скачать книгу бесплатно
The Scandalous Suffragette
Eliza Redgold
Votes for women! Can she fight for freedom and for love? When chocolate heiress Violet Coombes is caught hanging her suffragette banner in a most shocking place, Adam Beaufort Esquire proposes a marriage of convenience! His good name will avert scandal for her family, and her money will save the estate Adam’s father gambled away. Violet accepts, but she’s determined nothing will distract her from the Cause – including her oh-so-tempting husband!
Votes for women!
Can she fight for freedom and for love?
When chocolate heiress Violet Coombes is caught hanging her suffragette banner in a most shocking place, Adam Beaufort, Esquire, proposes a marriage of convenience! His good name will avert scandal for her family, and her money will save the estate Adam’s father gambled away. Violet accepts, but she’s determined nothing will distract her from the Cause—including her oh-so-tempting husband!
ELIZA REDGOLD is an author, academic and unashamed romantic. She was born in Scotland, is married to an Englishman, and currently lives in Australia. She loves to share stories with readers! Get in touch with Eliza via Twitter @ElizaRedgold (http://www.@ElizaRedgold), on Facebook facebook.com/ElizaRedgoldAuthor (http://www.facebook.com/ElizaRedgoldAuthor) and Pinterest: pinterest.com/elizaredgold (http://www.pinterest.com/elizaredgold). Or visit her at Goodreads and elizaredgold.com (http://www.elizaredgold.com).
Also by Eliza Redgold (#u2ce09cc2-0bff-521c-906d-28e8de2db263)
Enticing Benedict Cole
Playing the Duke’s Mistress
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk).
The Scandalous Suffragette
Eliza Redgold
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ISBN: 978-1-474-08890-9
THE SCANDALOUS SUFFRAGETTE
© 2019 Eliza Redgold
Published in Great Britain 2019
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.
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
To my dear friend Anne in Devon,
with love and gratitude.
Thank you to the fabulous Nicola Caws, editor extraordinaire at Harlequin Historical in London, for her fantastic feedback and for agreeing that it was the right time to tell Violet’s story. Thanks to my agent Joelle Delbourgo in New York, for her continued support and much appreciated advice. Thanks to Dr Rose Williams, for her insightful reading of the manuscript. While to Pamela Weatherill, for so many conversations about these topics, must be awarded purple hearts. Many thanks to friends and family, including those who joined us in France, especially to Marina Gillam, who brought the violet creams. To Nikki and Stefan Gasqueres, for the inspiring house-swap in Provence, merci beaucoup. I didn’t expect to be writing fiction again, but I’m glad I did. And the biggest thanks to the suffragettes, for my vote.
Contents
Cover (#ub42eb4c7-9b2a-5bfc-906e-ca275a0b07bb)
Back Cover Text (#u3fdc6adf-9f7d-5b17-9081-9b010b0be844)
About the Author (#u4098a524-0bf3-52c1-9f4e-e1ddf5634961)
Booklist (#ub372a214-804b-5cb1-a838-8a8f248f0fd0)
Title Page (#uce3fd73e-9947-52af-b839-b76ff7651016)
Copyright (#u4f3a8d7a-d53f-5461-bb57-103f1fa630af)
Dedication (#ue72f6469-b0cd-557c-9a40-5fbcae6170f8)
Chapter One (#ucd757b17-3197-5b3a-bfb6-b57334c64ddf)
Chapter Two (#u5be76f65-0819-542b-a430-450cdcbf20bd)
Chapter Three (#u43bdea76-26e8-5bcd-ac47-6292ee33c236)
Chapter Four (#u9fcff901-95d9-52d0-814d-d17b0bad550e)
Chapter Five (#uc1eb281f-b3bd-564a-a190-36a89476f262)
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)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Historical Note (#litres_trial_promo)
Violet Creams (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#u2ce09cc2-0bff-521c-906d-28e8de2db263)
‘The Sun will run his orbit, and the Moon
Her circle. Wait, and Love himself will bring
The drooping flower of knowledge changed to fruit
Of wisdom.’
