To Wed a Wild Lord Read online

  This “must-read series” (Romance Reviews Today) overflows with “steamy passion and sharp wit” (Booklist, starred review)!

  THE HELLIONS OF HALSTEAD HALL

  To fulfill his grandmother’s ultimatum,

  Lord Gabriel Sharpe pursues a spitfire he believes desperately

  needs him. Then the tables are turned. . . .

  Like everything daredevil Gabe Sharpe does, wooing Virginia Waverly is a high-stakes game. Ever since her brother, Roger, died racing Lord Gabriel, Virginia has yearned to take her revenge on the reckless lord by beating him at his own sport. But when she challenges Lord Gabriel to a race, the hellion called the “Angel of Death” counters with a marriage proposal! Gabe knows Virginia is in dire financial straits—so why not marry her and solve both of their problems? She claims to be appalled by his proposal, but her response to his kisses says otherwise. And when the two of them begin to unravel the truth behind Roger’s death, Gabe takes the greatest gamble of all, offering the courageous beauty something more precious than any inheritance: true love.

  MEET THE AUTHORS, WATCH VIDEOS AND MORE AT

  SimonandSchuster.­com

  THE SOURCE FOR READING GROUPS

  Thank you for purchasing this Pocket Star Books eBook.

  Sign up for our newsletter and receive special offers, access to bonus content, and info on the latest new releases and other great eBooks from Pocket Star Books and Simon & Schuster.

  or visit us online to sign up at

  eBookNews.SimonandSchuster.com

  “Anyone who loves romance

  must read Sabrina Jeffries!”

  —New York Times bestselling author Lisa Kleypas

  HELLIONS OF HALSTEAD HALL

  “Another sparkling series with winning potential” (Library Journal) from the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of the “warm, wickedly witty” (RT Book Reviews) School for Heiresses series

  SABRINA JEFFRIES

  Praise for

  HOW TO WOO A RELUCTANT LADY

  “Jeffries delivers a delightful addition to the scandalous Sharpe family saga. . . . Quick pacing, witty dialogue, and charmingly original characters set Jeffries’s books apart, and this one is sure to please old fans and make plenty of new ones as well.”

  —Publishers Weekly (starred review)

  “The latest addition to Jeffries’s exceptionally entertaining Hellions of Halstead Hall series is richly imbued with steamy passion, deftly spiced with dangerous intrigue, and neatly tempered with just the right amount of tart wit.”

  —Booklist

  All of the Hellions of Halstead Hall titles are also available as eBooks

  A HELLION IN HER BED

  “A perfectly matched pair of protagonists who engage in a spirited battle of wits and wiles and a lively plot blending equal measures of steamy passion and sharp wit come together brilliantly in the second addition to Jeffries’s tempting new Hellions of Halstead Hall series.”

  —Booklist (starred review)

  “Wonderfully original. . . . It’s more than the original plotline that captures readers; it’s Jeffries’s sense of humor, her engaging characters, and delightfully delicious sensuality that spice things up!”

  —RT Book Reviews (4 ½ stars)

  “Rich with family interaction and overflowing with scintillating wit and heart-stopping sensuality, this addition to Jeffries’s addictive series satisfies while cleverly doling out tidbits that will keep readers eager for the next installment.”

  —Library Journal

  “Engaging . . . fun and moving.”

  —Romance Reviews Today

  “A winning hand of hearts and spades!”

  —Fresh Fiction

  “Another enjoyable romance that will entertain readers from cover to cover.”

  —Reader to Reader

  “A Hellion in Her Bed enchants with its likable characters. . . . Amusing and poignant.”

  —Single Titles

  “Yet another delicious love story from Sabrina Jeffries.”

  —Romance Junkies

  “A lively, energetic romance with two smart, strong-willed protagonists that are sure to capture your heart.”

  —Joyfully Reviewed

  THE TRUTH ABOUT LORD

  STONEVILLE

  “Jeffries pulls out all the stops with a story combining her hallmark humor, poignancy, and sensuality to perfection.”

  —RT Book Reviews

  “The first in a captivating new Regency-set series by the always entertaining Jeffries, this tale has all of the author’s signature elements: delectably witty dialogue, subtly named characters, and scorching sexual chemistry between two perfectly matched protagonists.”

  —Booklist

  “Lively repartee, fast action, luscious sensuality, and an abundance of humor.”

  —Library Journal

  “The Truth About Lord Stoneville has the special brand of wit and passion for which Sabrina Jeffries is recognized, where each enthralling scene will thoroughly capture your imagination.”

  —Single Titles

  “Sabrina Jeffries . . . starts another excellent series which will alternately have you laughing, crying, and running the gamut of emotions.”

