The Charming Champion

By JoMarie DeGioia

A gentleman who plays the rake
A lady who needs the help of one
Family secrets...private scandal
And a love strong enough to risk it all

Eligible is the very last thing he wants to be.

Robert Pierce, Viscount Devlin, cultivates his reputation as a carefree rake. His family harbors a secret about his brother that he would die to protect. He never courts any proper young lady for fear of risking its discovery, but Penelope Prestwick is a temptation he cannot resist.

Penelope holds her own secret close. She was ruined two years ago and believes she can never marry. It is a very good thing that the only man who captivates her is not the marrying kind. When she learns that her family suddenly has financial troubles, she goes to Robert for help getting to the bottom of the matter.

Robert agrees to help her, and they give in to their attraction. They begin a clandestine affair while presenting a proper courtship in company. Bit by bit, she is losing her heart to him. The more time he spends with her, the more he comes to care for her. Their secret liaison could leave them both vulnerable.

Can he be the champion she needs before she and her family are ruined?
Or will his own family’s secret come to light in the process?

• Language: English
• Publisher: JoMarie DeGioia
• Release date: Jul 1, 2023
• ISBN: 9781944181376

JoMarie DeGioia

JoMarie DeGioia is a bestselling author of Historical and Contemporary Romance. She's known Mickey Mouse from the "inside," has been a copyeditor for her tiny town's newspaper, and a bookseller. She is the author of 50 Romances, and writes Young Adult Fantasy/Adventure stories and Paranormal Romance too. She gets lost in DIY projects around the house and works out plot ideas during long runs. She divides her time between Central Florida and New England, and you may contact her at [e-mail]

Book preview

The Charming Champion

by

JoMarie DeGioia

PUBLISHED BY:

Bailey Park Publishing

Copyright © JoMarie DeGioia 2023

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the publisher, except where permitted by law.

ISBN: 978-1-944181-37-6

Contents

Copyright

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Epilogue

About the Author

Discover other books by JoMarie DeGioia

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Chapter 1

London, England 1824

Eligible was the very last thing he ever wished to be considered.

Robert Pierce, Viscount Devlin, looked about the crowded ballroom. He absently took note of the young ladies newly out as well as those well-versed on the hunt. There were many familiar faces to be seen, some prettier than others but, as disinterested as he was himself, he did not dare encourage their interest in his fine form either. While he nurtured his reputation as a libertine, one of these young misses would surely capture his freedom were he to entertain the prospect of marriage to one of them. Despite his pleasing appearance and family wealth, he was not in want of a wife.

Last Season, he had helped his good friend navigate these very waters and he was all too aware of the man-eating fish swimming about. His friend had been in dire need of a wife at the time, however. Robert was in no such condition, and he praised the Lord for that fact.

True he was approaching the age of thirty, but he saw no need to occupy his thoughts with a bride hunt this Season. No, he was pleased to move among the fashionable with his own interests solely in his mind. God knew he could not quite put the situation at home out of his mind, however. Duties weighed on him which would not fade away no matter how much time passed. He doubted there was any woman there among the fair maidens who would tempt him from his bachelorhood even if he were free to consider it.

Lady Lasking made her way closer to him. By several accounts, she was on the prowl for a new protector since her last had passed away. He had been an elderly gentleman whom she had freely, and quite publicly, cuckolded. Robert was in no way inclined to step into that role.

A penny for your thoughts? he asked. I believe you can guess mine.

He knew his words would achieve the expected response. As he watched, her pupils dilated and her lips parted.

Lord Devlin, Lady Lasking breathed. You are incorrigible.

He took a measured glance around the ballroom to be certain that the assembled took note of his actions, and then gave an irreverent shrug. And you, my lady, are a fraud. He brushed his hand very close to her bare upper arm as he lifted his glass of sherry to his lips. Ah, there is no need to dissemble with me.

She gasped and her eyes widened in feigned shock, but the expression did not fool him. Over the past weeks since the Season had begun, he had caught her eyeing him, apparently unaware that he himself had orchestrated every glance, every nonverbal exchange. True, she had been more than available for any wealthy gentleman’s attentions before this Season. Tonight, however? Tonight, he would once again hide behind his reputation with her as his unwitting accomplice.

