To Tame A Lady (The Reluctant Bride Collection)



  Other Titles by Megan Bryce

  The Fashionista and The Geek

  Boring Is The New Black

  A Temporary Engagement

  Some Like It Charming

  Some Like It Ruthless

  Some Like It Perfect

  Some Like It Hopeless

  The Reluctant Bride Collection

  To Catch A Spinster

  To Tame A Lady

  To Wed The Widow

  To Tempt The Saint

  About To Tame A Lady

  Lady Amelia Delaney is known for her sharp tongue, no-nonsense attitude, and sizable fortune. Numerous suitors have tried to win her hand for the money, for the challenge, and for a rather unfortunate bet. She knows the unflattering reasons behind her numerous proposals– can she ever accept that a man would want to marry her just for herself?

  Jameson Pendrake is a devil-may-care dandy who cares for naught but fun and fashion. But behind his laughing green eyes lies a dark history, and he calls off his wedding because of his fear of repeating the past. He can not simply give up on the idea of marriage– a wife is the best defense against the yearly crop of scheming mothers and their frilly daughters. But to allay his fears he needs a woman strong enough to laugh in the face of his past. A woman unflappable, unwavering, and unbroken. He knows just the woman. The trick, it seems, is in getting her to accept.

 

  Table of Contents

  About

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Epilogue

  Copyright

  One

  Jameson Pendrake, the fourth Earl of Nighting and one of the finest catches in all of England, lay supine on his sofa as he watched his best friend defend Jameson’s dignity. Jameson’s honor had fled some years back but Robin was supremely confident that there was still something left to defend. Robin’s sister, Amelia, knew better and she stuffed a pillow unnecessarily hard under Jameson’s head as she argued.

  “Of course he let her. He deserved it.”

  Jameson had tried to do the right thing. Fix a mistake that should never have been, but was he thanked for it? No, he was unmanned for his efforts. Kneed by his dainty bride-to-be and left groaning on the floor. How, how, could a woman who weighed less than one of his hunting dogs have felled him so effectively? So embarrassingly.

  He could only agree with Amelia. He had deserved it.

  Robin, ever-faithful, disagreed. “No man deserves that and not a one would allow some chit to do that on purpose. She surprised him.”

  Jameson interrupted their conversation. “Amelia, dear. Perhaps the pillow would help more somewhat closer to the injury in question.”

  He received a slap on the arm for that impudence. In truth, she shouldn’t be privy to his injury at all but it was hard to keep secrets and adventures from her. It always had been and he was unsurprised to learn she hadn’t grown out of that talent.

  She said to her brother, “When was the last time you were able to surprise Jameson? Never would be my guess.”

  “And I am not a petite blonde to whom he was engaged. I would tend to think the company would put him at ease.”

  “A woman he’d just left at the altar? I personally think he should have expected a lot more.”

  Jameson stirred, shifting the pillow into a more comfortable position and belatedly worrying that Amelia might indeed think he deserved more. She could do much more lasting damage than Miss Underwood.

  Jameson said, “To be accurate, Amelia, I didn’t leave her standing at the altar.”

  Which was why he’d reacted much too slowly when his gently-bred bride had gone for the jewels. In truth, he’d figured she hadn’t even known what went on in a man’s trousers, but then he’d forgotten she had four brothers. Who would come a-calling sometime this afternoon, he was sure.

  Amelia’s eagle-eyes snared his. “To be accurate, Jameson, one day before the wedding is not sufficient notice for a soon-to-be ex-bride. The only silver lining in this cloud is that she’ll realize you did her a favor before too long.”

  Jameson saluted her with his glass. “With friends like these. . .”

  A tribute to her mood that she didn’t smile. “You know it as well as I. The only one unwilling to face the fact that you would make a lousy husband was the poor girl.” She surveyed his prostrate form and clapped her hands. “Well, no real harm done. I shall make a call on her this morning. No doubt she’ll realize how close she came to disaster. By this afternoon she’ll think it was her idea to call it off.”

  Robin sputtered, “No real harm done? Just look at the poor boy!”

  Jameson personally agreed with Robin. He did feel rather ill.

