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A Lady for Lord Randall
Sarah Mallory
In a Time of War…Independent schoolmistress Mary Endacott has no intention of ever surrendering to a man – especially when she meets stubborn yet infuriatingly handsome Lord Randall! But with a major battle fast approaching normal rules dissolve, and Mary gives herself to him.… Can True Love Survive?Justin is renowned for his authority on the battlefield, but Mary is a challenge of a whole new kind!He’s determined to seize every moment of happiness while he can, but when the fighting commences will the promise of Mary’s kiss be enough to keep him safe?Brides of Waterloo: love forged on the battlefield…
BRIDES OF WATERLOO
Love forged on the battlefield
Meet Mary Endacott, a radical schoolmistress, Sarah Latymor, a darling of the ton, and Catherine ‘Rose’ Tatton, a society lady with no memories of her past.
Three very different women united in a fight for their lives, their reputations and the men they love.
With war raging around them, the biggest battle these women face is protecting their hearts from three notorious soldiers …
Will Mary be able to resist Colonel Lord Randall?
Find out in
A Lady for Lord Randall by Sarah Mallory
Discover how pampered Lady Sarah handles rakish Major Bartlett in
A Mistress for Major Bartlett by Annie Burrows
What will happen when Major Flint helps Lady Catherine ‘Rose’ Tatton discover her past? Find out in
A Rose for Major Flint by Louise Allen
AUTHOR NOTE (#ulink_bf956f03-1454-5df2-89f0-b774b7a322ce)
Why settle for one hero when you can have a whole bunch? That was the idea behind Randall’s Rogues—a crack artillery unit with brilliant but maverick officers (all handsome devils, of course) brought together by one very special leader: Justin Latymor, Colonel Lord Randall. And so the Brides of Waterloo mini-series was born! A Lady for Lord Randall is the first of three romantic adventures commemorating the Battle of Waterloo, which took place on 18th June 1815.
Randall is a professional soldier with no time for romance—until he meets the fiercely independent Mary Endacott. Against all rational judgement they are drawn together in the heady days before Waterloo, but can they ever find lasting happiness when their lives, their outlooks and even their principles are so very different?
The summer of 1815 was a momentous time. Napoleon was set to dominate Europe; Britain and the Allies were making one final stand against him. It would be nice to think that if Randall’s Rogues had ever existed they would have played their part in helping the Allies to victory on that day.
Working on this trilogy with Annie Burrows and Louise Allen has been immensely enjoyable and I learned even more about my craft—so thank you, ladies. Thanks also to Jos van Loo for his Belgian insider knowledge. Finally I am indebted to Trevor Rutter, whose battlefield tour of Waterloo was such an inspiration. Trevor was also extremely generous with his advice and encouragement while I was writing this book. If there are any errors in the battle scenes then they are entirely my own.
I do hope you enjoy reading this book—do contact me to let me know. You can find me at www.sarahmallory.com (http://www.sarahmallory.com)
A Lady for
Lord Randall
Sarah Mallory
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ISBN: 978-1-474-00591-3
A LADY FOR LORD RANDALL
© 2015 Sarah Mallory
Published in Great Britain 2015
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of Harlequin (UK) Limited
Eton House, 18-24 Paradise Road, Richmond, Surrey TW9 1SR
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.
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www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Version: 2018-07-18
SARAH MALLORY was born in the West Country and now lives on the beautiful Yorkshire moors. She has been writing for more than three decades—mainly historical romances set in the Georgian and Regency period. She has won several awards for her writing, most recently the Romantic Novelists’ Association RoNA Rose Award in 2012 (The Dangerous Lord Darrington) and 2013 (Beneath the Major’s Scars).
Peter O’Toole (1932–2013)
An inspiration for many romantic heroes including Randall, my very own rogue male.
Contents
Cover (#u9c2e575c-a8d6-5022-834e-128f9f24b040)
Introduction (#u2047b89c-65f0-5c57-a566-5fd86f8ac44b)
AUTHOR NOTE (#u621c824a-c38b-5bba-9adc-4ea124be242e)
Title Page (#ubc48878d-621b-52a8-83cb-bca1b178aa32)
Copyright (#u3e471b98-794e-5c14-b8ea-12ec1c7b73cf)
About the Author (#udaefc276-954b-5125-95bf-cbe8e4fd8500)
Dedication (#u047d7b01-d9f7-57fe-bf7f-e8260ee246e7)
Chapter One (#u9ba04af7-4bb1-599f-a39d-8b0d369e1706)
Chapter Two (#ubd819deb-881e-5de7-ab1e-0633a61b1f8b)
Chapter Three (#u12b1c41b-9444-5049-b0b0-119e4e0a9a3c)
Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#ulink_a9970d66-ddbf-51aa-888f-6f07dc1cde81)
Randall glanced at the clock. Had it only been an hour since they had arrived at the Bentincks’? It felt longer. He was not naturally sociable, preferring the company of a few close friends to parties such as this where the room was crowded with strangers, but he knew he must try to make himself agreeable, for his sister Hattie’s sake. The Bentincks were a cheerful couple whose children had flown the nest and who now liked to fill their time and their house with interesting young people. The problem was, their idea of interesting was not Randall’s. Hattie had explained that the Bentincks’ house would be full of intellectuals, artists and atheists.
