Christine Merrill

Lady Priscilla’s Shameful Secret


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      A playful and provocative Regency trilogy from

       CHRISTINE MERRILL

       Ladies in Disgrace

      In London’s High Society there are

      three unconventional women who are

      not afraid to break the rules of social etiquette!

      And it will take a certain type of rake

      to tame these delectably disgraceful ladies …!

      LADY FOLBROKE’S DELICIOUS DECEPTION

      LADY DRUSILLA’S ROAD TO RUIN

      LADY PRISCILLA’S SHAMEFUL SECRET

       AUTHOR NOTE

      After finishing LADY DRUSILLA’S ROAD TO RUIN, I was curious to see what had happened to her sister, Priscilla, after Dru left home. I could guess what the repercussions would be, after her behaviour in that book, but I knew there would be a man to love her.

      And that was how I met Robert, a man who was more comfortable with horses than people. He brought with him a collection of slang terms that I had never heard before. I learned that it was possible to disguise the age of a horse by altering its teeth (bishoping), that a daisy cutter is a stumbling horse, and that a horse with bad lungs is a piper.

      But I could find no reason to use a horse ladder anywhere in this story. This is a Regency era practical joke, where the new boy on the farm is sent to get the ladder so the horse can climb up to the hay mow to eat.

      Happy reading. And don’t let your horse climb any ladders.

      About the Author

      CHRISTINE MERRILL lives on a farm in Wisconsin, USA, with her husband, two sons and too many pets—all of whom would like her to get off the computer so they can check their e-mail. She has worked by turns in theatre costuming, where she was paid to play with period ballgowns, and as a librarian, where she spent the day surrounded by books. Writing historical romance combines her love of good stories and fancy dress with her ability to stare out of the window and make stuff up.

       Previous novels by Christine Merrill:

      THE INCONVENIENT DUCHESS

      AN UNLADYLIKE OFFER

      A WICKED LIAISON

      MISS WINTHORPE’S ELOPEMENT

      THE MISTLETOE WAGER

      (part of A Yuletide Invitation)

      DANGEROUS LORD, INNOCENT GOVERNESS

      TAKEN BY THE WICKED RAKE*

      MASTER OF PENLOWEN

      (part of Halloween Temptations)

      LADY FOLBROKE’S DELICIOUS DECEPTION†

      A REGENCY CHRISTMAS CAROL

      (part of One Snowy Regency Christmas)

      And in Mills & Boon® Historical Undone! eBooks:

      SEDUCING A STRANGER

      TAMING HER GYPSY LOVER*

      VIRGIN UNWRAPPED

       Lady Priscilla’s Shameful Secret

       Christine Merrill

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       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      To Diana Fox

      and the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

       Chapter One

      Robert Magson, Duke of Reighland, treated each new ballroom like an Indian jungle set with traps not for tigers, but for unwary men. There were so many mamas and daughters in London that he would not have been surprised to see them lurking behind the furniture at White’s. And they were all eager to catch his eye, even for just a moment.

      It was as though they thought he could decide on a bride based on a single glance in a crowded room. He spent more time buying a horse than that. He would never lay down money without checking teeth, feeling fetlocks and enquiring of the bloodline. Surely the choice of a wife should be made with equal care.

      He frowned out into the mob and watched two or three young ladies curtsy as his gaze roved over them. It was an odd feeling, this sudden deference, as though his slightest glance was the withering glare of the noon sun in a garden full of delicate blossoms. The same girls would not have looked twice at him a year ago. Then his cousin had died. And suddenly he was the catch of the Season.

      He frowned harder and watched the crowd contract to give him more space. It was not as if he did not mean to marry one of them. But there were far too many who had hopes in his direction. One could not appear too welcoming, if one wanted even a moment of peace in the evenings.

      To be fair, the rout tonight was surprisingly convivial. And he had no reason to suspect his host, the Earl of Folbroke, was plotting against him. The man was too young to have marriageable children and, to the best of Robert’s knowledge, had no sisters.

      ‘I hear you are thinking of offering for Benbridge’s daughter,’ said Folbroke from his place at Robert’s side.

      It surprised him that that particular bit of news had travelled so quickly. While he had been paying court to several young ladies in a halfhearted and unenthusiastic way, the matter of Benbridge’s daughter had been introduced into conversation only recently. But apparently, it was already on dit. ‘What might have given you that idea?’ he asked blandly. ‘I have not even met the girl, yet.’

      ‘According to my wife, Lady Benbridge is telling everyone that your back has been broken by the parson’s mousetrap.’ The earl smiled. ‘As far as the bit that has trapped you? It does not surprise me that you have not met her. None of us has seen her for quite some time. Of course, I would not notice, even if she were here.’ Folbroke adjusted his smoked glasses.

      It was a continual surprise to Robert that the earl was so casual in calling attention to his blindness. He supposed it prevented people from treating him like an invalid, when there was no reason to. Although he tended to stay at the edge of the room during events such as these, Folbroke looked no more uncomfortable than the other gentlemen that lounged against the walls to avoid the press of bodies at the centre of the floor.

      Robert admired his studied casualness and sought to emulate it so that he might appear more comfortable in society than he felt. Four months after becoming Reighland it was still an effort not to turn and search the room for Gregory when someone called him by the title. He offered a silent prayer for the bright and smiling child that had been meant for this honour, just as he longed for the wise counsel of his father.