  Still, if anyone could fix this predicament it was the dragon. Amelia had a way of making even the most resolute fellow change his mind. And resolute had never been a term he would have described Miss Underwood as. Even so, he feared she would not easily come to see his desertion as a kindness.

  Jameson sipped and said, “Good luck, my dear.”

  Amelia took his glass from him and handed it to Robin. “Luck? My dear, you’re a wastrel. I just need time. Robin, please keep him at least halfway sober. He’ll need what little wits he has to keep out of a duel.”

  She swept from the room, a hurricane on a mission. Jameson was fortunate indeed that she was on his side.

  Robin sat slowly, a frown marring a perfectly good cravat. “I say, she treats you very ill. Why do you keep her around?”

  “Why do you bring her? I haven’t the energy to keep her away. Besides, it’s quite refreshing having someone around not blind to my faults.”

  “Oh, I say. You may have a few eccentricities, but I wouldn’t call them faults.”

  Jameson nodded. “You have proved my point, old chap. Now, if you would please refill that glass for me. There’s a good fellow.”

 

  Men.

  Lady Amelia Delaney had never been clear on why they thought they were in charge. She would rectify that if she wasn’t so busy with the two she had.

  Point in case, today’s little adventure. If anybody had asked her, meaning Jameson and he hadn’t, she’d have told him long ago that Clarice was not the right girl for him. She did remember saying something about that but since he hadn’t bothered to mention his intentions until after he’d proposed, it had done little good. And if he had thought at all, he might have asked her the best way of ending the engagement.

  She would have suggested ending it a little earlier, and perhaps would have included a horrendous carriage accident that left him out of commission for a few weeks. With the right persuasions Clarice would have ended it herself.

  Funny though, Clarice’s last act had shown she was made of sterner stuff than Amelia had first thought. Not the best way of making a man change his mind but it did make him stop and think for a moment.

  Of course, Jameson would never fall twice for that trick.

  A pity, really. His injury would give her a few hours of knowing where he was and limit the damage he was inflicting on the world at large.

  Amelia arrived at the Underwood household at the best of time. By the exhausted look of the butler she gathered the explosion had already occurred. All that was left was to sweep up the pieces.

  The butler informed her that Miss Underwood was out, and Amelia informed the butler that if he wished sanity to rule the household anytime soon, he would show her in.

  She was, of course, shown in to the small breakfast room where Clarice and her
mother sat, dejected and red-eyed. Clarice’s light green day-gown was rumpled and a multitude of handkerchiefs littered the table.

  Clarice’s eyes widened and she jumped to her feet when she saw Amelia. Hope and anger warred on the girl’s face and Amelia sighed at the callousness of men and the delusion of women.

  Clarice said, “Has he sent you to get me back?”

  Amelia appraised her coolly. “My dear, you floored him with one smartly-placed knee. I believe the furthest thing on his mind is how to get you back.”

  Clarice’s mother wailed into her handkerchief.

  Clarice sniffed mightily but kept her face in line. “Then why are you here?”

  “To commend you on your forthright action. Indeed, I believe many men will think twice about jilting their brides in the future. And for your extraordinary luck in ridding yourself of an unsuitable husband.”

  Her mother sputtered into action. “Unsuitable? Unsuitable! Lord Nighting is one of the most eligible bachelors in all of England. He would have made Clarice an excellent husband if she hadn’t mauled him.”

  “It was an accident! I was angry!”

  Amelia sat comfortably and poured herself a cup of tea. “Ah. Well, I would keep that bit of information to myself if I were you. An intended kick to a gentleman’s nether regions is entirely different from an accidental one. You wouldn’t want your dance partners afraid you had no control over your limbs.”

  Clarice’s mother hiccupped a laugh. “Dance partners? Why would they take the chance?”

  “My point exactly. Since most of the ton knows Lord Nighting it shouldn’t be too hard to convince them he deserved it. What we don’t want is for other men to be afraid they’ll get the same treatment. It would be quite distressing for them, and unnecessarily ruin your chances for a good match.

  “By the by, dear, I think from now on we should say the kick was intended, the location was not. It will be much easier for everyone to forgive a dainty kick to the shin that went misplaced.”

