Scandal At The Christmas Ball: A Governess for Christmas / Dancing with the Duke’s Heir

Scandal At The Christmas Ball: A Governess for Christmas / Dancing with the Duke’s Heir
Marguerite Kaye

Bronwyn Scott

Twelve days of Christmas, two Regency love affairs, one scandalous house party!A GOVERNESS FOR CHRISTMAS by Marguerite KayeAt the glittering Brockmore house party, former army major Drummond MacIntosh meets governess in disgrace, Joanna Forsythe, who’s desperate to clear her name. Both are eager to put their pasts behind them, but their scandalous affair will make for a very different future…DANCING WITH THE DUKE'S HEIR by Bronwyn ScottHeir to the Dukedom, Vale Penrith, does not want a wife, and certainly not one like Lady Viola Hawthorne. So why does London’s Shocking Beauty tempt him beyond reason? Dare he try and tame her, or is a Christmas seduction the best way to bring her to surrender…?

One Christmas house party leads to two Regency love affairs!

A Governess for Christmas by Marguerite Kaye

At the glittering Brockmore house party, former army major Drummond MacIntosh meets governess in disgrace Joanna Forsythe, who’s desperate to clear her name. Both are eager to put their pasts behind them, but their scandalous affair will make for a very different future…

Dancing with the Duke’s Heir by Bronwyn Scott

As heir to a dukedom, Vale Penrith does not want a wife, and certainly not one like Lady Viola Hawthorne. So why does London’s Shocking Beauty tempt him beyond reason? Dare he try and tame her, or is a Christmas seduction the best way to bring her to surrender?

‘A Brockmore house party can be the making of a man... For where the Duke and Duchess of Brockmore lead, all of society follows.’

SCANDAL AT THE CHRISTMAS BALL

a sizzling duet from

Marguerite Kaye and Bronwyn Scott

The Duke and Duchess of Brockmore are hosting the festive event of the year—a whirlwind of luxury and fun with the possibility of second chances in the air. But what happens when two unexpected and decidedly unsuitable couples find themselves struck with Cupid’s arrow?

Read Drummond and Joanna’s story in

A Governess for Christmas

by Marguerite Kaye

and

Vale and Viola’s story in

Dancing with the Duke’s Heir

by Bronwyn Scott

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 thirty books and novellas. When she’s not writing she enjoys walking and 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 (http://margueritekaye.com).

BRONWYN SCOTT is a communications instructor at Pierce College in the United States, and is the proud mother of three wonderful children—one boy and two girls. When she’s not teaching or writing she enjoys playing the piano, travelling—especially to Florence, Italy—and studying history and foreign languages. Readers can stay in touch on Bronwyn’s website, bronwynnscott.com, or at her blog, bronwynswriting.blogspot.com (http://bronwynswriting.blogspot.com). She loves to hear from readers.

Scandal at the Christmas Ball

Marguerite Kaye and Bronwyn Scott

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

Table of Contents

A Governess For Christmas by Marguerite Kaye (#uc3a0cdb1-40b6-5a08-8b9f-b1f293cd83e8)

Dancing with The Duke’s Heir by Bronwyn Scott (#litres_trial_promo)

Excerpt from Besieged and Betrothed by Jenni Fletcher (#litres_trial_promo)

A Governess for Christmas (#u6daf7c4a-7e8a-5a7f-806a-2ea16baa728a)

Marguerite Kaye

For all my friends on Facebook who made naming my Brockmore cast such fun.

I hope the characters I’ve written live up to the fabulous names you gave them.

Contents

Dedication (#u7117d9ec-e704-5985-b085-4bbd21fba568)

Chapter One (#u543e479c-4f08-5ac3-917c-d4e2f65fd2d1)

Chapter Two (#u190d3961-762a-5545-b63f-c54209783b5c)

Chapter Three (#u677a089c-cb32-5875-a4e8-aa9c30894ad1)

Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter One (#u6daf7c4a-7e8a-5a7f-806a-2ea16baa728a)

Thursday, 24th December 1818, Christmas Eve

The first flurry of snow had begun to land on his carriage roof as it swept up the long drive in mid-afternoon, as if announcing his arrival, though he’d thought at the time that sunrise might have been more apt. This invitation was, after all, intended to herald a new dawn for him. Now, gazing distractedly out of the tall drawing-room windows in the shadow of the long blue curtains, Drummond MacIntosh saw that the Duke and Duchess of Brockmore’s extensive grounds were covered in a glittering and, for the moment at least, pristine seasonal white blanket. This particular window faced due west, but he could see no sign of the sun through the thick, leaden sky. Behind him, the other guests took tea and made polite conversation. He ought to be doing both of those things himself, but now he was here, Drummond was more ambivalent than ever about the reasons for his presence at this party.

It ought to be clear cut. This was the opportunity he had been seeking to forge a new life for himself, to finally escape the purposeless existence he had been forced to endure. Three and a half years since that fateful day which had brought his life crashing down about his ears, it was time to accept that he needed help.

Drummond sighed, reminding himself that he was damned lucky to be here. The unexpected summons and subsequent discussion which had precipitated his invitation to Brockmore was a most surprising Christmas gift, and yet, now he was here at this most prestigious house party, instead of embracing the event, he was prevaricating. Why couldn’t he just do as he was told? Of course, if he always had done so, he wouldn’t need to be here in the first place.

They would be greening the house later, though seaweed rather than holly would be more appropriate decoration for this particular room. The painted silk wall hangings of the drawing room were cobalt blue. Grotesque sea creatures were carved into the gilded arms and legs of the blue-damask sofas which lined the walls, and the art which adorned the walls also had a maritime theme, the overall impression intended to be, he supposed, that of an underwater cavern. Which by rights should be inhabited by mermaids and denizens of the deep, instead of this collection of well-heeled, well-dressed members of the haute-ton.

It was three years past June since he had attended his last great social occasion, before the tragic events which had precipitated his catastrophic fall from grace. The Duchess of Richmond’s now famous, indeed infamous, ball had been held on the eve of the battle of Waterloo. The crime Drummond had subsequently committed had been heinous, and though he still firmly believed that the crime he had refused to commit was even more so, his mutiny had been ultimately pointless. One life had been destroyed, his own changed for ever by the summary justice meted out. It had been justified, there was no arguing that fact. Just as there was no doubt, as far as Drummond was concerned, that he had been right to act as he did, even though his superiors deemed it utterly wrong.

Right or wrong, it was done now, and ancient history, according to the Duke of Wellington, his ex-Commander-in-Chief. It was apparently time for Drummond to re-join society. Drummond himself believed it long past time. After a year moping in the country trying to come to terms with events, he’d taken a deep breath, cast aside his deep regret along with his lingering resentment and his shame, and forced himself back out into the world. But the people who inhabited his milieu had summarily rejected him. Never mind that his military record until that fateful date had been impeccable. Never mind his commendations, his years of dedicated service to his men and to his superiors and his country. Only that last treasonous act mattered. Doors had been slammed. Familiar faces had been averted. He could not deny that he deserved this treatment, for ultimately, he was guilty. Yet he could not quell a lingering sense of injustice.