Confessions of an Improper Bride
Book 1:
A Donovan Novel
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Synopsis
Serena Donovan left London six years ago, her heart broken and her reputation ruined by devilishly handsome Jonathan Dane. Now, with her family's future in peril, she reluctantly agrees to return to England and assume her late twin's identity. The price? Marry a man she doesn't love and spend the rest of her days living a lie.
Jonathan Dane, Earl of Stratford, has become an incorrigible rake, drinking, gambling-and trying to forget Serena Donovan. Yet the moment he is introduced to the prim and proper "Meg," he recognizes the sensual young woman who captured his heart. Haunted by his past mistakes, he refuses to lose Serena again. But convincing her to trust him is no easy task. Claiming his lost love means exposing the truth and destroying the life Serena has sacrificed everything to rebuild. With the future of all the Donovans at stake, and their undying passion capable of triggering yet another scandal, how much will Jonathan and Serena risk for a chance at true love?
Release date: August 1, 2011
Publisher: Grand Central Publishing
Print pages: 384
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Confessions of an Improper Bride
Jennifer Haymore
“Jennifer Haymore’s books are sophisticated, deeply sensual, and emotionally complex.”
—ELIZABETH HOYT, New York Times bestselling author
“Full of suspense, mystery, romance, and erotica… I am looking forward to more from this author.”
—Las Vegas Review-Journal
“A clever, provoking, and steamy story from an up-and-coming author to keep your eye out for!”
—BookPleasures.com
“Haymore is a shining star, and if A Hint of Wicked is any indication of what’s to come, bring me more.”
—FallenAngelReviews.com
“Debut author Haymore crafts a unique plot filled with powerful emotions and complex issues.”
—RT Book Reviews
“A unique, heart-tugging story with sympathetic, larger-than-life characters, intriguing plot twists, and sensual love scenes.”
—NICOLE JORDAN, New York Times bestselling author
“Complex, stirring, and written with a skillful hand, A Hint of Wicked is an evocative love story that will make a special place for itself in your heart.”
—RomRevToday.com
“Jennifer Haymore is an up-and-coming new writer who displays a skillful touch in her erotic tale of a woman torn between
two lovers.”
—SHIRLEE BUSBEE, New York Times bestselling author of Seduction Becomes Her
“Recommended for readers who enjoy steamy Regency-era romance… there’s a surprising lightness and tenderness to the love story.”
—Historical Novels Review
“A story of life and death, revenge and true love… filled with passion, intrigue, and suspense… I look forward to reading
much more historical romance from Jennifer Haymore.”
—ArmchairInterviews.com
“Sweet and satisfying… refreshingly honest… a gripping read.”
—LikesBooks.com
“A new take on a historical romance… complicated and original… the characters are well crafted… surprisingly satisfying.”
—TheRomanceReadersConnection.com
“The characters in this book are easy to love… I can’t wait to read the next book!”
—TheBookGirl.net
“What an extraordinary book this is!… What a future this author has!”
—RomanceReviewsMag.com
“Ms. Haymore’s talent for storytelling shines throughout this book.”
—Eye on Romance
“Jennifer Haymore’s books are sophisticated, deeply sensual, and emotionally complex. With a dead sexy hero, a sweetly practical
heroine, and a love story that draws together two people from vastly different backgrounds, A Touch of Scandal is positively captivating!”
—ELIZABETH HOYT, New York Times bestselling author
“Sweep-you-off-your-feet historical romance! Jennifer Haymore sparkles!”
—LIZ CARLYLE, New York Times bestselling author
“Haymore discovers a second fascinating, powerful, and sensual novel that places her high on the must-read lists. She perfectly
blends a strong plot that twists like a serpent and has unforgettable characters to create a book readers will remember and
re-read.”
—RT Book Reviews
“A Touch of Scandal is a wonderfully written historical romance. Ms. Haymore brings intrigue and romance together with strong complex characters
to make this a keeper for any romance reader. Ms. Haymore is an author to watch and I’m looking forward to the next installment
of this series.”
—TheRomanceReadersConnection.com
“A deliciously emotional Cinderella tale of two people from backgrounds worlds apart, A Touch of Scandal addicts the reader from the first page and doesn’t let go until the very last word. Hurdle after hurdle stand in the way
of Kate and Garrett’s love, inexorably pulling the reader along, supporting them each step of the way. A Touch of Scandal is a surefire win!”
—FallenAngelreviews.com
“A classic tale… Reading this story, I completely fell in love with the honorable servant girl and her esteemed duke. This
is definitely a tale of excitement, hot, sizzling sex, and loads of mystery.”
—FreshFiction.com
“These characters are just fantastic and endearing. I just couldn’t wait to find out what happened on the next page.”
—SingleTitles.com
“4 Stars! Kate and Garrett were wonderful characters who constantly tugged at my heartstrings. I found myself rooting for
them the whole way through… If you like historical romances that engage your emotions and contain characters you cheer for,
this is the book for you.”
—TheRomanceDish.com
“4½ stars! Haymore uses the Christmas season as an enhancing backdrop for a mystery/romance that is both original and fulfilling.
Her fresh voice and ability to build sensual tension into lively love stories… makes this tale shine.”
—RT Book Reviews
“Sizzling… an engaging historical tale.”
—RomRevToday.com
“Each time Ms. Haymore writes a book in this series I think there is no way to top the one I just finished. I started this
latest one and realized she has done just that and has proven to me how fresh this series can remain.”
—The Reading Reviewer
“Jennifer Haymore strikes a good balance of strength, sensuality, drama, and intrigue in her characters… Becky is an independent,
fearless woman except when it comes to opening her heart to another man. And Jack, while strong and passionate, shows great
sensitivity under his ‘rogue’ persona.”