  Although Amelia would not care to wager how long that delicious bit of gossip would circulate. Jameson was a particularly virile specimen and Clarice’s unmanning of him straight from a comedy.

  Clarice sniffed. “It is no good, Lady Amelia. I have been jilted, ruined. No man will want to marry me now, let alone dance with me.”

  “I disagree. First of all, no one knows that he jilted you. And if we work this right no one will ever believe it. Despite what your mother thinks, Lord Nighting is not fit for marriage. At least to a sweet, beautiful girl like you. He is enough to break anyone and the fact that you attacked him will only prove what the ton has known all along. A woman must take matters into her own hands when dealing with him.

  “No, my dear. After tonight’s festivities, where you will be happy and Jameson will be in hiding, the ton will embrace you and place the blame where it is due.”

  Clarice sat slowly, eyeing Amelia. “I thought you were his friend.”

  Amelia paused with her cup halfway to her mouth. “Of course I am. Once he hears my plan he will thank me kindly for alleviating the pain he so carelessly created.”

  After she persuaded him, of course. Jameson was no more fond of being made a fool than any man. However, he would not be going anywhere today to contradict the rumors she would be starting. If his injury did not keep him at home, she would.

  Clarice stared down at the table. “Is there no chance. . .”

  Amelia stifled a sigh. Despite his reputation, Jameson was not insensitive. He would not have wanted to hurt the girl and he’d done what he thought was best. In this instance, Amelia agreed with him; if not, she would have marched him to the altar herself. But Clarice was much too demure to ever be able to handle him. Their aborted marriage would not have been a happy one for either party.

  Amelia said, “Do you love him?”

  “I thought I could. Someday.” Clarice looked at her mother out of the corner of her eye and blushed. “He is very handsome.”

  Her mother’s sobs continued noisily. No doubt she had pictured golden-haired grandchildren in detail.

  Amelia said, “There are other handsome, less aggravating, men. Life with Jameson would be one frustration after another and you deserve someone gentler. Someone who will put your wishes ahead of his own and who would not need to be hit over the head to see your point of view. I’m afraid Jameson thinks he always knows best.”

  Clarice’s eyes flashed. “Did he think this was for the best then?”

  Amelia said gently, “Yes, he did. Else he would not have hurt you so.”

  “I would not like to think I was so wrong about him. That he hadn’t cared for me at all.”

  Amelia glanced at Clarice’s mother, then stood pointedly. “I believe fresh air would do you good, Clarice. Would you take a turn with me out to the garden?”

  Amelia did not know if intelligence or kindness made Clarice agree, but she came. It was possible she simply wanted to get away from her mother; it was blessedly quieter outside.

  Clarice remained quiet as they walked and Amelia allowed her some time. Amelia was not heartless; the girl had taken a fairly fatal blow. Without her intervention, Clarice would no doubt end a bitter spinster, ostracized from polite society.

  Jameson was a scoundrel.

  However, he did have his reasons, and Clarice deserved to know them.

  Amelia said, “Have you heard the gossip of Jameson, my dear?”

  Clarice looked startled. “Gossip? Has he done something dreadful?”

  Amelia hid her smile. Jameson had really made this too easy. Even his devoted– well, recently-devoted– bride was willing to believe the worst of him.

  Amelia said, “Not anything recent, although I will rectify that today, but from his past. About his parents?”

  Clarice frowned and said slowly, “No. But there can’t have been anything too terrible about them. Father would never have agreed to the marriage if there were.”

  “It is a shame young women are kept so ignorant. I believe a great many surprises could be lessened if we were simply informed. However, this happened a long time ago. Mayhap the only person it still affects is Jameson.”

  Amelia sent a prayer to the skies, hoping one day Jameson would forgive her, then said, “His mother killed his father and then took her own life.”

  Clarice gasped but Amelia simply nodded. “He was. . . indiscreet.” She glanced at the girl, hoping she wouldn’t have to explain mistresses and the reason for them. Fortunately, Clarice blushed. Tomorrow would have been her wedding day after all and what little instruction she’d received was apparently enough.

  Amelia said, “They fought. A vicious physical fight that ended with both of them at the bottom of the grand stairs. Jameson’s father died there. His mother was paralyzed on one side of her body, her face frozen in a mask of hate and terror.”