‘And tradesmen, too, no doubt,’ he had retorted.
‘They are invited because of their intelligence, not their rank,’ she told him and gave a little trill of laughter when Randall grimaced at the idea. ‘You must come, they will be quite delighted to have an earl, a real live peer of the realm in their midst. And a soldier, to boot.’
‘And does the Bishop approve of you and Graveney attending these parties?’ he had asked her, thinking of her husband, the rural dean.
Hattie’s eyes had twinkled merrily at that.
‘Not at all, but Theo loves to go there, he approaches these evenings with all the zeal of a missionary. As he says, what is the point of always preaching to the converted?’
Observing his brother-in-law across the Bentincks’ drawing room, Randall could well believe it. Theo Graveney was involved in a lively discussion with a group of gentlemen in loose coats and untidy hair. Arms were flying and voices were raised as the debate grew ever more heated.
Randall’s gaze moved on. Most of the guests were writers or scholars, he guessed, his eyes dwelling on one or two shabbily dressed men with ink stains on their fingers. There were no military men present, save himself, the rest of the party being made up of tradesmen, artists and even a couple of French émigrés. They were all gathered in little groups, engaged in animated conversation. There was a smattering of women amongst the crowd, some of them pretty, in a blowsy sort of way, and all giving their opinions as decidedly as the men.
Randall disliked such loud, overbearing society and he had retreated as soon as he could to a quiet corner. He had known how it would be and he should have remained at Somervil. Oh, Mrs Bentinck had greeted him warmly enough, but her first comment had warned him just what to expect from the evening:
‘We are very informal here, my lord, and stand on no ceremony. I shall make no introductions, you must take your chances like the rest of the guests.’
She had carried Hattie away then, leaving Randall to mingle as he wished. But Randall did not wish. With Bonaparte even now marching through France and the country on the verge of war again, he was not to be distracted with idle conversation. His sister came up and handed him a glass of wine.
‘Well, Randall, what do you think of our little gathering?’
‘Little gathering, Hattie? Such a number would be considered a crush even in the Latymor town house.’
‘They travel from far and wide to attend the Bentincks’ soirées,’ she said proudly.
‘That may be so, but it is not to my taste,’ muttered Randall. ‘I am a soldier, plain and simple.’ A shout from the far corner caught their attention and he glanced to where a group of young men were now arguing noisily. ‘I have no patience with artistic tantrums.’
‘Pray do not be tiresome, Justin, there are more than just artists here, and plenty to entertain, if you are not too high in the instep.’ Hattie patted his arm, murmuring as she prepared to move away, ‘You should relax and enjoy yourself, dear brother. You are a man of the world, so I trust you not be shocked by the company we keep.’
* * *
Randall knew he could not stay in one spot all evening and he began to stroll around the room, listening to the conversations, but joining in with very few of them. He had not worn his uniform, but began to think he would have been more at home if he had done so. At least then it would have been plain what his role was and he would not have been asked for his opinion on so-and-so’s latest stanzas, or if he had read some new and profound religious tract. He was wondering how soon he could possibly retire without giving offence when a soft, musical voice sounded at his elbow.
‘You look a little lost, sir.’
He turned, vexed to find himself addressed by a woman he did not know. But he should not be surprised at such brazen behaviour, given the company gathered here tonight. He could not recall seeing her before amongst the crowd, for there was certainly nothing blowsy about her. She was neatly dressed in a gown of cream muslin with her dark hair swept up on her head, unrelieved by ribbons or flowers. She carried herself with an assurance that seemed odd in one so young—she looked about two-and-twenty, the same age as his sister Sarah. The woman was regarding him with a humorous twinkle in her green eyes and he found himself wanting to respond with a smile. Impossible, of course. One did not encourage such persons. Still, he replied more politely that he was wont to do.
‘Not lost. Merely daydreaming.’
‘I have not seen you here before. I am Mary Endacott, I am presently staying here. Mrs Bentinck is my cousin.’
She waited, clearly expecting him to introduce himself.
‘I’m Randall,’ he said shortly, rather taken aback by such forwardness.
Her brows went up. ‘The earl, Harriett’s brother?’
‘You are surprised, ma’am?’
His cold tone should have depressed any pretension, but Mary Endacott merely laughed at him.
‘Well, yes, I am. I would not have seen this as your normal milieu. The company is a little...radical.’
‘I arrived at short notice today.’
‘Ah, so you had no choice but to attend.’
He said carefully, ‘I am very happy to be here.’
‘But you would rather not socialise with us. I have been watching you, my lord, and you do not look to be enjoying yourself.’
‘That is because my mind is occupied elsewhere.’
‘On the forthcoming confrontation with Napoleon, perhaps?’
‘Amongst other things.’