—www.FictionVixen.com
Off the coast of Antigua
1822
Serena Donovan had not slept well since the Victory had left Portsmouth. Usually, the roll of the ship would lull her into a fretful sleep after she’d lain awake for hours next
to her slumbering twin. Her mind tumbled over the ways she could have managed everything differently, how she might have saved
herself from becoming a pariah.
But tonight was different. It had started off the same, with her lying beside a sound-asleep Meg and thinking about Jonathan
Dane, about what she might have done to counter the force of the magnetic pull between them. Sleep had never come, though,
because a lookout had sighted land yesterday afternoon, and Serena and Meg would be home tomorrow. Home to their mother and
younger sisters and bearing a letter from their aunt that detailed Serena’s disgrace.
Meg shifted, then rolled over to face Serena, her brow furrowed, her gray eyes unfocused from sleep.
“Did I wake you?” Serena asked in a low voice.
Meg rubbed her eyes and twisted her body to stretch. “No, you didn’t wake me,” she said on a yawn. “Haven’t you slept at all?”
When Serena didn’t answer, her twin sighed. “Silly question. Of course you haven’t.”
Serena tried to smile. “It’s near dawn. Will you walk with me before the sun rises? One last time?”
The sisters often rose early and strode along the deck before the ship awakened and the bulk of the crew made its appearance
for morning mess. Arm in arm, talking in low voices and enjoying the peaceful beauty of dawn, the two young ladies would stroll
along the wood planks of the deck, down the port side and up the starboard, pausing to watch the sun rise over the stern of
the Victory.
What an inappropriate name, Serena thought, for the ship bearing her home as a failure and disgrace. She’d brought shame and
humiliation to her entire family. Rejection, Defeat, or perhaps Utter Disappointment would serve as far better names for a vessel returning Serena to everlasting spinsterhood and dishonor.
Serena turned up the lantern and they dressed in silence. It wasn’t necessary to speak—Serena could always trust her sister
to know what she was thinking and vice versa. They’d slept in the same bedroom their entire lives, and they’d helped each
other to dress since they began to walk.
After Serena slid the final button through the hole at the back of Meg’s dress, she reached for their heavy woolen cloaks
hanging on a peg and handed Meg hers. It was midsummer, but the mornings were still cool.
When they emerged on the Victory’s deck, Serena tilted her face up to the sky. Usually at this time, the stars cast a steady silver gleam over the ship, but not this morning. “It’s overcast,” she murmured.
Meg nodded. “Look at the sea. I thought I felt us tossing about rather more vigorously than usual.”
The sea was near black without the stars to light it, but gray foam crested over every wave. On deck, the heightened pitch
of the ship was more clearly defined.
“Do you think a storm is coming?”
“Perhaps.” Meg shuddered. “I do hope we arrive home before it strikes.”
“I’m certain we will.” Serena wasn’t concerned. They’d survived several squalls and a rather treacherous storm in the past
weeks. She had faith that Captain Moscum could pilot this ship through a hurricane, if need be.
They approached a sailor coiling rope on the deck, his task bathed under the yellow glow of a lantern. Looking up, he tipped
his cap at them, and Serena saw that it was young Mr. Rutger from Kent, who was on his fourth voyage with Captain Moscum.
“Good morning, misses. Fine morning, ain’t it?”
“Oh, good morning to you, too, Mr. Rutger.” Meg smiled pleasantly at the seaman. Meg was always the friendly one. Everyone
loved Meg. “But tell us the truth—do you think the weather will hold?”
“Aye,” the sailor said, a grin splitting his wind-chapped cheeks. “Just a bit o’ the overcast.” He looked to the sky. “A splash
o’ rain, but nothin’ more to it than that, I daresay.”
Meg breathed a sigh of relief. “Oh, good.”
Serena pulled her sister along. She probably would have tarried there all day talking to Mr. Rutger from Kent. It wasn’t by
chance that Serena knew that he had six sisters and a brother, and his father was a cobbler—it was because Meg had crouched on the deck and drawn his life story out of him one morning.
Perhaps it was selfish of her, but Serena wanted to be alone with her sister. Soon they would be at Cedar Place, everyone
would be furious with her, and Mother and their younger sisters would divide Meg’s attention.
Meg went along with her willingly enough. Meg understood—she always did. When they were out of earshot from Mr. Rutger, she
squeezed Serena’s arm. “You’ll be all right, Serena,” she said in a low voice. “I’ll stand beside you. I’ll do whatever I
can to help you through this.”
Why? Serena wanted to ask. She had always been the wicked daughter. She was the oldest of five girls, older than Meg by seventeen
minutes, and from birth, she’d been the hellion, the bane of their mother’s existence. Mother had thought a Season in London
might cure her of her hoydenish ways; instead, it had proved her far worse than a hoyden.
“I know you will always be beside me, Meg.” And thank God for that. Without Meg, she’d truly founder.
She and Meg were identical in looks but not in temperament. Meg was the angel. The helpful child, ladylike, demure, moral,
and always unfailingly sweet. Yet every time Serena was caught hitching her skirts up and splashing at the seashore with the
baker’s son, Meg stood unflinchingly beside her. When all the other people in the world had given up on Serena, Meg remained
steadfast, inexplicably convinced of her goodness despite all the wicked things she did.
Even now, when she’d committed the worst indiscretion of them all. When their long-awaited trip to England for their first
Season had been cut sharply short by her stupidity.
“As long as you stand beside me,” Serena said quietly, “I know I will survive it.”
“Do you miss him?” Meg asked after a moment’s pause.
“I despise him.” Serena’s voice hissed through the gloom. She blinked away the stinging moisture in her eyes.
