Margaret Moore - A Marriage Of Rogues

He made a dangerous wager...and won himself a wife

Gambling hells are Sir Develin Dundrake’s forte. Hunting risk, craving victory, he’s surprised by nothing. Until the woman whose dowry Develin has claimed in a card game proposes the only solution that will rescue her from ruin: a wedding.

Wicked Develin isn’t made for matrimony, but all Lady Theodora Markham demands is a convenient arrangement. He must avoid falling for his wife’s sensual charms—there are secrets hidden behind her beguiling gaze—yet neither can resist surrendering to the passion their marriage bed promises!

“Why isn’t your father here?”

“He’s sailed for Canada. He left a letter explaining why he’d taken the remainder of our funds and sailed for Halifax.”

“Good God, he left you with nothing?” Dev exclaimed, appalled.

Lady Theodora’s resolute expression returned and she straightened her slender shoulders.

“He left me my name and my pride, Sir Develin, and the hope of his eventual return. Be that as it may, I didn’t come here to discuss my father’s recent actions. I have a business proposition.”

A business proposition? That was as unexpected as her arrival.

“A goodly portion of the sum you won from my father was intended to be my dowry,” she went on briskly, giving him no chance to interrupt with either comments or a question. “I propose that since, you’ve got my dowry, you now take the bride.”

Dev had had the wind knocked out of him once before. He felt exactly the same way now. “ What did you say?”

Author Note

I’m often asked where I get my ideas. In the case of A Marriage of Rogues, another question might be, how long have you had this idea?

The answer is years. Literally. Years.

In fact it’s been so long I don’t remember when I first got the notion of a heroine confronting a hero and saying—basically—‘You won my dowry…now you get the bride.’

Why did it take so long for this idea to grow into a book? I did write one version—an unsuccessful novella. I put it away and wrote other stories. However, this idea just would not go away, and I was delighted to get the chance to try again—this time with a full book in mind.

Then ‘Life’ happened—in the form of not one but two major medical crises in the family. Two starts went out the window, and I thought the story was doomed never to see the light of day. However, thanks to very understanding editors, I was given time to weather the crises and begin again. In the end I think the story is all the better for the time and effort required to bring it to fruition.

I hope you enjoy Dev and Thea’s romance. They’ve waited a long time to have their happy ending!

A Marriage of Rogues

Margaret Moore

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Award-winning author MARGARET MOORE has written over fifty romance novels and novellas for Mills & Boon, Avon Books and HarperCollins Children’s Books. Her stories have been set in the Dark Ages and medieval Britain, Restoration, Regency and Victorian England and pre–Civil War Massachusetts. Margaret lives in Ontario, Canada, with her husband and two cats. She can be found online at margaretmoore.com, margaretmoore.blogspot.comand @MargMooreAuthoron Twitter.

Books by Margaret Moore

Mills & Boon Historical Romance

The Knights’ Prizes

Castle of the Wolf

Bride for a Knight

Scoundrel of Dunborough

Stand-Alone Novels

The Overlord’s Bride

Bride of Lochbarr

The Duke’s Desire

The Notorious Knight

Knave’s Honour

Highland Rogue, London Miss

Highland Heiress

In the King’s Service

A Marriage of Rogues

Mills & Boon Historical Undone! eBook

The Welsh Lord’s Mistress

Visit the Author Profile page

at millsandboon.co.ukfor more titles.

Dedicated to the newest members of our family. They’re already enriching our lives in so many ways.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Author Note

Title Page

About the Author

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

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

Cumbria, Northern England, 1814

Muttering an oath, Sir Develin Dundrake rose abruptly from the desk in the study of his country house. Crossing the oak-paneled room to the French doors leading to the terrace, he watched in amazement as a lone female marched along the pebble path toward Dundrake Hall. Judging by her ugly ensemble and determined air, the woman had to be some local busybody bent on asking for a charitable contribution. Why else would such a creature venture forth on this cool, misty autumn morning? And did she not know better than to approach the manor house from the garden?

Whoever she was and whatever she wanted, he was in no mood to be harassed by an overbearing female, however noble her cause. He already gave a considerable sum to several charities of his own choosing and he hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep in days.

He looked out again to see where she was—and nearly jumped out of his skin. She stood just outside the French doors looking into the study like Banquo’s ghost.

A surprisingly young, not terribly homely ghost, in spite of that ghastly pelisse the color of dung and droopy straw bonnet.

He strode to the doors and wrenched them open. “Who are you and what do you want?” he demanded.

With a little gasp of surprise, the young woman took a step back, giving him the upper hand, or so he thought until an expression of determined resolve came to her not-quite-homely features. Her arched brown eyebrows lowered over storm-gray eyes, the nostrils of her slender nose flared and her full lips thinned before she replied in an unexpectedly husky voice, “Good morning, Sir Develin. You are Sir Develin Dundrake, I assume.”

“Visitors should call at the front entrance,” he replied without any attempt at courtesy or directly answering her query.

“Have I the honor of addressing Sir Develin Dundrake?”

Was that sarcasm in her voice? “Yes, I’m Sir Develin,” he said shortly, and with slightly better grace. If she was here on a charitable mission, he was wrong to be rude, even if she didn’t observe the rules of etiquette.

“I beg your pardon for not calling at the main entrance,” the young woman answered, her tone conveying neither remorse nor regret. “I intended to walk around to the front until I saw you. Given that my business with you is of a very personal nature, I decided it wouldn’t be amiss to speak to you directly and in private.”

No doubt she’d decided. She seemed nothing if not decided, and unfortunately for her, that was not a point in her favor. His father had been decisive, too. As for any business of a personal nature, he’d never seen her before in his life, of that he was certain. He would remember those large eyes and full lips, if nothing else.

Nevertheless, there was something about her that seemed familiar...

“May I come inside?” she asked. “Or if you would rather remain where you are, I have no objection. However, I must and shall speak with you today, Sir Develin, whether in your garden or your house.”