Scandal's Redemption (The Scandal Series Book 5) Historical Regency Romance by Pamela Gibson ➱ New Release Tour with Giveaway
Scandal's Redemption
The Scandal Series Book 5
by Pamela Gibson
Genre: Historical Regency Romance
Lady Jocelyn Stafford desperately needs a husband to repair her tarnished reputation. Her obvious choice is her neighbor James, a man who once fancied her. If only she hadn’t cruelly rejected his attentions when she found herself wooed by a scandalous rake with a better title.
James Margrave, Earl of Seaton, must have an heir to keep his estate from falling into the hands of his cousin, which means he has to marry. Lady Jocelyn, who still beguiles him, would be perfect if only he could forget old slights. Instead, James asks Jocelyn to help him find a suitable wife, a task she agrees to perform, hoping to redeem herself in his eyes.
When a series of attacks put James’s life in danger, an immediate marriage becomes critical. Jocelyn is willing and available. But can he trust a woman who once broke his heart and is it fair to wed her when she might become the next victim?
**Don't miss the rest of the series here!**
Scandal's Child
The Scandal Series Book 1
(recently just got it's 1000th review on Goodreads!)
Scandal's Bride
The Scandal Series Book 2
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Scandal's Promise
The Scandal Series Book 3
Scandal's Deception
The Scandal Series Book 4
He didn’t kiss her. Not at first. He stroked her cheek with his knuckles, staring into her eyes as if he could discover all her secrets there. His palm opened and moved down to the back of her neck, raising goose bumps. When he traced the rise of her breasts above her neckline with his forefinger—his gaze never leaving hers—she tingled all the way to her toes.
Parting her lips slightly, she inched so close she imagined his mouth on hers, even though they weren’t touching. When his lips did settle over hers, she closed her eyes and pressed her body against his. The hard ridge of his erection nudged her core, bringing a delicious ache that swept over her until she was a maelstrom of need. She wanted his lips on her face, her neck, her breasts. She wanted to feel his skin beneath her palms, not the fabric of his coat.
But they were in a formal receiving room with the door open, fully clothed, close to a night footman stationed in the hall.
Footsteps echoed down the hall. They jumped apart at the same time, and Jocelyn stifled nervous laughter behind her palm.
James grinned. “I won’t say I’m sorry. I thoroughly enjoyed that kiss and look forward to more.” His eyes danced with mischief. “But not in such a public place.”
“At least Roberts wasn’t sitting in the corner with her embroidery.”
He chuckled, enfolded her once again in his arms, and rested his chin on the top of her head, as if reluctant to let her go. “I am happy we aren’t waiting until summer to be wed. I might try to persuade you to anticipate the wedding night otherwise.”
She laughed against his shoulder, still clinging to him. His observation did not make her blush. She was beyond maidenly embarrassment. She wanted him. Her body was desperate for him. When had she become so wanton?
Reluctantly, she shifted back to gaze at his face, not wanting to miss a single expression. “Perhaps you should consider a special license.”
He tilted his head in amusement. “Your mother will be disappointed because we are not going to have a big London wedding. She would be devastated if our wedding was a simple service in front of our vicar. As it is, the chapel at the castle is quite a comedown from St. George’s.”
“You’re right. I suppose I shall have to tamp down my ardor and comport myself with patience and dignity.”
Oh, if only she could.
Excerpt 2
“Do you still play the harp? As I recall, you were fond of the instrument.”
Her face lit up with true animation. “I do, and I brought it with me. Would you like to accompany me to the music room for a demonstration? You can tell me if I have improved.”
“I would be honored to give you my opinion.” He swallowed the last of his tea and followed Jocelyn into an adjoining chamber. Roberts did not move from her place in the corner.
Jocelyn seated herself behind the instrument, patting the chair beside her. He repositioned the chair slightly so he could watch her fingers pluck the strings and, at the same time, view the expression on her face as she played. When the dulcet tones of Mozart filled the room, Jocelyn closed her eyes and seemed to be letting the music carry her into another time and place where gentle sounds and subtle movements reached the soul.
She had improved, indeed. Beguiled by the melodious tones, he couldn’t keep his eyes off the subtle movements of her shoulders, the way she stroked the strings of the harp with knowing fingers, and the dreamy expression on her face, as if she were one with the music. Her breasts seem to spill over the top of her gown as she leaned forward to reach the farthest strings, and he was mesmerized by the candlelight, the music, and the subtle scent of the flowers on a table behind him.
When she finished, she stopped, opened her eyes, and stared into his as if willing him to move, to put his hands on her and bring her close. He complied, as if drawn by a song that was only in his head, one of yearning and need for human connection. He leaned in, took her face between his palms, and kissed her deeply, running his tongue along the seam of her lips until she opened for him. It was a kiss he’d only dreamed about, her subtle perfume teasing his nose as he left her lips and dropped kisses along her cheek and her neck. Spurred by her soft sounds of encouragement, he kissed her bare shoulder and the tops of her breasts and drew her up as he stood so he could wrap his arms around her.
Her mother wants her to seduce you.
The memory brought him back to his senses, and instead of covering that luscious mouth with his own once again, he placed a chaste kiss on her forehead and dropped his hands.
He swallowed hard. His body was not reacting as a gentleman’s should. He wanted to feel her soft breasts against his chest and kiss her like she’d never been kissed before. He wanted to run his tongue along the lobe of her ear and drop gentle kisses down her neck and along her collarbone. He wanted to move lower and place kisses in the center of her cleavage. He wanted his hands on her. God, he wanted her. Desperately.
I have to leave. Now.
“Forgive me, my dear. I’m afraid your divine music made me lose control.”
She stared at him, her lips parted, her breathing rapid. She clenched her hands and held his gaze, as if forcing herself to remain still.