Meg gave her a sidelong glance, the color of her eyes matching the mist that swirled up behind her. “You’ve said that over
and over these past weeks, but I’ve yet to believe you.”
Pressing her lips together, Serena merely shook her head. She would not get into this argument with her sister again. She
hated Jonathan Dane. She hated him because her only other option was to fall victim to her broken heart and pine over him,
and she wouldn’t do that. She wouldn’t sacrifice her pride for a man who had been a party to her ruin and then turned his
back on her.
She’d never admit—not to anyone—that every time she looked over the stern of the Victory, she secretly hoped to see a ship following. And Jonathan would be on that ship, coming for her. She dreamed that it had all
been an enormous mistake, that he really had loved her, that he’d never meant for any of this to happen.
She dragged her gaze to the bow of the ship. The lantern lashed to the forestay cast a gloomy light over the fog billowing
up over the lip of the deck.
Smiling, she turned the tables on her sister. “You miss Commander Langley far more than I miss Jonathan, I assure you.”
Meg didn’t flinch. “I miss him very much,” she murmured.
Of course, unlike her own affair, Serena’s sister’s had followed propriety to the letter. Serena doubted Commander Langley had touched her sister for anything more than a slight brush of lips over a gloved hand. They danced exactly twice
at every assembly, and he’d come to formally call on Meg at their aunt’s house three times a week for a month.
In the fall, Langley was headed to sea for a two-year assignment with the Navy, and he and Meg had agreed, with her family’s
blessing, to an extended courtship. He’d done everything to claim Meg as his own short of promising her marriage, and Langley
wasn’t the sort of gentleman who’d renege on his word.
Unlike Jonathan.
Serena groaned to herself. She must stop thinking about him.
She patted her sister’s arm. “I wager you’ll have a letter from him before summer’s end.”
Meg’s gray eyes lit up in the dimness. “Oh, Serena, do you think so?”
“I do.”
Meg sighed. “I feel terrible.”
“Why?”
“Because it seems unfair that I should be so happy and you…” Meg’s voice trailed off.
“And I am disgraced and ruined, and the man who promised he’d love me for all time has proved himself a liar,” Serena finished
in a dry voice. It hurt to say those words, though. The pain was a deep, sharp slice that seemed to cleave her heart in two.
Even so, Serena hid the pain and kept her face expressionless.
Meg’s arm slid from her own, and tears glistened in her eyes. It didn’t matter that Serena struggled so valiantly to mask
her feelings, Meg knew exactly what she felt. Meg always knew. She always understood. It was part of being a twin, Serena suspected.
Gently tugging Serena’s arm to draw her to a stop, Meg turned to face her. “I’ll do whatever I can… you know I will. There
is someone out there for you, Serena. I know there is. I know it.”
“Someone in Antigua?” Serena asked dubiously. Their aunt had made it quite clear that she would never again be welcome in
London. And Meg knew as well as she did that there was nobody for either of them on the island they’d called home since they
were twelve years old. Even if there were, she was a debauched woman now. No one would want her.
“Perhaps. Gentlemen visit the island all the time. It certainly could happen.”
The mere idea made Serena’s gut churn. First, to love someone other than Jonathan Dane. It was too soon to even allow such
a thought to cross her mind, and every organ in her body rebelled against it. Second, to love anyone ever again, now that
she was armed with the knowledge of how destructive love could be. Who would ever be so stupid?
“Oh, Meg. I’ve no need for love. I’ve tried it, and I’ve failed, through and through. A happy marriage and family is for you
and Commander Langley. Me? I’ll stay with Mother, and I will care for Cedar Place.”
A future at Cedar Place wasn’t something she’d been raised to imagine—from the moment they had stepped foot on the island,
the Donovans had told one another that Antigua was a temporary stop, a place for the family to rebuild its fortune before
they returned to England.
But now Cedar Place was all they had left, and it was falling into ruin. Long before her father had purchased the plantation and brought the family to live in Antigua six years ago, Cedar Place had been a beautiful, thriving plantation.
Nine months after their arrival, Father died from malaria, leaving them deeply in debt with only their mother to manage everything.
And Mother was a well-bred English lady ill equipped to take on the responsibilities of a plantation owner. Serena had doubts
Cedar Place could ever be restored to its former glory, but it was the one and only place she could call home now, and she
couldn’t let it rot.
Meg sighed and shook her head. “I just think—oh!”
The ship dipped into the trough of a wave and a boom swung around, trailing ropes behind it. A rope caught Meg’s shoulders,
and as the boom continued its path to the other side of the deck, it yanked Meg to the edge of the deck and flipped her over
the deck rail.
Serena stood frozen, watching the scene unfolding before her in open-mouthed disbelief. As if from far away, she heard a muffled
splash.
With a cry of dismay, she jerked into action, lunging forward until her slippered toes hung over the edge of the deck and
she clung to the forestay.
Far below, Meg flailed in the water, hardly visible in the shadowy dark and wisping fog, her form growing smaller and finally
slipping away as the ship blithely plowed onward.
After living for six years on a small island, Serena’s sister knew how to swim, but the heavy garments she was wearing—oh,
God, they would weigh her down. Serena tore off her cloak and ripped off her dress. Clad only in her chemise, she kicked off
her shoes, scrambled over the deck rail, and threw herself into the sea.
A firm arm caught her in midair, hooking her about the waist and yanking her back onto the deck. “No, miss. Ye mustn’t jump,”
a sailor rasped in her ear.
It was then that she became conscious of the shouts of the seamen and the creaking of the rigging as the ship was ordered
to come around.
Serena tried to twist her body from the man’s grasp, roaring, “Let me go! My sister is out there. She’s… Let me go!”
