Too Wicked to Wed: Chronicles of a Bluestocking Book Three Read online

  Too Wicked to Wed

  Chronicles of a Bluestocking Book Three

  Tammy Andresen

  Copyright © 2019 by Tammy Andresen

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Untitled

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Epilogue

  Tammy Andresen

  Lords of Scandal

  Lords of Scandal

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  About the Author

  Other Titles by Tammy

  Untitled

  Too Wicked to Wed

  Chronicles of a Bluestocking

  * * *

  Tammy Andresen

  Chapter One

  The Art of Taming a Rogue

  * * *

  Lady Caroline Bixby sat at her desk, lightly brushing her cheek with the feather top of her writing utensil. She’d settled down to pen her thoughts, but she’d yet to write a word. In fact, she doubted very much that she’d begin writing her story tonight. She was attending a ball later in the evening and would have to get ready soon. At least, that was what she told herself.

  Instead, she sat reading the earlier entries already carefully dictated into the pages of The Art of Taming a Rogue. The book was special for several reasons. First, no other book like it, to her knowledge, had ever been written before. She supposed there might have been, but she’d never seen such a work. Second, she and her friends were the secret authors of the piece, hoping to compile a guide for ladies when they met men of ill repute. More specifically, how to keep from being ruined by such men.

  The work was a noble, yet somewhat dangerous pursuit. Fortunately, her aunt, who was also her guardian since her parents had died, wasn’t likely to notice or care what Caroline did. The elder woman firmly believed her niece was capable of caring for herself.

  Caroline’s stomach clenched. Tonight’s dinner was a small affair with a close friend, which was why she would attend. Otherwise, she did not go to public events, not after what had happened.

  After dropping the pen in the ink, she propped her chin on her fist. She had a story to add to these pages already. Two years prior, she’d kissed Lord Roger Parks under a flowering pear tree amidst a garden party because she’d fancied herself in love.

  Lady Eloise Jameson had seen her, though not the carefully concealed cad who’d put his lips all over her, and within a day, everyone in London knew of her garden adventure. Well, more precisely, her garden ruin. No one, however, knew whom she’d kissed.

  She hadn’t told anyone, at first, who the man had been, not out of pride, but expectation. She’d thought Lord Parks had felt as she did and she’d fully expected him to sweep in and offer marriage so that she might be saved. Of course, he wouldn’t want his love to suffer such humiliation even if they hadn’t yet discussed matrimony. This was his opportunity to be her knight in shining armor.

  But he didn’t come. And when, a week later, she’d risked all of London’s scorn by riding in Hyde Park, she’d seen him arm and arm with none other than Lady Eloise.

  Even now, her chest constricted at the memory of the betrayal. He didn’t give a wit about her or what she was suffering and he had no intention of saving her. Knowing this, she’d kept his name secret for another reason entirely. There was no way she’d allow herself to be tied to such a man. She’d rather die alone a spinster than have a man such as him for a husband.

  Her mother and father had passed prior to her ruin and she’d said many a prayer of thanks that they hadn’t seen her fall. She also must confess, though she’d suffered a great deal of guilt for her feelings, that she was glad her father had not been alive to force the issue. Otherwise she’d be the wife of the most odious man in all of London.

  But it wasn’t his actions that haunted her still. She pressed a hand to her stomach as the pages blurred before her eyes. How could she have been such a fool? She didn’t want to think on it further. Her own stupidity was too difficult to face.

  She trailed her fingers over the page she’d just finished. Her friend, formerly Miss Penny Clearwater, now Lady Preston, had shared two different tales. The first, the unhappy marriage of her parents and the second, her own triumph with love.

  Caroline was so happy for Penny. She’d found a man who wanted change, who was willing to work hard to make both their lives better. Caroline let out a sigh. Why couldn’t she meet a man like that? Then she shook her head. She was a fallen woman. Even if she did, he likely wouldn’t have her.

  She touched her lips. She’d give anything to take that kiss back. Her fingers clenched into a tight ball. It was a silly, wasteful thought. There was no going back. But she could tell her story between these pages. Not that she wished to remember the details.

  But she could save another woman from making her same mistakes. Not only that, but she no longer needed her reputation. She could use her status as a fallen woman to do more research, to create more cautionary tales within the book’s pages. At least her downfall would have meaning then.

  She stood, then crossed to her wardrobe. She’d start tonight at the ball. She’d find a rake and then she’d endear herself to him. Make him believe she was interested in his advances and then use him for research. Thumbing through her dresses, she found a red ball gown sure to attract masculine attention. The deep color would highlight her blonde hair and green eyes.

