A Convenient Bride Read online

  PRAISE FOR THE

  SCHOOL FOR BRIDES ROMANCES

  The Scarlet Bride

  “The School for Brides has a new resident, allowing Smith to add another strong, resilient heroine to her feminist series. It’s wonderful to get reacquainted with past characters, and the connection between them, as the plot—complete with suspense, murder, and passion—unfolds.”

  —Romantic Times

  “A very good love story as well as a well-written mystery. It certainly held my interest from beginning to end.”

  —The Book Binge

  “The story kept me on the edge the whole way through.”

  —Night Owl Reviews

  The Accidental Courtesan

  “With a dash of humor, plenty of sensuality, and a fast pace, Smith’s second School for Brides novel is a pure delight. Readers will enjoy the charming cast of secondary characters and the mystery.”

  —RT Book Reviews

  “A wonderful historical romance.”

  —Genre Go Round Reviews

  “A fast-paced, amusing romantic historical filled with fun, and a delight to read.”

  —Fresh Fiction

  “Will appeal to fans of historical romance…Passion, mystery, and intrigue, a fast-paced plot, and a dashing and worldly hero who knows how to work with his hands.”

  —TwoLips Reviews

  “A charming story with characters that engaged you from the first sentence. Truly a joy!”

  —Night Owl Reviews

  The School for Brides

  “Chockablock with plot twists…Plenty of passion and intrigue.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  “Smith makes a dazzling entrance to the romance community with a charming, sexy, innovative tale that sparks the imagination. There’s a bright future ahead of Smith.”

  —RT Book Reviews

  “Delightful…And I loved the twists.”

  —The Romance Dish

  “A great read.”

  —Night Owl Reviews

  “Brings an interesting twist to this era of historical romance.”

  —Fresh Fiction

  “I was completely captivated…Sharp and highly entertaining…Incredibly fun to read.”

  —TwoLips Reviews

  “A warm gender-war historical romance…Fans will cheer.”

  —Midwest Book Review

  Berkley Sensation titles by Cheryl Ann Smith

  THE SCHOOL FOR BRIDES

  THE ACCIDENTAL COURTESAN

  THE SCARLET BRIDE

  A CONVENIENT BRIDE

  A Convenient Bride

  CHERYL ANN SMITH

  BERKLEY SENSATION, NEW YORK

  THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP

  Published by the Penguin Group

  Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA

  Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto, Ontario M4P 2Y3, Canada

  (a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.) • Penguin Books Ltd., 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL,

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  Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  A CONVENIENT BRIDE

  A Berkley Sensation Book / published by arrangement with the author

  PUBLISHING HISTORY

  Berkley Sensation mass-market paperback edition / January 2013

  Copyright © 2012 by Cheryl Ann Smith.

  Excerpt from The Wife He Always Wanted by Cheryl Ann Smith

  copyright © 2012 by Cheryl Ann Smith.

  Cover art by Judy York. Cover design by George Long.

  Interior text design by Laura K. Corless.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  For information, address: The Berkley Publishing Group,

  a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.,

  375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.

  ISBN: 978-1-101-61855-4

  BERKLEY SENSATION®

  Berkley Sensation Books are published by The Berkley Publishing Group,

  a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.,

  375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.

  BERKLEY SENSATION® is a registered trademark of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  The “B” design is a trademark of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher, and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”

  ALWAYS LEARNING PEARSON

  For my readers,

  who continue to offer their encouragement and support,

  this book is for you.

  Table of Contents

  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

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Chapter Thirty-two

  Chapter Thirty-three

  Chapter Thirty-four

  Chapter Thirty-five

  Chapter Thirty-six

  Chapter Thirty-seven

  Chapter Thirty-eight

  The Wife He Always Wanted

  Chapter One

  The first thing Lady Brenna Harrington noticed was the pistol. The second was the unusual shade of blue eyes of the man holding the pistol. The third was the way those eyes bore into her with such intensity that her heart beat at a rapid clip.

  Then, without
warning, the highwayman cursed, lowered the pistol, and slammed the coach door shut without demanding either bauble or coin.

  It took a few deep breaths for her heart to stop pounding in her ears and to recover her senses.

  “That was odd,” she said, screwing up her face. “I may not know all the particulars of coach robberies, but I am certain highwaymen always steal valuables.”