I know what you crave, my dear, he rasped. He let his breath fan over her neck, raising the downy flesh there in goose bumps. I believe you will find it out on the terrace.

The terrace? Her brows rose. I was thinking more of the library. She eyed him up and down. It would prove to be a more intimate locale.

A private rendezvous was not his goal, but he managed to smile at her once again. I am merely considering your reputation.

She laughed softly, a practiced sound unless he was mistaken. Elise Lasking’s reputation was not something to concern him this evening. No, it suited him in truth. He would not dally with her, despite her insistence. He had once mentioned to one of his good friends that if he ever did so, he would worry about his manly parts being returned whole.

Head on out into the evening air. He placed a hand on her arm and gently urged her toward the doors to the terrace. I shall meet with you shortly.

Sighing, she nodded. I fear I shall end disappointed.

Robert schooled his expression as she took herself out of the ballroom. He let out a short breath of relief. Despite Lady Lasking’s clear teasing tone in her parting comment, he could most certainly guarantee her disappointment. Sipping at his sherry, he looked about the room again. He was on his own this evening, more’s the pity. His friend Marcus Lacey was no doubt ensconced at his home with his lovely countess at this late hour, as he was no longer on the bride hunt to satisfy his father’s ridiculous will.

He spied a gaggle of young ladies at the other end of the ballroom, all wearing fashionable dresses in shades of sherbet. The Prestwick sisters, he recognized. The young ladies appeared to be all things lively and pretty and sweet. He could hear their tinkling laughter from where he stood as the four of them seemed to take much enjoyment of this evening’s party. He had never seen them in less than good humor, not that he was accustomed to taking notice of them beyond the pleasure of gazing upon pretty young women. Their blond hair was dressed in the latest styles, plaited and coiled and adorned with beads or feathers. Their fine, plump figures were shown to advantage even his jaded eye could appreciate.

One of the four caught his eye then, a miss dressed in sunny yellow. He could not imagine why he singled her out, however. He was not even sure which Prestwick she was. Polly? Penelope? Perhaps she was a bit prettier even than her sisters, though that could be a trick of the light. Her skin appeared creamy and flushed pink, even from this distance. That, however, could be due to the warmth of the ballroom, despite its only being the beginning of May. Her crystal blue eyes caught his then and, when her rosy lips parted, he felt a shiver of want.

This was beyond preposterous, for how could he feel desire for a chaste young lady despite her allurements? Perhaps too much time had passed since he had visited a public house for a drink of ale and the chance to pass an hour in the arms of a willing serving woman.

Pulling his gaze from her surprisingly captivating one, he made his way toward the terrace and Lady Lasking. Setting the delectable Miss Prestwick out of his mind, he put his attention where it should be. On putting forward the appearance of a carefree rogue with nothing more than pleasure on his mind.

***

Penelope Prestwick’s breath caught as she gazed at Lord Devlin. My, but he cut a dashing figure in his formals. Elegant trousers clad his long legs and the emerald waistcoat beneath his black jacket set off the snowy-white cravat tied at his strong throat. When his rich brown gaze caught hers, she had felt a shiver of something she never had before. Her breasts seemed to swell in her stays and their tips peaked. Even now, after their moment had passed, her heartbeat was still skittery. Oh, she was a ninny! He was not the gentleman for her. He was far too jaded and no doubt well-schooled in the sensual arts. From all accounts, he was not in the market for a wife, either. That was certain.

Yes, he had helped his good friend Lord Lacey last Season. In fact, she had been one of the young ladies the selective earl had set his sights on for a brief and shining moment. She and her sisters collectively, that was. They had been on what was rumored to be a very short list of eligible ladies put forth for his consideration, and the four of them had entertained him together at Prestwick House. None of them had felt particularly drawn to the earl, however. Which was just as well, since the gentleman seemed quite happy with his sweet and beautiful countess.

Oh, just look at him! her sister Polly exclaimed.

Too handsome by half, Patrice added. But he is a delight to gaze upon, is he not Penelope?

