Every woman wants to marry him
But what if he is already taken?
In this Matches Made in Scandal story, Jean-Luc Bauduin, Parisian societyâs most eligible bachelor, is determined to take only a wife of his choosing. But until that day comes, heâll ward off his admirers by hiring Lady Sophia Acton to wear his ring! The passion Jean-Luc shares with his convenient bride is enormously satisfyingâuntil he discovers Sophiaâs utterly scandalous past!
Matches Made in Scandal series:
From Governess to Countess
From Courtesan to Convenient Wife
More books in the series coming soon!
âThis sweet and hot duet set at the holiday Brockmore Ball is the perfect pick-me-up. Kayeâs tender tale of redemption touches readersâ hearts.â
âRT Book Reviews on Scandal at the Christmas Ball
âReaders will be seduced by the passionate natures of the protagonists, and the fast-paced, thrilling adventure.â
âRT Book Reviews on The Harlot and the Sheikh
MARGUERITE KAYE writes hot historical romances from her home in cold and usually rainy Scotland, featuring Regency rakes, Highlanders and sheikhs. She has published almost fifty books and novellas. When sheâs 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
Scandal at the Midsummer BallScandal at the Christmas Ball
Comrades in Arms miniseries
The Soldierâs Dark SecretThe Soldierâs Rebel Lover
Hot Arabian Nights miniseries
The Widow and the SheikhSheikhâs Mail-Order BrideThe Harlot and the SheikhClaiming His Desert Princess
Matches Made in Scandal miniseries
From Governess to CountessFrom Courtesan to Convenient Wife
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.
ISBN: 978-1-474-07357-8
FROM COURTESAN TO CONVENIENT WIFE
© 2018 Marguerite Kaye
Published in Great Britain 2018
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 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 âLicensed Deviceâ) 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.
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www.millsandboon.co.uk
For Paris, City of Light, city of romance and my favourite city in the world.
Je tâadore.
Prologue
LondonâMay 1818
The house that was her destination was located on Upper Wimpole Street, on the very edge of what was considered to be respectable London. The woman known as The Procurer stepped down lightly from her barouche, ordering her coachman to wait until she had successfully secured entry, then to return for her in an hour. An hour, The Procurer knew from experience, was more than sufficient time to conclude her unique business. One way or another.
Number Fourteen was situated at the far end of the terrace. A shallow flight of steps led to the front door, but the entrance to the basement she sought was around the corner, on Devonshire Street. The Procurer descended the steep stairs cautiously. Despite the bright sunshine of the late spring morning, it was cool down here, dank and gloomy. The curtains were pulled tight over the single, dirty window. A fleck of paint fell from the door when she let the rusty knocker fall.