The Rake's Runaway Bride

Contents Title Page Copyright Those Regency Remingtons Series Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen Chapter Seventeen Chapter Eighteen Chapter Nineteen Chapter Twenty Chapter Twenty-One Chapter Twenty-Two Chapter Twenty-Three Chapter Twenty-Four Chapter Twenty-Five Chapter Twenty-Six Chapter Twenty-Seven Chapter Twenty-Eight Chapter Twenty-Nine Chapter Thirty Chapter Thirty-One Chapter Thirty-Two Chapter Thirty-Three Chapter Thirty-Four Chapter Thirty-Five Chapter Thirty-Six Chapter Thirty-Seven Chapter Thirty-Eight Chapter Thirty-Nine Forty The Rake’s Runaway Bride Those Regency Remingtons Jennifer Monroe Copyright © 2023 Jennifer Monroe All rights reserved. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Those Regency Remingtons Series The Duke Who Loved Me The Baron Time Forgot Hero of My Heart The Viscount’s Lady Harlot The Rake’s Runaway Bride The Bluestocking and the Beast Chapter One London, September 1803 The newly arrived invitation to Jasper, Earl of Bourne’s party—and thus his gaming tables—would right all the wrongs that Lady Lydia Remington had been forced to endure. Or so she believed as she sat at the small table in the parlor of Grandmier Mansion, her family home located in the most prestigious part of London. Her parents had left the previous day to visit their cousin, the Duke of Greystoke in Sussex. Lydia suspected the missing oriental vase from the foyer had funded the journey. She strained to hear the muffled steps of the servants and the daily noises that once made the house feel alive, yet no sounds came. And for good reason. Over the past year, most of the staff had been dismissed. For too long now, the house sat cold and silent. And although Lydia could endure the cold, she despised silence. The dismissals began with the gardener, Helms, who had taken over for Comfrey when the older man retired two years earlier. Soon after, the cook’s assistant, Serena, followed suit. Within months, most of the maids, footmen, stable hands… nearly all of the servants who had once faithfully served her father, the Marquess of Leddingstone were simply gone. Just last week, Lydia’s lady’s maid, Ellie Gantz, had to be let go. That had been the hardest, by far, for Ellie was more a member of the family than a servant. She had begun as a chambermaid when Lydia was twelve. When she had taken the position of Lydia’s lady’s maid when Lydia was sixteen, they had become fast friends. And two years later, Ellie being gone left a hole in Lydia’s life. Of course, life had not always been like this. Her father once ran one of the most lucrative carriage-making companies in all of England. Or rather owned. The Marquess of Leddingstone did not actually run a business—no man in his social standing would—but he did oversee it if he hoped to keep honest those who did do the running. But the success Lydia’s father had known for so many years came to a crashing halt when he decided to go into business with the former Earl of Bourne. Whatever agreement the two men had made two years earlier, Lydia witnessed the full fruition of that mistake today. It would not be long, months more assuredly than years, before the Marquess of Leddingstone would have to declare bankruptcy. But Lydia vowed to do whatever possible to see that did not happen. She had done small deeds over the past six months—staying with friends to ease the cost of food, visiting relatives to sleep in a warm bed so the logs could be saved for cooking and heating the occupied rooms of Grandmier Mansion. The less often she was home, the more money her parents would save. Which, in turn, would hopefully save their reputation. And hers. After all, who wished to marry a young woman of a highly respected family on the verge of poverty? Too many would see it as bad luck no matter her father’s status. Yet Lydia would make her own luck. For herself and her family. Thus the reason for using what meager funds she had to pay Mr. Keats to secure her an invitation to Lord Bourne’s party. A silver-haired man who appeared older than time itself, Mr. Keats worked exclusively for the Remington family. A lucrative enterprise on his part. He seemed to always have one assignment or another, and all paid well. And he was worth every farthing. He was skilled in what was required of him. And more importantly, he was discreet. No Remington wanted the world to know of his problems—or hers. Mr. Keats did not discriminate as long as he was paid. “It appears you know enough to get by,” Mr. Keats said as he rose from the chair across the table from Lydia. She was glad he did not smile. She had only witnessed that expression on him once. With the terrible scars that marred his angular face, smiling only made him all the more frightful. “I’ve no more advice to give you.” Lydia sighed with relief. After learning that Earl Bourne's weakness was the game of piquet, she had taken it upon herself to learn how to play. For six months, she had practiced with one of the few servants who remained. And who was willing to take the risk of being caught dallying rather than working? Or with her closest friend, Miss Nora Everly, who now sat observing from a nearby settee. Over time, Lydia improved her game. And it appeared her compulsion for perfection had paid off. Her hope was to challenge the man who had destroyed her family and thus win a sizable fortune. Or at least enough to stave off the debt collectors that circled Grandmier Mansion like the vultures they were. Yet something about what Mr. Keats