  Amelia still remembered Jameson arriving soaked and frightened, muddied and sobbing. He had run miles through London to get her father but it had been too late. When her father had returned, Jameson in tow, he had forbidden his children to go anywhere near the place. Amelia still wished she had obeyed. The sight of Lady Nighting’s face had haunted her nightmares for years.

  “His mother lived for two more months, then wheeled her chair into the pond and drowned.” Amelia glanced at the girl’s green face. “I wish she had died the same night as the Earl. For two months, Jameson lived alone with her. Looking at her, listening to her. Hate had poisoned her and she did all she could to make sure her son would be nothing like his father.”

  She had succeeded, though Amelia suspected not in the way she had meant. Jameson had known his father to be cold and dutiful, and Jameson was anything but. Amelia suspected Lady Nighting had meant for Jameson to not give in to his animal flesh. But twelve year-old boys rarely took things as planned.

  No, Jameson stayed far from responsibility. His engagement to Clarice had come as a shock; the ending of it much more in character. If he had no wi
fe, he had no fear of humiliating her. It would be too easy to humiliate Clarice.

  Clarice asked quietly, “What was his father like?”

  “Grey and dreary. I believe the only exciting thing he ever did in his life was have a mistress. However, when an earl loves his mistress more than his wife and child, more than duty, he can forget that other people’s opinions matter. His mistress became an increasingly common sight around town. On his arm, in his carriage. Lady Nighting was whispered about, laughed at, humiliated, pitied. She had been a very beautiful woman and I would think the pity was what would have stung the most.”

  Clarice looked at the garden, unseeing. Up until now, the poor girl had probably pictured the laughter of the ton, not the pity.

  “I believe you’re right, Lady Amelia. Pity. . . Pity might indeed be worse than laughter.”

  “Laughter is a comment on the past, my dear, while pity is a comment on the future. One can learn from the mistakes of the past, but how can one defend oneself from the future?”

  Clarice stopped and looked her fully in the eye. “Why are you telling me this?”

  “Because I want you to understand that Jameson was afraid he would do to you what his father did to his mother. That is why he ended the engagement. And also understand that he doesn’t realize that by ending the engagement he has done exactly what he feared. To him, this is the lesser evil.”

  Clarice looked away, her small fists clenched, and Amelia gently covered one with her hand.

  “I also want you to understand that he is correct. What you are feeling and what you will go through is a tenth of what his mother went through. And you at least have the opportunity to undo the damage before it is too late. To change the laughter and the pity to something else entirely.”

  Clarice voice was very small as she asked, “How?”

  Amelia linked her arm through Clarice’s. “Gossip is a game, my dear. And the winner is almost always the first one out of the gate. We shall start a little rumor that you were the one who ended the engagement. That’s it. The rumor mill will do the rest; I’m sure they will come up with something suitably horrific. And tonight you will be happy and relieved and looking for a replacement.”

  “Do you really think this will work, Lady Amelia? Even if everyone believes I threw him over instead, that won’t make me look very attractive as a partner.”

  “I dare say you will have ten marriage proposals in the next week. Never underestimate the allure of a challenge.”

  The poor child still looked unhappy. She was not grasping her good luck as quickly as Amelia had hoped.

  “My dear, let me be the first to tell you that life with Jameson would be one frustration after another. There is nothing wrong with that but some, if not most, personalities are poorly suited to that lifestyle. You need a calmer husband, and I would advise you not to accept any proposals that come in the near future. Let the hot-heads weed themselves out and then find a decent man to spend the rest of your days with.”

  Clarice sighed, looking out at the distant sky. “I don’t think I shall find anyone quite like Lord Nighting. He is so very handsome. And charming.”

  Amelia nodded. “He is, but so is the devil. Now off you go. Tonight you must look radiant. You must look as if the future is before you and you never realized how wonderful it was going to be.”

  Clarice squared her shoulders. “Thank you, Lady Amelia. I truly wonder if this will work, but I do feel better.”

  “Don’t thank me, Clarice. Thank your knee.”

 

  The brothers of Miss Underwood could only be described as fops.

