Bronwyn Scott - Captivated By Her Convenient Husband

“Looks like I’ve come home just in time.”

The duke’s son returns!

Part of Allied at the Altar . Avaline hasn’t seen her husband, Lord Fortis Tresham, for seven years, after he was presumed dead at war. Now her convenient husband has returned in time to save her from an unwanted suitor! Yet as he returns to her life—and her bed —Avaline is cautious... Why is he so mature, courteous and thoughtful—so different from the selfish soldier she married?

BRONWYN SCOTTis a communications instructor at Pierce College in the United States, and 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.

Also by Bronwyn Scott

Russian Royals of Kuban miniseries

Compromised by the Prince’s Touch

Innocent in the Prince’s Bed

Awakened by the Prince’s Passion

Seduced by the Prince’s Kiss

Allied at the Altar miniseries

A Marriage Deal with the Viscount

One Night with the Major

Tempted by His Secret Cinderella

Captivated by Her Convenient Husband

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.

Captivated by Her Convenient Husband

Bronwyn Scott

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-08923-4

CAPTIVATED BY HER CONVENIENT HUSBAND

© 2019 Nikki Poppen

Published in Great Britain 2019

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

® and ™ are trademarks owned and used by the trademark owner and/or its licensee. Trademarks marked with ® are registered with the United Kingdom Patent Office and/or the Office for Harmonisation in the Internal Market and in other countries.

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Version: 2020-03-02

Before you start reading, why not sign up?

Thank you for downloading this Mills & Boon book. If you want to hear about exclusive discounts, special offers and competitions, sign up to our email newsletter today!

SIGN ME UP!

Or simply visit

signup.millsandboon.co.uk

Mills & Boon emails are completely free to receive and you can unsubscribe at any time via the link in any email we send you.

This ebook contains the following accessibility features which, if supported by your device, can be accessed via your ereader/accessibility settings:

Change of font size and line height

Change of background and font colours

Change of font

Change justification

Text to speech

For Rowan, who loves Martin Guerre the musical.

The world likes to define who we are,

but I think it’s always best to simply be yourself.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Note to Readers

Dedication

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

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Extract

About the Publisher

Avaline Panshawe-Tresham could put off her entrance and all it would entail no longer. She had to get out of the carriage, had to go inside, had to dance with the men, smile at the women, suffer the solicitations of her well-meaning in-laws, who had already arrived, and not least she had to endure the dubious charms of the evening’s host, Tobin Hayworth, all the while pretending she was as oblivious to his intentions as she was to the disappointment she’d brought the Treshams—all seven years, three weeks, one day of it, and counting.

There seemed no end in sight when it came to her association with disappointment, not that the Treshams had ever said as much. They were far too kind. Still, Avaline knew and that was all that mattered.

She drew a steadying breath and smoothed her ice-blue skirts. She checked to see that her pearl and gold earbobs were fastened securely, that her slender pearl pendant wasn’t twisted, that her matching combs were secure in the folds of her artfully arranged hair. She was stalling, of course, as she’d stalled at home at Blandford Hall, dragging out her departure with an inane debate with herself over wearing the blue or the pink silk. Now, there wasn’t anything left to hide behind. There wasn’t a hair out of place, or a creased wrinkle to be found. She was out of excuses and out of time in so many ways, and she was furious.

Tobin Hayworth had held his harvest ball tonight on purpose. He knew very well the import of October twenty-sixth to her. It was one day after the anniversary of the Battle of Balaclava; a year and a day after her husband, Fortis Tresham, fell in battle, never to be heard from again. His body had never been recovered. He’d fallen and he had vanished, as if he’d never been. But he had been and perhaps he still was. It was a small hope she clung to and one whose odds grew smaller by the day. It had been a year since he’d fallen, making it seven years since he’d married her and promptly departed England. It was a long time to be gone.

That was the great failing that confronted her daily. She’d been a dismal wife, unable to keep her young, restless officer husband home. It was the one thing the Treshams had hoped she’d do by whatever means necessary. Marriage was usually a great domesticator of men of Fortis’s station—sons of dukes. Once a man married, he settled down, looked after his estate, his wife and his nursery. The plan should have worked. It had all the trappings of success. His parents and hers had arranged it. What could be more perfect than an alliance between neighbours, one of whom claimed the title of the Duke of Cowden, and the other an ailing baron, who claimed a large, unentailed tract of failing land that abutted the Duke’s estate and an eagerness to see his only child wed? Their marriage had been accomplished during Fortis’s leave. It had ended when he left three weeks later. She’d not conceived a honeymoon heir for him. She had hardly kept him in their bed long enough to do more than make the marriage binding. He’d been off, riding, hunting, shooting, and fishing with his friends for the duration of the honeymoon. She’d not tamed Fortis Tresham. If anything, she’d made him wilder.