  —Romance Reviews Today

  Also by Sabrina Jeffries

  The Hellions of Halstead Hall Series

  How to Woo a Reluctant Lady

  A Hellion in Her Bed

  The Truth About Lord Stoneville

  The School for Heiresses Series

  Wed Him Before You Bed Him

  Don’t Bargain with the Devil

  Snowy Night with a Stranger (with Jane Feather

  and Julia London)

  Let Sleeping Rogues Lie

  Beware a Scot’s Revenge

  The School for Heiresses (with Julia London,

  Liz Carlyle, and Renee Bernard)

  Only a Duke Will Do

  Never Seduce a Scoundrel

  The Royal Brotherhood Series

  One Night with a Prince

  To Pleasure a Prince

  In the Prince’s Bed

  Pocket Star Books

  A Division of Simon & Schuster, Inc.

  1230 Avenue of the Americas

  New York, NY 10020

  www.­SimonandSchuster.­com

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2011 by Deborah Gonzales

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information address Pocket Books Subsidiary Rights Department, 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020.

  First Pocket Star Books paperback edition December 2011

  POCKET STAR BOOKS and colophon are registered trademarks of Simon & Schuster, Inc.

  The Simon & Schuster Speakers Bureau can bring authors to your live event. For more information or to book an event contact the Simon & Schuster Speakers Bureau at 1-866-248-3049 or visit our website at www.­simonspeakers.­com.

  Cover illustration by Jon Paul Ferrara

  Handlettering by Iskra Design

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  ISBN 978-1-4516-4240-7(print)

  ISBN 978-1-4516-4248-3 (eBook)

  To Susan Williams, who’s always been there for me.

  Thank you for all the wonderful years!

  And to my beloved brother, Craig Martin, the adrenaline junkie of the family, who inspired Gabe’s character.

  Stay safe!

  Contents

  Acknowledgments

  Prol
ogue

  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

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  Much thanks goes to Nicole Jordan, for her invaluable input concerning horses and racing. You’re a doll, Nicole, for reading it so quickly!

  And to Deb Marlowe for loaning me her books on horse racing in England and for giving me her usual helpful information. What would I do without you?

  Dear Readers,

  I am at my wits’ end with my grandson, Gabriel. It is because of him I demanded that all my grandchildren marry within a year or be disinherited. His best friend died racing Gabe, yet nearly seven years later, the reckless lad broke his arm racing another fool on the same treacherous course! That is what set me off. And no wonder—people call Gabe the Angel of Death precisely because he courts it at every turn.

  Now, his best friend’s sister, Virginia Waverly, has some notion about seeking vengeance by beating him in a race on that same course, and instead of ignoring the girl’s mad challenge, Gabe wishes to court her! I believe he may have lost his mind. Granted, she is a spirited, pretty little thing, but her grandfather, General Waverly, will never approve the marriage. The man is too stubborn and willful for words. Why, the cavalry general had the audacity to call me a “she-devil”! No man gets away with that, no matter how handsome and spry he may be for his age.

  But I digress (General Waverly distracts me unduly). I cannot decide what I think about Gabe’s interest in the pert Miss Waverly. I do want him to marry, but he is still grappling with his guilt over what happened to her brother—how can I be sure that she won’t make that situation worse? My only consolation is that she seems as fascinated by my grandson as he is by her. Only today General Waverly and I stumbled upon them after what may very well have been an intimate encounter! Her lips were decidedly red, and Gabe looked as if someone had just jerked his horse out from under him. The man is clearly unused to dealing with respectable women.

  Meanwhile, I am getting too old for this. If this courtship does not turn out well, I may just have to tie Gabe up in the barn until he sees sense. Wish me luck, dear friends!

  Sincerely,

  Hetty Plumtree

  Prologue

  Ealing, April 1806

  People were yelling again.

  Seven-year-old Gabriel Sharpe, third son of the Marquess of Stoneville, tried covering his ears to blot out the sound. He hated the yelling—it made his stomach knot up, especially when Mother yelled at Father.

  Only this time Mother was yelling at his oldest brother. Gabe could hear it plain as day, because Oliver’s bedroom was right below the schoolroom. Gabe couldn’t make out the words; they just sounded angry. It was strange for Oliver to be yelled at—he was Mother’s pet. Well, most of the time. She did call Gabe “her darling boy,” and she never called his brothers that.

  Was that because they were almost grown? Gabe scowled. He should tell Mother he didn’t like being called “her darling boy” . . . except that he did. She always said it right before she gave him lemon tarts, his favorite.

  A door slammed. The yelling stopped. He let out a breath, and something loosened up inside him. Perhaps everything would be all right now.

  He gazed down at his primer. He was supposed to be reading a story, but it was stupid, about a robin who got killed:

  Here lies Cock Robin,

  Dead and cold.

  His end this book

  Will soon unfold.

  It told about all these creatures who did things for the dead Cock Robin—the owl who buried him, and the bull who tolled the bell. But though it said how Cock Robin died—the sparrow shot him with an arrow—it never said why. Why would a sparrow shoot a robin? It made no sense.

  And there were no horses, either. He’d flipped ahead through the pictures, so he knew that for sure. Lots of birds and a fish and a fly and a beetle. No horses. He’d much rather read a story about a horse running a race, but there were never any children’s stories about that.

