Regency Romance: The Rake's Fake Marriage (Historical Arranged Marriage Romance) (19th Century Victorian Romance)

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Copyright 2015 by Sarah Thorn - All rights reserved.

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The Rake Fake’s Marriage

A Regency Romance

By: Sarah Thorn

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Table of Contents

REGENCY Romance - The Rake’s Fake Marriage

MAIL ORDER BRIDE - An Orphaned Baby for Unsuspecting Bride

PARANORMAL Highlander Romance - Protected by the Highlander

ROCKSTAR Romance – Bad Boy British Rockstar

MOTORCYCLE CLUB Romance - Bad Boy Biker’s Bride

BWWM ROMANCE COLLECTION

CLEAN REGENCY Romance Collection – Dashing Dukes

REGENCY Romance - The Bet of the Season

REGENCY ROMANCE - A Lady’s Love

REGENCY ROMANCE - A Lady’s Love

REGENCY Romance - A Duchess in Disguise

Lady Adele Vaughan looked through her black veil as she shook Reverend Smith's hand. ''Thank you so much for everything you have done.''

''Not at all, it's been a difficult time for you. Losing one's husband is a traumatic experience,'' he said, smiling over his half-moon glasses.

''Well, everyone has been so kind.
Perhaps you would be kind enough to walk me
home,
people are coming back for a cup of tea.'' Lady Vaughan had a splendid cook, and Reverend Smith was most anxious to fill his already
considerable
stomach with her excellent chocolate cake. 

''Yes of course. I just need to go to the
vestry and
change. I'll be with you in a moment.'' They were standing in the cemetery at All Saint's Church, Kirkby Whisp in North Yorkshire, England.  The gravedigger was standing under a tree out of sight, ready to fill in the grave of Lord Peter Vaughan, a twenty-eight-year-old gentleman who had died in an unfortunate hunting accident, three days earlier. When he saw Reverend Smith and Lady Vaughan locks arms, and leave the churchyard, he nodded to the boy standing next to him. They walked to the grave, took their shovels from under a green mat and began to throw back the soil.

''She's
a fine
looking woman,'' the boy said, throwing the first shovel full onto the coffin. He was just seventeen and gangling, as young men often are before they fill out. ''I feel sorry for her.''

''No you don't. Your youthful hormones are talking to you. You want to lie with her now she
ain't
got a husband.'' Cyril Wright was five feet seven and stocky. The strongest man in the village, he could dig a hole, six feet deep, in two and a half hours.

''No, I don't.'' Jimmy Horner, the apprentice, looked offended.

''Ain't no point in denying it, Jimmy. What boy of your age wouldn't want to sleep with a woman like her? ''He grunted as he thrust his spade into the pile of earth. ''Twenty-eight, blonde, blue eyes and a body like Venus. She's any young man's dream.''

''And rich. You forgot rich.''

''Rich,'' he scoffed. ''A big house and a fancy title. I hate them, the
rich
. They think they're something special.'' Cyril leaned on his shovel and watched Jimmy's expression which made him look dumber than he already was.

''Why do you hate them?''

''Because they're snobs. Always looking down their noses at us ordinary folk.''

''Well that doesn't alter my opinion of Lady Vaughan.''

''No. Well take it from me, her sort are idle snobs.''

*****

Newdene
Hall was large and old. Lord Vaughan had inherited it from his late father, a year before his
own
death. When he and Adele got
married
they were just eighteen, and they lived in a small lodge in the wonderful parkland surrounding the great house. Nine years later they moved into the Hall after Lord Stephen Vaughan passed on.  Peter had given his wife a free
hand;
she could re-decorate the house as she wanted. The Vaughan's were rich but not overly so. They had tenants, who produced a handsome income, but they didn't have vast reserves of cash.

The drawing room was full of well-wishers, dressed in black and white. It was a large room which Adele had tastefully decorated in pastel shades of peach.