But the man didn’t let her go. In fact, another man grabbed her arm, making escape impossible. She strained to look back,
but the ship was turning and she couldn’t see anything but the dark curl of waves and whitecaps and the swirl of fog.
“Hush, miss. Leave this one to us, if ye please. We’ll have ’er back on the ship in no time at all.”
“Where is she?” Serena sprinted toward the stern, pushing past the men in her way, ignoring the pounding of sailors’ feet
behind her. When she reached the back of the ship, she tried to jump again, only to be caught once more, this time by Mr.
Rutger.
She craned her neck, searching in vain over the choppy, dark water and leaning out as far over the rail as the sailor would
allow, but she saw no hint of Meg.
“Never worry, miss,” Mr. Rutger murmured. “We’ll find your sister.”
The crew of the Victory searched until the sun was high in the sky and burned through the fog, and the high seas receded into gentle swells, the
ship circling the spot where Meg had fallen overboard again and again.
But they never found a trace of Serena’s twin.
Portsmouth, England
Six years later
Serena hadn’t been on a ship for six years. She’d had no desire to go near a ship. But she’d spent the past several, miserable
weeks on the Islington, watching over her younger sister Phoebe with hawk’s eyes, ensuring she kept safely away from the deck’s edge.
Phoebe liked her freedom, and she was on the verge of wringing Serena’s neck out of frustration, but Serena didn’t care. It
was far better to have a sulking sister than to have the unthinkable happen again. These weeks at sea had brought back so
many memories of Meg. Each day had served as a painful reminder of the hole left in Serena’s life.
Serena stood at the rail, keeping her back to her fate—a fate she hadn’t asked for and had never wanted. Behind her, men scurried
about and officers barked out orders. The pungent fishy tang of Portsmouth Harbour washed over the decks of the Islington, and between the called-out orders and the “aye, sirs,” the anchor chain rasped along the edge of the deck. The sailors were lowering the anchor into the dingy harbor waters.
Serena stared out toward the open sea. A lone ship was passing the round tower that marked the harbor entrance and making
its way out to sea, its sails puffed full with wind. A part of Serena wished she were on that ship, headed away from England.
Cedar Place was a safe haven, a refuge, a place where she could be herself. England was none of those things. Here, she’d
be nothing but a fake. A poor replication of a priceless original.
Once she disembarked from the Islington, Serena would begin to spin a web of lies that would ensure her three living sisters’ futures. A person who admired honesty
above all else, she nevertheless intended to live a life of deceit.
How would she manage it? Especially in London, a place fraught with danger, with its society and parties and ladies with sharp
eyes looking for an opportunity to spread any scathing bit of gossip. If she was caught, society would rip her to shreds.
Serena and Phoebe would be staying with their aunt Geraldine in St. James’s Square. Aunt Geraldine was a viscountess, the
widow of Lord Alcott, one of the most respected members of Parliament in his day. Serena knew from her last visit to London
that her aunt was ruled by the expectations of society, and she bowed to its every whim.
When the sisters left in disgrace six years ago, Aunt Geraldine had loathed Serena and despised Meg by association. Even worse,
she lived two houses down from the Earl of Stratford, Jonathan Dane’s father. This time, Serena had begged her mother to arrange
housing elsewhere, but they couldn’t afford suitable lodgings in London. Aunt Geraldine was the only reasonable choice.
Serena squeezed her eyes shut. Jonathan Dane probably wouldn’t be in London. Six years ago, his father had ambitions for him
to take holy orders, and if that had happened, he’d be residing at his family seat in Sussex or at some other vicarage far
away from Town. She fervently hoped Jonathan wasn’t in London. If he was, he could only be a reminder of all the pain and
heartache of the past, and of her willful deception of the present.
If he was in London, she would avoid him at all costs. Because, as much as she aspired to be more like Meg, she was still
Serena. If she came face to face with Jonathan Dane, it was likely her claws would extend and tear him apart. If that happened,
all would be lost.
She must remember that. There was more at stake here than just her reputation.
With shaking hands, Serena drew out the letter from the pocket of her pelisse. Careful to pin it tightly between her fingertips
so the breeze wouldn’t tear it from her grip, she read it for the hundredth time.
My dearest Meg,
I waited breathlessly for your last letter, and when it arrived, I tore it open right away. I cannot express the level of
joy I experienced when I read your assurances of love. And my happiness only increased when I read that you will be returning
to England, and that you have agreed, with your mother’s blessing, to become my wife.
I’m equally delighted to hear that you and your sister, Phoebe, will come to London for the duration of the summer. It will give us an opportunity to plan our wedding, and
to reacquaint ourselves in the flesh after so many lonely years of separation.
How I long to look on your sweet face again, my dearest. I shall come to Portsmouth the instant I hear of your arrival. I
look much as I did the last time we met.
With my sincerest love,
Wm Langley
Carefully, Serena folded the letter and replaced it in her pocket. She returned her gaze to the horizon and the ship slowly
slipping away through the waves, becoming smaller with every moment that passed.
She hated lying. She hated herself. She hated her mother. She hated England. She hated everything about this situation.
“This! This very moment is the most exciting moment of my whole, entire life!”
Serena turned to see nineteen-year-old Phoebe grinning at her, her face young and alive, and her expression bright with happiness.
More than anything, Meg would want to see Phoebe and their other sisters, Olivia and Jessica, well situated. All Serena wanted
was their happiness. She couldn’t stand it if anything horrible happened to them. She’d do anything to shield them from an
experience like she’d had on her last visit to London.
She’d do this for her beautiful, innocent, lovely sisters. To insure their future.
