Miranda Jarrett - Rake's Wager

“Miranda Jarrett continues to reign as the queen of historical romance.”

—Romantic Times

“A marvelous author…each word is a treasure, each book a lasting memory.”

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“Ms. Jarrett always delivers a memorable story peopled with memorable characters…. You can always count on Ms. Jarrett to gift us with something intelligent, new and vibrant.”

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The Golden Lord

“Sexual tension runs high. There are…secrets to be kept, mysteries to be solved and a traditional ending in which sharing truth wins true love.”

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The Silver Lord

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The Very Daring Duchess

“A vibrant, passionate story, richly told. The Very Daring Duchess will sweep you away to an eighteenth century world of power and danger.”

—USA TODAY bestselling author Jo Beverley

The Captain’s Bride

“Deliciously entertaining, Miranda Jarrett’s The Captain’s Bride blends a swift, rollicking romance between two unlikely characters with a richly textured understanding of the seafaring life.”

—New York Times bestselling author Mary Jo Putney

Star Bright

“Ms. Jarrett’s ability to always draw the reader into a fast-paced tale peopled with likable and realistic characters and a thrilling plot is a crowning achievement.”

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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

Epilogue

Woodbury, Sussex, England

1806

C assia Penny sat with her spine pressed tight against the ladder-back chair, her fingers squeezing her handkerchief into a soggy linen knot in her lap. The cheap black bombazine for grieving cut into her throat and wrists, the cloth so hot and wrong on this early spring day that she could feel the sweat inside her gown trickling down her arms and between her breasts and along the backs of her knees above her garters. Though she kept her head high like her two sisters on either side of her were doing, her eyes burned from weeping, and it would take next to nothing to make her cry again.

She was only twenty, yet she felt as if part of her life had died, too. Nothing would ever be the same again, not for any of them.

Mr. Grosse, the solicitor, sat at her father’s now empty desk, using one finger to square the stacked papers of the will into tidy precision.

“I regret to say that your lives must change, ladies.” He heaved a mournful sigh appropriate for the day. “Though that should come as no real surprise, considering your father’s vocation.”

“We know our father was a country vicar, Mr. Grosse,” Amariah said, each word clipped sharp, the way they always were whenever anyone dared cross Cassia’s eldest sister. “We are humbled and awed by the legacy which he has left behind on this earth, and the reward that is certainly now his in heaven.”

Unimpressed, Mr. Grosse looked at her over his glasses. “Alas, Miss Amariah, such good works accumulate little interest in the bank, and your father’s generosity made it impossible for him to save.”

“Father was a kind, good, fine gentleman, Mr. Grosse,” Cassia protested, rising to her feet, “and I—we—won’t hear you say otherwise!”

At once Bethany’s hand found Cassia’s arm, gently pressing her back into her chair. “Mr. Grosse is only stating the truth, Cassia. Father never did worry about acquiring worldly goods, just as we never expected him to leave much of an estate.”

“But we never expected him to die this soon, either.” Cassia sank back into her seat, once again fighting back her tears. Father had been only forty-five; who would have guessed that so great a heart would stop so suddenly, there while he pulled the first spring weeds in the kitchen garden?

“That is why we’ve already begun to plan our future, Cassia.” Amariah’s smile was sad, true, but also filled with a confidence that Cassia couldn’t share. “Father always trusted us to find our way through life, and we shall.”

“You’ll have to find it away from this cottage, Miss Amariah.” Mr. Grosse sighed again. “Sir Cleveland has already informed me that the new vicar will be arriving shortly. He will wish to reside here, as is due with his living. Sir Cleveland regrets the seeming haste of your eviction, but he—”

“He says he is most concerned for the spiritual needs of the congregation.” Again Cassia sniffed back her tears. “And he is most concerned, too, for that nephew of his who’s always wished to take poor Father’s place, the greedy piglet!”

“Cassia.” From Amariah that was warning enough. “Such talk does not honor Father’s memory.”

Hastily Cassia looked down to her lap, knowing that Amariah was right, the way she always was. It didn’t matter that this rambling cottage with its rose garden and duck pond had been the only home that any of them had known, or that they now must part and leave it forever. She needed to be strong and brave like her sisters, and look toward the future, not the past.

Even if she’d no idea what or where that future might be.

Mr. Grosse glanced around the library, noting the crates and trunks that were already swallowing up Father’s books and belongings. “Have you made provisions to remove your things and reside with another family member or friend?”

Bethany smiled serenely. “God helps those who help themselves, Mr. Grosse. Father shared his love of accomplishment and knowledge with us, and we intend to use those gifts to support ourselves.”

Mr. Grosse looked relieved to be spared the guilt of shoving the dead vicar’s daughters into the lane. “You have made plans, then?”

Amariah nodded, all brisk efficiency despite her new mourning. “I am considering an offer from Mr. and Mrs. Whiteside to serve as governess to their daughters at Rushington.”

“And Lady Elverston has invited me to be her special companion at Elverston Hall.” Bethany clasped her hands before her with becoming modesty, as if she couldn’t believe her good fortune. “She most kindly recalled both my play upon the pianoforte and the little suppers I’d arrange for Father and his friends, and she believes such talents would do well at Elverston.”

“How excellent,” Mr. Grosse said with approval. “And you, Miss Cassia? Have you determined your future?”

Cassia’s head bowed a little lower. She wasn’t accomplished the way that Amariah and Bethany were. The things she did best—dressing bonnets and remaking gowns into cunning new fashions, or arranging the Yule greenery in the church to look like a magical Sherwood Forest, or telling silly stories that made the young gentlemen laugh and cluster around her and beg for dances at the Havertown Assembly each month—were not the things that could earn her way in the world, at least not as an honest young lady of good reputation, as the Penny sisters had of course been raised to be.