A convenient proposal...
Makes a scandalous match!
Part of Penniless Brides of Convenience: Knocking on Owen Harrington’s door, impoverished and desperate Miss Phoebe Brannagh wonders if London’s most eligible catch will recognize her. But injured and reclusive, Owen is no longer a carefree man. And he’s in urgent need of a convenient wife! Owen’s shock proposal allows Phoebe to fulfill her life’s ambition to open a restaurant...but his heated kisses tempt her to hope for a new dream—marriage, for real!
MARGUERITE KAYE writes hot historical romances from her home in cold and usually rainy Scotland, featuring Regency rakes, Highlanders and sheikhs. She has published over forty books and novellas. When she’s not writing she enjoys walking, cycling—but only on the level—gardening—but only what she can eat—and cooking. She also likes to knit and occasionally drink martinis—though not at the same time! Find out more on her website: margueritekaye.com.
Also by Marguerite Kaye
Matches Made in Scandal miniseries
From Governess to Countess
From Courtesan to Convenient Wife
His Rags-to-Riches Contessa
A Scandalous Winter Wedding
Penniless Brides of Convenience miniseries
The Earl’s Countess of Convenience
A Wife Worth Investing In
And look out for the next book
coming soon
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.
ISBN: 978-1-474-08905-0
A WIFE WORTH INVESTING IN
© 2019 Marguerite Kaye
Published in Great Britain 2019
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
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For J. My food hero and my everything hero. Always.
Though it was long past midnight, the oppressive heat of the day had not dissipated, having been trapped by the tall, elegant buildings which lined the street down which Owen Harrington wandered aimlessly. He was not exactly lost, but nor was he quite sure where he was. Having crossed to the Rive Gauche at Notre Dame some time ago, the Seine should be somewhere on his right. He thought he’d been walking in a straight line, assumed that he was headed west, but the streets of Paris, as he had discovered to his cost several times in the last week, were not laid out in a neat grid. Instead they veered off straight at an imperceptible angle, often arriving at an unexpected destination. Rather like the locals’ conversation.
He had been away from London for less than two weeks, but already felt disconnected from his life there. It had been the right decision. He was not trying to avoid the commitment his late father had made on his behalf, he planned to honour it, but he could not embrace it as his sole role in life. He still had two years’ grace, time to be alone to be himself, free to do as he pleased, to discover a sense of purpose that would also accommodate his father’s wishes. He had no idea what form this might take, but he was already excited by the endless possibilities waiting to be explored.
Above him the sky was inky, the stars mere pinpoints. The air, redolent of heat and dust, felt heavy, forcing him to slow his pace, encouraging him to dally. A faint beacon of light caught his attention. The lamps from a café tucked down a narrow alleyway flickered. Intrigued, for most establishments had closed their shutters hours ago, thinking a very late