Regina Scott - The Rogue's Reform

A Rival Heir

Jerome Everard expected to inherit his wayward uncle’s estate. Instead, all has gone to a secret daughter. Only by disproving his young cousin’s claim can Jerome regain his rightful property. But instead, he finds himself drawn to her lovely governess, Adele Walcott—a woman who holds the key to all of his uncle’s secrets.

Adele’s fortune is gone, along with her marriage prospects. Now she is devoted to securing her charge’s happiness. When she meets Jerome, she dares to dream of love again. But after learning his true motives, that love comes to a test. Can she forgive his past and reform his heart…to make it hers forever?

The Rogue’s Reform

Regina Scott

House of Secrets

Marta Perry

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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The Rogue’s Reform

Regina Scott

She drew herself up, brows gathering in a thundercloud, eyes flashing like the lightning inside. “I find this highly unusual, Mr. Everard. Exactly what did you expect to find in Cumberland?”

A little girl with designs on their legacy, an aging governess willing to help her, the secret that would prove the end to them both. “Frankly, madam,” Jerome said, “I’m no longer sure. I thought you were my cousin.”

Instead of taking the wind from her sails, the statement only caused her to raise her chin higher, as if she prided herself on her position. “I’m her governess, Miss Walcott.”

The governess. The woman to whom Uncle had entrusted his precious daughter. The woman who might know all his secrets. Unfortunately, she was also the one who, if Jerome didn’t manage to prove the girl a fraud, would stand as judge over him, Richard and Vaughn to grant or deny them their inheritances.

She held their future in her hands.

Dear Reader,

Thank you for choosing The Rogue’s Reform, the first book in the Everard Legacy miniseries. Jerome, Richard and Vaughn Everard have been in my head for some time, and I’m so thankful for the opportunity to share their stories with you.

I’m also thankful that Love Inspired Books has been sharing stories with readers for fifteen years. This month marks the anniversary of the first Love Inspired Historical book. I’m honored to be part of that tradition and delighted to join the celebration.

I love to welcome visitors to my website, too. Please feel free to contact me via www.reginascott.com, where you can also read about my upcoming books and learn more about life in early nineteenth-century England.

Blessings!

Regina Scott

To William, for putting up with a lot, and to

my Lord, who puts up with more and still loves me.

* * *

Instead, speaking the truth in love,

we will in all things grow up into Him

who is the Head, that is Christ.

—Ephesians 4:15

Contents

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

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Dear Reader

Questions for Discussion

Bonus Story HOUSE OF SECRETS

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter One

Evendale Valley, Cumberland, England

Spring 1805

So that was the enemy’s lair.

Jerome Everard reined in at the foot of the graveled drive. Just ahead, Dallsten Manor sat proudly on a rise, the afternoon sun warming the red sandstone towers at either end and glinting off the multipaned windows of the central block. Fields rolled away all around to meet woods still bare from winter. Beside him, the iron gates of the estate lay open, with a stone cottage standing silent guard.

“It looks innocent enough,” his brother Richard said on his left, patting the weary horse on the neck.

“Looks can be deceiving,” their cousin Vaughn replied on Jerome’s right. His hand strayed to the hilt of the sword sheathed along his saddle.

Jerome almost hoped his so-called cousin’s governess was peering out a window at that moment. The three of them could look intimidating on the best of days, and their grueling ride from London hadn’t helped. Their greatcoats were dusty, their boots splashed with mud. Though Richard was the captain of their prize merchant vessel, his short russet hair, beard and mustache made him resemble nothing so much as a dashing pirate. Under that broad-brimmed hat, Vaughn’s white-gold hair, held back in a queue, contrasted with the fathomless dark brown eyes that had made their Everard forebears feared and respected for generations.

And then there was Jerome, with his dark brown hair and icy blue eyes. The thinker, the planner. The schemer, his late uncle would have said. Had said, a few too many times for Jerome’s taste.

“We’ll find out soon enough,” he said. “Remember our purpose—we discover the girl’s origins and unmask her. I will not have a fraud taking over the Everard legacy.”

“Or give her power over our inheritances,” Richard agreed.

A smile played around the corners of Vaughn’s mobile mouth. “This could be interesting.”

In answer, Jerome urged his horse forward.

No groom came running as they approached the house, but then they hadn’t been expected. In fact, Jerome was fairly sure everyone in that fine stone manor had assumed he’d stay in London, take his case to the courts. Certainly his uncle’s solicitor had thought as much. Benjamin Caruthers had positively gloated when he’d delivered the news four days ago.

“Though I cannot as yet provide a formal reading of the will, I can relay the last wishes of your uncle, Arthur, Lord Everard,” the solicitor had said as Jerome, Richard and Vaughn had gathered in his private office in London. Like everything else about the solicitor, the room was meant to impress. Tall, black bookcases lined the walls, boasting heavy, leather volumes lettered in gold. The squat, claw-footed desk in the center of the room was backed by a massive oil painting of a ship in full sail.

Caruthers was just as overblown, once muscular body grown round with indulgence, mouth wreathed in jowls a bulldog would envy. His old-fashioned powdered wig and lavishly embroidered coat proclaimed him a man of tradition, a man used to dealing with money. Grandfather Everard had insisted that the fellow be retained to handle their affairs, going so far as to include Caruthers and Associates in his will as managers of the Everard legacy. Uncle had found him insufferable. On that one thing, at least, he and Jerome had agreed.

“My dear sirs,” Caruthers said with that arrogant smirk, “I shall not attempt to wrap this in clean linen. I am aware of the promises your uncle made to you. You each stand to inherit a considerable sum, and you—” He paused to contemplate Jerome for a moment. “You, my dear Mr. Everard, were expecting to receive the title, lands and considerable fortune associated with the Everard barony.”