Penelope’s cheeks heated as she struggled to maintain her composure. Yes, Lord Devlin is quite handsome, she put in.

Lord Devlin? Patrice asked.

Not him, Pen! the youngest, Paulette, said with a giggle. Lord Wilbrey!

Oh my, yes, Polly said. So gallant and graceful.

Penelope recovered and tilted her head as she regarded the object of her sisters’ interest. Lord Wilbrey appeared graceful and pleasing indeed, with pale blond hair and light green eyes. He was almost pretty, and his motions appeared to be quite measured and no doubt highly practiced. Penelope mused that the gentleman had nothing over Lord Devlin’s more masculine figure and countenance, though she could never admit as much to her sisters.

I will allow that he is a fine-looking gentleman, she said at last.

That set her three sisters to giggling all the louder.

That is all you will allow? Polly asked.

Penelope refrained from rolling her eyes. Sisters, we should not be discussing gentlemen in these environs. It is most unseemly.

The three of them stared at her for a beat, and then burst out in a fresh round of laughter. As the eldest, it often fell upon her to rein in her younger sisters. On some evenings, this one in particular apparently, it proved an exhausting task.

Several gentlemen, including the much-admired Lord Wilbrey, appeared to take notice of their outburst. They began to approach the sisters and Penelope braced herself. Pasting a smile on her face, she dipped her head and feigned a modicum of interest in them.

My word, if it is not the four prettiest ladies here this evening, Lord Wilbrey said.

I daresay I cannot decide which of you lovely ladies is the more enchanting, Lord Shaston added.

As her sisters received the compliments with giggles and sighs, Penelope watched the two gentlemen closely from beneath her lashes. Wilbrey had a modest fortune and a venerable title, but she was less sure about Shaston. He was as broad as Wilbrey was slender, with dark hair and blue eyes. As she observed him, he regarded her sisters with marked interest. When he turned his eyes on her she raised her lids and met his gaze directly. He appeared a bit surprised by her frank gaze and blinked, so she quickly donned the guileless gaze her sisters always seemed to exhibit.

Miss Prestwick, he said smoothly. Would you do me the honor of a dance?

It was Penelope’s turn to be taken aback. Her sisters looked at her with undisguised excitement, happy as always when a gentleman paid any of them attention. Knowing how strange it would look should she refuse, she managed a smile and let him lead her out on the floor.

May I say that you look ravishing this evening, Miss Prestwick?

She could not help but slant him a look. Ravishing?

He smiled widely. A fitting word for the eldest, and loveliest, Prestwick.

Penelope hid her pique at his reminder of her age, lowering her lashes once again. She was nearing the shelf. She knew it. He knew it. It was still most ungentlemanly for him to mention it.

You are very gallant this evening, Lord Shaston. You seem to know of my advancing age, but I know very little about you.

Your age? He seemed shocked that she would mention it herself, as if it were not an impediment to her future matrimony and therefore her happiness and security.

Yes. She lifted her chin. I am three and twenty, after all.

His smile was not quite as wide as earlier but there was a decided glint in his eye. I assure you I was merely thinking to pay a compliment.

She dimpled a smile up at him now. Oh, and it is very gratefully received I assure you.

Gratitude, Miss Prestwick? He pulled her a little bit closer than was proper. I daresay that is a tepid emotion.

What are you playing at, Lord Shaston? She kept her voice low. She might be a bit farther from unspoiled and a bit closer to the shelf, but she was not going to reveal her sentiments on either count. I am not in the position to engage in such antics, I assure you.

He eased slightly away from her. I would never presume to press my suit on an unwilling young lady.

Your suit?

His gaze was thoughtful now, but she would not give him a shilling for those thoughts.

The music ended and he stepped back and sketched a short bow. Thank you for the dance, Miss Prestwick.

He dutifully walked her back to her sisters and was gone in a moment. Penelope sank into the chair nearest her youngest sister, Paulette.

Oh, was the dance divine, Pen?

Penelope was of a mind to reveal just how far from divine the experience had been but one glance at Paulette’s open expression caused her to rethink that particular disclosure.