  Bored, he glanced out the window and saw his mother head for the stables with long, strong strides. Was she going to the picnic to tell Father on Oliver?

  Gabe would love to see that. Oliver never got into trouble. Meanwhile, Gabe always did. That’s why he was sitting in this stupid schoolroom with this stupid book, instead of having fun at the picnic—because he’d done something bad and Father had ordered him to stay home.

  But Father might forgive him if he had Oliver to be mad at. If Mother was going to the picnic, Gabe might even convince her to take him, too.

  He glanced across the room; his tutor, Mr. Virgil, was dozing in the chair. Gabe could easily sneak out and ask Mother. But only if he hurried.

  Keeping an eye on his tutor, he slipped off his chair and edged toward the door. As soon as he reached the hall, he broke into a run. He ran down the stairs, then half-slid and half-ran along the tiled hall at the bottom before vaulting out into the Crimson Courtyard.

  A quick dart across and he was in his favorite place in the whole world—the stable. He loved the sweaty smell of the horses, the crunch of hay underfoot in the loft, the way the grooms talked. The stable was a magical place, where people spoke in quiet, even voices. No yelling, because it bothered the horses.

  He looked around, then sighed. The stall holding Mother’s favorite mare was empty. She was gone. But he didn’t want to go back to the schoolroom and that stupid book about Cock Robin.

  “Good day, young master,” said the head groom, Benny May, who was shoeing a horse. He used to be a jockey for Gabe’s grandfather, back when the Sharpes put lots of horses in races. “Lookin’ for someone?”

  Gabe wasn’t about to admit he’d wanted Mother. Instead, he puffed out his chest and tucked his thumbs in the waistband of his breeches like the grooms did. “Just wondering if you need help. Looks like the grooms are gone off.”

  “Aye, to the picnic. I imagine a lot of folks will be tramping in and out this afternoon. The fine ladies and gentlemen will tire of the outdoors before long.” Benny kept his gaze on the horse’s foot. “Why aren’t you at the picnic?”

  “Father wouldn’t let me go on account of my putting a spider in Minerva’s hair and refusing to apologize.”

  Benny made a choking sound that turned into a cough. “So he said you could come to the stables instead?”

  Gabe stared down at his shoes.

  “Ah. Gave Mr. Virgil the slip again, did you?”

  “Sort of,” he mumbled.

  “You ought to be nicer to your sister, y’know. She’s a sweet girl.”

  Gabe snorted. “She tattles. Anyway, I came to check on Jacky Boy.” That was Gabe’s pony. Father had given it to him on his birthday last summer. “He gets cranky sometimes.”

  Benny’s hard stare softened into a smile. “Aye, that he does, lad. And he always settles right down for you, don’t he?”

  Trying not to show his pride at the compliment, Gabe shrugged. “I know how to curry him the way he likes. Does he . . . um . . . need grooming?”

  “Well, now, it’s funny you should ask, because I do believe he could use a little care.” He jerked his head toward the tack room. “You know where we keep the combs.”

  Gabe sauntered off to the tack room. He quickly found what he needed, then let himself into the stall. Jacky Boy sniffed him, hoping for a lump of sugar.

  “Sorry, old chu
m,” Gabe murmured. “Came out here in a hurry. I didn’t bring you anything.” He began to curry the pony, and Jacky Boy relaxed.

  There was nothing better in the whole world than grooming Jacky Boy—the soothing motion of the comb, the pony’s breathing quieting to a soft rhythm, the feel of Jacky Boy’s silky coat beneath his fingers . . . Gabe never tired of it.

  Out in the stable, people came and went, but in the stall it was just Gabe and Jacky Boy. Occasionally, something would disturb his reverie—a haughty gentleman demanding a change of mounts, a groom apologizing to some rude lady for not getting her mount as quick as she liked—but for the most part, it was silent except for the sound of Benny’s hammer tapping another shoe into place.

  Even that sound ended when Benny was called away to help with an approaching carriage. For a few minutes Gabe was in a state of pure bliss, alone with his pony. Then he heard boots tromp down the aisle.

  “Anyone here?” a man’s voice called out. “I need a mount.”

  Gabe shrank onto the floor in the front corner of the stall, hoping not to be noticed.

  The man must have heard him, for he cried, “You there, boy. I need a mount.”

  He’d been discovered. When the man came closer, he called out, “Sorry, sir, I’m not a groom. I’m just looking after my horse.”

  The man stopped outside the stall. Since Gabe sat on the floor with his back to the stall door, he couldn’t see the man. He hoped the man couldn’t see him, either.

  “Ah,” the man said. “One of the Sharpe children, are you?”

  His stomach got queasy. “H-How did you know?”

  “The only children who would own horses stabled here are the Sharpe children.”

  “Oh.” He hadn’t thought of that.

  “You’re Gabriel, aren’t you?”

  Gabe froze, frightened of the clever man. He was in for it, if his father heard of this. “I-I . . .”