Lara Temple - Lord Hunter's Cinderella Heiress

Betrothed...to the wrong man!

Building a life away from her bullying family, schoolmistress Helen Tilney now needs to convince her childhood sweetheart she’s a worthy bride. Standing in her way is Lord Hunter—the man Nell has just discovered she’s betrothed to!

Hunter’s offer of marriage to Nell came out of guilt, and now seems less than appealing! So when she asks for his help to win another man, he agrees. Until their lessons in flirtation inspire a raging desire that has Hunter longing to keep Nell for himself...

Book 1 in the Wild Lords and Innocent Ladies trilogy

Wild Lords and Innocent Ladies

Lord Hunter, Lord Stanton and Lord Ravenscar

Three wild rakes whose seductive charms and aristocratic titles have the ladies of the ton swooning behind their fans. United by their charitable foundation to help those scarred by war, these lords are the firmest of friends.

But they guard their hardened hearts almost as closely as they do their riches... That is until they encounter three very special women.

Could these innocent ladies be the ones to tame these wild lords once and for all?

Read Lord Hunter and Nell’s story in

Lord Hunter’s Cinderella Heiress

And look out for linked stories about Lord Stanton and Lord Ravenscar—coming soon!

Author Note

Lord Hunter’s Cinderella Heiress is the first book in my Wild Lords and Innocent Ladies series, about three friends who are infamous for their rakish past and supreme skill with horses. But, though this is a romance, it touches on some serious and timeless topics—among them the impact of suicide on those left behind.

The three friends are a product of their time in history—a generation shaped by a costly war and just as costly an aftermath. Many veterans of the Napoleonic wars returned to England wounded in body and mind, without an income or the ability to find employment. There were several hospitals dedicated to caring for soldiers ‘broken by age or war’—the most famous was the Royal Hospital Chelsea, established by King Charles II in 1681)—but they were a drop in the ocean after such prolonged, bloody and devastating wars that affected not just veterans but their families, and led to many unreported cases of suicide (still a serious problem in most active armies today).

My three Wild Lords share tragedies revolving around the wars, and together they establish an institution, Hope House, to help veterans and their families rebuild their lives. In this first book my hero, Lord Hunter, is emotionally scarred by his brother’s suicide after being captured and tortured in France, and his guilt at failing to protect his adored younger brother becomes a driving force in his life and very nearly prevents him from opening himself to the healing power of love. Luckily my horse-loving heroine Nell—who has a few scars of her own—is not easily dissuaded...

Lord Hunter’s Cinderella Heiress

Lara Temple

www.millsandboon.co.uk

LARA TEMPLE was three years old when she begged her mother to take the dictation of her first adventure story. Since then she has led a double life—by day she is a high-tech investment professional, who has lived and worked on three continents, but when darkness falls she loses herself in history and romance...at least on the page. Luckily her husband and two beautiful and very energetic children help her weave it all together.

Books by Lara Temple

Mills & Boon Historical Romance

Lord Crayle’s Secret World

The Reluctant Viscount

The Duke’s Unexpected Bride

Wild Lords and Innocent Ladies

Lord Hunter’s Cinderella Heiress

Visit the Author Profile page at millsandboon.co.uk.

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To Myrna, Mark and Arik,

who miss David as much as I do.

He couldn’t hold on but gave so much love while he did.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Author Note

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Prologue

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

Extract

Copyright

Prologue

Leicestershire—1816

‘You’re wanted, Miss Nell. The master has some viscount or other wanting to take Petra through her paces. Lord Hunter, I think his name was. Knowing fellow.’

‘Another one? I hope she takes him head first through a hedge, Elkins,’ Nell replied, her voice muffled as she bent to examine Pluck’s fetlock.

‘She’ll have to go to someone and he seems a fair choice—no bluster about him.’ The elderly groom smiled.

‘I don’t know why Father insists I escort his guests anyway. As head groom you are far more qualified than I.’

‘It’s simple, miss. You’ve got the best seat in the county and that gives them fellows the idea their wives or daughters might look the same if they took home one of these prime bits of blood. They won’t, no how, but there’s no harm in it. Your father’s a hard man, I know, but he’s right proud of the way you are with horses. You’re like him there, see you.’

Nell wrinkled her nose—she didn’t want to be like the brutish sot in any way whatsoever. She secured the stall door, but Pluck shoved her arched neck over the side and shook her mane. Nell relented and came back for one more stroke.

‘No, you can’t go to your mama yet. And, yes, I will go and see if he is worthy of her and if he isn’t I’ll have her toss him into a pond. You like that idea, don’t you, you little rogue? Father and Aunt Hester will skin me, but for Petra I just might find the nerve. Now I must go or I will be late and Father will be furious and then Aunt Hester will be furious, too.’

There was no way the filly could understand how serious that was, but Pluck’s head ducked back into the stall.

Her father was already in the stable yard. He was hard to miss—even braced on his cane and his face lined with pain and puffy from years of hard drinking, his height and booming voice intimidated everyone around him. However, this time he was diminished by the man who stood by his side. Not in inches—they were probably of a height and the stranger certainly hadn’t her father’s massive and blustering look. In fact, the first thing that struck her was that he was very quiet.

They hadn’t seen her yet and she watched as the stranger approached Petra. His movements were economical and smooth, and his hands, though they looked large and strong, were calm and travelled slowly over the mare as he examined her. It was just the right way to approach a high-spirited horse.

It was only when her father called her over that she looked at the man’s face. He was probably close in age to Charles Welbeck, who had just turned twenty-five the week before she and her father had gone to Wilton, but he seemed older. There were creases of weariness about his eyes and a bruised look beneath them as if he had not slept well for a long time.