A Scoundrel in Gentlemen's Clothing: Wicked Widows' League, #6

By Diana Bold

The Dowager Duchess of Clayton, Clarice Sinclair, has spent her entire life doing exactly what she is supposed to. But as a young widow, she finds her options have widened dramatically. Now that she's finally free to do whatever she likes, she decides it's time to reconnect with the scoundrel she'd once loved.

 

Roman St. James, the Earl of Chatham, has never quite gotten over the one who got away. He's hidden his heartbreak beneath all sorts of debauchery, but when he hears that Clarice's elderly husband has passed away, he can't resist trying one more time. But will Clarice be willing to give up her newfound independence for the love of a scoundrel?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Diana Bold
• Release date: Apr 18, 2023
• ISBN: 9798201308773

Diana Bold

All my life, I've wanted to a writer. Even as a child, my sister claims all I ever did was sit in my closet and scribble in a notebook. In any event, I won my first writing contest when I was seven, and I was hooked! I married young, and soon had three wonderful little boys running around the house, so writing took a backseat for several years as I worked a variety of jobs that I hated. Once I started seriously pursuing a writing career, I found it was not as easy as I had expected, and I was not the prodigy I had imagined. But I joined a writer's group and made a ton of writing friends along the way who showed me the error of my ways and unselfishly helped me get a little better. By the time I sold my first book in 2006, I'd already been at this for over ten years and was about ready to give up. Rejection is hard!!! But holding that first book in my hands made it all worth it! Now my sons are all grown up, and two of them have babies of their own. But I now have all the time in the world to devote to telling the stories that just won't let me sleep. Hope you enjoy them! Love, Diana Diana 

Book preview

Chapter One

Clarice Sinclair, the Duchess of Clayton, stood stiffly at attention in the ornate Gold Drawing Room of her late husband’s palatial Mayfair mansion. Her black bombazine dress scratched her skin and stretched tight across her bosom, making her shift uncomfortably every few minutes as she wished desperately for this endless day to be over. Though dusk had just fallen, it had been dark and dreary since dawn, exactly as the duke would have wanted.

Given the number of mourners who had been filing in and out to pay their respects all afternoon, it certainly seemed as though the whole world cried at the loss of such a great man.

She hadn’t been allowed to go to the cemetery, thank God. Though no love had been lost between her and her elderly husband, she didn’t think she could have borne to see him lowered into the ground.

The Duke of Clayton had been more than thirty years her senior, but he’d been a force to be reckoned with right up until his heart had stopped two—or was it three?—days ago. It had been a shock when his valet had found him dead in his bed. She’d honestly begun to fear he’d live forever.

Now here she was, just twenty-eight years old, a childless widow who would soon find herself evicted from her home. She might even be penniless if her husband had been petty enough to punish her for her inability to conceive a child by leaving her nothing. She bit her lip to keep from bursting into tears, though she guiltily realized her tears were far more for herself than her deceased husband.

A raucous laugh drew her attention across the room where her husband’s nephew, Nigel Sinclair, held court near the fireplace. The duke’s greatest fear had been that Nigel, who was a wastrel and a reprobate, would inherit, which was why he’d married a woman less than half his age to provide him with an heir.

Her hand unconsciously went to her stomach. Though Nigel would not inherit officially until her monthlies arrived, there was no doubt they would. Her nine-year marriage had grown colder and colder with every month that had passed without her conceiving a child. The duke hated her in the end, and he had not tried to hide it. For the past year, since a doctor had pronounced her barren, he hadn’t come to her bed at all. He blamed her for not giving him a son, and he’d been furious that his old, distinguished title would go to Nigel, instead of a child of his own.

How are you holding up? asked her stepdaughter, Natalia, the only child of his first marriage, coming to stand supportively by her side. She’d been Clarice’s rock ever since the duke had died. Since she normally resided in Scotland, Clarice was grateful that she and her husband had been in Town for the Season when the duke had passed away. Today she’d been a true blessing, greeting the mourners and making them feel at home while Clarice stood quiet and remote, her features hidden by the mourning veil she wore.

Only five years separated them, and she’d always thought of Natalia as more of a younger sister than a daughter. Since her own parents were dead, and she had no siblings, Natalia was the only family she had left.

Her guilt escalated as Natalia tried to comfort her when she was the one who must be missing the duke most of all. Though a bit gruff and unable to show his emotions, he’d loved his daughter as much as he had the ability to love anyone.

I just wish everyone would leave, Clarice murmured, not wanting anyone else to hear. Especially Nigel. I don’t like the way he’s obviously calculating the worth of everything he sees. He’d have me out of the house tonight if he could.

Natalia sighed. I’ll talk with him later, make certain he takes care of you. I think he’ll listen. He’s not all bad. And Lord knows he’ll have the means.

A new wash of tears stung Clarice’s eyes, and she blinked them rapidly away. She didn’t want to be beholden to Nigel Sinclair. She didn’t want to be beholden to anybody. She’d wrongly imagined that once the duke died, she’d be free. But freedom didn’t exist for women of her class. They just went from one man’s rule to another.

Thank you, she managed, unable to meet Natalia’s sympathetic gaze.

No matter what happens, you’ll always have a place with Dylan and me, Natalia consoled her. We’d love it if you came and stayed with us in Scotland.

Natalia had been happily married to her handsome husband, Dylan Montgomery, for nearly two years and had an adorable little son. The thought of living with the only family she had in the world was tempting, but Clarice knew she’d go mad stuck in the wilds of Scotland for months on end. She liked the excitement and entertainment of the city.

That means the world to me, she assured Natalia, even while hoping that her husband had left her enough money to continue living in London. Surely, he wouldn’t leave her destitute. She had to believe he’d felt some sort of responsibility for her.

Her butler stepped into the room, followed by a new arrival. Roman St. James, the Earl of Chatham, the old man intoned.

Clarice’s heart leaped in her chest, and all the chaotic emotions she’d felt today were replaced by a rush of longing. Her ears must be deceiving her. But as her gaze lifted to the man the butler had announced, every nerve-ending in her body sang.

Roman. 

She’d loved him once, loved him passionately and truly. But he’d been the second son of a second son when she’d made her debut—no one her father would consent to wed his precious daughter and her even more precious dowry. Even though she’d been forced to marry the duke and had never wanted it, Roman had blamed her for not defying her father and