Anne Royle makes her London debutante debut intent on proving she and her sisters are the daughters of the Prince Regent. Anne and her sisters are convinced that the Prince Regent and Maria Fitzherbert wed secretly, but for political reasons, the marriage was never acknowledged. Gossips murmur that the results of the union are the Royle sisters. Their search has led them to letters hidden in the current Earl of MacLaren's home. As the sister who fades into the woodwork and is considered invisible, Anne is chosen to sneak into the earl's bedroom to look for the letters.
Since inheriting the title of Earl of MacLaren, Laird has strived to repair his beleaguered reputation. As he grew up, Laird could never achieve the goals his father set forth. Tired of trying, he spent his youth carousing and getting into trouble. Finally, Laird finds a woman he loves; only she leaves him at the altar appalled by his previous behavior. Laird catches a stranger sneaking into his room and all his hard work at reforming go awry when they're caught.
Anne and Laird pretend they're betrothed, hoping to prevent a scandal. Laird assures Anne that at the end of the Season, she can break off the engagement. By then he will have convinced society that he's worthy of his title. Anne's guardians, known as the "Old Rakes," agree with the arrangement with a sly wink and a nod among themselves. The scheme goes as planned until Anne realizes it's become more than a ruse.
HOW TO ENGAGE AN EARL is a fun and entertaining tale as three sisters search for the answers to their parentage. Ms. Caskie delights readers with her clever chapter titles and the endearing "Old Rakes," who manipulate behind the scenes to ensure excellent matches for each of their charges.
She thought she was alone in the bedchamber...until he
stole a kiss and her breath away.
Nothing ever goes right for Anne Royleβthe fair-haired
middle sister no one ever seems to noticeβespecially on the
night of Londonβs most anticipated society rout.
Thinking she's learned of evidence that might prove her
noble heritage, Anne slips unnoticed into an earlβs
bedchamber to search for a bundle of secret letters.
Suddenly, she is embroiled in a scandal with the rakish
earl, one from which even her clever sisters and the Old
Rakes of Marylebone canβt extricate her.
Laird Allan, the newly belted Earl of MacLaren, enjoys the
life of a consummate bachelor.
And, after one disastrous experience being publicly jilted,
he intends to keep it that way. Until, during a rout at his
home, Laird and Anneβs lives unexpectedly collide, when he
stumbles upon herβa woman heβs never seen beforeβ rifling
through his bedchamber.
Suddenly their worlds are cast into turmoil, when they are
discovered, by all of society, wrestling atop his tester
bedβand when questioned about her identity, the young
woman has the audacity to claim
she is his betrothed!
My God, could it be?
Laird slid from the massive tester bed and blinked his
bleary eyes, unable to believe what he was seeing.
But there she was.
His ethereal angel, here, standing in the moonlight in his
bedchamber.
She spun around, turning from the brightness of the window
to stare into darkness. Her form became a dark silhouette
framed by quicksilver.
βWho is there?β Her voice was weak, her stance tremulous.
She leaned forward out of the well of light behind her so
that her gaze might better pierce the darkness.
She couldnβt see him but she knew he was there.
After all, she had come to him.
Why, he didnβt know. Didnβt damn well care.
His mind floundered in the swirl of brandy his emptiness
had bid him to consume. Walking was nearly beyond him, and
he barely managed to remain on his feet as he slowly made
his way toward her.
She sensed his presence as he drew closer, and nervously
slid a foot backward as if to escape him. βPlease, who is
there?β
There was loud creak as her heel slammed into the skirting
board beneath the window. A thump, as her back met a pane
of rippled glass. She could retreat no farther.
βItβs only me,β he told her. βNo need to run.β
Laird came into the light and stood directly before her.
She did not look up at him at first, but peered, furtively
down at her slippers. Her chest rose and fell rapidly. Her
quick, shallow breaths fell softly against the wedge of his
bared chest, where his shirt had come opened as he had
unsuccessfully attempted to sleep off the potent effects of
the spirits. βDo not worry,β he said to her. He smoothed a
hand down the length of her arm.
A small gasp broke through her lips and finally, she lifted
her chin. As she turned her eyes to peer at him, a whisper
of moonlight to caress her face. βI...I...I canβtββ
Laird eased his fingers over her cheek, then cupped her
chin in his hand and angled her mouth upward toward
his. βYes, you can. You possessed the boldness to come into
my bedchamber.β
βNo. You donβt understand. I canβtββ she protested thinly.
He covered her mouth with his own then, and muted any
feeble protest. Her lips were soft and warm, and, after a
moment, he felt them moving against his.
Laird groaned and slipped his right arm around her slim
waist, and drew her closer so that he could feel her body
against him.
She responded with a firm hand against his bared chest,
pushing against him at first, but then he felt her fingers
ride up his skin and catch the half-tied neckcloth she
found there. Her grip tightened around it and she pulled
hard. It took him a half tick of the minute hand to realize
she was trying to hold herself upright.
Confused, Laird drew back a handβs width. Her frightened
eyes met his gaze for a scant moment before her knees
buckled beneath her.
Her free hand scrabbled at her stays beneath her bodice. βI-
I canβt breathe,β she managed, before her grip upon his
neckcloth loosened and her eyes closed as she collapsed in
his arms.
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