An Inconvenient Wife Read online

  An Inconvenient Wife

  By Caroline Kimberly

  The only thing worse than watching the woman he loves marry someone else would be marrying her himself...

  Ethan Ashford, Earl of Griffin, swears on what little honor he has left that fetching Lady Kyra Deverill, home from Scotland for her wedding, is his familial duty and nothing more. With her father gone, he’s responsible for her well-being—an unlikely assignment for a renowned playboy, under the best of circumstances. Yet Grif finds the assignment all but impossible, and not just because Kyra escapes him at every turn. In truth, he’s lusted after her for most of his life.

  Fleeing England after her father’s death is by far the most reckless thing Kyra has ever dared. It’s either hide in the Highlands or marry the repulsive Earl of Brumley, and she refuses to spend her life married to a troll. But from the enthusiastic way Grif chases—and then kisses—her, it’s clear he no longer thinks of himself as simply her guardian.

  Even if Grif wanted to marry Kyra—which he doesn’t—it’s quite out of the question. He is standing on the brink of financial ruin, after all. And Kyra has never trusted Grif with anything. The rest of her life doesn’t seem to be the place to start.

  98,000 words

  Dear Reader,

  Welcome to the December 2014 releases and happy summer! Okay, so some of you are going “what??” but these letters are often so seasonally directed that I think it’s only fair that our friends in the New Zealand and Australian parts of the world get one fit for them. Plus, I really miss summer so I’d rather talk about that than winter. Also, I’d much rather prefer to imagine I’m on a warm, sunny beach somewhere than in the cold. But whether you’re looking for a beach read or for a book to heat things up, our December releases can fit the bill.

  Michele Mannon wraps up her Worth the Fight trilogy with Out for the Count. Beautiful, all-American kick ass fighter Huntley Wittaker knows in order to win an MMA championship, she must perfect her punch. But when a ball-busting brute of a biker—undercover narcotics detective Bracken Kelly—answers her ad for a trainer, she finds them both drawn into a battle far greater than she’d imagined. Though all three books in the trilogy stand alone, go ahead and pick up the first two, Knock Out and Tap Out.

  Historical romance fans will be pleased to see Caroline Kimberly return with another standout historical romance. Love hurts...especially for Ethan Ashford, who’s been charged with making sure his beloved nemesis, the high-spirited Lady Kyra Deverill, makes it to the altar—to marry someone else—in An Inconvenient Wife. Don’t miss Caroline’s first book, An Inconvenient Kiss, described as Regency meets Romancing the Stone, which has gotten fantastic reviews.

  If you love the reunited lovers trope, Amylynn Bright’s contemporary romance is perfect for you. In Finish What We Started, no matter how many adorable animals he brings into her clinic, Dr. Candace Claesson doesn’t plan on forgiving her ex-boyfriend for the way he ended their relationship five years ago. But when Lee proves to her that the passion between them is still there, Candace has to decide if she’s willing to trust him with her heart one more time.

  Geek girl Lexi Carmichael is back with another action adventure—and more romance. Now Lexi has to face her worst nightmare—going back to high school in order to catch a group of exceptionally talented student hackers. Don’t miss No Test for the Wicked, or go back to the beginning of Julie Moffett’s entertaining series with No One Lives Twice.

  If you’ve been hoping for something different in the new adult category—no college, no contemporary, something that stands out, take a look at Anne Tibbets’ futuristic dystopian duology The Line: Carrier and The Line: Walled. Naya may be a former sex slave but no one will stop her as she fights to conquer both the wall around her city and the one around her heart.

  Danube Adele also offers a unique look at the new adult market with her paranormal romance, Dreams of a Wild Heart. Kidnapped from Earth and taken to a planet millions of light-years away by a seemingly cold-hearted warrior with steamy aquamarine eyes, Dr. Cecilia Bradford desperately tries to find a way back to Earth before she loses her heart to the precious people in need and to a man who claims to need no one, but who won’t let her go.