  She tossed the gown on the bed and made her way to the bell cord opposite. Caroline pulled the cord. It was time for her to get ready.

  Lord Pierce Marksman lounged in his office chair, staring at the paper in front of him as he audibly groaned.

  When had his life become such a pile of dung? Why did he ask such absurd questions? He knew the exact moment everything had turned to shit. His older brother, and heir to the earldom, had gotten into a bar brawl while fall-down drunk and had managed to get himself killed.

  Funny, as a child, he’d pictured such an event actually happening. Well, not exactly the brawl part or the drunk bit. In fact, his gut niggled with guilt that he’d ever thought about his brother’s death at all. But the truth was, his parents had worshipped the very ground his older brother walked on, while they mostly found Pierce to be a nuisance. He sometimes had wondered if his mother outright hated him. But he was, after all, the spare. Never more aptly named than in his case. At times, his family acted as though he wasn’t a member at all.

  In his imaginings, Pierce’s poor brother would get some disease. So tragic, and then he’d have to take the spot, unwillingly of course, as the heir. Suddenly, his parents would see his value. He was a leader, not a whiner as his mother often called him. They’d realize his intelligence, sense of humor perhaps, and his business acumen. They’d even apologize for not seeing his worth sooner.
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  In every one of these fantasies, they grieved his brother together and appreciated each other more for the common loss. That was the thing about fantasies. Even when they came true, they were rarely what one expected.

  First of all, his brother had managed to spend most of the family’s fortune during his five years as earl. He’d also drank his way through the country, leaving a wake of inns and establishments that would sooner spit than allow another Marksman into their door. It made him sick just thinking of the way Marksman was now a name to be cursed. When he’d travelled from Kent to London, he’d had to stop at four separate inns until one had finally rented him a room.

  Second, his mother, still alive and unwilling to concede her first son had a single flaw, had grown doubly resentful that Pierce still walked this earth. She took every opportunity to tell him all the ways in which he did everything incorrectly.

  Her latest scheme in her attempts to make him miserable had been to insist that he marry. He needed an heir and an infusion of coin. Even worse, she’d told him he was incapable of making a decent choice.

  While he rarely did anything at his mother’s request, he also considered himself to be reasonable. And unfortunately, his mother had a point, marriage would make his job much simpler.

  He carefully set the paper back on the desk. Five names graced the page. They were ladies of excellent dowry, good families, and stellar reputations. Each would restore his family’s finances and their good standing within the ton. His mother had made the list herself. Ladies who could restore the family’s name and their financial balances.

  But he’d swear that she had just found a new way to torture him. Because each of these women was more odious than the last.

  Lady Isabelle Franks was first on the list. He’d called on her two days prior. She’d talked to herself incessantly and insisted that invisible people were in the room. “Oh don’t sit there,” she’d told him when he’d arrived. “Emily is in that seat already.”

  He’d looked at the empty chair. “Emily?”

  Lady Isabelle had nodded. “She gets very put out when someone takes her seat.”

  He hadn’t stayed long. In his defense, there weren’t any free chairs. Tonight, he’d meet a Lady Helena. They’d never been formerly introduced but he’d seen her on several occasions. She was the sort of woman who wore a constant frown. He’d like to think that it was just the way her face set and that underneath that frown was a light and airy personality, but he doubted that very much. On two occasions he’d heard her talking and nothing but negative drivel had passed through her lips. Perhaps he’d just been unlucky about what he’d overheard?

  There was only one way to find out. After rising from his desk, he bounded up the stairs over the worn carpet. One more sign they did need more coin. Along with the names on his mother’s list, she’d peppered the accompanying letter with tidbits such as, “I can’t live like this. What’s taking you so long?” She’d followed that with, “If Stanley were still alive, he’d have seen this righted already.”

  Pierce shook his head. How did she not see that Stanley had spent all the money to begin with? Pierce would fulfill his obligation to his mother by meeting the women on the list she’d sent. And then he’d perform his own search. She was right, of course. That’s what made her difficult to argue with. He needed to marry a woman of good finance and good standing. He had his own pride and that pride would see his family name restored.

  But he wouldn’t accomplish that goal on her terms. This list was ridiculous.

  His manservant, Mr. Billings, waited for him in his room. “Off for the evening, my lord?” Billings asked as he began to pull out the necessary clothing.

  “Unfortunately, yes.” Pierce spent many of his evenings at home. Not only did he get more work done but he also had a clearer head the next day. “But duty calls.”

  Mr. Billings nodded. “Of course, my lord.”

  “No need to wait up, Billings, though I don’t intend to be late. But I can ready myself for bed.” Pierce began to tie the complicated knot of his cravat as he stood by the mirror. A task he preferred to do himself.

