The Unexpected Marriage Of Gabriel Stone

Gabriel Stone, Earl of Edenbridge, is the fourth of the Lords of Disgrace, whose stories I have been chronicling. Gabriel always was the wildest of the friends, but at first I had no idea what lay behind the dangerous rake’s façade. His story, I discovered, was far darker than I had ever imagined, but neither his past nor his present hedonistic lifestyle prevent him becoming entangled in the affairs of Lady Caroline Holm.

Innocent Caroline will do anything to save her young brother’s future—even bearding a dangerous rake in his lair. Gabriel discovers, to his horror—and to the amusement of his friends—that he’ll do whatever it takes to rescue Lady Caroline from the dangers she faces, even if that involves masquerading as a Welsh hermit. As I explored, I found that Caroline, innocent or not, was more than a match for her reluctant rescuer… even when his past and the long arm of the law catch up with him!

I hope you enjoy reading Caroline and Gabriel’s story as much as I enjoyed writing it.

www.millsandboon.co.uk

LOUISE ALLEN loves immersing herself in history. She finds landscapes and places evoke the past powerfully. Venice, Burgundy and the Greek islands are favourite destinations. Louise lives on the Norfolk coast and spends her spare time gardening, researching family history or travelling in search of inspiration. Visit her at louiseallenregency.co.uk, @LouiseRegency and janeaustenslondon.com.

For the Quayistas—and the lovely staff at Hartland Quay Hotel.

Contents

Cover

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

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Epilogue

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

London—June 1st, 1820

‘There is a young lady to see you, my lord.’

Gabriel Stone, Earl of Edenbridge, swung his feet down from the fender and sat up in his saggingly comfortable armchair to fix his butler with a quizzical look.

‘Losing your touch, Hampshire? Young ladies do not come calling on me, not even with a bodyguard of chaperons.’

‘Quite so, my lord. However, this is indubitably an unaccompanied lady and a young one at that.’

‘Does this mythical creature have a name?’

‘Lady Caroline Holm, my lord.’

‘Holm?’ That rang a bell. A very faint and slightly muzzy chime, given that Gabriel had been playing cards and drinking brandy into the small hours at a cosy hell in St Christopher’s Place. He glanced at the clock and found it was now eleven o’clock in the morning. He really must summon up the energy to go to bed.

It had been a profitable night and the crackle of promissory notes in his pocket told him so as he lounged to his feet and stretched all six foot two inches of weary body. Profitable to the tune of several hundred pounds, a very nice signet ring and the deeds to a small estate in Hertfordshire.

The estate... ‘Ah, I have it, Hampshire. I presume Lady Caroline is the daughter of Lord Knighton.’

‘The eccentric earl, my lord?’

‘A euphemistic description, Hampshire, but it will serve. The man appears to suffer from occasional bouts of gambling fever and is notoriously obsessional about improving his estate in the intervals between his binges. Of his other peculiarities I have no personal experience, I am thankful to say.’

Gabriel turned to look in the over-mantel mirror and was confronted by a vision of unshaven, rumpled dissipation, guaranteed to send any gently born lady fleeing screaming from the house into Mount Street. That would be an excellent outcome, although possibly without the screaming. He had some consideration for his neighbours. ‘Where have you put her?’

‘The drawing room, my lord. Should I bring refreshments?’

‘I doubt she’ll stay long enough. Have my bathwater sent up, will you?’

Gabriel sauntered out of his study towards the drawing room, the details of the night before gradually becoming clearer. Knighton was the man who had lost the Hertfordshire deeds to him as a result of one ill-judged hand after another. He hadn’t appeared particularly concerned at the time, certainly not to the extent of sending his innocent and respectable daughter to the home of one of London’s most notorious rakes and gamesters to buy back the stake.