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CANDACE CAMP is a New York Times bestselling author of over sixty novels of contemporary and historical romance. She grew up in Texas in a newspaper family, which explains her love of writing, but she earned a law degree and practiced law before making the decision to write full-time. She has received several writing awards, including the RT Book Reviews Lifetime Achievement Award for Western Romances. Visit her at .
Also available from Candace Camp
The Mad Morelands
MesmerisedBeyond CompareWintersetAn Unexpected Pleasure
The Aincourts
So Wild a HeartThe Hidden HeartSecrets of the Heart
The Matchmaker Series
The Marriage WagerThe Bridal QuestThe Wedding ChallengeThe Courtship DanceAn Independent WomanA Dangerous Man
The Lost Heirs
A Stolen HeartPromise Me TomorrowNo Other LoveSuddenlyScandalousImpulseIndiscreetImpetuousSwept Away
His Wicked Charm
Candace Camp
ISBN: 978-1-474-08076-7
HIS WICKED CHARM
© 2018 Candace Camp
Published in Great Britain 2018
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.
By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.
® and ™ are trademarks owned and used by the trademark owner and/or its licensee. Trademarks marked with ® are registered with the United Kingdom Patent Office and/or the Office for Harmonisation in the Internal Market and in other countries.
Praise for New York Times bestselling authorCandace Camp
‘An exemplary read.’
Publishers Weekly on So Wild a Heart
‘From its delicious beginning to its satisfying ending, Camp’s delectable story offers a double helping of romance.’
Booklist on Mesmerised
‘[Camp] is renowned as a storyteller who touches the hearts of her readers time and time again.’
RT Book Reviews
‘A smart, fun-filled romp.’
Publishers Weekly on Impetuous
‘A clever mystery adds intrigue to this lively and gently humorous tale, which simmers with well-handled sexual tension.’
Library Journal on A Dangerous Man
‘Delightful.’
Publishers Weekly on The Wedding Challenge
‘A beautifully crafted, poignant love story.’
RT Book Reviews on The Wedding Challenge
‘[A] beautifully written charmer.’
Publishers Weekly on The Marriage Wager
‘The talented Camp has deftly mixed romance and intrigue to create another highly enjoyable Regency romance.’
Booklist on An Independent Woman
Contents
PROLOGUE
1892
THE DOOR OPENED. The room beyond lay in darkness, broken only by a swath of moonlight. There was no reason to be frightened, yet some nameless, faceless terror iced Con’s veins. Still, he stepped inside. The fear in him was worse.
The walls of the room were curved, disorienting, and everywhere he looked were clocks—standing, hanging, scattered over tables and stands, lined up in cabinets. Brass hands winked, catching the dim light. Con moved farther in, his heart pounding, and stopped at a narrow table. The tiered rows were padded with dark velvet, and they were lined with not clocks, but compasses, their needles pointing in unison toward the windows. Turning now, he saw that compasses stood in the cabinets and hung on the walls amid the clocks.
He was too late. He knew it with a certainty that closed his throat: he would fail. Con ran toward the window, but he didn’t move. The needles on the compasses began to whirl. Running, gasping, he reached out, knowing he’d never reach it in time. Someone screamed.
Con’s eyes flew open, and he jerked upright in the bed. His lungs labored in his chest, his heart thundering, and he clenched his muscles, fists curled so tightly his fingernails bit into his palms. Sweat dried cold on his skin.
It was a dream.
He glanced around him. He was in his own bed, in his own room. It was only a dream.
Through the open doorway to the adjoining sitting room, he could see Wellie perched in his cage, regarding Con with bright black eyes. That scream must have been the parrot’s screech.
The bird moved from foot to foot and rasped out, “Wellie. Good bird.”
“Yes. Good bird.” Con’s voice came out almost as hoarse as Wellington’s. He sank back onto his pillow, closing his eyes. It had been nothing but a bad dream and easily explained—today was Alex’s wedding day. He was worried about oversleeping and failing in his duties. The problem was he’d been having the exact same nightmare for weeks.
CHAPTER ONE
WHEN CON AWOKE AGAIN, sunlight was shooting through a crack in the drapes straight into his eyes. For the second time, he bolted upright. Heaven help him. After all that, he’d overslept. He jumped out of bed and began to shave.