  “Thank you, my lord.”

  Mr. Billings had been his brother’s manservant and his father’s before that. “My mother has written to inform me that she’ll be arriving in London in a week’s time. Please tell Mrs. Whistle so that the house is ready.”

  Mr. Billing’s eyes widened for just a moment before his face returned to a blank mask. Even he couldn’t hide a moment’s dread at the arrival of the countess. “I’ll be sure to let Mrs. Whistle know.”

  Pierce sighed inwardly. He needed to build his mother a dowager estate so that he could return to his own country home. He’d been in London for more than a year simply to keep from seeing her. He gave a deep sigh. He supposed he couldn’t avoid her forever, though that seemed a reasonable goal. “Please let Mrs. Whistle know that my mother is to stay in the north side of the house while she is here.”

  Mr. Billings pressed his lips together. Pierce knew what the man would like to say but didn’t because it wasn’t his place. His mother was not going to like that one bit. But Pierce needed some measure of privacy. “I’ll make sure that I am here to greet the countess and will explain her room assignment.”

  Mr. Billings gave a stiff nod as Pierce lifted his wrist so that Mr. Billings could insert the cuff link. “Thank you, my lord.”

  Pierce gave a nod as he shrugged on his waist coat. Not that he was looking forward to the evening but his mother was right. He needed to marry if for no other reason than set his mother up far away from him.

  Chapter Two

  Pierce stood in front of Lady Helena, her frown creasing her forehead and narrowing her gaze as she eyed him up and down. “You’re handsome,” she said in a low tone that implied the words were not a compliment. In fact, her displeased expression grew more pronounced.

  He ignored the tone, cocking a brow. “Thank you.” Truth be told, he wasn’t that enamored with her looks either. Though she couldn’t be more than twenty, her face held deep lines around her thin lips. Her body, even tucked and tied in corsets, had little shape, and her personality even less. Helena was likely perfectly lovely, but they were discussing the possibility of marriage. One had to be discerning.

  “The two of you should take a walk.” Her mother attempted a large smile, pushing her daughter toward him. “Get to know one another.” The elder woman leaned closer to him and gave a conspiratorial whisper. “I’ve corresponded with your mother and we are both most excited about the possibility of a match between the two of you.”

  Bloody bullocks. He should have known his mother had done more than just write a letter to him. Who else in London knew that he’d started a search for a wife?

  Pierce held out his arm to Lady Helena who tentatively placed her hand in the crook. He began to walk them about the room, searching his mind for something to say.

  Lady Helena beat him. “It wasn’t a compliment.”

  “I beg your pardon?” He already knew to what she referred but somehow, this seemed more polite.

  “When I said you were handsome, it wasn’t a compliment.”

  Well, so much for politeness. “You don’t like handsome men?”

  “Not particularly,” she replied. They stopped as the crowd became too thick. “They are usually full of themselves in addition to being—” She stopped. “I digress.”

  “Not at all.” He quirked a half smile, one corner of his mouth lifting. “I find this conversation far more interesting than I’d ever suspected. How do you find handsome men to be in general?”

  She let out a small sigh. “It’s not a conversation to have too close to other people,” she glanced from side to side. “My point is that you are far too handsome to be trusted.”

  He leaned closer, not wanting to be overheard. “Thank you,” he said again. “Though I would like to assure you that I am exceptionally trustworthy. You, Lady Helena can trust me with anything you’d
like to share.” He had to confess that he was enjoying this immensely. Though he didn’t feel any particular attraction to Helena, he liked her company. What was more, whatever she didn’t say was far more interesting than any conversation he’d likely have here. Pierce hadn’t participated in society much since taking over the title. Not only did he have far too much work but it mostly seemed a vapid waste of time to him. That, and he wasn’t invited to a great many events thanks to his brother.

  She lifted her brow. “I doubt very much that you are a man to be trusted.”

  He heard a quiet gasp behind him. Normally he wouldn’t have heard the noise in the crowd but whoever had made the sound was nearby. Though it was unlikely the gasper was listening to their conversation, as several were happening around them at once.

  Lady Helena was right. They needed more privacy to finish this discussion. “Perhaps we can step out onto the quieter veranda?” He started to pull her toward the open doors.

  She came willingly, her head bending toward his. “I wish to be clear that I don’t want to marry you under any circumstances.”

  Interesting. “Fine with me.” He would not state that he didn’t want to marry her either. It was rude and ungentlemanly. “Let’s declare our relationship one of acquaintance, perhaps to bloom in friendship later.” He caught a hint of her scent, too flowery, too sweet and his nose wrinkled a bit.