“It is very exciting,” she said to Phoebe, her voice grave. They had moved to the West Indies when Phoebe was only seven years
old, and she hardly remembered England at all. The bustle of Portsmouth Harbour was nothing like the lazy, slow-paced English
Harbour at Antigua. Portsmouth’s sprawling waterfront held dense clusters of buildings, conveyances, and people—likely more
buildings, people, and conveyances than populated their entire island.
Phoebe didn’t perceive the sadness leaching into Serena’s voice. With a pang, Serena remembered she’d never been able to hide
such things from Meg. Now, though she possessed what most people would consider a tightly knit family in her mother and sisters,
. . .
—ELIZABETH HOYT, New York Times bestselling author
“Full of suspense, mystery, romance, and erotica… I am looking forward to more from this author.”
—Las Vegas Review-Journal
“A clever, provoking, and steamy story from an up-and-coming author to keep your eye out for!”
—BookPleasures.com
“Haymore is a shining star, and if A Hint of Wicked is any indication of what’s to come, bring me more.”
—FallenAngelReviews.com
“Debut author Haymore crafts a unique plot filled with powerful emotions and complex issues.”
—RT Book Reviews
“A unique, heart-tugging story with sympathetic, larger-than-life characters, intriguing plot twists, and sensual love scenes.”
—NICOLE JORDAN, New York Times bestselling author
“Complex, stirring, and written with a skillful hand, A Hint of Wicked is an evocative love story that will make a special place for itself in your heart.”
—RomRevToday.com
“Jennifer Haymore is an up-and-coming new writer who displays a skillful touch in her erotic tale of a woman torn between
two lovers.”
—SHIRLEE BUSBEE, New York Times bestselling author of Seduction Becomes Her
“Recommended for readers who enjoy steamy Regency-era romance… there’s a surprising lightness and tenderness to the love story.”
—Historical Novels Review
“A story of life and death, revenge and true love… filled with passion, intrigue, and suspense… I look forward to reading
much more historical romance from Jennifer Haymore.”
—ArmchairInterviews.com
“Sweet and satisfying… refreshingly honest… a gripping read.”
—LikesBooks.com
“A new take on a historical romance… complicated and original… the characters are well crafted… surprisingly satisfying.”
—TheRomanceReadersConnection.com
“The characters in this book are easy to love… I can’t wait to read the next book!”
—TheBookGirl.net
“What an extraordinary book this is!… What a future this author has!”
—RomanceReviewsMag.com
“Ms. Haymore’s talent for storytelling shines throughout this book.”
—Eye on Romance
“Jennifer Haymore’s books are sophisticated, deeply sensual, and emotionally complex. With a dead sexy hero, a sweetly practical
heroine, and a love story that draws together two people from vastly different backgrounds, A Touch of Scandal is positively captivating!”
—ELIZABETH HOYT, New York Times bestselling author
“Sweep-you-off-your-feet historical romance! Jennifer Haymore sparkles!”
—LIZ CARLYLE, New York Times bestselling author
“Haymore discovers a second fascinating, powerful, and sensual novel that places her high on the must-read lists. She perfectly
blends a strong plot that twists like a serpent and has unforgettable characters to create a book readers will remember and
re-read.”
—RT Book Reviews
“A Touch of Scandal is a wonderfully written historical romance. Ms. Haymore brings intrigue and romance together with strong complex characters
to make this a keeper for any romance reader. Ms. Haymore is an author to watch and I’m looking forward to the next installment
of this series.”
—TheRomanceReadersConnection.com
“A deliciously emotional Cinderella tale of two people from backgrounds worlds apart, A Touch of Scandal addicts the reader from the first page and doesn’t let go until the very last word. Hurdle after hurdle stand in the way
of Kate and Garrett’s love, inexorably pulling the reader along, supporting them each step of the way. A Touch of Scandal is a surefire win!”
—FallenAngelreviews.com
“A classic tale… Reading this story, I completely fell in love with the honorable servant girl and her esteemed duke. This
is definitely a tale of excitement, hot, sizzling sex, and loads of mystery.”
—FreshFiction.com
“These characters are just fantastic and endearing. I just couldn’t wait to find out what happened on the next page.”
—SingleTitles.com
“4 Stars! Kate and Garrett were wonderful characters who constantly tugged at my heartstrings. I found myself rooting for
them the whole way through… If you like historical romances that engage your emotions and contain characters you cheer for,
this is the book for you.”
—TheRomanceDish.com
“4½ stars! Haymore uses the Christmas season as an enhancing backdrop for a mystery/romance that is both original and fulfilling.
Her fresh voice and ability to build sensual tension into lively love stories… makes this tale shine.”
—RT Book Reviews
“Sizzling… an engaging historical tale.”
—RomRevToday.com
“Each time Ms. Haymore writes a book in this series I think there is no way to top the one I just finished. I started this
latest one and realized she has done just that and has proven to me how fresh this series can remain.”
—The Reading Reviewer
“Jennifer Haymore strikes a good balance of strength, sensuality, drama, and intrigue in her characters… Becky is an independent,
fearless woman except when it comes to opening her heart to another man. And Jack, while strong and passionate, shows great
sensitivity under his ‘rogue’ persona.”
—www.FictionVixen.com
Off the coast of Antigua
1822
Serena Donovan had not slept well since the Victory had left Portsmouth. Usually, the roll of the ship would lull her into a fretful sleep after she’d lain awake for hours next
to her slumbering twin. Her mind tumbled over the ways she could have managed everything differently, how she might have saved
herself from becoming a pariah.
But tonight was different. It had started off the same, with her lying beside a sound-asleep Meg and thinking about Jonathan
Dane, about what she might have done to counter the force of the magnetic pull between them. Sleep had never come, though,
because a lookout had sighted land yesterday afternoon, and Serena and Meg would be home tomorrow. Home to their mother and
younger sisters and bearing a letter from their aunt that detailed Serena’s disgrace.