  With A Grave Inheritance, Keri Edgren continues her foray into the new adult historical paranormal market. Gifted healer Selah has chosen love over duty and followed her husband to London, but can she keep her dangerous secret in her new home?

  Urban fantasy Firewall by Sonya Clark brings the Magic Born trilogy to a thrilling conclusion when reunited lovers risk everything to change the world. Check out the first two books in the trilogy, Trancehack and Witchlight (at least take a look at the gorgeous covers!).

  In the spirit of the holiday season, don’t forget to check out some of our backlist titles including our collections of contemporary holiday romance and male/male holiday romance. All of our seasonal titles can be found here: http://bit.ly/CPHolidays. We have a wonderful collection of holiday novellas to keep you company while you wait in those long shopping lines!

  Coming in January 2015: Marie Force’s romantic suspense Fatal Scandal, and Lisa Marie Rice is back with another Midnight installment. Releases in mystery, historical romance, paranormal romance, steampunk and more!

  Here’s wishing you a wonderful month of books you love, remember and recommend.

  Happy reading!

  ~Angela James

  Editorial Director, Carina Press

  Acknowledgments

  This book would not be possible without the efforts of some very talented people. A huge thank you to my diligent editor, Kerri, for all her hard work and excellent input. Thank you also to my agent, Laura, whose support and guidance made this possible. And last, but certainly not least, thank you to my family for believing in me every step of the way.

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Copyright

  Chapter One

  April 11, 1821

  Lady Kyra Deverill stared anxiously out the window, hoping the chilly spring rain wouldn’t drown her newly planted dahlias. It would be an absolute failure to lose them now. She’d spent the better part of a fortnight painstakingly planting and nurturing those bloody flowers, after all.

  Gardening was a new hobby for Kyra, and a rather unusual one for a darling of the ton, especially a darling who’d once been notorious for her quick wit and feisty temperament. But lately Kyra was too tired to be darling or feisty or even half-witted. The local boys she’d bested at riding and the errant suitors she’d bested at wordplay would no doubt be shocked, if not a bit smug, to se
e her so sedate.

  Somehow life had settled into monotony. Instead of attending the Season’s glamorous evening galas, Kyra had taken to rising at an unholy hour to gallop across the wintry landscape that made up the country estate of Sheffield Manor. After her morning ablutions and a quick breakfast of toast and tea, she was off to attend the business of running her father’s estate.

  As if that wasn’t enough stimulation, Kyra inevitably donned one of her cheeriest day gowns, grabbed a book, and dutifully climbed the stairs to this room, her father’s chamber. She’d devoted so many hours to hiding in her beloved books these last months that even reading no longer alleviated the dark cloud that had settled around her. Once spring had timidly reared its head, Kyra decided she’d had enough tedium, so she’d tromped down to the grounds where the crabbed old groundskeeper, Hobbs, patiently explained the difference between flowers and weeds. Gardening, tame as it was, at least held a certain novelty.

  She glanced out at the garden again. Losing those blasted flowers now would be a failure on her part, and Kyra Deverill did not fail. She bit her lip. Perhaps adding a small pond would boost her spirits. She could even get some sort of waterfowl for it. Swans, perhaps. Better yet, geese. Noisy preening birds might breathe a bit of life into the estate. Yes, an army of geese to honk and nip and annoy the entire household.

  Kyra smiled slightly at her own silliness. If nothing else, the heinous honkers might prove distracting. Hobbs would complain—he seemed to complain quite often about her ideas—but a pond full of life seemed perfect.

  Behind her, a slight rustling of bedcovers told her that her father was stirring. Kyra paused, allowing him a moment to come fully to his senses—she hoped. Sylvester Deverill, eighth marquess of Sheffield, was no longer the bright, witty man she had known and adored her entire life. His condition had worsened of late, and he was not always coherent. Occasionally he awoke lucid, if a bit frail. On those days, though, frailty didn’t stop the marquess from laughing and teasing her like he once did, and Kyra reveled in each moment she had with him.

