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Widowed, penniless Sabrina Whitcomb isn’t looking for romance. What she needs is a husband, and she knows well enough that romance and matrimony aren’t always compatible. While providing for her twins and the child she now carries is paramount, wedding a virtual stranger—even a wealthy one, like Gideon St. Goddard, Duke of Stanthorpe—is no light matter.
Sabrina knows the friend who arranged the union would not promise her to a true scoundrel, but one look at her future husband convinces her that he is a shameless rogue. A shockingly handsome and desirable one, at that. Why has he agreed to marry her?
When Gideon flashes that wicked, seductive smile, the reason hardly matters, but the chance that he’ll steal her heart becomes all too real…
Undeniable Rogue is available on Amazon
“Stare death down, Rogues, and take an oath to The Club.”
“The Rogues Club,” said the men.
Gideon St. Goddard cleared his throat. “Those of us blessed and cursed to survive, and remember, hereby vow to protect the families of those here, now, who go to their just rewards with the dawn.”
“Aye,” they all repeated.
Gideon nodded and read from the parchment they had composed together. “Every dead rogue’s widow, mother, sister, brother, ward, will be blessed with a family of rogues who provide for them. Every corporeal need—food, shelter, warmth against the cold, and when due: a spouse, an education or a living.”
“Aye.” The second response came stronger and held more conviction.
“Raise your flasks,” Gideon said. “And repeat after me. ‘We the members of The Rogues Club, so do vow.’”
After the vow, and a drink to seal it, cheers resounded and hands were shaken, so it hardly seemed possible that in a few hours any of them might meet their maker.
Soon, the men began to talk among themselves, exchanging information about their families, and Hawksworth approached him.
June 18, 1815
After Bonaparte’s Defeat
My dear Sabrina, if you read this, I have passed, yet the sun shines for me now that you are settled. As I vowed, I found for you a husband. With time running out, I exacted from him what amounts to a deathbed promise to wed and protect you.
He is the new Duke of Stanthorpe, honorable, and wealthy beyond your needs. Tell him of your enemy, I implore you, for he will help.
You suffered as the wife of my late half-brother, and for that I make recompense. I shall call you my beloved sister into eternity. Yours, Hawksworth.