Thank you and the next book is…

Thank you for reading brOKEN! I hope you loved Giles and Lilly’s scandalous romance!

Keen for the next rogue?

You can read about Viscount Carrington’s return to London in the next Distinguished Rogues romance: CHARITY.

Darling of the ton Oscar, Lord Carrington, has thoroughly lost his way but has always known what he needs to be happy. However, righting past wrongs isn’t easy when he’s betrothed and he’ll have to risk scandal to make everything right again for the woman he loved and lost.

Read an Excerpt

If ever a man was in need of understanding and affection from his own woman, then Oscar Ryall, Viscount Carrington, was clear out of luck tonight. He stood amid the chattering gaiety of his mother’s drawing room, his breathing shallow and fast. For just a moment, he had imagined Bartholomew Barrette had entered the room. His pulse raced. His palms slicked with sweat.

But Barrette was dead.

Oscar had killed the man.

Determined to again push the terror into the quiet recesses of his mind, he skirted the room, searching for better company. A bigger distraction than the inane chatter of the woman he would soon marry would restore his balance.

However, before he had gone too many steps, a hand caught his arm. His mother had horrible knack of appearing out of nowhere.“Lady Penelope will do very well for you, Oscar,” she whispered. “I’m so proud of you, son, although you had some reservations at first. Once she and I become better acquainted, I would enjoy taking her under my wing and introduce her around.”

“She’s an earl’s daughter, Mother,” Oscar murmured. “She is already accepted everywhere and knows everyone we do already.”

“She might be accepted everywhere, but I want to ensure she becomes leader in society. And she should be agreeable to her future husband, too. Do you still have reservations about the match, son?”

The urge to blurt out the truth maddened him. “Of course she pleases me,” he fibbed. “Forgive me. I am merely fatigue.”

His mother, a shrewd and determined woman, peered hard at his face. “You said that yesterday, and last week, too, at the Belmont soiree. Are you certain you’re in good health, my dear?”

Again, he had the urge to blurt out the truth. Only this time he would scream it out loud. He didn’t trust himself not to cause an embarrassing scene in his present state of mind. “There is nothing wrong with me that a good night’s sleep couldn’t fix. Leave me be, Mother. It will all come to rights in the end.”

Oscar desperately wished that might be so. But the dreams, the remembrances of that deadly night, only grew in strength until he’d begun to fear for his sanity. When he closed his eyes, he recalled the slow slide of blood across Barrette’s forehead.

A light touch landed on his arm, and he startled.

His betrothed, Lady Penelope, fluttered her long lashes at him. “Forgive me for the interruption, my lord, but Lady Prewitt desires to take her leave. She has developed a megrim and requires immediate rest.”

Oscar forced a smile to his face for his betrothed’s benefit. “Of course, Lady Penelope. It was good of you to come. I do hope your sister recovers swiftly. A sore head is a terrible affliction and can linger for days, I’ve heard.”

Lady Penelope’s lips turned up in a sudden smile. “They can, can’t they? I will pass along your good wishes.”

When his mother fluttered off to do her duty as hostess, Oscar scanned the guests. None paid him the slightest attention, so he slipped into the adjoining dining room and listened to the soft conversation in the hall. There seemed to be some debate over leaving. However, he wouldn’t interrupt to smooth their departure. He simply couldn’t face another tedious farewell with the woman he had to marry. Not tonight. Tonight he needed so much more than empty pleasantries.

Once his betrothed and her family had departed, Oscar slipped along the quiet hall, only noticed by the butler. Quite used to Oscar’s habit of stealthy escape, the butler retrieved Oscar’s hat and cane without a word. Just to be sure that his betrothed had truly left, he eased the front door open an inch and peered outside. Lady Penelope’s carriage remained below the stairs. Oscar snapped the door closed an inch and listened until it finally drew away. He let out a relieved breath and stepped out into the thick fog.

As if the cloying cheerfulness inside wasn’t bad enough, now he had to traverse through oppressive fog. Hopefully this experience wouldn’t add to his nightly dreams. As it was, almost every encounter, large or insignificant, blended into his oft-repeated dream of killing another man.

The fact that Bartholomew Barrette’s reason had slipped toward madness remained a cold comfort during Oscar’s lonely nights over the past weeks. He still wondered if there might have been another way to disarm Barrette without killing him. Yet his actions had spared his best friend, Daventry, and the woman he’d planned to marry, Lillian Winter, from suffering any injury that might have resulted in their death.

He’d acted quickly to save them. Although Lord Daventry had been effusive in his thanks over his quick intervention, doubt over his actions still filled Oscar with dread.

He had done something that could never be undone. Placed a shadow on his soul. And the only person he might feel better after talking to, refused to speak with him anymore.

Oscar descended the stairs, shoving his hands beneath his arms to calm the shaking. Such jitters caused people to stare and ask questions. Thank heavens he’d managed to hide his misery while inside his mother’s house well enough for tonight but that wasn’t always the case. With so many influential members of society gracing her drawing room, any appearance of distress would turn into a fast-running rumor.

Soft sounds in the distance lifted his head. He peered forward and saw two slight forms moving away from his location. Women most likely. Two more souls foolishly abroad on a night better suited to staying indoors.

Oscar shook his head to dispel the yearning to join the women and perhaps cheer himself out of his melancholy. But making love to a stranger would change anything. He was a betrothed man, and as such, he’d committed to marrying Lady Penelope. Making love to her was well down on his list of desires, too.

He was committed. The contracts were signed. The blessings of the ton had rained down upon his head. His future was set in hard, unforgiving stone.

He was to marry a woman he didn’t love.

Oscar set off toward home at a leisurely pace. He had nothing and nobody waiting, so there was no need to rush to hurry himself along.

Ahead of him, the fast footfalls of the women moving toward Berkeley Square echoed off the buildings. Perhaps they were some of his neighbors. But being out on a night such as this was foolish, not to mention dangerous.

Oscar lengthened his stride to catch up to them in case his protection was needed.