''You know, it's such a pity Peter didn't live to see you finish your
decorating
work. You have
really
transformed this place,'' Eleanor Pimms said as she poured Reverend Smith his third cup of tea. She was the same age as Adele, but plain. Her mousy hair was always unkempt, and her stocky
figure
never fitting her clothes.

''Yes, it is a pity,'' Adele replied shifting her weight onto her other buttock. The sofa was too hard and, after a while, a position change was necessary.

Reverend Smith was a kind man, always at pains to avoid confrontation, but he felt the word 'pity'
was misplaced
in this context. ''You pity a dog or a cat. In Peter's case, surely you should use the word disaster or catastrophe.'' He sank his teeth into a piece of Lemon Sponge Cake, sending sugar flying over the easy chair he was
sitting in
.

''Yes, of course,'' Emily felt chastised. ''Will you marry again do you think?''

Adele threw her hands in the air almost colliding with the potted
palm balancing
precariously on
an ornamental
table which was too small for it. ''Never, never again.''

''Why, dear Lady Vaughan, would you have us believe that your marriage was so bad that it has put you off forever?'' Reverend Smith asked.

''Of course not, but I would like to have some freedom away from the demands of a man.''

Emily knew what she meant. Emily was Adele's best friend. She was married to Bartholomew Pimms, the country's leading barrister. He was very demanding, both inside and outside the bedroom. ''If my husband passed away, I would do the same as you, Adele.''

''In your case, I agree,'' Reverend Smith said, dropping his guard.

''What do you mean?'' Emily asked. Reverend Smith wasn't quick to answer, desperately seeking a way out.

''I think he means, you would never find another husband as gracious and loving as Bartholomew.'' Adele smiled, Reverend Smith nodded enthusiastically.

''Exactly what I meant,'' he said, knowing no shame.

''No, I shall never marry again. I will travel and enjoy my freedom. There is so much to see, and life is short. Today is more than adequate testimony to that,'' Adele said.

''Where is your husband today?'' Reverend Smith asked Emily. ''He and Peter were such good friends, I'm surprised he wasn't at the funeral.''

''In court. Seemingly a very urgent case came up
yesterday,
and he
was called
to the bar.'' Emily had been relieved when he'd told her he wasn't coming. He would have dominated the whole day and made it insufferable for her. The sound of his booming voice embarrassed her.

''Do you have any sherry?'' Reverend Smith asked.

''Of course. I didn't know you drank,'' Adele said.

''Just now and then,'' he lied. ''We can make a toast, to widows everywhere and their freedom.''

When Reverend Smith finally got up to leave, he was quite unsteady on his feet. Adele looked at the sherry
bottle;
it was more than half empty. When Emily waved goodbye, Adele went to her bedroom and left the servants to clean the mess. Why do funerals always degenerate into
drink
, she wondered.
She
ran the bell for her ladies maid and waited. As she sat on the bed, she told herself again,  she wanted to be free, no second man.

*****

''Ladies, more champagne, I think.'' Nicholas Geraghty let go of another cork. As it shot off to the ceiling, he put the bottle to his mouth and gulped the mass of white bubbles that exploded from it. The ladies giggled and applauded as he swallowed mouthful after mouthful.

Nicholas, the heir to the Earldom of
Borrowby,
liked women. There was nothing he or anybody else could do about it. And women
liked
him, so much in fact, that
he
was never short of
a pretty
face to talk to, flirt with, or worse. Twenty-eight, and still not married, he was the talk of society. He thought it was his looks that did it, but he was wrong. Although very handsome, women found he had more qualities than just his looks. He was a nonconformist, something different in a sea of social similarity. He wore different clothes, told people what he thought and never backed down from an argument or a fight.

