Tempting the Vicar

By Liana LeFey

After his twin brother pulls a foolish prank, Reverend Daniel Wayward's life is now decidedly complicated. With his family, his parish, and even his reputation at risk, there's only one way to avoid utter ruin—by swapping places with his rakish, wicked twin. And the second Daniel steps foot into his brother's worldly and sinful life in London, he's completely caught by temptation of the most enticing, green-eyed kind.

Miss Olivia St. Peters knows the son of the duke is a dangerous fellow, but something in those hooded, hungry blue eyes makes her blood sing with pleasure. She's determined to have this Wayward noble, no matter what Society—or even her father—says about the match. And if that means playing with fire, she'll gladly burn...

The more Daniel resists the oh-so-inviting charms of Olivia, the more determined she is to have him. Now he's caught between his vows of faith and the lure of sweet temptation. And the only thing standing between his heart and his immortal soul is one unforgivable deception...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Macmillan Publishers
• Release date: Jan 17, 2022
• ISBN: 9781649372840

Liana LeFey

An exciting new voice in historical romance, Liana LeFey loves to tell stories that capture the imagination and bring to life the splendor of the Georgian era. Liana lives in Texas with her husband/hero, two spoiled-rotten “feline masters” and several tanks of fish. She has been devouring historical romances since she was fourteen and is now delighted to be writing them for fellow enthusiasts. To learn more or drop Liana a line, visit www.facebook.com/writerliana.

Book preview

Table of Contents

Content Warning

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Acknowledgments

About the Author

Discover more Amara titles…

10 Rules for Marrying a Duke

A Scoundrel of Her Own

To Covet a Countess

The Wedding Wager

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

Copyright © 2022 by Liana LeFey. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.

Entangled Publishing, LLC

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Amara is an imprint of Entangled Publishing, LLC.

Edited by Erin Molta

Cover design by LJ Anderson/Mayhem Cover Creations

Cover photography by MikeMareen/Deposit Photos

Period Images

ISBN 978-1-64937-284-0

Manufactured in the United States of America

First Edition January 2022

At Entangled, we want our readers to be well-informed. If you would like to know if this book contains any elements that might be of concern for you, please check the book’s webpage for details.

https://entangledpublishing.com/books/tempting-the-vicar

For my mom and dad, who never stopped believing in me.

Chapter One

London, England, December 1810

Olivia lifted the new gown out of its box, her excitement quickly transforming to dismay. The pale pink silk was right, but everything else was…wrong.

Instead of the fashionably décolleté neckline she’d commissioned, this one would cover her up to her collarbones. What should have been a figure-flattering bodice was now covered in a wealth of unrequested lace and ill-placed bows, too. More bows embellished each peak of the skirt’s ruched silk, and its bottom half now boasted no less than five tiers of ruffles!

It was a monstrosity. Suppressing an urge to open a window and toss the offending garment onto the street below, she flung the eyesore across her bed and plonked herself down beside it, groaning.

Undoubtedly, this was Papa’s doing—a retaliation for her latest escapade. In retrospect, it had been somewhat ill-conceived. A well-bred, unwed lady did not visit a gentleman’s home unaccompanied by a chaperone. Not even to deliver an urgent—in her estimation—business-related message on her overburdened father’s behalf.

It had been a wasted effort, anyway. Upon arrival, she’d been informed her target had gone away to the country for the holiday and wouldn’t return until the New Year. Then, despite assurances that it had been sanctioned, the traitorous driver had informed her father of the outing. The row they’d had that evening was one of their most spectacular ever.

She glanced down at the gaudy pink dress in disgust. And now this. I’ll look like a walking cake! No man will look at me in that, much less Lord Devlin.

