To Tame a Rake

By Regina Morgan

Anthony Roderick, the Duke of Pembroke, returns from Scotland to find that the love of his life has married another.
When the Duke wins her family's estate in a game of cards, Regina Harrington knows she must seek him out and beg its return.

The Duke has other ideas, however. He will return the estate to her family on one condition: Regina must become his bride and provide him an heir.

Torn between fear and desire, Regina allows herself to be wooed by the rakish Anthony and soon both parties are in turmoil.
Will this be a marriage of convenience? Or has the Duke gotten more than he gambled for? Could he be falling in love?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Regina Morgan
• Release date: Jul 18, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463048788

Regina Morgan

Regina Morgan is an author of historical and contemporary romance.Her romances range in setting from Medieval times to the Twentieth Century.When not writing, you can find her trying to keep up with her husband and three kids and exploring the different parts of the world.

Book preview

To Tame

a Rake

Copyright © 2019 Regina Morgan All Rights Reserved

This book is a work of fiction. The characters, events, and places portrayed in this book are products of the author’s imagination and are either fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Epilogue

CHAPTER ONE

April, 1820

The spring washed in like the tide, advancing confidently with warmth and white sunshine one day and retreating the next. On some days the new vibrant hues of the pansies and daffodils were bathed in tepid air that encouraged them gently, on others the wintry wind gusted fiercely - demanding a return to the bitterness of the months before.

The previously denuded branches offered their wands of tight green bud to the brilliant rays of spring. The wind had lost its bite, it had become ambient, congenial, blowing branches and tousling the hair of pedestrians - but no longer stealing their warmth. The only clouds were fluffy, white and quite dispersed, there would be no rain today.

On the plains there were years in which old man winter refused to give up without a fight. Spring would ride in on a gentle breeze, unhindered by any hill. This April air would soothe the embattled flora with its sweet promise of the warmth to come, only to be pushed back by bitter gales and hail.

But the spring was patient, always returning in the calm between each storm and each time expanding until it had ebbed out the frigid blasts entirely. Then for some months it rained down both water and soft heat. Some days could still be a blanket of cloud, like the season passed, but mostly they were sporadic and sparse - allowing the brilliant light to strike the fields unhindered.

The journey down from Scotland to Langley Manor seemed to be taking forever. Anthony Roderick, Duke of Pembroke, could not help feeling as if the world was holding him back somehow, keeping him from his life and his love.

It was a splendid day. The winter cold was now banished and the finally the sun’s warm rats reached the soil rather than being halted by clouds. The spring breeze was quite refreshing with the touch of the pleasant smell of the trees and flowers. The place was so peaceful, the sun was shining bright and the cool mountainous winds caused all the small plants to dance along, it seemed that the mountains sang a song and the trees danced to its melody. The scent of the flowers was very soothing and stimulating. The hills were very attractive; the pleasant place was an attraction for those who desired peace.

Roderick had spent the last six months staying in a family property just outside Edinburgh. It was a private residence, and one which had not been lived in since Anthony’s father had been but a young boy. However, Anthony’s father had never forgotten the time he’d spent in the home of his mother as a child.

It had been a most bittersweet time for Anthony Roderick. Bridget’s letters seemed to have grown shorter and shorter, and the time between the arrival of each one seemed to grow larger and larger.

The last of her letters had been a brief yet perfect account of an afternoon buffet at the home of one of her friends. There was nothing in her letter about Bridget herself, and nothing to say that she missed him at all.

Worse still, that letter had arrived more than six weeks beforehand and, despite numerous missives of his own, it seemed that Bridget was not inclined to respond any further.

Not a day had gone past when he hadn’t thought of her; her blonde hair the colour of straw and her eyes so blue that even the sky of a summer’s day could not compete. Bridget was the most beautiful woman Anthony had ever known and, at three and twenty years, she was certainly ready to marry. Anthony had courted her since she