into half mourning or just skip that part if she so wished—did she really want to don clothing to announce to the world she was a widow? She had to move on with her life and try to let go of her husband once and for all.

  She walked up to the townhouse. The door was a rich mahogany, but other than that, nothing stood out about the elegant home. It was simple, but Claudine would never live anywhere this nice. Not that there was anything particularly wrong with her home. It was enough and always had been. If her husband had lived through the war, they would have been blessed to have it to raise their family. She would probably never have a family—she couldn’t imagine ever remarrying.

  Claudine lifted the knocker and rapped it twice against the door and stood back to wait. Not long after that a gentleman with silver hair opened it. “Yes?” He lifted a brow.

  “I have an appointment with Lady Wyndam,” she told the man.

  “Please come in,” he said. “Do you have a card?”

  She sighed. Claudine did not have any calling cards. There had been no reason to have any made. She did not pay calls on anyone and considered the expense too frivolous. “I do not…”

  “It isn’t necessary, Bracken.” a woman said from behind the man. Her golden blond hair was twisted into a chignon and her blue eyes were sharp with hidden wit. “I’ll escort Mrs. Grant to see the countess. She’s expected.”

  Claudine frowned. How had this woman known who she was on sight? She had never met her before. The blonde woman was quite pretty, but dressed in a no-nonsense dark blue dress. It was as plain as the woman was beautiful. It had no embellishments to even give the impression of trying to be attractive. Who was this woman?

  “I am Miss Juliet Adams,” the woman supplied in a quick introduction. “I am Lady Wyndam’s paid companion, and I assist her with everything she may need.” She gestured for Claudine to follow her. They stopped outside a room with a door closed. “Please wait here while I inquire if the countess is ready to receive you.”

  She didn’t feel all that welcome. Was this how a servant felt? Were they required to languish in the hall until their betters could pay them any mind? Probably not… Likely they had
more freedom to come and go than Claudine had.

  Luckily, she didn’t have to wait too long before Juliet returned. The woman smiled at her. There was something mischievous there, but Claudine couldn’t pinpoint what. “Go through this door. Then there is another on the opposite side of the room. Knock twice and she’ll let you know once you can enter. Good luck.”

  Why was she wishing her luck? What was this, and why did Lady Wyndam wish to see her? This was all rather confusing, and she didn’t understand any of it. Perhaps once she met with the countess, all would make better sense. At least she hoped so… She followed Miss Adams’ instructions and went through the door, then knocked on the next one. It didn’t take long for her to get a reply.

  “Come in, Mrs. Grant,” a woman encouraged from the other side. “There’s much we need to discuss.”

  She walked into the room and then over to an elderly woman. The countess had dark brown hair that was streaked with gray, and warm brown eyes. She fidgeted as she stood before the older woman. Should she say something? She didn’t have any experience with these types of situations. The woman stared at her for several moments and then ordered, “Sit and tell me your story?”

  “My story?” She nearly stuttered those two words out. “I don’t understand.” Claudine was even more confused than before, but she could do one thing. She sat down in a chair across from the woman and waited for her to respond.

  “Tell me how you came to marry your lieutenant,” Katherine told her. “Then we can move on from there.”

  She didn’t talk about her husband with anyone. No one ever asked her about him or their courtship and marriage. It was something she kept inside her head and revisited when the pain of losing him was especially difficult. Some days were worse than others. She was far too young to be a widow already. Though to be fair, she probably wouldn’t have married James so soon if he wasn’t about to leave for war. Their courtship had been fast and intense. She had loved him or believed she had. Either way, she had cared a great deal for him and was sad he’d died.

  “James was a handsome man.” She smiled as she tilted her head to the side. “He loved me so.” Claudine twisted her fingers together. “I suppose I loved him too.” She lifted her gaze to meet the countess’s. “Is it wrong to question that now?”

  “No dear,” she said in a soft tone. “It means you understand yourself. In that, you’re lucky. Not everyone as young as you are, do.”