This despairing thought recalled her father’s words, irrevocably seared into memory:

Even if he wanted you, I would be reluctant to allow the match. Your mother, God rest her soul, was snubbed by her own kind after we married, until I became too rich to offend. She never complained, but I know it pained her. I’m sorry, my dear. For all that Lord Devlin is rich and the son of a duke, I could never give my precious daughter’s hand to a man whose reputation is so utterly blackened. You deserve better.

Even if he wanted you… It still stung, days later. Because she knew Lord Devlin did want her. She’d known it the day they met. The club had been closed when she and Papa had arrived a few minutes early for his appointment. After being let in, he’d left her in the main salon while he paid a quick visit to the privy. Bored, she’d been poking about the corners when the handsomest man she’d ever laid eyes on had walked in and upended her world.

Sharp and clear, the memory arose in her mind’s eye, as fresh as if it had happened only yesterday.

Lord Devlin Wayward’s cool, assessing blue eyes had slowly raked over her as he’d approached. Can you sing? he’d asked, stopping before her.

Confused, she’d stammered out an affirmative. To her shock, he’d then reached out, tilted her chin up, and run his thumb over her bottom lip with a little hum of satisfaction before dropping his gaze to her bosom. His touch had been pleasingly warm, and her heart had all but ceased to beat as a single brow had arched in evident appreciation.

With a devil’s smirk, he’d said, Well, you’re certainly fetching enough. But this gown is far too modest. Releasing her, he’d then playfully plucked at the froth of fine lace at her neckline before shoving his hands into his coat pockets with a soft chuckle. Yes. Be rid of that ridiculous fichu and about half this lace, and you’ll do quite well in the—

At which point her father’s enthusiastic greeting had interrupted what was certainly the most exciting encounter of her entire life. The sheer panic in Lord Devlin’s eyes when he’d realized his error had tickled her, as had his visible relief when she’d declined to reveal his outrageous conduct. His subsequent behavior when he’d dined with them a week later, however, had charmed her utterly.

He’d known by then that she hadn’t told her father of his mistake and that it was safe to assume she’d continue to keep the secret. A dyed-in-the-wool rogue would’ve simply acted as if nothing untoward had ever happened. Instead, during a brief moment of privacy, he’d whispered an earnest and contrite apology, showing the true, noble spirit of a gentleman beneath his rakehell’s guise.

In that moment, she’d realized he was just like Papa—ruthless and hard on the surface, but soft inside for those few lucky enough to find their way into his heart. That was when she’d decided Lord Devlin Wayward would become her husband.

Men looked at her all the time, but never the way he had. He’d seen her—the real her, not just the heiress of a rich and powerful man. Not just a convenient means to a comfortable end. He’d looked at her as a man looks at a woman he desires.

It had set her imagination ablaze.

All her would-be suitors had calculation in their eyes when they looked at her, even as they were unerringly respectful, treating her as though she were made of glass. None had ever touched more than her hand, and if any of them had lusted after her, they’d certainly never allowed it to show for fear of her father’s wrath.

Fate, however, had conspired to cross her path with Lord Devlin’s without him knowing who she was, and she’d seen the truth. He wanted her. And passion was something she desperately craved in her marriage. Passion like Mama and Papa had shared. She’d begun to think it unattainable, but Lord Devlin’s unabashed appreciation of her charms had proven it to be within her grasp.

Unfortunately, the infuriating man now pretended polite indifference, as if he had never boldly eyed her with clear, carnal intent! It was as if someone had thrown water on the fire she’d seen in his gaze that day.

Her forehead tightened with the beginnings of a scowl. Remembering what her maid said about frowning leading to wrinkles, she took a deep breath and relaxed it at once.

Though he concealed it well, she knew lust burned beneath his cool detachment. All she had to do was to make him genuinely care for her. Then he’d see they were perfect for each other. Papa would, too. They were already allies. If she could but allay his fears concerning Lord Devlin’s character, it would be but a short walk down the aisle to make them family.

If only fate would deign to cooperate, we shall become the happiest couple in England and make everyone else bitter with envy!

