His Convenient Marchioness
With this ring…After the loss of his wife and children, the Marquess of Huntercombe closed his heart to love. But now he must marry to secure an heir, he’s determined that the beautiful, impoverished widow Lady Emma Lacy should be his…I thee claim!Emma has vowed never to marry for money so must refuse him. But when her children’s grandfather sets to steal them away from her, she has no other option: She must become the Marquess’s convenient bride!
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With this ring...I thee claim!
After the loss of his wife and children, the Marquess of Huntercombe closed his heart to love. But now that he must marry to secure an heir, heâs determined that the beautiful, impoverished widow Lady Emma Lacy should be his...
Emma has vowed never to marry for money so must refuse him. But when her childrenâs grandfather sets to steal them away from her, she has no other option: she must become the marquessâs convenient bride!
âSo, you wish to remarryââ
âYes.â
âAnd for some reason you think I might do?â Emma said.
Hunt winced. âI beg your pardon if I gave that impression. But, yes, you doâ¦erâ¦â
âFit your requirements?â
A long-forgotten burning sensation informed him that he had actually blushed. âSomething like that.â
âAnd along with your requirements are you also going to ask for references?â Her chin was up.
Hunt looked at her. The brief hint of laughter was gone. In its place wasâ¦bitterness? No, not that. Resignation. As if she expected rejection.
âIf you will forgive the impertinence, Emma, I think your children are your references.â
She stared at him. âOh.â
And that lovely soft mouth trembled into a smile that shook him to his very foundations. Was he insane? He wanted a wife who would not turn his life inside out. Now it would serve him right if he found himself fronting the altar with Londonâs most notorious widow! Only⦠Could she really have done anything truly scandalous? He was finding it harder and harder to believeâ¦
Author Note
Somewhere in writing each book I start to worry about the next. Never mind that my current characters are still stuck in whatever mess Iâve concocted for them, Iâm off on a tangent, worrying about what Iâll write next. Itâs pointless. I know perfectly well from experience that well before I finish the next book will be running around in my head. Very often at least one of the characters is right there under my nose in the book Iâm just finishing. This is one of those times.
If you read In Debt to the Earl, you may remember Jamesâs friend the Marquess of Huntercombe. Hunt was grieving for his half-brother Gerald, who had been murdered. From the moment Hunt steppedâquite literallyâout of the shadows to help James and avenge Gerald, I wanted to know more about him. And I wanted him to have his own happy ending. I hope you enjoy his story.
ELIZABETH ROLLS lives in the Adelaide Hills of South Australia with her husband, teenage sons, dogs and too many books. She is convinced that she will achieve a state of blessed Nirvana when her menfolk learn to put their own dishes in the dishwasher without being asked and cease flexing their testosterone over the television remote. Elizabeth loves to hear from readers and invites you to contact her via email at [email protected].
Books by Elizabeth Rolls
Mills & Boon Historical Romance
His Lady Mistress
A Compromised Lady A Regency Christmas âA Soldierâs Taleâ Lord Braybrookâs Penniless Bride A Magical Regency Christmas âChristmas Cinderellaâ
Lords at the Altar
In Debt to the Earl
His Convenient Marchioness
Mills & Boon Historical Undone! ebooks
A Scandalous Liaison
A Shocking Proposition
M&B
Royal Weddings Through the Ages
âA Princely Dilemmaâ
Visit the Author Profile page at millsandboon.co.uk for more titles.
For Anne, Linda, Lynn and Suzie.
Because you inspire me and keep me going.
And because we can put away more champagne, cheese and tea at a critique group meeting than anyone would ever believe.
Youâve seen a fair bit of this story over the past year.
Now itâs yours.
Contents
Late October, 1803
The Fifth Marquess of Huntercombe perused the list in his hand with something akin to panic. He gulped. No, not merely akin, it was the thing itself: sheer, unadulterated panic. His hands were damp and a thin line of perspirationâdamn it to hellâtrickled down his spine. In his own library. All because of a list his elder sister had handed him. And heâd only read the first few names. That was quite enough.
He cleared his throat. âLetty, this is notââ
âHuntercombe,â Letitia, Lady Fortescue, silenced him with an unnerving stare as well as his title. âYou acknowledge that you must marry again.â
She always called him Huntercombe in just that tone when she wished to remind him of his duty. As if he needed reminding. The Marquess of Huntercombe always did his duty. To the family, his estates and Parliament.
âAnd that it is a matter of some urgency. With which,â Letty added, âI wholeheartedly concur. Geraldâs death was a disaster.â