Wellington called Con’s name and flew into the room, taking up his favorite position atop a bedpost. “You wretched bird—screeching like a banshee in the middle of the night, yet not a word when it’s time to get up.”
Wellie let out a noise that sounded disturbingly like human laughter. Con grinned and patted his shoulder for Wellie to perch on it. Con stroked a finger down the parrot’s back.
“It’s just you and me now, boy,” he said softly. “Alex is going on to better things.”
There was an odd pang in his chest; Con had felt it more than once lately. He couldn’t be happier for his twin—Sabrina was perfect for Alex and loved him madly. Alex was over the moon about marrying her. There was nothing in the world Con wanted more than his brother’s happiness. And yet…he could not help but feel as if a piece of him was leaving.
With a sigh at his own selfishness, Con set Wellie aside and headed downstairs. He found Alex in the dining room, gazing out the window—shaved, dressed and ready to go eight hours before the ceremony. Casting an eye over his twin, Con said, “Eager or terrified?”
“A little of both.” Alex let out his breath in a whoosh. “Thank God you’re finally up.”
“Why didn’t you wake me?” Con asked, going to the sideboard to fill his plate.
“Because it was four o’clock in the morning. Wellie woke me up screeching, and I couldn’t go back to sleep. I didn’t think you’d care to be awakened.”
“Where is everyone?”
“The women have gone to Kyria’s to help with the last-minute preparations. Though what any of them could do to set up a party, I cannot imagine.”
“Mmm. Maybe Thisbe has a formula for it.”
Alex grinned. “Or Megan and Olivia have investigated the subject.”
“I’m sure Mother will enjoy trying to persuade the servants to go on strike.” Con returned to the table.
Alex took a seat across from Con. “Not like Wellie to sound off in the middle of the night like that. One has to wonder what set him off.”
“Does one?”
“Con…did you have that dream again?”
“Yes. It’s not important.”
Alex grunted softly. “It certainly doesn’t seem to have affected your appetite.”
“Little does.” Con gestured toward the pristine expanse of table in front of Alex. “What about you? Have you eaten anything?”
“I had a cup of coffee.”
“No doubt that will calm you down.”
Alex rolled his eyes and went over to pull a piece of toast from the rack. “You’re not going to distract me from your dream.”
“I know. But there’s nothing new to tell. It’s the same dream I’ve had five times now. I’m in a bizarre round room. There are clocks and compasses everywhere, and I have this feeling of absolute dread.” He paused. “Maybe it’s panic rather than dread. I feel as if I’m late. I’m sure it’s just because of the wedding. I’m worried about not getting to the jeweler’s in time for the ring. Keeping this family in line. Being late to the church. All that.”
“I have never in my life known you to be so concerned about being late,” Alex said flatly.
“You’ve never gotten married before.” Con shrugged it off. “Speaking of being late, why the devil are you all turned out in your wedding coat this early? You’ll be creased and stained by the time the ceremony rolls around.”
“I know. I’ll change. It was just… I couldn’t think what else to do.” Alex sighed. “This is going to be the longest day of my life.”
“Why so nervous? You’ve been champing at the bit for weeks. I can’t imagine you’re having second thoughts.”
“Lord, no, nothing like that. But I can’t rid myself of the fear that something will keep it from taking place. That Sabrina will decide to call it off at the last minute.”
“The woman’s mad for you. Anyone can see that.”
“I woke up this morning thinking, what if the Dearborns grab her again?”
“Idiot. She’s at Kyria’s, with all that brood to protect her.”
“I know. Not to mention her friend Miss Holcutt.”
“Indeed. I’d warrant Miss Holcutt could scare off any chap with wicked intentions.”
Alex smiled. “You’re inordinately hard on Lilah.”
“It’s inordinately easy to be hard on Lilah,” Con tossed back.
“I think the reason is you’re also rather sweet on Lilah.” Con’s contemptuous snort only made Alex grin. “Not to mention the fact that she’s the only woman to turn down your advances.”
“That’s not true.”
“Oh, really? What other girl has told you no when you asked her to take a stroll in the garden? For that matter, what woman has turned you down about anything—excluding our sisters, of course?”
“Dozens, I’m sure.” Con paused. “Well, a few. I’m not universally approved of, you know. You’re the one who’s the perfect model of a marital prize.”