  Her maid, Tippy, let out a whimper of relief.

  Brenna had the opposite reaction. “What sort of thief steals nothing?” As puzzled as she was, it was her next thought that forced her from the seat with a burning sense of urgency. The solution to her woes had appeared in front of her, complete with a pair of bright blue eyes, and she was not about to let him get away!

  He would make a perfect substitute suitor! If she pretended to be smitten with the unsuitable stranger, he’d provide the distraction needed to put off Father until she could find a way out of a marriage to the dreadful Chester Abbot.

  The idea was perfect! Get the highwayman bathed, buy him some decent clothing, and teach him a few phrases of proper English. Once he was outfitted respectably, she might be able to successfully convince Father that she was deeply infatuated with the man.

  Of course, Father would not be fooled for long. He would be outraged that a low-born stranger was courting his daughter, convinced the man was a rogue, out for her fortune, and would be fit to kill. Who knew better how to keep his neck safe from an irate father than an experienced highwayman?

  The plan was flawless; now to convince the highwayman.

  Taking a deep breath, Brenna carefully pushed the door open and peeked out. The thief was urging Brenna’s coachman to continue his journey with clipped words and a wave.

  Fletcher, an elderly coachman who’d served the Harrington family for as long as she could remember, was obviously in the throes of his first robbery, too. He sat frozen, with his hands still lifted over his head, in spite of the highwayman’s insistence that all was well.

  Her mouth twitched at the corners. Lud, the fact that he’d not shot Fletcher made him perfect. A killer of coachmen just would not do. She wasn’t that desperate.

  Gathering her skirt in one fist and clutching the doorframe with the other, she tamped down her reservations.

  Taking advantage of her coachman’s temporary paralysis, she made a hasty climb from the coach in a flurry of gray muslin and white petticoats. Mud squished beneath her boots from an earlier rain, but she ignored the possible ruination of the fine leather and focused instead on the back of the retreating thief.

  “Pardon me. Sir?” Soiling her hem in her haste, she rushed over to him as he collected his waiting horse. She kept her eyes averted from the pistol in his waistband, so as not to lose her courage, and boldly faced him. “Sir, if I could have a moment.”

  The highwayman paused and scowled down at her. He was tall, though not overly so, and unshaven, with several days of beard growth marking his hard jaw. His clothes were those of a laboring man, though cleaner than most. Close enough to touch his dusty coat, Brenna realized that he smelled better than a groom or farmer, too, like strong soap, leather, and rain.

  Most important, though, was his clear lack of wealth: worn gloves, scuffed boots, not a bit of lace on his cuffs. He was likely without the means to give up his life of thievery, even though he didn’t steal her jewels. That information worked well in her favor.

  “Please, I must speak to you privately.” Emboldened by desperation, she pressed ahead and focused away from the fact he was a dangerous criminal and could kill her in an instant. “I’d like to propose a financially beneficial arrangement between us that will thicken your purse and keep my life from ruin.”

  His icy glare set her back on her heels. Why did he not seem intrigued with the offer?

  He was an odd fellow. Perhaps he was new to thievery and inexperienced? She needed to do something to pique his interest.

  Brenna tucked the stray hairs on either side of her face behind her ears so that the diamond ear bobs were clearly visible for his inspection. The pair, and her pearl necklace, were worth a tidy sum—certainly enough to intrigue a thief.

  She braced herself and waited for him to pluck the necklace from her neck.

  He ignored the expensive items and held his angry expression.

  “Young lady, return to your coach.” He claimed the loose reins and walked around his horse. Brenna stepped back as he passed her, her lips parted in disbelief. Her baubles were as uninteresting to him as stones on the muddy road.

  Was the man daft?

  Undeterred, she ducked under the horse’s neck. “Wait, I beg of you. I am in a dire situation and am desperate for help. My father and brother intend to marry me off to a man I find intolerable. I cannot be his wife.”

  His expression didn’t improve. “Perhaps your father and brother know what’s best for you.” He removed his gloves and jerked a stirrup into place. “Women often let emotion muddle their judgment.”

  Brenna grabbed the bridle and ignored the insulting comment. She wasn’t about to chase this thief off by arguing with him.

  Without the highwayman, she’d need weeks, maybe months, to find another disreputable character that wouldn’t be intimidated by her father’s title and wealth. By then, she could be Lord Chester’s new marchioness.

