Is there a Lady in the land that can resist this scoundrel’s charms…?
At her step-mother’s command, Isabelle – and her irrepressible step-sister Lily – are leaving the pleasantries of the English countryside behind them, and heading straight to the bustling heart of a London season. Isabelle couldn’t care less about fashionable society, and is even less interested in the name on the lips of every ballroom gossip - Lord Constantine Highborough, reputedly a scoundrel of the highest order! But once he sets eyes on the stunningly beautiful Isabelle, London’s most notorious rake knows exactly where to direct his devilishly bewitching smile.
And everybody knows that Constantine always gets what he wants, usually leaving a trail of broken hearts behind him…
To Love A Wicked Scoundrel
Anabelle Bryant
ANABELLE BRYANT
Anabelle Bryant began reading at the age of three and never stopped. Her passion for reading soon turned into a passion for writing and an author was born. Happy to grab her suitcase if it ensures a new adventure, Anabelle finds endless inspiration in travel; especially imaginary jaunts into romantic Regency England, a far cry from her home in New Jersey. Instead, her clever characters live out her daydreams because really, who wouldn’t want to dance with a handsome duke or kiss a wicked earl?
Though teaching keeps her grounded, photography, running, and writing counterbalance her wanderlust. Often found with her nose in a book, Anabelle has earned her Master’s Degree and is pursuing her Doctorate Degree in Education. She proudly owns her addiction to French fries and stationery supplies, as well as her frightening ineptitude with technology.
A firm believer in romance, Anabelle knows sometimes life doesn’t provide a happily ever after, but her novels always do.
She enjoys talking with her fans. Visit her website at AnabelleBryant.com.
Acknowledgements
A first book is a dream come true and a goal hard won. It’s been a long journey and I owe thanks to many cherished people in my life. To my parents and sister, thank you for believing in me when I gave up on myself. I value your confidence in my ability above all else.
To BB and KB, the most loyal friends on the planet, my sincere gratitude. You always listened, knowing the right things to say and not to say; a most valuable gift indeed. Thank you for replenishing my spirit and reminding me first I had to climb the mountain before I could enjoy the view.
To my Facebook friends, you span the globe and I love you all. You make every day brighter and prove the world is filled with glorious, generous people. I know you in my heart no matter the distance.
Lastly, I’d like to thank Eloisa James. You inspired me first with your writing and then with your heartfelt advice to never compromise my dream. Your words made all the difference. Thank you for taking the time.
Dedication
This book is dedicated to the loved ones in my life – David, Nicholas, my family and friends – for their endless encouragement and support. Thank you with all my heart.
Contents
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
Epilogue
Isabelle pushed the trowel into the soft earth and uprooted the offensive weed that dared sprout between her prized yellow wood violets. A smile curled her lips as she viewed the twin petal blooms with their dainty heart-shaped leaves. A gloomy spring had caused her worry the delicate plants would not survive, but now, seeing the results of her attentive ministrations, she delighted in the cheerful addition they made to her modest garden. She glanced to the narrow plot of flowers, rich in variety but limited in number. How lovely it would be to have a larger landscape to tend and a greenhouse to protect her most precious blooms.
At times, she indulged in daydreams and envisioned herself the mistress of an elaborate estate where extensive lawns brimmed with exotic flowers of every colour imaginable. Usually a firm shake of the head dismissed these thoughts as fanciful. As a twenty-six-year-old genteel lady, Isabelle Rossmore took pride in her sensibility and often chided herself she was too old and too logical to permit far-fetched illusions to waste her precious time. Refusing to allow temptation to woo her, she removed her gardening gloves and stroked the velvety petals of the violet before her.
The introspective moment did not last and a squeal of delight pealed through the afternoon solitude. Isabelle smiled as her sister Lily – stepsister, if one strove for exactitude – scurried down the garden path and flitted towards her as sharply as a bluebottle. Her nursemaid was nowhere in sight, left behind again, no doubt. She stood as Lily approached and tucked away the wayward curls that always escaped her braid.
‘Isabelle!’
The six-year-old never failed to cheer her with an enthusiastic welcome. Lily was the offspring of her father’s second marriage to Lady Meredith, and Isabelle and Lily held a great affinity for each other’s company.
‘Do be careful or you will tumble straight into the violet bed.’ Her affectionate tone removed any threat of