Her Reformed Rake (Wicked Husbands #3)(97)

She kissed him then because she couldn’t resist, her fingers continuing to work on his buttons. “Then perhaps it’s your turn to conquer her.”

Their mouths met again, and when their lips at last parted, the Duke of Trent carried his Daring Duchess to her chamber, and he thoroughly took his turn.





Thank you for reading Her Reformed Rake! I hope you enjoyed this third installment in the Wicked Husbands series. Sebastian and Daisy’s story was a true labor of love for me. Their happily ever after was hard fought, hard won, and well-deserved.

I’m delighted to announce that a brand new spin-off series, featuring the League and its assorted cast of characters, will be coming soon! If you’d like to keep up to date with my latest releases and series news, sign up for my newsletter


here. As always, please consider leaving an honest review of Her Reformed Rake. Reviews are greatly appreciated!

If you’d like a preview of Book Four in the Wicked Husbands series featuring the eccentric Georgiana, Duchess of Leeds, and her sinfully handsome, wayward husband Kit, do read on.



Until next time,





Her Deceptive Duke

Wicked Husbands Book Four



Georgiana, Duchess of Leeds, hasn’t seen her husband since he left her on their wedding day for an extended hunting expedition and never returned. But she isn’t the sort to wait around pining for an arrogant oaf who can’t bother to recall he has a wife, no matter how sinfully handsome he may be.

She finds all the fulfillment she requires in caring for the stray cats and dogs of London’s streets. Until, that is, the duke returns, and she uncovers the truth about where he’s been…

Kit, Duke of Leeds never wanted to be duke. He was perfectly content with his life as one of Her Majesty’s most dedicated spies until his brother’s unexpected demise left him forced to marry an American heiress to save the family estate from ruin. The day he married her, he left for a secret assignment in America, with no intention of returning.

Seriously wounded and his cover ruined, Kit’s forced back to London where he finds a townhouse running amuck with creatures and a wife who can’t bear the sight of him.

With husband and wife beneath the same roof at last, their marriage of convenience sparks into a passion that’s as undeniable as it is unexpected. But is desire enough to bring two wary hearts together? And once Kit’s wounds are healed, will Georgiana’s love be enough to make him stay?





London, June 1881



Six months after he’d left London, brimming with the thrill of a new mission, Kit Hargrove, the Duke of Leeds, returned in ignominy. He didn’t return to legions of admirers or effusive headlines in The Times or the gratitude of Her Majesty. He didn’t return a hero; quite the opposite, as his arrival on England’s shores had been shrouded in secrecy. And he certainly didn’t return to the loving arms of his abandoned wife, who likely never gave a damn if she ever saw him again.

He returned alone save for the company of the servants he’d employed for the dubious task of assisting him on his journey. He returned, uncertain if he would ever be able to regain the proper use of his left leg again. Unable to walk himself to the front door of his palatial London townhome without assistance.

He returned and knocked on the bloody door of his own home as if he were a visitor.

And a behemoth bearing an ominous glare and an ugly scar on his cheek opened the portal. “Her Grace is not at home,” he announced grimly, and then slammed the portal closed.

Devil take it.

Kit gritted his teeth. He was weak, he was weary, and he was currently at the last place he wished to be, undertaking the most demeaning task his mind could fathom. He leaned on his cane, exhaling as a fresh onslaught of pain speared him. Of all days that he could be denied entry to his own home, this was not the goddamn day he would’ve chosen.

He rapped on the door again.

The rude, mountain of a man masquerading as a butler reappeared, scowling. “Told you. Her Grace isn’t at home. Sod off.”

Kit was prepared this time. He caught the door’s slam with his opened palm even though it nearly cost him his balance and what remained of his pride. He steadied himself and glared at the bastard barring him entrance.

“Do you know who I am?” he demanded.

“Do I care?” The insolent bastard returned. “No.”

“You’ll care when I sack you,” he growled. “I’m the Duke of Leeds. Your employer. Now grant me entrance at once.”

The mountain’s eyes narrowed. “We aren’t expecting the duke. He’s abroad.”

“Behold. He has returned,” Kit deadpanned.

The blighter remained unconvinced. “How do I know you’re who you say you are?”

“Shall I summon the bloody queen?”

“Ludlow,” came a lilting alto voice with an accent that wasn’t quite proper. “I need your assistance with Lady Philomena Whiskers. I think she’s about to give birth to a litter of kittens.”

Surely that sweet voice didn’t belong to her. And she was talking to the varmint who blocked the doorway to his home as if he were a lord.

From behind the mountain, Kit caught the swirl of navy silk, a glimpse of chestnut braid, a smooth brow, one wide, green eye. Oh, bloody hell. It was her, alright. He may not recognize her voice, but he would never forget those eyes. Green and gold with flecks of cinnamon, and fringed with decadent lashes.