  “Release my horse,” he demanded. She met his eyes and shook her head. She’d not be cowed.

  “Not until you listen to my proposal.” She tightened her grip on the bay gelding. Even if he shot her, it would be preferable to wedding Chester Abbot.

  His exasperated sigh must have carried all the way to London. He briefly closed his eyes—she hoped for patience and not because he was about to shoot her—and crossed his arms across his chest.

  “State your business and be quick about it,” he said gruffly. His icy eyes peered out from beneath mussed sable hair. “I do not have time to waste while you whine about the unfairness of your life. If you need a sympathetic ear, look elsewhere.”

  Brenna’s back stiffened. If she had any other choice, she’d tell this arrogant clod where to take his boorish manners and be done with him. But desperation held her tongue.

  She pulled in a deep breath, knowing that what she did in these next few moments could either save or ruin her.

  “As I previously explained, my family intends for me to marry this man, a dolt of high standing. He is dull and weak and about as exciting as the mud currently wetting my feet. I would rather throw myself under the hooves of your horse than to suffer that fate.”

  His jaw clenched. “What has this to do with me?”

  Clearly his controlled temper was faltering. She rushed on, “The wedding cannot happen. I need you to compromise me.”

  The stranger started and his brows shot up.

  Brenna’s heart raced. Finally, she had his full attention. Her heart raced beneath the shocked surprise in his eyes. She prayed she’d not just made a grave, and possibly fatal, mistake.

  “Have you lost your senses, young lady?” He shook his head slowly and stared as if she’d sprouted horns. “You think that my tossing up your skirts and violating you on this sodden ground will be a superior choice over wedding the man your family has chosen? Are you mad?”

  The words and the way he looked at her left her feeling foolish and a bit childish. Still, Brenna held fast. Her brother, Simon, was already making overtures to Abbot. This man was her only option. It mattered not what he thought of her, only that he’d help her.

  She fingered her expensive necklace. “You will not actually take my innocence,” she clarified, her body recoiling at the thought of him touching her intimately. “You need only misbehave just enough to convince my father and brother that you are a cad, a bounder, out to ruin me. While they are focused on trying to rid me of you, I will be free to choose my own husband. And it will not be Lord Abbot.”

  “Lord Chester Abbot, the marquess?” His eyes lit with confusion. “You are intended for a marquess?
Who are you?”

  “That is not your concern. I will pay you well for any blackened eyes or loose teeth you may suffer at the hands of my father and brother. Then you will vanish before they recover their wits and see you flogged.” She paused to allow him to catch up. “Surely a man in your profession would be happy to line his pockets with coin, even if it comes with a beating?”

  He raked his hands over his head. “You are mad.”

  “I am as clear thinking as you are, sir,” she countered tartly. The back of her neck prickled. “In fact, I think a man who robs coaches has no place to judge me.”

  A heartbeat or two passed before he spoke again. “You think I’m a highwayman, a desperate thief who would take your money and be grateful to have my face pummeled, so that you can avoid being leg-shackled to a marquess?” His stern face melted into a disbelieving smirk. He shook his head and laughed. “What an interesting turn. And I thought this day could get no worse.”

  His humor raised her hackles. She could no longer hold her temper. “How dare you find amusement in my situation! You, sir, are no gentleman.”

  The stranger chuckled again. “There you are wrong, Miss. I am indeed a gentleman.”

  The coach horses rattled their harnesses and brought Brenna’s attention away from the highwayman. Fletcher, though far enough away not to have heard the exchange, was obviously distraught over her close proximity to the stranger.

  “Miss Brenna, please come away from that man,” Fletcher begged, when he noticed her attention turn away from the highwayman. His voice held barely concealed panic. “We must get you home before your mother worries.”

  Posh. Her parents were the reason she was in this fix.

  After learning of the plot to wed her off to the marquess, she’d threatened to sail off with a pirate or some other such thing, and Father threatened to have any servant turned out if he or she took her out of London. Fletcher had finally given in to her pleas for fresh air and sunshine and had taken her on this secretive outing into the country.

  The coach robbery had been an unintended and lucky turn of events.

  “Miss Brenna?” The stranger’s question returned her attention back to him. He’d lost his smirk. “Are you Brenna Harrington?”