An excerpt from The Wager of a Wallflower by Linda Rae Sande #revengeofthewallflowers #steamyromance

The Wager of a Wallflower
by Linda Rae Sande
Heat Level Steamy Romance

A kiss in the gardens. A ruined reputation. A wager without a winner.
Having been caught kissing an earl’s heir in the gardens during a ball, Miss Lucy Fitzsimmons has been relegated to the company of potted palms and wallflowers at London entertainments. Despite behaving as a perfect young lady up until that fateful night, she knows time won’t lessen the stain on her reputation. She’ll rarely be asked to dance, nor does she expect to be courted by anyone, but then given the terms of the wager, she won’t need to—her brother apparently gave the rake permission to court her!

One thing is certain—when Marcus Higgins returns in two years, she intends to collect what she’s owed. They had made a wager, and she won.

Meanwhile, Marcus has disappeared from London. The second son of the late Earl of Greenley, he left on a Grand Tour the day after he accepted the terms of a wager and kissed the young woman he has secretly been in love with since they were children. Two years away from her will be torture—he can’t get her out of his mind. His only saving grace is they made a wager, and he’s quite sure he was the winner.

When he returns to British shores, a surprise for Lucy’s brother in tow, Marcus is determined to collect what he’s owed.

Excerpt

“Really, darling, if you keep frowning like that, you’ll have permanent lines across your forehead,” Jane Fitzsimmons said as she waved for the footman to refill her teacup.
Lucy looked up from her breakfast plate, expecting the comment had been said to her.

Instead, her mother’s attention was on her brother.
“I’m not frowning, Mother. I’m reading,” Christopher countered, his gaze on that morning’s The Times. He suddenly inhaled as he leaned forward.

“Ah, here it is,” he said with some excitement. “On page six.”


“What’s that, darling?”


“A betrothal announcement.”


In the middle of chewing on a slice of toast, Lucy stopped moving her mouth and stared at her brother. She couldn’t even repeat what he’d said with her mouth full, so she was glad when her mother did it for her.


“Betrothal announcement? Whose?”


“Lucy’s, of course,” Christopher remarked. “And Mr. Marcus Higgins, current heir to the Greenley earldom. These are so rarely done, it’s quite good of the young man to have seen to its publication before he departed on his Grand Tour.”


Lucy swallowed. Hard.


“What’s this?” Jane asked, halfway out of her chair.


“Sit down, Mother,” Christopher stated. “This is welcome news. Best wishes, Sister,” he added, directing his gaze on Lucy.


“Thank you,” she replied, although she wasn’t sure an expression of gratitude was called for at the moment. They had discussed the situation, though. At length. Her brother’s immediate solution seemed well-advised and well-timed, given there was another ball scheduled for that evening. Even if only half the aristocracy read the newspaper, word would spread quickly, perhaps even as soon as this afternoon’s calls, and she would be spared further censure from the likes of Lady Pettigrew.


From where Christopher had found the ring he had given her the night before, she had no idea, but the single sapphire on a gold band was already on her finger. Although it wasn’t unheard of to be gifted a betrothal ring, she knew it was uncommon. However, after telling Christopher of the ring Frank Turnbridge had given Marianne to secure their betrothal, he had apparently decided she needed one, too.


Despite several attempts to make her mother notice the bauble—she had waved it about as she reached for the cream-pot, tapped her fingers on the table as the footman refilled her tea, and even splayed her fingers on her chest when she leaned back—Lady Reardon’s attention had been on other matters. Apparently, the cold eggs, the amount of fat in the ham, and the length of her day gown’s sleeves had all of her attention that morning.


“Well, what does it say?” Jane asked. “You must read it aloud. All of it,” she insisted.


Christopher leaned back and lifted the paper before him. He cleared his throat and recited, “Mr. Marcus Higgins, brother of Maxwell, Earl of Greenley, secured a promise of marriage from Miss Lucy Fitzsimmons prior to his departure to Rome to begin a Grand Tour. He will marry the only daughter of the late Christopher Fitzsimmons, Viscount Reardon, and sister of the current Viscount Reardon, upon his return to England. A gold ring, decorated with a sapphire of some value, has already been given to Miss Fitzsimmons as a parting gift. A wedding date has not yet been set.”


Grinning broadly, he lowered the paper to discover Jane staring at Lucy in disbelief. When her gaze finally fell on the ring, she gasped and appeared as if she was about to faint.


“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked in dismay. She grabbed Lucy’s hand in both of hers to examine the ring.


“I thought Christopher was going to tell you,” she replied. “Since Mr. Higgins spoke with him at the ball. To gain his permission to ask for my hand.”


Her mother sighed as she shook her head. “Well, this is certainly going to be the subject of interest in all the parlors in Mayfair today, I should think,” she said with some excitement.


Despite being the subject of an article in The Times, and the probable subject of that day’s gossip over teas up and down Park Lane, Lucy found she didn’t care. Even if it meant she could attend that night’s ball without fear of reprisals—without fear of having to stand with the wallflowers all night—she decided she didn’t even care if her dance card was full. 
She was officially betrothed to Marcus Higgins.
 Even if he didn’t know it. 


More titles releasing in March

Revenge of the Wallflowers