“Your music was mesmerizing, Jocelyn. I mean that sincerely. I look forward to future musicales where you are the featured artist.” He reached out and took her stiff fingers in his hand, bringing them to his lips. He turned his back so she couldn’t see how aroused he was, then strode into the sitting room, nodded at Roberts, and asked her to tell the butler he was ready to depart.
Jocelyn had followed him into the room and had a crimson flush on her cheeks. Hopefully Roberts wouldn’t notice, but if she’d done a proper job of chaperoning—well, he wouldn’t think about that now.
“I am so glad you found time to dine with us.” If Joss had been affected by their encounter, she gave no hint. The perfect hostess was his Joss. No, not his Joss. He must keep reminding himself. She had dismissed him—cruelly. He was going to marry someone else.
“As I said, invite me any time. I adore your cook. I may try to steal her.”
“You cannot do that, milord. My mother pays her well.”
“Your mother does have a way with getting what she wants, does she not?” He hoped his tone did not sound disingenuous.
“Indeed.”
The butler arrived with James’s outerwear and led him to the door where his carriage awaited. Jocelyn followed. “Please send a note around when Lady Longley returns.”
“I shall.” He turned, bowed, and kissed her hand as a proper gentleman should. Entering his carriage, he turned and waved then headed home.
Lord, how was he going to get through this farce? His feelings for Jocelyn seemed to grow each time he saw her. Perhaps proximity generated lust.
It is more than lust, and you know it.
Slaking his needs might help him forget that he’d once wanted Jocelyn Stafford more than anything in the world and was cruelly denied.
He could visit a brothel.
Or not.
He needed to forget Jocelyn, forget someone was trying to kill him, and forget the fact that he was about to saddle himself to someone he didn’t love.
But could he?
Excerpt 3
“You’re not afraid to entertain a gentleman alone?”
She studied the face of the man who, for several months, meant everything to her. She’d been a naive sixteen-year-old, ignorant of the ways of the world, believing all sorts of romantic nonsense.
He seemed genuinely concerned, his shoulders leaning slightly forward and his gaze holding hers.
“I have no reputation left to protect. As my twin and I are identical, and she was impersonating me at my birthday ball the night of the abduction, there are still those who believe it was me.”
He nodded. “I was there, and I can attest that not once did I think she wasn’t you. Now that your sister has married, can the scandal not be quelled?”
“One would think so. Aubrey—the marquis—insists it was not Jane, but Jocelyn, he had in his clutches. Of course he claims I went willingly and made up a story about a twin as a way to cover my perfidy. Or at least, that is his story.”
Too bad so many believed it.
“Did anyone see you and your twin together?”
“We had one outing on Rotten Row. It was not a fashionable hour. Few people paid us any attention.”
“This is a coil, isn’t it?” He sipped his tea and finished a tart in three bites. Dabbing his chin with a napkin, he crossed his legs and sat back in the chair. “Now tell me how you really are.”
He’d always been a good listener, and the kind expression on his face encouraged her to open to him. “Do you have a few hours to waste, my lord? Because my life has changed from one full of promise to one of disgrace. I wake up every morning and lie in my bed for an hour, not wanting to rise, knowing nothing I do will change the cadence of my days. Sometimes it hurts, James. My whole body. It’s as if I had been in a carriage accident, and my bones and muscles feel sharp pricks of lingering pain.
“I have nothing to do. Nowhere to go. No calls to make. No mother wants me to taint her daughter. Even the villagers this far north have heard of the scandal.” She sipped her tea and, for a moment, pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. “I am a pariah, and Mama thinks it is best I remain here, buried in Cumbria.”
He set down his cup and reached across the space to grasp her hand. She didn’t pull away, craving the comfort of human touch. “Look at me, Jocelyn Stafford, and listen carefully. You are a beautiful, vibrant, intelligent woman. You are living through a difficult time. It may take a week or a month or even a year, but each day, you will feel better, stronger, more resilient, and in time, you will once again be accepted in society. You will survive this. Do you believe me?”
His eyes were still as green as a meadow in summer, and his mouth, close to hers, held a hint of a smile. ’Twas no wonder the foolish young girl she’d been had given her heart to him.
Fishing as a Female Sport
I confess. I’ve never learned to fish. I’ve been around boats most of my life and I’ve known some wildly enthusiastic fishermen and women, but the sport never enticed me to bait a hook and throw in a line.
My heroine in Scandal’s Redemption loves to fish. She was taught by the hero when they were teens, sneaking off while Lady Jocelyn’s elderly governess napped, and when they began to renew their friendship, fishing plays an important part. So, was fishing a “thing” for ladies during the Regency period?
My research says it most likely was not, although there are paintings showing women in small boats fishing right along with gentlemen, holding their poles and angles (hooks). I would guess these might not have been upper class women, but who knows? The sport of fishing was detailed in a book printed as early as 1653 called The Compleat Angler by Isaak Walton. It is still in print today.
In my book Lady Jocelyn is fishing for something else—and the hero just might be reeled in.
Author of eight books on California history and eighteen romance novels, Pamela Gibson is a former City Manager who lives in the Nevada desert. Having spent the last few years messing about in boats, a hobby that included a five-thousand-mile trip in a 32-foot Nordic Tug, she now spends most of her time indoors happily reading, writing, cooking and keeping up with the antics of Ralph, the Rescue Cat. She loves dry red wine, all kinds of chocolate, old Jimmy Buffet sailing songs, and curling up with a good book.
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Hi, I'm Pamela Gibson. Thank you for featuring my book today.
ReplyDeleteThank you for sharing the author's guest post, bio and book details, I love the cover, synopsis and excerpts and I am looking forward to reading this story
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