Sighing, she glanced up at the clock, noting the hour. Where is that girl? She ought to be back with it by now.

It was her target’s social schedule—something she’d managed to procure at great cost and no small amount of difficulty. But it would be worth it. If she knew what events he was to attend throughout the coming season, she’d be able to arrange plenty of chance encounters. Keeping her extraordinarily canny father from figuring out her game and putting a stop to it, however, would be a challenge—as would keeping him from sticking to her hull like a barnacle.

Her latest move had resulted in disaster. Pink disaster, to be precise. Distaste compressed her lips as she again eyed the hideous silk thing beside her. She’d intended to wear the now-ruined gown at the first big soiree of the Season. Now, however, it wasn’t fit to be worn to a scullery.

Or is it? A delightful idea began to take shape, and a sly smile curved her mouth. Chuckling softly, she ran a hand over an embarrassment of ruffles and bows. Since Papa was so keen to see her look absolutely ridiculous, he could share in her humiliation—at Lord Lambeth’s party celebrating the completion of his new conservatory.

It was the last place Wayward would ever show up.

Her gleeful reverie was interrupted by a soft knock.

You may enter.

Marie, her maid, opened the door, and Olivia’s pulse quickened with anticipation on spying the small package in her hand. Taking it with as much nonchalance as possible, she dismissed the servant. As soon as the door closed, she tore off the paper and twine to reveal a small box from Craine’s.

Inside lay a stack of lavishly embroidered handkerchiefs. Tucked between the folds of one of those fancifully decorated squares was a list of events to which Lord Devlin Wayward had accepted an invitation in the New Year. Triumph suffused her as she plucked it out and scanned the lines.

He hadn’t accepted the invite to Lambeth’s party, which meant she had both a time and place to execute her plan.

First, she must break the blockade—Papa. Then she’d be free to run the unsinkable Lord Devlin aground and claim the spoils.

…

Harper’s Grove, Berkshire, England

Worry warred with rage as Daniel stared down, horrified, at his twin brother’s pale, pain-pinched face.

Oops? offered Devlin with a look that was half contrition, half chagrin.

Rage won out. "Do you know how long I stayed out there in the cold on my knees praying for guidance? Three hours! The window rattled with the force of his bellow. Getting hold of himself, he lowered his voice to a fury-filled hiss. While you stole my clothes and impersonated me to members of my own flock! And now, here you are with a broken leg, in my house, in my bed, with everyone thinking you’re me!"

I deserve every bit of your wrath, gasped Devlin, tugging the stiff, white dog collar out from the folds of black cloth hugging his neck and tossing it aside. I should not have done it. I know that now.

"Well, I’m so glad you’ve learned your lesson," Daniel deadpanned, suppressing an urge to kick the bed out of spite. Heaven grant me the restraint required to not commit fratricide… Dropping into the chair beside the bed, he buried his face in his hands. What are we going to do?

What do you mean? asked Devlin. You’ll tell everyone what I did, that it was a thoughtless prank, and—

And you’ll never be allowed to cross Winterbourne’s threshold again. David, who’d inherited the dukedom after their older brother Drake’s tragic death, had never been pleased with how their family had fractured after their father banished Devlin. He’d wanted all his siblings to join him for the Christmas season, and this was the first time Devlin had been home in many years.

A brief look of unease flitted across his twin’s visage before he dismissed the notion with a wave. Nonsense. David will understand that I harbored no malicious intent.

David is the head of our family now, Daniel told him soberly. He has responsibilities, and our baby sister is one of them. Word of your shenanigans gets out, and it will damage our entire family’s reputation and ruin her prospects this Season. He would disavow you in a blink to protect her.

The color drained from Devlin’s face. I did not even think of—

No, you did not, Daniel cut in harshly, not sparing his impulsive twin the sharp side of his tongue. "And, too, there are other things to consider, such as my reputation. The people you spoke with today, you said they could not tell the difference. How many of them would wonder whether or not this was really the first time you and I had switched places? How many might wonder if we’d often played such a game at their expense for our own amusement?"

