The Earl's Proposal

By Regina Morgan

Lord Edward Ridgeway saved Lady Isabella Buckland from a dire situation, and she can’t seem to get her mind off the handsome Earl.

But Lady Isabella Buckland is being forced into a marriage with the Duke of Langley against her will. Lord Ridgeway comes to the rescue and forms a plan to save Isabella from her terrible predicament.

When the Duke of Langley believes that Isabella is marrying someone else, he takes matters into his own hands because he thinks Isabella belongs to him. The Duke of Langley’s actions put lives in danger and threatens Isabella’s only chance at happiness.

This Regency romance is a sweet, clean and wholesome read with a guaranteed happily ever after.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Regina Morgan
• Release date: Oct 11, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463781357

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

The Earl’s

Proposal

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

England, 1817

Caramel leaves tumbled to life by brisk autumnal notes that roused them from slumber, requesting a last wistful dance before a wintry embrace would claim them.

Autumn's hand was lying heavy on the hillsides. Bracken was yellowing, heather passing from bloom, and the clumps of wild-wood taking the soft russet and purple of decline. Faint odours of wood smoke seemed to flit over the moor, and the sharp lines of the hill fastnesses were drawn as with a graving-tool against the sky.

The lake mirrored the sky above. Isabella closed her eyes. The breeze that ran unchecked over the rippled surface blew her long bangs from her eyes and brought colour to her usually pale cheeks.

Without the distraction of the view she could detect the scent. The moist air was fragranced with the pine trees that circled the lake, growing so close that some had toppled in and others dangles cobra-thick roots into the water.

The sunset threatening to dip behind the horizon, firstly cascading a prim bombardment of colours that were flung over the sky with terrible alacrity. The receding blue and oranges battled the blackness pushing it away with arms. It shone on the lake below shining its deep depths. The radiant glow scintillated and beamed.

The view was wondrous to behold, for the lake teemed with life. To the chorus of birdsong from the surrounding green bushes, and the sound of carp sucking amongst the flowering lily-pads, mother duck, watchful for the predatory pike, scooped the surface for food, with her young trailing behind like a row of bobbing corks.

Dab chicks and coots fed in the safe haven of the reed-beds, whilst flashing green and blue dragonflies hovered above. A deep sense of serenity overcame her as she stared in rapture at the expanse of blue that lay before her.

The autumn breeze tousled Isabella's hair and pinked her cheeks. The warmth that had been in the wind just last week had either evaporated into the sky or leached into the earth. It gave life to the long grass at the side of the road, still yellowing from the high August sun.

Red, orange and yellow, in various different shades. All of them floating gracefully on the soft breeze. It was as if a friendly hand was gently lowering them to the ground.

Whispers between these leaves filled the air, whispers and mutters. The air was cool and crisp, like a refreshing drink of cool water after hours in a desert. The breeze fluttered around, gently caressing everything it touched with fingers that had been a comfort to so many over their long, lonely years.

The tree was ablaze, or at least appeared to be. Leaves of brilliant yellow, bright orange and subtle red tainted slightly by the brown crispness of late autumn.

The leaves swaying gently dancing in the breeze as they took the last steps of there lives to their bitter but inevitable death. The breeze lifting and spinning the leaves allowing them to gracefully tumble and