Blurb
She
was his ruin.
Ada
Hanniford is an oddity. An American heiress, a beauty, she’s sowed
her wild oats and paid the price in sly rumors. Preferring
politics to promenades, gardening to waltzing, she rebuffs the toffs
who would seduce her for the fun of it or propose to marry her merely
for her millions.
Embracing
impending spinsterhood, she’s shocked to meet a man who fascinates
her with tales his own adventures in exotic lands. She’s drawn to
him, charmed by his kisses and his sense of honor.
Then
one night, he braves society to save her reputation…and in the act,
destroys his own.
He
was her salvation.
Victor
Cole is a survivor. A man who has worked diligently to overcome his
lack of title and land, he has finally buried the disgrace of a wife
so scandalous he had to sail thousands of miles away to wipe away her
stain.
Then
he meets Ada Hanniford. She’s so natural, so unique, he must court
her and kiss her. But would he be wise to claim her? With each word,
each sigh, he comes closer to loving her. But when the one man whom
he should respect shames her, Victor cannot allow him to sully her.
Rescuing her becomes his sole purpose. But to save her means he stirs
scandal once more…and destroys his own bright prospects.
How
can a man and woman who love each other overcome the slings and
arrows of their scandalous pasts and build a life together if no one
else can forget their sinful pasts?
Scandalous
Heiress is the fourth book in Those
Notorious Americans series but can also be read as a standalone
novel.
Book
1: Wild Lily (Lily and Julian)
Book
2: Daring Widow (Marianne and Remy)
Book
3: Sweet Siren (Liv and Killian)
Book
4: Scandalous Heiress (Ada and Victor)
Book
5: Title, TBD. (Camille and her mystery lover!)
Buy
Links
Excerpt
“Mama,
I’m not cut from the cloth of a husband.”
“Of
course you are. Most in the family prove it. Your father and I have
been supremely happy. Your sister, Augustine is still infatuated with
her husband John after four years. Catherine loves her Colin, the
same. She told us last week, they’re to have an addition to their
three in December.”
“I
will congratulate them when I see them.” His two younger sisters
had met and fallen in love with their future husbands in much the
same slapdash fashion as their parents. So had he with his wife. The
difference was that Victor’s inamorata had proven to be a witch.
However, his older half-brother Richard, the marquess of Ridgemont,
had yet to fall in love with anyone. In lust, yes. Often. And always
with the wrong sort. Why should this latest one be any different?
“Tell me more about her, Mama. The sooner, the better. The voices
outside,” he said as he tipped his head toward the garden, “include
said young lady, I assume?”
“They
do. You will meet her and not understand why he is so infatuated.”
“She’s
American.”
“Yes.”
“Boldness
may be what he needs. And from the sounds of it she likes children.”
His
mother lifted a shoulder. “She does. But rumor says she has fifty
thousand as her marriage portion. God in heaven knows what the
monthly earnings are off that.”
Impressed,
he heard her awe at the enormity of the lady’s dowry. A princely
sum, worthy of a marquess, no doubt. “That’s quite a tick to owe
one’s tailor.”
She
mashed her lips together. “He owes no such amount to his tailor.
His solicitors, on the other hand, may require a king’s ransom to
get him out from under this latest legal action.”
Victor
arched his brows. “That bad?”
“I
have not asked him. He does not tell. Rumors say Dundalk will wring
every penny from him.”
“And
a new wife would remedy the financial issue and end the whispers.”
“They
would,” his mother said with resignation in her voice.
“So
we will assume she loves him and he her. After all,” he said and
put his cup and saucer down on the table. “There must be more than
her money for him to consider a leg shackle. At thirty-three, he’s
getting long in the tooth.”
His
mother winced. “She’s…passable.”
“Pass—”
Putting his napkin to his mouth, he wanted to guffaw. Richard would
never even glance at any woman who wasn’t incomparable. Dull,
American, uneducated. Lascivious, adulterous, unprincipled. Without
thought, he’d take each to his bed if he fancied their faces or
forms. But plain or ugly? Neither merited a moment’s fascination
for him.