Surely they would never think such a thing of you, reasoned his brother. You’re the soberest, most pious person I’ve ever known! But his anxious face belied such confident speech.

How would they know for certain? Daniel asked. This incident could cast doubt on my character and everything I’ve ever said or done here. His heart quailed at the thought. All the years I’ve spent cultivating relationships with these people, building their trust in me, their earthly shepherd—all gone, or at best irreparably damaged. You’ve quite possibly just ruined my life.

His brother shifted, wincing. You’re not the only one suffering here, he snapped, clearly in a great deal of pain. "I’m supposed to leave for London next week to seal a deal that will guarantee my future. Without it, my rivals will move in and I’ll lose everything I’ve worked for and invested in—though I hardly expect any sympathy from you over that prospect."

You’re a bloody selfish bastard, Dev, Daniel growled, launching himself from the chair to go stand by the fire. He didn’t even care that he’d been vulgar, he was so upset. Despite all his efforts to maintain control, tears seeped from the corners of his eyes. Turning his face away, he angrily swiped at them.

A heavy sigh made him glance back. You’re right, mumbled his twin. I am. And, unlike you, I deserve whatever happens. His voice sank even lower. I suppose this is Heaven punishing me for my many sins. And you along with me, unfortunately.

You’re wrong, Daniel told him, his heart clenching. No, no, no… I don’t believe the Lord works that way. Nervous, he began pacing the room, wondering if he was mad for even considering what he was considering. I know you meant no harm, Dev, and that it was just a silly prank to you—naught but high spirits. But now we have to deal with the consequences. He’d arrived at a decision. I don’t want to lose the faith the people here have placed in me, and I don’t want you to lose your family again.

Devlin sat up a little, hope dawning in his eyes. You’re not going to tell them, are you? he breathed. But how can—

You’re going to take my place here until you recover enough to return to London, Daniel cut in, holding up a hand for silence. "I’ll write out all my sermons, which you will deliver to the letter. I know you’ll remember the words, but do you still remember how to deliver the worship serv—"

Yes. Absolutely, cut in Devlin eagerly. I remember all of it.

Daniel knew he could do it. Unable to bear the thought of being separated, they’d attended seminary together. Both had graduated with high honors, thanks to their unusual talent for flawless recall of the written word, but Dev had decided at the last moment not to be ordained, resulting in the rift that had torn their family apart.

Good. His crisp tone belied the anxiety tangling in his gut. Taking a shaky breath, he continued. "We’ll go over it again this week, and you’ll deliver the Christmas sermon. I’ll disguise myself and attend to observe. You won’t be expected to return to your—my—other duties for a while yet. When you do, you’ll have plenty of offers of help. I’ll list those duties out for you."

In addition, he set forth a few rules: no avoidable socializing, no dispensing personal advice unless there was no other alternative, and absolutely no drinking. This last would be an enormous sacrifice for his brother, especially considering how much pain he was in at the moment, but it was necessary. A tongue loosened into carelessness by liquor could destroy everything he’d built here.

His twin’s normally flippant demeanor died a little more into sobriety with each stipulation. When at last he spoke again, it was in an uncharacteristically subdued tone. Danny, when Father banished me, you were the only one who stood by me. I cannot ever forget it. I swear to you I can do this and no one will ever be the wiser.

Steeling himself against a wave of sentiment, he kept his manner cool. To be lenient with his errant brother now would only invite further trouble. Remember that every time you’re tempted, because if you fail, it will be the ruin of me and very likely our entire family. Which will, as you know, be in attendance at the Christmas service.

Devlin, looking suitably nervous, swallowed hard and nodded in understanding.

