Christine Merrill - Taken by the Wicked Rake

A season of secrets, scandal and seduction in high society!

A darkly dangerous stranger is out for revenge, delivering a silken rope as his calling card. Through him, a long-forgotten past is stirred to life. The notorious events of 1794 which saw one man murdered and another hanged for the crime are brought into question. Was the culprit brought to justice or is there still a treacherous murderer at large?

As the murky waters of the past are disturbed, so is the Ton! Milliners and servants find love with rakish lords and proper ladies fall for rebellious outcasts, until finally the true murderer and spy is revealed.

From glittering ballrooms to a smuggler’s cove in Cornwall, from the wilds of Scotland to a Romany camp and from the highest society to the lowest …

Don’t miss all eight books in this thrilling new series!

A season of secrets, scandal and seduction in high society!

Volume 1—4th June 2010

The Lord and the Wayward Lady by Louise Allen

Volume 2—2nd July 2010

Paying the Virgin’s Price by Christine Merrill

Volume 3—6th August 2010

The Smuggler and the Society Bride by Julia Justiss

Volume 4—3rd September 2010

Claiming the Forbidden Bride by Gayle Wilson

8 VOLUMES IN ALL TO COLLECT!

www.millsandboon.co.uk

CHRISTINE MERRILLlives on a farm in Wisconsin, USA, with her husband, two sons and too many pets—all of whom would like her to get off the computer so they can check their e-mail. She has worked by turns in theatre costuming, where she was paid to play with period ballgowns, and as a librarian, where she spent the day surrounded by books. Writing historical romance combines her love of good stories and fancy dress with her ability to stare out of the window and make stuff up.

Taken by the Wicked Rake

Christine Merrill

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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To Annie, Gayle, Julia, Louise and Margaret, again.

And always. What a wild ride it’s been.

‘Are you enjoying the party, my dear?’ Robert Veryan, Viscount Keddinton, rocked back on his heels, as though proud of the job he had done in entertaining his only goddaughter. His wife, Felicity, stood on her other side, equally satisfied with their efforts.

Verity Carlow looked around the ballroom at Warrenford Park. The walls were a pristine white, the accents gold, the design classic and without the fussy Rococo that she had seen in some houses. The music playing in the background was sedate, and as clean and expertly rendered as the white walls. The dancers on the polished marble floor moved to the tune like clockwork figures, and the observers kept their chatter to a polite and unobtrusive level.

It was well-ordered perfection.

The sight of it made her head ache. She gave her host a brave smile that did not suit her mood and said, ‘It is a lovely evening. Thank you so much, Uncle Robert.’ He was no more her real uncle than this ball was a true entertainment. But if he wished to think himself so, it would be unkind to disappoint him or to complain that throwing her this party was little better than putting curtains over the bars of a cage.

She could not, for one minute, fool herself into thinking that this was a pleasant trip to the country. Her brother, Marcus, had made it clear that she was being sent to Keddinton’s country estate so that the family could more easily control her acquaintances and associations.

It was more than a little unfair of Marc to treat her so. In her twenty-one years, she had done nothing to give her family cause to worry. Her past was devoid of even the smallest misstep. But it did not matter to anyone what she had or had not done. When they had sent her into exile, her brothers cited unnamed predators and vague ‘risks to the family’ and promised that it was done for her own safety. But when she had asked for details, they had been unwilling to clarify their statements so that she might do anything to protect herself.

How could she know what to guard against, if no one would tell her the truth? When she asked who or what she needed to avoid, the best they would manage was a rueful shake of their heads, and the answer, ‘Everything.’ They had packed her off to the country, where she would be bored but safe. And there would be no getting ‘round Keddinton on the details of the trouble, or when it might be safe for her to return to London. Uncle Robert was the biggest spymaster in England. She might as well have tried to coax secrets out of the ballroom walls.

He was smiling at her now. And though his expression seemed harmless and friendly, she was sure his sharp grey eyes were as ever-watchful as a jailer’s. As if to confirm the fact, he said, ‘I promised your father that I would keep you safe. And so I shall. It is an honour and a privilege to do so. But it must have been difficult for you to leave your friends in town.’

‘It was no hardship to come here,’ she lied. ‘You know that I always enjoy our visits.’ Although she was not sure why he felt the need to watch over her so closely. If there were evil people who wished to harm her, did it not make more sense to find and cage them, instead of standing guard on her as though they expected her to instigate the problem through her own foolishness?

Lady Keddinton added her thoughts to her husband’s. ‘We want to make sure that you are not feeling blue. And we will give you opportunity to continue to socialize. For I know your family had hoped that, by now, you would have made a match.’

Verity looked at her hostess more closely. Was this an honest comment or just another quiet prod to make her choose from among the carefully vetted candidates in this room? She would think it was the latter, had not Aunt Felicity two unmarried daughters to dispose of.

Not that she wished to poach suitors from the Veryan girls. Verity had hoped that she might be free for a time from making any choice at all. She gave a firm nod of thanks and said, ‘There have been three weddings in the family within twelve months. We have had quite enough excitement, even without my help. I think it is probably better that I wait another Season to marry, if only to avoid further stress upon father.’