Meg shifted, then rolled over to face Serena, her brow furrowed, her gray eyes unfocused from sleep.
“Did I wake you?” Serena asked in a low voice.
Meg rubbed her eyes and twisted her body to stretch. “No, you didn’t wake me,” she said on a yawn. “Haven’t you slept at all?”
When Serena didn’t answer, her twin sighed. “Silly question. Of course you haven’t.”
Serena tried to smile. “It’s near dawn. Will you walk with me before the sun rises? One last time?”
The sisters often rose early and strode along the deck before the ship awakened and the bulk of the crew made its appearance
for morning mess. Arm in arm, talking in low voices and enjoying the peaceful beauty of dawn, the two young ladies would stroll
along the wood planks of the deck, down the port side and up the starboard, pausing to watch the sun rise over the stern of
the Victory.
What an inappropriate name, Serena thought, for the ship bearing her home as a failure and disgrace. She’d brought shame and
humiliation to her entire family. Rejection, Defeat, or perhaps Utter Disappointment would serve as far better names for a vessel returning Serena to everlasting spinsterhood and dishonor.
Serena turned up the lantern and they dressed in silence. It wasn’t necessary to speak—Serena could always trust her sister
to know what she was thinking and vice versa. They’d slept in the same bedroom their entire lives, and they’d helped each
other to dress since they began to walk.
After Serena slid the final button through the hole at the back of Meg’s dress, she reached for their heavy woolen cloaks
hanging on a peg and handed Meg hers. It was midsummer, but the mornings were still cool.
When they emerged on the Victory’s deck, Serena tilted her face up to the sky. Usually at this time, the stars cast a steady silver gleam over the ship, but not this morning. “It’s overcast,” she murmured.
Meg nodded. “Look at the sea. I thought I felt us tossing about rather more vigorously than usual.”
The sea was near black without the stars to light it, but gray foam crested over every wave. On deck, the heightened pitch
of the ship was more clearly defined.
“Do you think a storm is coming?”
“Perhaps.” Meg shuddered. “I do hope we arrive home before it strikes.”
“I’m certain we will.” Serena wasn’t concerned. They’d survived several squalls and a rather treacherous storm in the past
weeks. She had faith that Captain Moscum could pilot this ship through a hurricane, if need be.
They approached a sailor coiling rope on the deck, his task bathed under the yellow glow of a lantern. Looking up, he tipped
his cap at them, and Serena saw that it was young Mr. Rutger from Kent, who was on his fourth voyage with Captain Moscum.
“Good morning, misses. Fine morning, ain’t it?”
“Oh, good morning to you, too, Mr. Rutger.” Meg smiled pleasantly at the seaman. Meg was always the friendly one. Everyone
loved Meg. “But tell us the truth—do you think the weather will hold?”
“Aye,” the sailor said, a grin splitting his wind-chapped cheeks. “Just a bit o’ the overcast.” He looked to the sky. “A splash
o’ rain, but nothin’ more to it than that, I daresay.”
Meg breathed a sigh of relief. “Oh, good.”
Serena pulled her sister along. She probably would have tarried there all day talking to Mr. Rutger from Kent. It wasn’t by
chance that Serena knew that he had six sisters and a brother, and his father was a cobbler—it was because Meg had crouched on the deck and drawn his life story out of him one morning.
Perhaps it was selfish of her, but Serena wanted to be alone with her sister. Soon they would be at Cedar Place, everyone
would be furious with her, and Mother and their younger sisters would divide Meg’s attention.
Meg went along with her willingly enough. Meg understood—she always did. When they were out of earshot from Mr. Rutger, she
squeezed Serena’s arm. “You’ll be all right, Serena,” she said in a low voice. “I’ll stand beside you. I’ll do whatever I
can to help you through this.”
Why? Serena wanted to ask. She had always been the wicked daughter. She was the oldest of five girls, older than Meg by seventeen
minutes, and from birth, she’d been the hellion, the bane of their mother’s existence. Mother had thought a Season in London
might cure her of her hoydenish ways; instead, it had proved her far worse than a hoyden.
“I know you will always be beside me, Meg.” And thank God for that. Without Meg, she’d truly founder.
She and Meg were identical in looks but not in temperament. Meg was the angel. The helpful child, ladylike, demure, moral,
and always unfailingly sweet. Yet every time Serena was caught hitching her skirts up and splashing at the seashore with the
baker’s son, Meg stood unflinchingly beside her. When all the other people in the world had given up on Serena, Meg remained
steadfast, inexplicably convinced of her goodness despite all the wicked things she did.
Even now, when she’d committed the worst indiscretion of them all. When their long-awaited trip to England for their first
Season had been cut sharply short by her stupidity.
“As long as you stand beside me,” Serena said quietly, “I know I will survive it.”
“Do you miss him?” Meg asked after a moment’s pause.
“I despise him.” Serena’s voice hissed through the gloom. She blinked away the stinging moisture in her eyes.
Meg gave her a sidelong glance, the color of her eyes matching the mist that swirled up behind her. “You’ve said that over
and over these past weeks, but I’ve yet to believe you.”
Pressing her lips together, Serena merely shook her head. She would not get into this argument with her sister again. She
hated Jonathan Dane. She hated him because her only other option was to fall victim to her broken heart and pine over him,
and she wouldn’t do that. She wouldn’t sacrifice her pride for a man who had been a party to her ruin and then turned his
back on her.