Now, Daniel went on, going over to his writing desk. While you are healing and seeing to matters here, I will go to London and temporarily take your place. They discussed the particulars of that piece of the puzzle, agreeing that Devlin would prearrange as much as possible via letters with his solicitor and managers and that they would meet to swap places again at the end of February, owing to the need for Devlin to recover enough to walk with a cane, at the least.

A wry smile tilted his irrepressible brother’s mouth as he reasoned, You may be a holy man, but if you suddenly start walking normally before it’s realistically possible, you’ll either incur suspicion or have people flocking to Harper’s Grove in search of a miracle.

Daniel could only agree. They then spoke of social obligations and schedule, at which point he made very clear that though he’d be acting on his twin’s behalf, he wouldn’t under any circumstances do anything unethical. I may be quite literally walking in your shoes, but I will not live your life of sin and vice.

He knew Dev ran gaming hells, and he suspected there was more than just gambling going on behind those doors. Provided his brother instructed his managers thoroughly in his letters, he’d never have to actually see any of it.

Lord willing…

As for the contract with St. Peters, it had already been drawn up. All Daniel had to do was sign it as Devlin and then have St. Peters add his signature in the presence of their solicitors and witnesses.

Oh, by the by, his twin said absently, St. Peters has a daughter who harbors a bit of an unfortunate tendre for me. It’s nothing really, but if she becomes a nuisance, you’ll need to disabuse her of any matrimonial notions. Preferably without upsetting her father.

"Oh, is that all?" Daniel asked him, unable to suppress the urge toward sarcasm.

Dev favored him with a lopsided grin. "It ought to be no problem for you. We may look alike, but your nature and mine are as disparate as peas and carrots. Even pretending to be me, I’ve no doubt that you’ll manage to put her off in no time at all."

Daniel ignored the implied insult and concentrated on the task at hand: learn how to lie industriously and act the part of a rogue. Shouldn’t be too difficult, considering that ever since man fell from grace in Eden, deceit had become ingrained in human nature. Before he’d felt the call to serve, he’d been just as full of mischief as Devlin, and he’d been quite the thespian, too. There hadn’t been a soul they hadn’t been able to fool—not even their closest kin.

For the next week, whenever family or his parishioners visited, Devlin made a show of feeling far too poorly to entertain company for more than a few minutes at a time, and his twin shooed them away so the invalid could rest.

They talked for hours, until they were both hoarse, discussing the particulars of their roles, sharing intimate knowledge concerning the goings-on in their respective lives, and instructing each other on their personal habits.

Christmas morning came. It was heart wrenching to give up delivering his favorite service of the year, but Daniel had to know for certain this would work before being able to leave. Donning clothes usually reserved for work in the garden, he pulled a droopy-brimmed leathern hat low over his brow and covered the lower half of his face, which already sported a heavy growth of dark stubble, with a thick, brown scarf. Thus disguised, he kept his head down and hid among the crowd at the back beneath the choir loft.

It was surreal, watching his brother conduct the service. Almost like watching himself from a distance, a thing that only ever happened in dreams.

To his credit, Devlin pulled it off without a hitch. It was almost disappointing to see his sin-saturated brother manage to look so beatific and benign, to watch his own flock accept him without question as their shepherd.

Had lightning shattered the stained glass above his brother’s head to strike him down at the pulpit, Daniel would not have been at all surprised. He loved Devlin and generally preferred to give him the benefit of the doubt, but he was also a pragmatist who held no illusions concerning the sort of life his twin led.

In truth, he’d never wanted to know the details concerning that life. It saddened him to think his beloved brother might not make it to Heaven. And to imagine his soul being consigned to Hell for eternity was simply unbearable. He held to the hope that Devlin, who’d been tempted to tread the primrose path, would again find his way back to the straight and narrow.

On his way to the vestibule, he noted his sister Diana talking with one Miss Mary Tomblin and felt a prickle of annoyance. The newcomer to Harper’s Grove had quickly become infatuated with him, and he’d warned Devlin about her.