‘Upon my brain, my senses, and my soul!’
—Alfred, Lord Tennyson: ‘Love and Duty’ (1842)
‘What the blazes are you doing?’
Violet peered down from the edge of the first-floor balcony and managed not to lose her footing. Her perch was precarious as she attempted to tie the banner across the balustrade. She hadn’t knotted either end yet, the banner still clutched in her tense fingers. It would have been much easier by daylight, and from the inside of the balcony, but there was no hope of that. It didn’t help being shouted at from down in the street.
‘What are you doing up there?’ he shouted again.
In the dim street lighting Violet couldn’t make out the man’s face. All she could see was a tall figure clad in a dark coat. ‘It’s none of your concern, thank you!’
‘Of course it’s my concern!’ the man roared. ‘That’s my balcony you’re dangling from!’
‘What?’ Violet let go of the banner and shrieked. ‘Oh! My banner!’
The purple-, green-and-white-striped banner floated away. Leaning out to catch it, she lost her footing on the edge of the stone balcony and tumbled down.
Like lightning the man below jumped. ‘Damnation!’
Violet landed in his outstretched arms. ‘Oh!’
From the cradle of his arms she stared up at him. She saw him properly now, from the gaslight coming from over her shoulder. His hair was dark, falling over his brow. His eyes were a deep blue, so deep they seemed almost black. He was younger than she would have expected from the authority of his voice as he called up to her, but care grooved his mouth, shadowed his eyes.
None of it detracted from him being one of the most handsome men Violet had ever seen.
Time stilled. Clutched in his strong arms, her breathing slowed. Beneath her tight bodice her chest heaved. He, too, took her in, his gaze sweeping over her brown hair that had slipped free from her chignon in the fall, curls whispering around her neck. He scanned her wide brow, her full cheeks that she knew were too plump for fashion. His midnight eyes searched her blue ones that she knew must be wide with shock.
She parted her lips to speak. His gaze shifted from her eyes to her mouth.
Then he plonked her upright on the cobbles.
‘No thanks, then, for rescuing you,’ he said caustically.
‘I’ve lost my banner!’
‘Your banner! You nearly lost your life!’
Violet straightened her spine. ‘I’d give my life for the Cause.’
‘The Cause. You’re one of those damned suffragettes!’
‘I’m proud to be,’ Violet said hotly. ‘And there’s no need to swear.’
‘I’ll do what I damned well like!’
‘And so will I!’ She stamped her boot.
‘Is that so?’ His eyes blazed into hers. ‘Promise me you won’t go climbing any more balconies. It’s madness.’
‘Who do you think you are?’ she demanded. ‘I’ll make no promises to you.’
‘What were you doing up there on the balcony at this time of night?’
‘I thought it was the gentlemen’s club...’ Violet faltered. She’d chosen it as a prime target for one of her banners. Normally it was full of stuffy old men swilling port, or so she believed, but on a Sunday night it was empty, giving her a perfect opportunity to execute her plan.
‘That’s around the corner,’ he said curtly. ‘There are no signs on the club entrances. On purpose,’ he added with a glare.
The tall stone mansions, with their columns and arched windows, were so similar. She’d been so pleased that the building appeared quiet that she’d quite forgotten to double check the address.
Violet’s sense of humour got the better of her. She didn’t know London well and she had carried out her reconnaissance from a passing carriage. She suppressed a giggle, felt the start of a smile.
The scowl on the man’s face wiped it away.
She raised her chin.
‘I must ask you to accept my apology,’ she said with dignity.
‘You had the wrong balcony. This is my home.’ His jaw clenched. ‘For the time being, anyway. I could have you arrested for trespass. For all I know you might be a burglar.’
‘I’m not a burglar,’ she protested. ‘And you wouldn’t dare.’
