The Convict's Bounty Bride

By Lena Dowling

Life as a convict in an Australian penal colony was brutal, but James Hunter had the advantages of raw physical strength and courage on his side. He survived, and now he is back; a self–made man of means, determined to take the bride he was promised.

Lady Thea Willers knows nothing of the bargain her father made to save her brother, nor does she have any interest in marriage. It might be a radical idea, but what Thea wants is a career.

The revelation that her brother's liberty depends on her marrying James Hunter is devastating. But nothing, it seems, has the power to shake Thea's world upside down like James himself, or the way he makes her feel.

• Language: English
• Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers Australia
• Release date: Mar 1, 2013
• ISBN: 9780857990327

Lena Dowling

In her previous lives, Lena Dowling has been a lawyer, policy analyst, and an administration manager. While Lena was born and raised in New Zealand, it was during a stint working 'across the ditch' in Australia that she took up writing in earnest. Having found her inspiration in The Lucky Country, Lena writes Australasian themed romances about gutsy, intelligent heroines, and the men who dare to love them. Lena currently lives in beautiful, sub-tropical Northland, New Zealand, with her own computer-code-writing hero.

Book preview

Chapter One

Lady Thea sat at the family breakfast table, a handkerchief tightly balled in one hand while she took tiny bites from her toast with the other. She was far too nervous to eat properly.

She watched her father, the second Earl of Eastbourne, through the furthest corner of her peripheral vision. A week had passed since she had put her proposal to him. So far he had said nothing, except that he wanted time to think.

The earl drained his cup and lounged back in his chair. Thea scrutinised his round, wrinkled face for a clue as to his mood. He appeared content, but she needed to be absolutely sure that he was in a favourable humour before she pushed him for an answer. She only had one chance. Her father often dithered, but he had such an aversion to decision-making that once he settled on a position, it was usually final.

The butler stepped forward to refill the earl’s beaker, and Thea caught the distinctive, sweet, exotic scent of chocolate.

She smiled. The drink invariably had a positive effect on her father’s disposition.

The earl took a sip of the chocolate and let out a sigh of pleasure. Thea seized her chance.

‘Father, regarding the proposal that I put to you — the one that I might be permitted to pursue a career, joining you on the board of the bank? You did promise to consider my plan.’

Thea’s mother, the countess, coughed, releasing a fine spray of tea.

‘What an idea. I’ve never heard anything so ridiculous,’ the countess said.

Trust her mother to object. Nevertheless, Thea had anticipated that she would be difficult and was prepared with two counter arguments.

‘I’ve heard that the Duchess of Peyton is now a partner in a bank,’ Thea said.

The news that one of the pre-eminent ladies of the ton had inherited a counting house had been in all the papers. Everyone was talking about the legacy, and if something was good enough for one of the esteemed lady patronesses, the chances were high that her mother would follow suit.

But perhaps not this time.

Something heavy slumped in Thea’s stomach. Instead of seizing on the Duchess of Peyton as a beacon of the latest fashion in female occupations, the countess’s lips pursed upwards in her trademark sneer.

‘As you well know, Thea, the duchess’s grandmother and mother both failed to produce a male heir, but a lack of succession is not likely to be a problem in this family.’

The countess relaxed her facial features sufficiently to allow her to smile in the direction of Thea’s brother, Stephen, Lord Willers.

Stephen’s eyes were red, his sandy hair was matted into a felt, and his rumpled clothes strongly indicated that he had slept in them. Given his dishevelled appearance and the likely reasons for it, the countess’s look was a staggering indulgence. But as far as their mother was concerned, Stephen could do no wrong. If he did, she always managed to find some way to save his sorry hide.

Thea overrode the urge to scowl at him. Instead, she stared at her father, eyebrows raised, in a silent plea for him to speak up in her defence.

With Thea’s first argument in tatters, freedom now hinged on the success of her second argument.

‘Careers for women are advocated by the learned Miss Wollstonecraft,’ Thea said, hoping the mention of one of the intellectuals that the earl most admired would propel her father to her aid.

Before the earl could say anything, however, the countess slammed down her teacup with enough force to dislodge a chip of Delft. The tiny shard of china clattered on to the tabletop like a milk tooth pulled by a sadistic nursemaid.

Thea shivered.

‘Mary Wollstonecraft — that bluestocking. The woman’s ideas are the stuff of wild fantasy,’ the countess said.

Thea was surprised her mother had even heard of Miss Wollstonecraft, let alone the nature of her radical philosophies. The fact that she had, however, did not bode well. Her father cowered before his wife in all matters not connected with his children’s education. On that one issue he was firm. Otherwise, her mother presided over everything to do with her and Stephen’s activities.

‘If it were up to me, you would never have been permitted to read such far-fetched nonsense, but your father will insist on educating his daughter, for all the good it does you.’

‘Ah yes, A Vindication of the Rights of Women,’ the earl said.

Thea’s father glanced in his wife’s direction. The countess met his stare, straight backed, her rigid posture daring him to contradict her.

The earl looked about to say something then clammed his mouth shut. Eventually, he gave a small cough. ‘A most interesting work, Thea — esoteric, yet nevertheless farsighted, and perhaps in time women may be permitted to engage in their own careers…’ He shot another look towards the countess who narrowed her eyes in response. ‘But sadly, probably not in either of our lifetimes, my dear.’

In other words: No, Thea.

The butler smirked and skulked away as if he had only been hanging about the sideboard to listen in. Lately, he always seemed to be eavesdropping. Thea made a mental note to speak to her father about it, but she would do that later. Not now, when her proposal was poised to disappear, sucked out on an ebbing tide of her wretched mother’s disapproval. Right now she needed to come up with another argument.

Fast.

‘But—’

‘Do not contradict your father, Dorothea.’

The countess’s face was fixed in a sneer again, an expression Stephen had dubbed ‘the grim reaper stare’, and Thea turned to her brother for backing.

‘Stephen?’

Her brother’s chin dropped to his chest. He snorted, sat up, and looked around the table bleary eyed.

Thea glared at him.

‘What’s wrong, Tee?’

Her heart sank. Stephen was going to be no help at all.

‘Nothing.’

‘Don’t be like that,