  Jameson wondered briefly where she had learned that little move, as he doubted it was from them. But perhaps they’d been wilder and less inclined to giggle when they were younger.

  They came sooner than Jameson had expected and he’d not got around to informing the butler to keep them out. Thankfully, Robin was still around, but after the first cries of horror and dismay he’d realized they were more upset with him for disturbing their breakfast than with jilting their sister.

  Brother one said, “I say, man, do you know what havoc a sister can create?”

  And brother two. “I shouldn’t think we’ll be back for breakfast anytime this week.”

  Brother three chimed in with, “My head’s still pounding from the screams.”

  Brother four was clearly the most upset. And Jameson had to agree he had good reason.

  “And look at my cravat! Just look at it!”

  There were an ungodly number of them, and all so similar in dress and manner Jameson had never figured out who was who.

  Robin poured glasses for them all.

  Brother one said, “I did like you, you know. Excellent fashion sense.”

  He nodded to brother two, who nodded back. “Excellent. Remember the new knot his man taught ours?”

  “Not much more you can ask for in the blighter who’s taking your sister off your hands.”

  “Too true. We won’t be getting any better for her now.”

  Robin topped up Jameson’s glass. “She’s a sweet girl. I’m sure there’ll be dozens lined up for her, now that she’s available again.”

  Four snorts echoed his statement.

  Brother three said, “Fat lot you know. She’s a silly little twit.”

  Brother four concurred. “Not much in the purse or the upstairs.”

  Jameson laid his head back down on the pillow, unable to care any longer just who was saying what.

  They soldiered on without him.

  “And she’s not getting any younger.”

  “She had a brief surge in popularity once his lordship here snagged her but that’ll be gone before you can say the engagement’s off.”

  “Not that we blame you, man.”

  “No, no. Understand completely.”

  “Still, would’ve been nice having a lord in the family.”

  “Too right.”

  Jameson realized he’d escaped more than a marriage with his hasty exit that morning. The brothers had been fine fun during the engagement but Jameson knew the party would have ended much too quickly. In his opinion there could only be one glorified dandy in a family and this one was blessed with four already.

  Robin obviously concurred with that opinion; he sipped his drink with a look that said all too clearly that five dandies in a room was four too many.

  Jameson would have been forced to give up his fashionable ways simply to keep himself fresh and separate from the brothers Underwood. He suppressed a shudder and took a steadying drink to fortify himself.

  He felt a momentary twinge of real regret for Miss Underwood. Neither her brothers nor her fiancé cared more for her well-being than for his own. He sent a silent prayer that Amelia could indeed find Miss Underwood a better-suited match. The poor girl deserved something better than the five self-absorbed men in this room.

  But Jameson knew, unfortunately a tad too late, that he could not be that man for Miss Underwood. He might remember for a time to be courteous and generous with his attentions, but then he would forget. Miss Underwood, gentle girl that she was, would never remind him. She needed a man whose very core centered around caring for others.

  What Jameson’s core consisted of he knew not but he feared it centered around drink and waistcoats. Watching the brothers Underwood prance around the room he thought for a moment that he might need to make a change in his life.

 

  Amelia’s afternoon had been filled with tea and carefully-worded hints to three of the chattiest young ladies she knew of. She had no doubt that by this evening there would be little else talked of but Jameson and Clarice. She’d hurried to tell Jameson and Robin her plan and found the two men entertaining four identical blonde boys laughing into their glasses.

  Amelia said, “It looks as if I was wrong about needing to keep your wits about you. Will there be a duel then?”

  Four blonde heads turned in her direction and gaped at her. “A duel?”


  “He’d kill us with a glance.”

  “Good lord, woman. What madness.”

  The last brother held his hand to his chest. “Is that expected?”

  Amelia said, “Not any longer. I don’t know what nonsense Lord Nighting has been filling you with but Clarice ended the engagement.”

  “Never!”

  “I don’t believe it.”

  “I told you she was a twit.”

  The last blonde boy said, clearly perplexed, “Why wouldn’t she want to marry his lordship?”

  Amelia looked at the smug expression on Jameson’s face. “I can think of two reasons right off hand.”