  Lady Wyndam nodded at her. “Finish your story.” Claudine began speaking again, and the countess leaned back to listen to her tale. It wasn’t a very long one. It was simple enough. “We met at the country fair near my home. My father is a country squire. We were not poor, but nowhere near as wealthy as James’s father. I had no dowry and nothing to offer, but he still wanted me. He married me without telling his family of his intentions.” She closed her eyes and drew a deep breath. “I lived near the Scottish border, you see. It was easy enough to cross over and say our vows. Once that was done, no one could object, and trust me, many did. My father included…”

  “What did your father have to say?” Lady Wyndam asked.

  “He told me that I’d regret marrying James. He was the second son of a viscount—not the heir, but the family would always look down at me. My mother was Scottish and my father a mere squire. He could do far better than me as a bride.” She glanced down at her hands and frowned. “Perhaps my father was correct, but he didn’t live to see the outcome. He died a few months after James left for France.”

  “Did his family have issue with your marriage?” Lady Wyndam leaned forward on her ornate cane. It was mahogany, with a sapphire on the handle. “What happened next?”

  “James has—had a cottage of his own. He purchased it after he bought his commission. He wanted a place of his own away from his family. It was still close enough to the viscount if he wished to visit, but far enough he had some freedom. He took me there after we married, but before he told his father of our marriage. I think he knew the viscount wouldn’t welcome me outright.”

  “And was that the case?” The countess lifted a brow.

  “Yes and no,” Claudine said. “At first, both of his parents were livid…” She sighed. “After he left for France, they both visited me separately. I came to know them and…it was different. They were kinder to me and accepted I was a part of their family. I wrote to James and explained it all to him. He was happy they were being so courteous.”

  “But were you happy?”

  “I had no reason not to be.” Until he died… “Everything seemed perfect.” But it hadn’t been. In her heart, she couldn’t help thinking she had made a mistake.

  “Marriage is rarely that.” Lady Wyndam smiled. “Even the most loving unions have strife from time to time. Husbands don’t always tell their wives everything—even important details they should. My own husband was like that, and I loved him dearly. He made plans for my life that I wished he hadn’t. Was that the case for you?”

  Claudine nodded. “He did.” She had been so mad at James when she realized what he had done. He’d made plans for her life as if she were a child unable to make decisions for her own life.

  “What did he do?” The countess asked in a kind tone.

  “He made his father my guardian, should something happen to him. I’ve been living with the viscount ever since James’ death. I’m under his protection until I remarry, and he has to approve that marriage.”

  “There is no other way for you to gain your freedom?” The countess frowned. “Do you even wish to remarry again?”

  “If I do not remarry in five years, I can keep the home that James provided for me with a yearly allowance to do as I wish.” She nibbled on her bottom lip. “I am trying to convince the viscount to allow me to return there until I am out of mourning. I’ll go into half mourning in a few months.”

  “Will you now?” The countess’s lips twitched as if she fought a smile. “Or are you doing that as an excuse to retire away from society?”

  “I haven’t decided,” she told her. “What does society have to offer me?” She had never had a debut season and would never have one.

  “Perhaps there is something I can offer you that is far better than hiding for the rest of your life, or at least the next five years.” The countess rapped her cane on the ground. “I have an offer for you that I do hope you will not refuse.”

  What could Lady Wyndam possibly have to offer her? She didn’t need a companion. That was what Miss Adams was in the townhouse for. Unless she’d found a different position and Lady Wyndam hoped to replace her. She should quit trying to guess and just outright ask. “What is your proposal?”

  “I, along with several friends, widows to be more precise, created a place that widows, young and old, could consider safe.” She gripped her cane harder. “We all had experiences that clouded our lives after our husbands died and we wanted to help other widows in need.”

  “That sounds lovely.” She still didn’t know why Lady Wyndam had asked her there. “What does that have to do with me?”

  “Isn’t it obvious?” She quirked a brow upward. “I want you to join the league, and I hope that you will join our council. I think you’re a suitable replacement for the widow that is no longer with us. We need to start adding some younger women that will be a part of the group for the future of the league.”

  “The league?” Claudine tilted her head to the side. “Do you have meetings?”

  “Sometimes,” Lady Wyndam said. “When it is needed and on a quarterly basis…” She sighed. “There are rules, of course, and I’ll go over them all with you. But first I must ask if you’re interested.”