Yes, dearest. Quite.

The girl clasped her hands in obvious delight. Oh, the two of you looked so perfectly matched! Him so dark, you so fair.

Penelope merely nodded. She was not wrong on that count, but that was as far as Lord Shaston’s match would proceed in her opinion. Imagine, pressing his suit because she appeared desperate?

In her heart of hearts, she was indeed desperate but not for her own future happiness and security. Any dreams she had harbored in that direction were dashed two years earlier. It was her sisters’ futures that she would not sacrifice.

If that meant keeping every gentleman at arms’ length to hold on to her secret, she would gladly do so.

Chapter 2

Robert was slow to awaken the next morning. While he had not imbibed anything stronger than sherry earlier in the evening, the ale he had drunk afterwards was perhaps ill-advised. Last evening, after attending three mind-numbing parties, he had gone down to the pubs that hugged the waterfront. His alarming response to one of the Prestwick sisters had left him confounded, and quite certain he had merely been in need of a good, hard ride. What was it about that chit? To be certain she was as lovely as her sisters but there had been something in her eyes for a moment that he could almost feel this morning. It was surely of no consequence. He had enjoyed the enthusiastic attentions of a serving maid and then all but passed out of consciousness as soon as he arrived back home.

His rooms were set squarely in Mayfair, and he enjoyed all that the area provided. It was but a stone’s throw to Hyde Park and there would no doubt be any number of occupations available on this day for a gentleman with few unwelcome draws on his time and attention. True, he would soon pay a visit to the north. His family’s seat, Norwell Abbey, was situated in Hertfordshire and his mother had written that they were in need of his attention. It had been so for nearly eleven years now, since they rarely come to Town despite the easy distance. This morning, however, he would go for a ride in the park with nothing more on his mind than seeing and being seen in the fresh spring air. Though the hour was later than the usual, the track would no doubt still be all but clogged with gentry jockeying for social position in this Season’s rounds.

He washed and rang for his valet and, dressed as befit a gentleman of his station, he was ready to meet all and sundry in the park. He rode alone along the track, sorely missing Marcus’s company once again. Up ahead he spied Bottom and Erlington. The two chums each wore their usual expressions of excess on their florid faces. Apparently, they had imbibed heavier than he had last evening, though if anything they combined to present a cautionary tale he should heed. His masquerade as a rake would surely fail were he to begin to resemble these two examples of excess and lack of decorum.

Devlin! Bottom called. Erlington look, it is Devlin of all men.

Robert gave a shake of his head as his horse pulled alongside the curricle into which the two of them were crammed.

Good morning, gentlemen. Robert sat back and studied them for a moment. What pulls you out into the daylight on this fine morning?

Erlington laughed. We supposed it was time to view some of last night’s prospects in the light of day.

Robert was taken aback. A quick glance about showed that the nearest group of people was surely out of earshot at the moment. Is it wise to speak so in company? he asked in a low voice.

Ah, I suppose not, Bottom grumbled. What is the purpose, I ask you? I am never going to find my bride this Season.

What? Robert asked. Whyever are you on the hunt this Season on particular?

Bottom just groaned and Erlington shook his head.

It appears that Bottom’s parents are bringing forward many bridal prospects this Season. He let out a dramatic sigh. I count myself lucky that my parents give at least the illusion that the choice is mine to make.

Robert refrained from laughing out loud at that. Everyone knew that Erlington had to marry at least as well as Bottom did.

You, Devlin. Bottom groaned again. You are most fortunate that you are not under such a strain.

True. You can rut your way through—

Really! Robert blew out a breath. I will not speak of this, gentlemen. Not here, and not elsewhere.

Erlington opened his mouth, no doubt to drop another inappropriate comment, and Robert held up one hand.

Look, there. He tilted his head toward the approaching throng soon to clog the track. Here are a few carriages full of prospects.

Both of the other gentlemen grumbled but straightened their jackets and puffed out their chests. They were a matched set, to be sure.

Ah, unto the breach, Bottom grumbled.

Robert eased away from the two of them, thinking to turn his mount around and head back home until the