  He smiled at her. “What can I say, Amelia. Some of us are loved beyond reason.”

  Robin looked between Amelia and Jameson. “If she ended it, why did she kick him?”

  Jameson nodded sagely. “Yes, Amelia, why did she?”

  “After having been jilted, Jameson lost his temper and said something quite rude, as he is wont to do. Clarice lost hers in the process and tried to kick him in the shin. Alas, the poor girl has terrible aim.”

  She shook her sadly. “I’m sorry, Jameson. I tried to make her see reason but she wouldn’t take you back. She said what you did was unforgivable.”

  Five heads swiveled to Jameson. One blonde boy whispered, “What did you do?”

  Jameson sipped his drink, staring at Amelia.

  She hid a smile as five heads swiveled back towards her. “What did he do? She wouldn’t tell me, but she said she could never marry him. No matter how much he begged.”

  Jameson coughed into his drink and Amelia rushed ahead before he could speak.

  “No, Jameson. It’s best for all to simply give her up. She said your actions were not those of a man she wished to spend her life and heart on. I daresay she’s suffered much already. I can only assume you’ve been up to your tricks as usual.”

  Jameson’s eyes glittered. Whether it was with anger or with laughter was sometimes hard to tell with him.

  “Well, Amelia. Marriage can not tame all men. I suspect I am of that ilk.”

  “We all suspect it. And now Clarice has seen the light. I advise you to stay your distance from her; her wrath runs dangerous.”

  Four blonde heads turned as one to stare at the prostrate form of their once and future king. Lights went on as their eyes rested at the apex of his thighs, and Amelia had to bite her cheek from laughing at Jameson’s discomfort.

  The blonde boys set their drinks down in unison. “Well, he had us going.”

  “When all along she’d been the one to end it.”

  “He must’ve done something rotten to get her so mad. Wonder what it was?”

  The last brother took a long look at Jameson and slowly shook his head.

  “It must have been terribly rotten.”

  The blonde boys took their leave, whispering fiercely between themselves. Amelia ordered tea, and no one said a word until the sound of the closing door reached them.

  Jameson stared at her. “Amelia.”

  Robin set his glass down sharply. “This takes the cake. Rumors will be flying in less than two hours.”

  “May I remind you both that what Jameson did this morning was terrible and rotten. I have simply rearranged the order to protect the poor girl you got into this mess. You will suffer far less than she would.”

  Jameson looked less than pleased. “They’ll have me murdering a child before the night is over.”

  Amelia said, “I expect it will be more along the lines of a breeding mistress or your intentions to house one of your bastards that will win the populace’s vote.”

  Robin sputtered in surprise. “Amelia!”

  “Oh Robin, your defense of him is touching. But I have no doubt that even with the worst of rumors he will find a suitable wife willing to overlook it for his face and fortune. But the next time, Jameson, I trust you will ask for my opinion before you go haring off. God knows what a mess you make of it by yourself.”

  Jameson said, “Perhaps I should simply leave the looking to you, my dear. I assume you could find me a decent girl.”

  “That would be an excellent idea. But I’d wait for the rumors to die down a little. You weren’t in a rush, were you?”

  “Hardly.”

  Amelia nodded. “I thought not. When the time comes, I’ll find you an excellent match. Clarice is a nice girl, but too nice for the likes of you. You need someone who instead of reacting to the news of your impending desertion would simply tie you to the altar. That would have been the simplest course of action.”

  Robin guffawed. “Simplest? You sound like Napoleon of the marriage mart.”

  Jameson stared at Amelia, his hand halfway to his mouth. “It would have been less painful at least, old friend. Your sister may be in the right.”

  Amelia was surprised her being right was even in question. “Of course I am. You are not the kind of man who goes willingly to his doom. . . er, I mean his future.”

  Jameson smiled and sipped his drink. “You are, as always, completely correct. I will, in the future, defer to your superior knowledge of my character. Robin? A toast. To your sister and her diabolical, yet ingenious, disentanglement of my and poor Miss Underwood’s future.”

  The siblings stared at him, one looking for signs of excess drink, the other for signs of sanity. Finding neither they drank their respective beverages.

 

  Two