She’d never admit—not to anyone—that every time she looked over the stern of the Victory, she secretly hoped to see a ship following. And Jonathan would be on that ship, coming for her. She dreamed that it had all
been an enormous mistake, that he really had loved her, that he’d never meant for any of this to happen.
She dragged her gaze to the bow of the ship. The lantern lashed to the forestay cast a gloomy light over the fog billowing
up over the lip of the deck.
Smiling, she turned the tables on her sister. “You miss Commander Langley far more than I miss Jonathan, I assure you.”
Meg didn’t flinch. “I miss him very much,” she murmured.
Of course, unlike her own affair, Serena’s sister’s had followed propriety to the letter. Serena doubted Commander Langley had touched her sister for anything more than a slight brush of lips over a gloved hand. They danced exactly twice
at every assembly, and he’d come to formally call on Meg at their aunt’s house three times a week for a month.
In the fall, Langley was headed to sea for a two-year assignment with the Navy, and he and Meg had agreed, with her family’s
blessing, to an extended courtship. He’d done everything to claim Meg as his own short of promising her marriage, and Langley
wasn’t the sort of gentleman who’d renege on his word.
Unlike Jonathan.
Serena groaned to herself. She must stop thinking about him.
She patted her sister’s arm. “I wager you’ll have a letter from him before summer’s end.”
Meg’s gray eyes lit up in the dimness. “Oh, Serena, do you think so?”
“I do.”
Meg sighed. “I feel terrible.”
“Why?”
“Because it seems unfair that I should be so happy and you…” Meg’s voice trailed off.
“And I am disgraced and ruined, and the man who promised he’d love me for all time has proved himself a liar,” Serena finished
in a dry voice. It hurt to say those words, though. The pain was a deep, sharp slice that seemed to cleave her heart in two.
Even so, Serena hid the pain and kept her face expressionless.
Meg’s arm slid from her own, and tears glistened in her eyes. It didn’t matter that Serena struggled so valiantly to mask
her feelings, Meg knew exactly what she felt. Meg always knew. She always understood. It was part of being a twin, Serena suspected.
Gently tugging Serena’s arm to draw her to a stop, Meg turned to face her. “I’ll do whatever I can… you know I will. There
is someone out there for you, Serena. I know there is. I know it.”
“Someone in Antigua?” Serena asked dubiously. Their aunt had made it quite clear that she would never again be welcome in
London. And Meg knew as well as she did that there was nobody for either of them on the island they’d called home since they
were twelve years old. Even if there were, she was a debauched woman now. No one would want her.
“Perhaps. Gentlemen visit the island all the time. It certainly could happen.”
The mere idea made Serena’s gut churn. First, to love someone other than Jonathan Dane. It was too soon to even allow such
a thought to cross her mind, and every organ in her body rebelled against it. Second, to love anyone ever again, now that
she was armed with the knowledge of how destructive love could be. Who would ever be so stupid?
“Oh, Meg. I’ve no need for love. I’ve tried it, and I’ve failed, through and through. A happy marriage and family is for you
and Commander Langley. Me? I’ll stay with Mother, and I will care for Cedar Place.”
A future at Cedar Place wasn’t something she’d been raised to imagine—from the moment they had stepped foot on the island,
the Donovans had told one another that Antigua was a temporary stop, a place for the family to rebuild its fortune before
they returned to England.
But now Cedar Place was all they had left, and it was falling into ruin. Long before her father had purchased the plantation and brought the family to live in Antigua six years ago, Cedar Place had been a beautiful, thriving plantation.
Nine months after their arrival, Father died from malaria, leaving them deeply in debt with only their mother to manage everything.
And Mother was a well-bred English lady ill equipped to take on the responsibilities of a plantation owner. Serena had doubts
Cedar Place could ever be restored to its former glory, but it was the one and only place she could call home now, and she
couldn’t let it rot.
Meg sighed and shook her head. “I just think—oh!”
The ship dipped into the trough of a wave and a boom swung around, trailing ropes behind it. A rope caught Meg’s shoulders,
and as the boom continued its path to the other side of the deck, it yanked Meg to the edge of the deck and flipped her over
the deck rail.
Serena stood frozen, watching the scene unfolding before her in open-mouthed disbelief. As if from far away, she heard a muffled
splash.
With a cry of dismay, she jerked into action, lunging forward until her slippered toes hung over the edge of the deck and
she clung to the forestay.
Far below, Meg flailed in the water, hardly visible in the shadowy dark and wisping fog, her form growing smaller and finally
slipping away as the ship blithely plowed onward.
After living for six years on a small island, Serena’s sister knew how to swim, but the heavy garments she was wearing—oh,
God, they would weigh her down. Serena tore off her cloak and ripped off her dress. Clad only in her chemise, she kicked off
her shoes, scrambled over the deck rail, and threw herself into the sea.
A firm arm caught her in midair, hooking her about the waist and yanking her back onto the deck. “No, miss. Ye mustn’t jump,”
a sailor rasped in her ear.
It was then that she became conscious of the shouts of the seamen and the creaking of the rigging as the ship was ordered
to come around.
Serena tried to twist her body from the man’s grasp, roaring, “Let me go! My sister is out there. She’s… Let me go!”
But the man didn’t let her go. In fact, another man grabbed her arm, making escape impossible. She strained to look back,
but the ship was turning and she couldn’t see anything but the dark curl of waves and whitecaps and the swirl of fog.
“Hush, miss. Leave this one to us, if ye please. We’ll have ’er back on the ship in no time at all.”
“Where is she?” Serena sprinted toward the stern, pushing past the men in her way, ignoring the pounding of sailors’ feet
behind her. When she reached the back of the ship, she tried to jump again, only to be caught once more, this time by Mr.
Rutger.