Of course, his twin had laughed it off. After all, his skill at evading matrimonial schemes had been refined in London’s crucible. Fending off the attentions of a naive country mouse would be a simple matter. His confidence had set Daniel at ease.

This complacency, however, was shattered within moments of his brother poking his head in the doorway to tell him the coast was clear—and that Diana had somehow discovered the ruse while trying to play matchmaker between him and Miss Tomblin.

I had no choice but to accept her assistance in the coming weeks, said Devlin, grimacing. David is going to nail my hide to the wall when he finds out what I’ve done.

He won’t, Daniel told him, squaring his shoulders. I know our sister. She’ll keep our secret—even if she’s angry—at least until she knows why we’re doing this. And she’ll never betray us, especially after she understands what’s at stake. When I visit Winterbourne tomorrow for dinner, I’ll make her understand why this ruse is necessary.

Agreed. But must you go there? I don’t like risking more of our family learning about our little charade should you not—

"They’ll think I’m you, Daniel reasoned. You were away so long they hardly know you anymore, so I’ll simply act sullen and make some excuse—I’ll say it’s about my London affairs. No one will wish to talk about that. What of her playing matchmaker with Miss Tomblin? He couldn’t hide his nervousness. How will you handle that? I don’t want the girl hurt, and neither will Diana."

You ought to have seen the look on our sister’s face when she realized her error, replied Devlin, shaking his head. Assure her that Miss Tomblin will be handled with delicacy and tact.

Daniel ran hands over his stubbly cheeks. I greatly fear this will end in disaster no matter how we go about it. By accepting Miss Tomblin’s help, you’ve practically told her to send out wedding invitations.

I disagree, answered his brother smugly. And for good reason—I have a plan, you see.

Said plan was full of odious tasks of the sort to send any gently raised lady into a fit of the vapors. While impressed, Daniel was worried it might be too much. Don’t be too hard on her. Her only real error lies in having become smitten with the wrong man.

As he put away the paraments, he reflected on his brother’s ironically similar predicament in London. He hoped he could manage to discourage Miss St. Peters—without offending her or her father.

Snuffing the last of the candles, Daniel locked up and then helped Devlin make his slow, clumsy way across the short distance to the vicarage. Worry plagued him over Devlin’s slip with their sister. She had quite the temper, and being made to wait would only make it burn hotter. Much as I would like to put off the inevitable, I think it’s better to deal with Diana sooner rather than later, he told his brother as they settled by the fire to warm up. The longer we wait, the angrier she’ll be. I’ll go first thing in the morning rather than waiting until dinner.

I just hope you can get her to yourself long enough to explain.

I’ll manage it.

The following morning, Daniel, dressed in Devlin’s clothes, set out for Winterbourne.

As soon as he and Diana were behind closed doors, she lit into him with fury.

"I want to know what the pair of you are up to this instant," she hissed, her blue eyes, so like his and Devlin’s, accusing him.

The whole sorry tale came pouring out. It was a relief to share the burden with another soul, even if her face grew progressively darker as he outlined the plan.

At last, grim-faced, she nodded. I can see your point—though I like it not. None of it! She huffed out a breath. And what of Miss Tomblin?

His face heated with embarrassment. Dev knows how to handle unwanted attention.

Oh, I’ll wager he does, she retorted, her face coloring. "But Mary is a decent sort. When I put her forward, I only did so because I thought you might like to get to know her better. She really is very sweet."

I’m sure she is, he deadpanned. "But I have no interest. When I do decide to pursue matrimony, let me make it clear now that I shall select my own bride. Gentling his tone, he continued. She won’t be hurt, Diana. If anything, she’ll be relieved to have escaped."

And what if she discovers she’s being played for a fool?

She won’t, unless someone tells her. He fixed her with a piercing stare.

Her face was a study in ambivalence.

He can do this, Diana, he reassured. "And so can I. It is what must be