“Ah,
let’s go in now!” Called one young lady to her companion and his
daughters.
“Here
they come,” his mother whispered. “Gird yourself. Your girls have
been starved for you and the two ladies can be whirlwinds.”
He
began to rise to his feet.
In
a rush of giggles, wispy white muslin and exclamations of delight,
four beings dashed in front of him. Two jumped up and down. The other
two, taller and willowy, stood behind the younger, grinning and
wide-eyed as if they’d never seen a man before. In the shadows,
stood the girls’ amah, young demure Wu-lai.
“Papa!
Papa!” His two chicks barreled into him before he could find his
balance. They fell in a heap to the sofa. They were kissing his
cheeks, and hugging him as if they’d squeeze the stuffing from him.
“Oh,
Papa!” crooned his oldest, Vivienne as she gazed up at him with a
grin so like his own. “We’re so glad you’ve come. We’ve had
such a good time.”
“We
have!” said six-year-old Deirdre with the earnest turquoise eyes
resembling her grandmother’s and his own. She smelled of roses,
like the red bud in her hand. “You’ll like our new friends.
Grandmama likes them.”
He
cupped Dierdre’s cheek and then his oldest girl’s. He kissed them
on the crowns of their shining strawberry blonde heads. “You must
introduce me, then, shouldn’t you?”
“Oh,”
said his oldest in serious rebuttable, “we cannot, Papa. Grandmama
must introduce you, mustn’t you, Ma’am?”
His
mother chuckled. “You can see what good influence I’ve had,
Victor, that I’ve managed to teach them rules of etiquette in the
two weeks you were in London.”
“Wu-lai
does not know rules of the English, Grandmama,” Vivienne said with
concern. “We will teach her the right things. I promise.”
Wu-lai,
his children’s Chinese nursemaid, had come with them to England. At
fifteen, she was the daughter of the comprador to his factory
in the port of Shanghai. Bright, she had learned English quickly in
his household school for his servants in the British quarter. When he
decided to return to England, he’d asked her if she would like to
accompany them. When she agreed, he was overjoyed he’d have help to
care for his children on the long trip from China home.
Disentangling
himself from his girls, he faced the two young ladies who had laughed
and played in the garden. And he was riveted by their appearance.
His
mother began her formal introductions.
He
registered the formalities of her words.
“Miss
Esmerelda Moore, may I present my son, Lord Victor Cole, lately of
Shanghai, China. Here to stay in England forever, we do hope. Don’t
we, girls?”
His
children echoed his mother’s sentiments.
But
his head buzzed.
His
eyes filled with the vision before him. One young lady, plain and
pleasant.
“How
do you do, Miss Moore,” he said, bowing slightly. “I am delighted
to meet you.” You, with your brown hair and round little face.
“And
this is her good friend from New York and Baltimore, the youngest
daughter of Killian Hanniford of Hanniford Companies. I think you
wrote last year that you’ve heard of his businesses? Yes? May I
present Miss Ada Hanniford.”
“Yes,
indeed. How do you do, Miss Hanniford.” How do you do? With that
open smile, that riot of glistening cinnamon hair and jolly blue
eyes, you fare quite well, I’d imagine. A princess among commoners.
Forthright,
open, up to the occasion, she beamed at him. American in every frank,
refreshing way. She was a froth of confections, plush pink lips, rosy
cheeks and spotless ivory complexion. He could imbibe all the
sweetness of her and never tire of the sight. Or the desire to
taste her perfections.
She
dropped a quick curtsey. As she rose, she locked her lovely eyes on
his. “I am delighted to meet you, Lord Victor.”
“The
delight is mine.” I see why Richard wants every scintillating,
voluptuous inch of you…and why he mustn’t have you.
He
would take you, use you, despoil you. And rob you of that spontaneity
which takes my breath and makes me wonder if I can ever regain it.
About
the Author
Cerise
DeLand loves taking readers to distant times with men who cannot undo
those dastardly corset laces…and ladies who for a few minutes
endure their fumbling!
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Cerise
DeLand's Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B0089DS2N2