She craned her neck, searching in vain over the choppy, dark water and leaning out as far over the rail as the sailor would
allow, but she saw no hint of Meg.
“Never worry, miss,” Mr. Rutger murmured. “We’ll find your sister.”
The crew of the Victory searched until the sun was high in the sky and burned through the fog, and the high seas receded into gentle swells, the
ship circling the spot where Meg had fallen overboard again and again.
But they never found a trace of Serena’s twin.
Portsmouth, England
Six years later
Serena hadn’t been on a ship for six years. She’d had no desire to go near a ship. But she’d spent the past several, miserable
weeks on the Islington, watching over her younger sister Phoebe with hawk’s eyes, ensuring she kept safely away from the deck’s edge.
Phoebe liked her freedom, and she was on the verge of wringing Serena’s neck out of frustration, but Serena didn’t care. It
was far better to have a sulking sister than to have the unthinkable happen again. These weeks at sea had brought back so
many memories of Meg. Each day had served as a painful reminder of the hole left in Serena’s life.
Serena stood at the rail, keeping her back to her fate—a fate she hadn’t asked for and had never wanted. Behind her, men scurried
about and officers barked out orders. The pungent fishy tang of Portsmouth Harbour washed over the decks of the Islington, and between the called-out orders and the “aye, sirs,” the anchor chain rasped along the edge of the deck. The sailors were lowering the anchor into the dingy harbor waters.
Serena stared out toward the open sea. A lone ship was passing the round tower that marked the harbor entrance and making
its way out to sea, its sails puffed full with wind. A part of Serena wished she were on that ship, headed away from England.
Cedar Place was a safe haven, a refuge, a place where she could be herself. England was none of those things. Here, she’d
be nothing but a fake. A poor replication of a priceless original.
Once she disembarked from the Islington, Serena would begin to spin a web of lies that would ensure her three living sisters’ futures. A person who admired honesty
above all else, she nevertheless intended to live a life of deceit.
How would she manage it? Especially in London, a place fraught with danger, with its society and parties and ladies with sharp
eyes looking for an opportunity to spread any scathing bit of gossip. If she was caught, society would rip her to shreds.
Serena and Phoebe would be staying with their aunt Geraldine in St. James’s Square. Aunt Geraldine was a viscountess, the
widow of Lord Alcott, one of the most respected members of Parliament in his day. Serena knew from her last visit to London
that her aunt was ruled by the expectations of society, and she bowed to its every whim.
When the sisters left in disgrace six years ago, Aunt Geraldine had loathed Serena and despised Meg by association. Even worse,
she lived two houses down from the Earl of Stratford, Jonathan Dane’s father. This time, Serena had begged her mother to arrange
housing elsewhere, but they couldn’t afford suitable lodgings in London. Aunt Geraldine was the only reasonable choice.
Serena squeezed her eyes shut. Jonathan Dane probably wouldn’t be in London. Six years ago, his father had ambitions for him
to take holy orders, and if that had happened, he’d be residing at his family seat in Sussex or at some other vicarage far
away from Town. She fervently hoped Jonathan wasn’t in London. If he was, he could only be a reminder of all the pain and
heartache of the past, and of her willful deception of the present.
If he was in London, she would avoid him at all costs. Because, as much as she aspired to be more like Meg, she was still
Serena. If she came face to face with Jonathan Dane, it was likely her claws would extend and tear him apart. If that happened,
all would be lost.
She must remember that. There was more at stake here than just her reputation.
With shaking hands, Serena drew out the letter from the pocket of her pelisse. Careful to pin it tightly between her fingertips
so the breeze wouldn’t tear it from her grip, she read it for the hundredth time.
My dearest Meg,
I waited breathlessly for your last letter, and when it arrived, I tore it open right away. I cannot express the level of
joy I experienced when I read your assurances of love. And my happiness only increased when I read that you will be returning
to England, and that you have agreed, with your mother’s blessing, to become my wife.
I’m equally delighted to hear that you and your sister, Phoebe, will come to London for the duration of the summer. It will give us an opportunity to plan our wedding, and
to reacquaint ourselves in the flesh after so many lonely years of separation.
How I long to look on your sweet face again, my dearest. I shall come to Portsmouth the instant I hear of your arrival. I
look much as I did the last time we met.
With my sincerest love,
Wm Langley
Carefully, Serena folded the letter and replaced it in her pocket. She returned her gaze to the horizon and the ship slowly
slipping away through the waves, becoming smaller with every moment that passed.
She hated lying. She hated herself. She hated her mother. She hated England. She hated everything about this situation.
“This! This very moment is the most exciting moment of my whole, entire life!”
Serena turned to see nineteen-year-old Phoebe grinning at her, her face young and alive, and her expression bright with happiness.
More than anything, Meg would want to see Phoebe and their other sisters, Olivia and Jessica, well situated. All Serena wanted
was their happiness. She couldn’t stand it if anything horrible happened to them. She’d do anything to shield them from an
experience like she’d had on her last visit to London.
She’d do this for her beautiful, innocent, lovely sisters. To insure their future.
“It is very exciting,” she said to Phoebe, her voice grave. They had moved to the West Indies when Phoebe was only seven years
old, and she hardly remembered England at all. The bustle of Portsmouth Harbour was nothing like the lazy, slow-paced English
Harbour at Antigua. Portsmouth’s sprawling waterfront held dense clusters of buildings, conveyances, and people—likely more
buildings, people, and conveyances than populated their entire island.
Phoebe didn’t perceive the sadness leaching into Serena’s voice. With a pang, Serena remembered she’d never been able to hide
such things from Meg. Now, though she possessed what most people would consider a tightly knit family in her mother and sisters,
. . .
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Confessions of an Improper Bride
Jennifer Haymore
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