“I’m not the one who’s a charming rogue.”
“I beg your pardon. I am charming, of course, but hardly a rogue.”
Alex laughed and reached over to steal a sausage from Con’s plate. “Actually, I’m surprised you aren’t pursuing Lilah. I would think she would be a challenge to you.”
“Maybe I would.” Con’s lips curved in a faint smile. “If she weren’t your future wife’s bosom friend. That makes things awkward.”
“Not necessarily. Not if the two of you suited.”
Con snorted. “What is it that makes a reformed bachelor want to take all the rest of us down with him?”
Alex ignored his plaintive question. “Miss Holcutt is rather attractive.”
Con thought of that bright hair, an indescribable color somewhere between gold and red, that dewy skin, the long slim body beneath her conservative gowns. “Rather attractive” didn’t begin to describe Lilah.
“That’s the problem. Lilah Holcutt is the sort of woman who leads you on a merry chase, and once you manage to catch her, you can’t imagine why you wanted to. She’s priggish, self-righteous, humorless and critical. She’d make any man’s life a misery. Besides, she’s made it quite clear that she detests me.”
Alex crossed his arms, regarding Con thoughtfully. Con was grateful that before Alex could speak again, their mother swept into the room. “Alex. Dearest.”
Both men rose. “Mother. I thought you’d gone to Kyria’s.”
“No, dear. I’m of little use there. Neither are the others of course. Kyria and Miss Holcutt could easily handle it all themselves, but it’s a nice bit of sisterly time. But I’m not going to pass your wedding day away from you.” She took Alex’s face in her hands. Tears glittered in her eyes. “I can scarcely believe you’re getting married. It seems only yesterday you were in leading strings.”
“I’m not the first of your children to marry,” Alex protested.
“I know. But those times, I knew I still had my babies. Now it’s my baby getting married.”
“You have Con.”
The duchess smiled at her other son. “Yes, but it won’t be long before you are married, too, Con.”
“Nonsense. You’ll have me around to bother you for years,” Con told her lightly. “I doubt I’m marriage material.”
Emmeline Moreland chuckled. “Now, where have I heard that before?” She patted Con’s cheek. “And you were never a bother. Either of you.”
“Mother, how could I marry?” Con laughed. “I’ll never find a woman who compares to you.”
Hours later, Con stood beside his brother as Alex’s bride made her way slowly down the aisle on the arm of Uncle Bellard. Con was unsure whether Bellard was supporting her or Sabrina was holding up their small and shy great-uncle. Bellard had been thrilled when Sabrina, having no male relatives of her own, had asked him to escort her, but this afternoon the old man had been dithering about, several shades paler than even the groom.
Alex, oddly enough, lost his nervousness the moment Sabrina came into view. Black-haired and blue-eyed, with a strawberries-and-cream complexion and a bewitching smile, she was a vision, and Alex could not take his eyes off her.
Con looked across at Sabrina’s maid of honor. Lilah Holcutt was tall and willowy, and when she smiled, her lips curved in a faintly lopsided way that never failed to send a sizzle through Con. It was fortunate for him, he supposed, that Lilah was not prone to smile often… at least not around him. She was more apt to send him that look. The one that said she found him irredeemably foolish. Strangely enough, that one, too, set off a little tickle in him.
She was especially attractive today. Her face was too well formed, her form too alluring, her hair too fascinating a color for her to ever be anything but lovely. But today there was something different about her. Con suspected that his sister Kyria had something to do with that. Lilah’s red-gold hair was not pulled back into its usual neat twist that stopped just short of severe. Nor was her blue dress the plain pastel frock she normally wore.
Her gown was a rich vivid blue that accentuated the color of her eyes, with a scoop neckline and a fall of soft lace at the sleeves, leaving much of her arms bare. She had beautiful arms. And her hair, that bright blend of red and gold that Con had never seen on anyone else, was swept up into a soft roll, with a small strand on either side curling down beside her ears in a way that made a man’s fingers itch to touch it.
Lilah’s gaze had been on the bride and groom, but now she glanced over at Con. He sent her a friendly wink, and she frowned. Obviously he had again earned her disapproval. With Lilah, that was easily done. It was one of the many reasons it was wise to avoid her.
But then, wisdom had never been Con’s guiding principle.
