Scandalously Mine: Fated for a Rogue, #8

By Amanda Mariel

In the glittering ballrooms and scandalous gambling dens of Regency England, the notorious Lord Tristan Breckenridge is a name whispered with both awe and trepidation. When a high-stakes card game leads him to win the captivating Miss Emmeline Brooks, a virtuous lady untouched by the allure of London society, their fates become irrevocably entwined.

 

Tristan, a charming rogue with a disdain for marriage, never expected to acquire a wife through a game of chance. Emmeline, resolute in her determination to avoid scandal at all costs, finds herself bound to a man whose reputation precedes him.

 

As their worlds collide and duty clashes with desire, Tristan and Emmeline must navigate the treacherous waters of an unwanted marriage and their own conflicting emotions. Sparks fly between them, igniting a passion neither anticipated. Can they forge a love that defies expectations? Or will their union unravel, risking everything they hold dear?

 

Scandalously Mine is a tale of temptation, honor, and the unpredictable nature of the heart in a world where love and reputation collide.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Brook Ridge Press
• Release date: Apr 16, 2024
• ISBN: 9798223861232

Amanda Mariel

USA Today Bestselling, Amazon All Star author Amanda Mariel dreams of days gone by when life moved at a slower pace. She enjoys taking pen to paper and exploring historical time periods through her imagination and the written word. When she is not writing she can be found reading, crocheting, traveling, practicing her photography skills, or spending time with her family.

Book preview

One

The drawing room was a stage upon which Mr. Harold Brooks performed his most charming role. His laughter, rich and infectious, filled the space as he regaled his daughter Emmeline with tales of high society’s recent escapades. A casual observer would be none the wiser to the duplicity that lurked beneath his polished exterior, but Emmeline knew better. His eyes, sharp as a hawk’s, missed not a single detail, always searching for opportunities to advance his precarious position within the ton .

Emmeline, my dear, he said, his tone light but laced with an undercurrent of urgency, I have been giving considerable thought to your future. He clasped his hands behind his back and paced slowly before the fireplace, the flickering flames casting alternating warmth and shadow upon his face.

Indeed, Father. Emmeline said, her voice steady though trepidation filled her chest. And what, pray tell, have you concluded from these reflections?

That you are of an age where marriage should be more than a distant notion, he answered, turning to face her with a practiced smile. A suitable match could secure not only your happiness, but our family’s financial stability.

Suitable in terms of affection or wealth, Father? Emmeline’s lips curved in a polite smile, but her tone held a slight edge that betrayed her resistance to the idea of a loveless union.

Both, if fortune smiles upon us, Father said smoothly, approaching her and taking her hand in his—a gesture meant to convey paternal care, yet it felt like a shackle tightening around her wrist. But we must be pragmatic. Love is a luxury that can follow. Security, however, cannot wait.

Is it not possible to have both, Father? Her eyes, wide and earnest, searched his, seeking a glimmer of understanding.

Emmeline, you are a jewel, but even the brightest gem requires the right setting to truly shine. His grip on her hand tightened. Consider Mr. Edmund Wycliffe, a man of vast means and influence. Rumor has it he is looking for a wife capable of elevating his status. He would ensure you want for nothing.

Mr. Wycliffe is a gentleman of... questionable associations, Emmeline countered, her mind drifting to whispered rumors of gambling dens and debts collected under moonless nights. There would be no love between them, and to add insult, marrying such a man would tarnish her reputation.

Speculations and gossip, Mr. Brooks dismissed with a wave of his other hand. What matters is the weight of his purse and the power of his connections. That is the reality we live in, my child.

Reality, Emmeline echoed softly, withdrawing her hand from his grasp and stepping back, the fabric of her gown whispering against the floor. She turned her gaze to the window, where the world outside seemed untouched by the gravity of her predicament. And what of dreams, Father? Do they hold no weight in this reality of yours?

Ah, Emmeline, he sighed, a subtle shift in his stance revealing impatience. Dreams are for those who can afford them. It is time you woke from yours.

For a moment, silence hung in the room, the tension between father and daughter palpable. Emmeline’s eyes lingered on her father’s stern face before she nodded, her lips pressed into a thin line. I understand, Father, she said, her voice barely above a whisper, However, I cannot help but think⁠—.

Emmeline, he said, his tone shifting from warmth to a sharp-edged severity. Our financial situation is growing increasingly dire. It is imperative you find a suitable husband, and soon.

Father, I understand the importance of securing our family’s future, Emmeline responded, her voice laced with frustration. But I cannot simply marry the first gentleman who offers me financial stability. I wish to marry for love.

Love is a luxury we can ill afford, he said, his dark eyes imploring her to grasp the seriousness of their situation. Your duty is to this family and its future.

Father beckoned for Emmeline to follow him into his office. He stopped beside his opulent mahogany desk, his fingers dancing idly over the edges of parchment lined with figures. When Emmeline meet his gaze, he offered a paternal smile that belied the sharp glint in his eyes—a glint that spoke of coin and connection, rather than affection.

Father leaned over the stack of overdue bills, staring sternly at her. You must marry well, and you must do so with haste, he said, his brow furrowing with worry. Leastwise, we shall be ruined.

Emmeline clenched her hands, feeling the burden of her father’s expectations settling upon her. She looked at the stack of bills on the desk, the evidence of their dire financial situation all too apparent. A knot of anxiety tightened in her chest as she considered the limited options before her, a life constrained by convention and duty.