  Unfortunately, most of his waking moments of late were spent rambling about events from the past, some long before Kyra was born. Once in a while he barked orders, apparently believing he still fought for His Majesty’s service. It was painful for Kyra to watch her intelligent, charismatic father digress into such confusion.

  But the worst times, in Kyra’s estimation, were the hours he spent staring vacantly out the window or at the wall, completely unresponsive, as though his soul had already left him and his body was merely an empty shell that did nothing more than breathe. Seeing him thus filled Kyra with such overwhelming sadness that she felt like it would be less painful to just lie down next to him and simply give up.

  Instead, she planted a garden.

  It was a silly thing, really, her gardening. But she enjoyed the idea of watching something thrive, creating some tangible evidence of life. She needed to nourish something, to tend something that would grow stronger each day rather than waste away. Gardening provided a balm for her soul that neither books nor physical exertion seemed to offer.

  Kyra sniffed, stifling a sob. Riley would not cry. Her older brother would have teased her mercilessly if he saw her crying. How many times had he told her that there was nothing worse than a weepy woman? Kyra had to agree. As usual, thoughts of her brother gave her courage. He always faced adversity head-on, no matter how frightening or painful. Riley would never blubber a lake.

  Taking a deep breath, Kyra attempted to smooth her unruly auburn curls into place, then rose from her window seat and crossed the room to her father’s side. She took the marquess’s hand, so frail she feared to even squeeze it. She peered at the gaunt face, at eyes that had dimmed a bit during his illness, though during his lucid moments they were still the color of rich chocolate. Right now, they stared unseeing at the counterpane. Kyra bit her lip. It was going to be a long afternoon.

  The doctor had told her time and again that her father was unable to comprehend anything in this state. That didn’t stop Kyra from talking to him as if he understood every word, just in case. At first it had been difficult; Kyra had never been one for mindless chatter. But talking was better than brooding in silence, watching him fade away. And it did help to pass the time.

  So she talked. She talked about her books, about her rides, about the rents and their tenants’ comings and goings, the crop yields, her latest investments, the changing seasons, her silly garden. She talked until she was hoarse, and then she talked some more.

  Kyra yammered until dusk. Soon she’d ring for the maid who tended to her father and she would go down to eat supper, alone. Then she would bathe and go to bed, only to wake up tomorrow to face more of the same. If she didn’t go utterly mad first. Kyra sighed and set aside her self-pity. Things could be worse, though only heaven knew how.

  Kyra leaned over and kissed her father’s smooth cheek. “Good night, Papa. I’ll visit again tomorrow.”

  As she pulled away, a withered hand grabbed her wrist with surprising strength. Startled, Kyra cried out as faded brown eyes honed in on her. They blazed with an intensity, a clarity, she hadn’t seen in weeks. A gravelly voice, hardly recognizable as her father’s, rasped, “Kyra?”

  Kyra gave him what she knew was a watery smile. He seemed lucid, yet she knew better than to let her hopes bloom. “Yes, Papa. I’m here. How are you?”

  The marquess blew out a deep breath and settled back onto his pillows. He didn’t release her wrist, however. Instead, he surprised her by taking her small hand in his own. “My little Kay. I’m glad you’re here.”

  Kyra’s heart leaped. He hadn’t called her by her childhood nickname for weeks.

  “Oh, Papa. I’m so glad you’re awake. I was just going to change and go down to dinner, but I’ll ring Maggie and ask her to have Cook prepare us both a tray to eat here.”

  Deverill shook his head. “No, child. There’s no time to eat. You must leave here at once.”

  Kyra’s heart sank. He’d ordered her from his room before. The last time he’d done so, he’d accused her of spying for the enemy. He’d ranted and swore at her, nearly turning violent, and she had very narrowly escaped a dousing from the contents of his chamber pot.

