Marguerite Kaye - Scandal At The Midsummer Ball

Scandal at the Midsummer Ball

Suitable matches or salacious seductions?

The Duke and Duchess of Brockmore are hosting the event of the Season—and arranging the most powerful marriages in England. But when two of their promising protégés decide to take fate into their own hands, scandal abounds!

Don’t miss this sizzling duet from

Marguerite Kayeand Bronwyn Scott

Read Fergus and Katerina’s story in

The Officer’s Temptation by Marguerite Kaye

and

Zara and Kael’s story in

The Debutante’s Awakening by Bronwyn Scott

MARGUERITE KAYEwrites hot historical romances from her home in cold and usually rainy Scotland, featuring Regency rakes, Highlanders and sheikhs. She has published almost thirty books and novellas. When she’s not writing she enjoys walking, cycling—but only on the level—gardening—but only what she can eat—and cooking. She also likes to knit and occasionally drink martinis—though not at the same time. Find out more on her website: margueritekaye.com.

BRONWYN SCOTTis a communications instructor at Pierce College in the United States, and is the proud mother of three wonderful children—one boy and two girls. When she’s not teaching or writing she enjoys playing the piano, travelling—especially to Florence, Italy—and studying history and foreign languages. Readers can stay in touch on Bronwyn’s website, bronwynnscott.com, or at her blog, bronwynswriting.blogspot.com. She loves to hear from readers.

Scandal at the Midsummer Ball

The Officer’s Temptation

Marguerite Kaye

The Debutante’s Awakening

Bronwyn Scott

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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Table of Contents

Cover

Scandal at the Midsummer Ball

About the Authors

Title Page

The Officer’s Temptation

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

The Debutante’s Awakening

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Epilogue

Author Note

Extract

Copyright

The Officer’s Temptation

Marguerite Kaye

Chapter One

Saturday June 14th, 1817

Brockmore Manor House Party

Programme of Events

Welcoming Party in the Drawing Room

Exhibition by the World-Famous

Russian Acrobat Troupe

The Flying Vengarovs in the Ballroom

The drawing room of Brockmore Manor faced due west, looking out over the extensive formal gardens of the Duke and Duchess of Brockmore’s country estate. The heady scent emanating from the nearby rose arbour wafted in through the open windows on the faintest of breezes. A veritable cornucopia of English roses both inside and without, Colonel Fergus Kennedy of the Ninety-Second Regiment of Foot thought wryly, eyeing the fluttering groups of ladies, their pale afternoon gowns in stark contrast to the vibrant cobalt blue of the heavy painted silk wall hangings that gave the room the appearance of an underwater cave. The marine theme was continued on the blue damask sofas which lined the drawing room walls, where naked mermaids and grotesque sea creatures were carved into the gilded arms and legs. Similar creatures were carved into the white Italian marble fireplace, and the works of art which adorned the walls had a maritime theme.

Fergus tugged at his starched neckcloth and edged closer to the open window. A trickle of sweat ran down his back. It was unseasonably hot. It seemed his host, who had a formidable reputation for scheming and machinations, had also organised the weather. He envied the ladies their light muslin gowns, so much more suited to the heat than his silk waistcoat and heavy dark-blue coat, but a quick glance around the room confirmed that he had correctly interpreted the ‘informal’ dress code stipulated for this welcoming party as being ‘London-smart.’

Fergus was not particularly in the frame of mind to be welcomed. In fact, the prospect was distinctly unwelcome. The truth was, Fergus was beginning to have some reservations as to the wisdom of accepting this invitation and the potential consequences.

‘I have made a small wager with myself that you are Colonel Kennedy. May I pat myself on the back and preen indulgently?’

The man who stood before him was of indeterminate age. Clad in what looked to Fergus like an emerald-green silk dressing gown emblazoned with gold-and-scarlet dragons, he carried a similarly painted fan. His skin was powdered, but he had a disconcertingly determined chin, and the pale-blue eyes which shone beneath the perfectly plucked arched brows were piercing.

‘You may do both if you so wish, though attempting them simultaneously may prove problematic. Fergus Kennedy, at your service. I am afraid you have the advantage of me, sir.’

The thin mouth formed into a delighted smile. ‘I knew it! One look at those shoulders and that ramrod straight back, and I knew you must be a military man. What a shame you decided against wearing your regimentals, Colonel, the ladies do love a Red Coat. I’m rather partial myself. But where are my manners! Allow me to introduce myself. Sir Timothy Farthingale, and it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.’

‘How do you do.’ Farthingale’s exotic appearance was decidedly at odds with his firm handshake, Fergus noted. ‘May I ask if you are acquainted with our hosts? I have not yet introduced myself to them.’

‘Never fear, they will make an appearance directly,’ Sir Timothy responded with an airy wave. ‘Marcus and Alicia always choreograph their grand entrances carefully, and I believe we are still several guests short of a party. You have been based in London since Waterloo, I believe?’

‘I am, at the War Office, on Horse Guards.’ Fergus winced inwardly. How he hated that blasted desk in that poky office. Tedious did not begin to describe his administrative duties. Someone had to keep track of supplies and equipment but why did it have to be him? It had been bad enough when he was recuperating from the injury he’d sustained at Waterloo, but he’d been fighting fit for at least eighteen months now.

‘I am surprised our paths have not crossed before now, Colonel,’ Sir Timothy said, ‘I know everyone who is anyone. It cannot be a lack of invitations which keeps you squirrelled away, for I understood you to be one of Wellington’s brightest protégés.’

As had Fergus, though his belief had waned, as request after request for a transfer to active duties had been refused, and Wellington’s vague promises of saving him for the right appointment had remained unfulfilled. Until now. ‘You seem uncommonly well informed about a man you have never met,’ Fergus said.

Sir Timothy’s smile was knowing. ‘Oh, I make it my business to be well informed, Colonel. One never knows when the information may prove useful. That man over there, for example, the one who is dressed like a vicar with the face of a cadaver, is Desmond Falkner. A very rich fish indeed, though he reeks of the city. I might—or I might not—choose to dangle a little business proposition in front of him. The three young bucks standing beside him are Douglas Brigstock, the Earl of Jessop, Jessamy Addington and Jeremy Giltner. Now, they are the duke’s ideal pawns—personable, popular, not too bright, not too dim, well connected and, I am sorry to say, utterly interchangeable.’ Sir Timothy smiled archly. ‘No doubt Brockmore has plans to match each of them up with one of the gaggle of young ladies over by the fireplace. They make a pretty picture, do they not? And don’t they know it!’