Nicholas lived in a wing of Lotherton Hall, a stately home which had been in the family for three hundred years. His father was disappointed in him, calling him lazy, and a womanizer. He was rich enough not to have to work, and didn't. But what nobody knew, was that he donated a lot of money to the local orphanage. As a boy, he'd been playing in
a wood
on the boundaries of their three thousand acre estate and seen a group of four young boys playing on the other side of the wall. He'd talked to them and was horrified to learn that they were orphans. He was, even more, horrified to learn that they received regular beatings, and the only prospects they had, was a life of near slavery in the local tin mine. When he was
older,
he'd arranged for all of those boys to have jobs on one of the farms his father owned. At least, they'd be outside in the fresh
air,
he'd thought. One of them was now a farm manager, with a family and two lovely girls. The other three had all married local women and were great father's and husbands.

Lady Emily, Lady Georgina, and Lady Charlotte were all just nineteen and the latest in a wave of women who fancied their chances at being Lady Gerathy. He jumped back onto the sofa, champagne in hand, landing between the three beauties. Each of them looked at him affectionately, as they held out their empty glasses to
be charged
.

''Why have you never married?'' Emily asked, her eyes fluttering at him.

''I enjoy my life as it is. Look, today I have the pleasure of the company of three beautiful women. I couldn't do that if I
was
married.'' Nicolas
leaned
to Emily and kissed her on the cheek. She blushed and giggled. The other two glared at her.

''But you should marry before you become even older,'' Charlotte added.

''I am still
young,
and I have time.
Why
marry when I'm having so much fun.''

''But what about an heir,''
Georgina asked
, genuinely concerned for him.

''Ah, well, that may be a reason to marry. The only one as far as I can see. I suppose one day I will
be forced
into it.'' His eyes looked momentarily sad. ''Now, which one of you lovely ladies would like to accompany me to my chamber?'' he asked unashamedly.

All three gasped. A thought too dangerous to contemplate, yet enticing, appealing, and perhaps the only way to achieve their goal.

As Lady Emily and Lady Charlotte descended the sandstone staircase to their carriages, they looked up at the first floor and wondered what was happening behind the curtains. Lady Georgina, the most beautiful of the three, had been the first to nod at Nicholas' proposal. In an instant, she'd found herself upstairs with her gown around her ankles and Nicholas lying between her wide open legs.

*****

''But how can that be true?'' Adele said.

The man sitting opposite her was large and intimidating. A fighter and a small time criminal. When he'd arrived at the house, the butler had wanted to call the police, but Adele had insisted on seeing him. He'd made such a
fuss,
and she didn't want the man to strike Arthur. When
he
'd taken off his cap, she'd gasped at his shaven head. Until then, he'd looked half reasonable, but totally bald he looked evil.

''I'm telling you it's true. Your husband had a lucky escape.''

''What do you mean lucky? How is dying,
lucky
?''

''If you knew the people I do, then you would think him
lucky
to have died rather than fall into their hands.''

Adele wrung her hands and threw her eyes to the ceiling in despair. How could he have done it to her? She'd loved him, looked after him, decorated his house and tried to have his children. Tried so hard. ''What does it all mean, I still don't fully understand.''

Giles Kellet's hands were
large,
and Adele jumped when he clapped them together in frustration. He knew that the lady was innocent, a gentle creature, but he was beginning to find her ignore of her late
husband’s
affairs, frustrating. ''I will explain it one more time.'' He leaned forward and lowered his voice, hoping she would understand this time. ''Your husband paid me to murder someone of his acquaintance. I'm not a murderer,'' he said almost proudly as if it was a lifetime achievement. ''I passed the order on to someone I know, who is very much a murderer.'' Adele nodded, her brain full of horrible images. ''The problem is, your husband died without paying us. As his widow, we are appealing
to your kindness
to see that your husband's debt
is honored
.''

''But........'' Adele held her breath and tried to express herself
clearly
. ''Did the murder take place?'' She winced. She sounded as if she was involved, a party to the deadly deed.

''Not yet, but it will. After you've paid us.''

''Mr. Kellet,'' she doubted that was his real name. ''if you haven't carried out my husband's wishes, then how can you justify your fee?''