The Rake's Bargain
THE STAGE IS SETDeborah O’Hara loves leading her troupe of actors. But when she becomes entangled in a web of secrets spun by the rakishly handsome Damian Beaumaris, Duke of Cirencester, she is forced to play the hardest role of her life. That of the stunning but disloyal Paulette, the Duke’s widowed sister-in-law.To regain the honour of his family Beau needs Deb’s help. But, despite his intention to let nothing distract him from his plan, he doesn’t bargain on the forbidden sparks that fly with his beautiful leading lady…
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‘I want justice for my brother,’ Beau replied.
‘No, you don’t,’ Deb answered him coolly. ‘It’s your pride making you do this. It’s my belief that you just cannot bear anyone getting the better of you.’
Beau’s eyes were narrow slits. ‘My motives, Miss O’Hara, aren’t yours to question.’
‘But your strategy is, since I’m to play a major part in it! How can I seriously pretend to be Paulette?’
Her composure appeared to be cracking at last. She got to her feet and walked to and fro.
He too rose and came slowly towards her, and she was utterly shaken by the lithe movement of his lean body, by the sense of his power and strength. She’d never met anyone like him, and she knew she was in deep, deep trouble.
‘You will be Paulette,’ he said. ‘We shall make you Paulette in every way.’
In Regency times troupes of actors roamed the English countryside from spring to autumn, presenting a variety of entertainments to the usually appreciative crowds who gathered to see them. Deb O’Hara, heroine of THE RAKE’S BARGAIN, leads one of these travelling troupes, and it’s her dream to find a permanent theatre for them some day, in London. But first she has to face a rather formidable opponent—Damian Beaumaris, known as Beau, who isn’t impressed in the slightest by her theatrical skills!
As ever, I’ve found writing about the Regency era an absolute delight, and I really hope you enjoy Deb and Beau’s story.
LUCY ASHFORD, an English Studies lecturer, has always loved literature and history, and from childhood one of her favourite occupations has been to immerse herself in historical romances. She studied English with history at Nottingham University, and the Regency is her favourite period.
Lucy lives with her husband in an old stone cottage in the Peak District, near to beautiful Chatsworth House and Haddon Hall, both of which give her a taste of the magic of life in a bygone age. Her garden enjoys spectacular views over the Derbyshire hills, where she loves to roam and let her imagination go to work on her latest story.
You can contact Lucy via her website:
Contents
June 1803
Miss Deborah O’Hara pressed herself close to the ivy-covered mansion and tried not to flinch as the rain trickled off the brim of her cap and dripped steadily—coldly—down inside her jacket collar. She’d scrambled over the boundary wall and run here through the shrubbery, keeping her head low; but now she was able to look around. Now she was able to see that the acres of formal gardens stretching away on all sides were quite deserted—and as waterlogged as the overcast sky.
Hardgate Hall. The very name was enough to send shivers down her spine. Swiping fresh rain from her cheeks, she glanced up once more at the small window on the second floor that some servant must have carelessly left open. It was almost sixteen years since she’d last entered this house, a bewildered six-year-old clutching her mother’s hand; though a few minutes later they were being hustled out again and Deb’s mother was weeping.
‘You made your choices!’ Deb remembered Hugh Palfreyman declaring harshly. ‘You made your own bed, sister mine. And you can lie on it.’
Deb was twenty-two now and her mother had died long ago. But she’d never ever forgotten this place, and she always imagined it under grey skies, just as it was now.
She scanned the garden once more, trying to suppress her growing anxiety, and relaxed just a little when she saw two familiar figures hurrying towards her through the rain. ‘Luke. Francis. There you are. I was beginning to think...’
‘Think what, Miss Deb?’ Young Luke’s straggly blond hair was plastered to his face.
She was beginning to fear they might have been caught by Palfreyman’s men. Deb said instead, ‘You took your time. What news?’
‘We looked to see if there was anyone around. Just as you told us to, Deborah.’ This time it was the older one, Francis, who spoke. ‘Though we were careful to keep under cover, always. And we’ve good news—it looks as if all the groundsmen have been ordered to spend the afternoon tidying up Palfreyman’s glasshouses, on the far side of the south lawn.’
Deb nodded. ‘So they’ll not catch sight of us here. What about the guard dogs?’
Young Luke spoke up next. ‘We heard them barking in the distance and they sound big.’ He shivered. ‘But they’re kept in a yard close by the stables—though I’ve heard they’re let loose after nightfall, when they prowl around the grounds with teeth so sharp they’d take a great lump out of your thigh, and—’
‘Thank you, Luke,’ Deb interrupted. ‘That’s enough.’ More than enough, in fact. ‘So we’re safe for now?’