  Kyra rose, biting back her tears. “All right, Papa. I’ll go. I’ll see you again tomorrow.”

  His grip on her wrist didn’t slacken as she expected; instead it seemed to tighten. “No, Kyra. You don’t understand. You must leave Sheffield Manor...” He broke off, squeezing her hand tightly. “I’ve made a terrible mistake.”

  Kyra swallowed hard. The doctor had told her not to play to his delusions, especially when they were as strong as this one, but it was impossible to tear herself away when he was so lost. She thought about her brother and how he might handle this. Riley would no doubt tell the doctor to go to the devil. So Kyra sank back down on her chair and decided to play along.

  “You tell me everything, and we’ll figure out how to fix it.”

  The marquess grunted and shook his head. “Don’t patronize me, girl. I don’t have much time for this world and I hardly want to spend my last minutes listening to a smart-mouthed chit mock me.”

  Kyra bit her lip. “Forgive me, sir. You...you are not always yourself.”

  Her father gave a derisive snort. “Bloody hell, I realize that. But you yourself seem a bit out of sorts. Babbling about embroidery and ponds and geese. Planting a garden. Really, Kay, you’ve become quite dull. Where’s the headstrong, unruly daughter I know and love? I daresay I much prefer you shrieking like a shrew than acting like such a mealy-mouthed...girl.”

  Kyra gave a choked laugh, trying hard not to cry. “I’m here, Papa. I’m still here.”

  The marquess grinned at her. “Good girl. Don’t change, Kyra. You’re perfect the way you are—beautiful and obstinate and much too sharp for your own good. I
’m proud of you, Kay. Always have been.”

  Kyra lovingly patted his cheek. “Now who’s sounding mealy-mouthed, my lord? Stop waxing poetic, and tell me what is on your mind.”

  Lord Sheffield’s grin vanished abruptly. “I’m dying. You know that.” He chuckled as she shook her head vehemently. “Death is probably the one creature more insistent than you, Kyra. In truth, I’m glad to go instead of wasting away in this bloody bed. My only regret is that I’m leaving you to the wolves, sweetheart—”

  “Grif will take care of me when it’s time, Papa,” she interrupted, hoping to stop this type of talk.

  “That is what I am trying to tell you,” her father snapped. “Griffin is not your guardian, Kay.”

  At Kyra’s bewildered look, the marquess closed his eyes and groaned. “Damned if I’m not rather ashamed of myself.” He shook his head in disgust. “I was weak, Kyra. After Riley, I... Damn it to hell.”

  Her father grimaced. “Please understand, Kyra, I wasn’t thinking clearly at the time. I blamed Grif for losing Riley. I know it was wrong, but I was distraught. I allowed my anger to blind me, Kay, and now you’ll be the one to suffer because of my foolishness.”

  Kyra shook her head, not quite understanding. She had known Ethan Ashford, earl of Griffin, her entire life. Known to his friends—and enemies—as Grif, he was Riley’s oldest and dearest friend. He also happened to be Kyra’s least favorite person in all of England. Their long-standing enmity went so far back that she wasn’t sure when or why they started hating each other in the first place, though she was convinced he’d made it his life’s mission to provoke her whenever they shared air. In fact, one of her earliest childhood memories was of Grif lopping one of her braids clean off with a gardening shear and then teasing her with it as she chased him.

  He was arrogant and insufferable and uncompromising, yet as much as she despised him, Grif would be a near-perfect guardian for her—he would ensure her safety without bothering to impinge on her freedom. He wouldn’t bother interfering in her life as long as she maintained her spotless reputation, and he wouldn’t care enough to push her into marriage. Her father had settled a large sum on her, as well as a good portion of the Deverill lands, so money was no issue. It was at least enough to keep her in books and ball gowns and duck ponds for the rest of her days. When, or rather if, she married it would be because she wanted to, not because she needed a caretaker. Grif would understand that.