Regina Scott - The Rake's Redemption

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London’s Most Notorious Scoundrel

Even infamous duelist and poet Vaughn Everard has qualms about dragging an innocent lady into his quest for revenge. But Imogene Devary is the daughter of the man suspected of murdering Vaughn’s uncle. Surely that makes her fair game

in order to uncover the truth!

Can the man who writes such moving verse be beyond redemption? Imogene can’t believe so. In taming Vaughn’s heart and healing the rift between their families, she’s sure she’s found her calling. Then his mission to unmask a killer reveals a terrifying plot. Only together can they safeguard his legacy, their newfound love...and England’s very future.

“My father seems quite vexed with you,”

Imogene whispered, trying to focus on her goal while her fingers kept moving over the keys of the piano. “Do you know why that might be?”

“I have never done anything to offend him,” Vaughn murmured back. “Why would he take me in dislike?”

She wished she knew. Vaughn Everard seemed the perfect fellow: clever, talented, handsome, charming. How could anyone take him in dislike? Certainly dislike was the farthest thing from her mind. “There’s some problem.”

“Can you arrange a meeting?”

“He’s so busy. I can’t be sure of catching him.”

“But won’t you try, for me?”

Her mother rose from her seat, wandered closer, eyes narrowing. Vaughn straightened.

“And now, the crescendo,” Imogene proclaimed, throwing herself into the music. She finished the piece with a flourish, and Vaughn Everard joined her mother in applause. But his head was cocked, his dark gaze on her as if he hadn’t truly seen her before.

About the Author

REGINA SCOTTstarted writing novels in the third grade. Thankfully for literature as we know it, she didn’t actually sell her first novel until she had learned a bit more about writing. Since her first book was published in 1998, her stories have traveled the globe, with translations in many languages including Dutch, German, Italian and Portuguese.

She and her husband of over twenty years reside in southeast Washington State. Regina Scott is a decent fencer; owns a historical costume collection that takes up over a third of her large closet; and is an active member of the Church of the Nazarene. Her friends and church family know that if you want something organized, you call Regina. You can find her online blogging at www.nineteenteen.blogspot.com. Learn more about her at www.reginascott.com.

The Rake’s Redemption

Regina Scott

www.millsandboon.co.uk

And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love Him, who have been called according to His purpose.

—Romans 8:28

To the heroes who leap without looking, trusting

in their skills and their Lord, especially Larry

and Edward; and to the Lord, who loves me

even when I look twice.

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

Discussion Questions

Teaser Chapter

Chapter One

London, England, spring 1805

Where was he?

Lady Imogene Devary stood at the edge of the crowded ballroom, up on the toes of her white kid evening slippers. She hadn’t even had a chance to dance, yet her heart was pounding in her satin-covered chest, and she could barely catch her breath.

Where was he, the stranger who had appeared at her door the past three days? Her father, Lord Widmore, had refused to see him each time, most recently so loudly the miniature of her little brother had clattered against the wall. Why did the stranger so concern him?

She peered about, twisting this way and that. The sounds of the ball brushed against her: the rise and fall of a hundred conversations, the strains of a string quartet, the dull thump of slippered pumps on hardwood and the laughter of flirtation. The Mayweathers had rented the prestigious Elysium Assembly Rooms for their annual ball. A dozen fluted columns marched down the center in Grecian elegance, and two crystal chandeliers hung from the gilded, domed ceiling above. Ladies in satins and velvets strolled past, and gentlemen nodded at Imogene in greeting. She knew almost every one of the nearly three hundred guests. How could a stranger escape notice?

Had he seen her pacing him in the ballroom when she’d first spied him earlier? She’d been shocked that anyone her father refused to acknowledge would be allowed entrance to such a fine occasion. So where had he gone now? Had he ensconced himself in the card room like her mother? Evaporated like a wisp of her imagination? Was she never to learn the truth?

And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are called according to His purpose.

Yes, she had to hope in that verse. She had a purpose in spending her time searching the ballroom when she ought to be finding herself the perfect suitor. She loved her father too much to see him harassed. Hadn’t they suffered enough? Or perhaps the stranger thought their suffering made them vulnerable. She squared her shoulders. That fellow would learn the Devary family was made of stronger stuff.

But perhaps she would not be able to convince him tonight. She puffed out a sigh and lowered herself to her heels. If she could not find him, she would have to determine another way to wrest some pleasure from the remainder of the evening. Tomorrow she could question Elisa about the guest list, perhaps identify him that way. She’d simply thought she would be better at this espionage business.

Her good friend Elisa Mayweather certainly had a talent for going unnoticed. She had pressed her back against the creamy white wall, and Imogene was certain she was strategically placed so that a column hid her from her imperious mother. As if to be certain no one would recognize her, she fluttered an ivory fan before her long face, embroidered satin skirts swinging with the motion. Another friend stood sentinel beside her.

Imogene hurried to join them. “Why aren’t you dancing?” she asked, noticing their tight lips, their deep frowns.

Elisa snapped her fan shut and leveled it at a group of men crowding the far corner. “She’s doing it again.”

Kitty Longbourne sniffed, dark eyes narrowed to slits that made her resemble her nickname. “Rotten beau-snatcher.”

“What, not you, too?” Imogene whirled to join her glare to theirs. “Freddie Pulsipher has lived in your pocket the past year. Don’t tell me he’s defected.”

“Defected and forgotten me entirely,” Kitty said, her normally dulcet voice closer to a growl. She shook her pale skirts and lifted her chin as if she were well rid of the boy.

“That is the outside of enough!” Imogene started toward the group. Elisa snatched at her shoulder to pull her up, fingers biting into the lace on Imogene’s short sleeves.

“Where are you going? You can’t accost her!” Elisa’s wide brown eyes begged Imogene not to cause a scene.

But Imogene wasn’t about to stand along the wall like some hothouse palm and bemoan her fate. She might not be able to find that stranger tonight, but she could help her friends.