Despite her father’s constant pressure to prioritize financial stability over love, she couldn’t bring herself to accept a marriage without genuine affection. She mustered a weak smile, trying to hide the churning in her stomach. Father, I know a life of poverty would be difficult, but a marriage without love would be even more unbearable.

Love is all well and good, he said, waving his hand dismissively, but it will not keep a roof over our heads or put food on our table. You must think of our family’s future, Emmeline. What of my freedom? Have you considered what happens to a man who cannot pay his debts?

Frustration and anxiety swelled within her as the weight of her father’s expectations bore down upon her. Emmeline struggled to maintain her composure as she held his gaze. Father, I understand our situation, but surely there is a way to find both love and financial stability, she implored, her voice wavering. The season is just beginning. I simply need time to find a proper suitor.

Time is not on our side, my dear, he said, his voice firm. You must be practical.

We have spoken at length, but I find my sentiments unchanged. Emmeline’s posture was as rigid as the spine of the leather-bound books adorning the shelves. She clasped her hands before her, the lace of her sleeves brushing against her fingers.

Surely, you jest. He chuckled, moving closer, his presence engulfing the space between them. An advantageous match would secure your comfort, our family’s standing. You must be sensible in this.

Is it not sensible to seek happiness alongside security? she countered, her voice firm, though her heart pounded a fierce rhythm against her ribcage.

Emmeline, darling, happiness is a luxury we cannot afford to prioritize. I have seen far too many winters to believe in such follies. Security is tangible. It is real. His hand reached out, as if to emphasize his point with a touch, but she stepped back, maintaining the physical distance as a barrier for her convictions. Father’s gaze turned cool. If you do not secure a suitable husband quickly, I will be forced to arrange a match for you.

Then I shall wrap myself in the harshness of reality, Father, she said, her gaze unwavering, even as she felt the sting of his disappointment. For I will not marry the first scoundrel you set before me.

Very well, he sighed, turning away to mask the flicker of frustration that crossed his face. But remember, time is not your ally in this matter.

Her father’s stern gaze followed her as she turned and gracefully exited the room, her heart heavy with unspoken words and dreams momentarily set aside. Emmeline’s steps echoed in the silence as she made her way from the office.

With a steadying breath, she slipped into the sunlit parlor where Lady Arabella Fitzwilliam awaited. Arabella arched a perfectly sculpted brow in silent inquiry as she turned toward Emmeline, the stained glass window overhead casting her in shades of scandalous reds and passionate purples mirroring the tumultuous emotions warring within Emmeline’s breast.

Dearest, Arabella said gently, angling herself toward Emmeline. I can see the turmoil in your eyes. Tell me what’s troubling you.

Emmeline sighed, her fingers worrying the fabric of her gown. It is my father, she confessed. He insists I marry soon, and not just anyone—he wants me to find a wealthy husband who can save our family from financial ruin.

Arabella inhaled a sharp breath.

Emmeline turned from the view of the manicured gardens that sprawled beyond the window as she continued. I find myself ensnared in a thicket of expectation and fear, each thorn a whisper of my father’s will.

Arabella regarded Emmeline with a look of profound empathy. Are things truly that bad?

The dam of propriety that held back Emmeline’s confessions cracked, a fissure wrought by the safety of her friend’s presence. He seeks to barter my hand as one might trade livestock, valuing coin over affection, titles over tenderness. Her voice trembled, betraying the steadfast facade she presented to society.

Arabella rose and crossed the room, her skirts whispering against the Aubusson carpet as she approached Emmeline. She lifted a hand to her friend’s shoulder. Is there not a sliver of hope that love may guide your choice? Arabella asked, her tone gentle yet probing.

Love... Emmeline repeated softly, as if the word were a sacred invocation. She yearned for a connection that transcended ledger books and lineage—a desire whispered in the quiet corners of her heart.

Emmeline paced the length of the parlor, her father’s words pressed upon her chest like a leaden corset, constricting each breath with the relentless urgency of his demands.

Father sees marriage as a solution to his... indiscretions, Emmeline admitted, the truth a bitter draught to swallow. Yet I cannot resign myself to a union devoid of true affection. My soul recoils at the thought of lying beside a man I do not love. She paused before the window.

Oh, Emmeline, Arabella said, moving to join her.

I fear that if I compromise my principles to ensure our family’s fortune, I will be condemning myself to a life of misery, Emmeline confessed, her voice thick with emotion. I cannot…will not…settle for anything less than love.

Then you must fight for it, Lady Arabella said, taking Emmeline’s hands in hers. Hold true to your convictions and do not let fear or desperation dictate your future.

Would that my resolve could shield me from his expectations, Emmeline murmured, her gaze distant. She envisioned herself at the altar, exchanging vows with a stranger, their fates entwined by necessity rather than choice. The prospect left her feeling hollow.

Remember, you are the mistress of your destiny, not a pawn in another’s game, Arabella counseled, her tone laced with the intoxicating promise of rebellion. It is your happiness that must preside over any union.

Yet how am I to navigate these treacherous waters, Arabella? Emmeline’s voice revealed the strain of her predicament. My father’s persistence is unrelenting. His artful coercions are designed to ensnare me in a web spun from his own avaricious desires. He said that if I do not act quickly he will act for me.

Your father, though skilled in the art of persuasion, cannot command the affairs of the heart, Arabella said,