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About the Author
ANNIE BURROWS has been making up stories for her own amusement since she first went to school. As soon as she got the hang of using a pencil she began to write them down. Her love of books meant she had to do a degree in English literature. And her love of writing meant she could never take on a job where she didn’t have time to jot down notes when inspiration for a new plot struck her. She still wants the heroines of her stories to wear beautiful floaty dresses and triumph over all that life can throw at them. But when she got married she discovered that finding a hero is an essential ingredient to arriving at ‘happy ever after’.
Courtship
in the Regency Ballroom
His Cinderella Bride
Devilish Lord, Mysterious Miss
Annie Burrows
MILLS & BOON
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In The Regency Ballroom Collection
Scandal in the Regency Ballroom –Louise Allen
April 2013
Innocent in the Regency Ballroom –Christine Merrill
May 2013
Wicked in the Regency Ballroom –Margaret McPhee
June 2013
Cinderella in the Regency Ballroom –Deb Marlowe
July 2013
Rogue in the Regency Ballroom –Helen Dickson
August 2013
Debutante in the Regency Ballroom –Anne Herries
September 2013
Rumours in the Regency Ballroom –Diane Gaston
October 2013
Rake in the Regency Ballroom –Bronwyn Scott
November 2013
Mistress in the Regency Ballroom –Juliet Landon
December 2013
Courtship in the Regency Ballroom –Annie Burrows
January 2014
Scoundrel in the Regency Ballroom –Marguerite Kaye
February 2014
Secrets in the Regency Ballroom –Joanna Fulford
March 2014
To Aidan, my own hero,
for always believing in me.
I wouldn’t have been able
to do this without you
Chapter One
Lady Hester Cuerden did not wait for anyone to answer the kitchen door of Beckforth’s vicarage. After thumping on it with her clenched fist a couple of times, she just pushed it open and marched straight in.
Caught in the act of hiding a book under her skirts, Emily Dean, the vicar’s daughter, looked up from her chair beside the fire in guilty shock. Her eyes widened when she realised that Hester was visibly trembling.
‘Whatever is the matter?’she asked, forgetting to conceal the worthless novel from her closest friend as she got to her feet.
Hester pulled off her gloves as she headed for the warmth of the kitchen fire. ‘C…cold…’ she said through chattering teeth. ‘And w…wet…’
‘And absolutely filthy!’ Emily grabbed Hester’s gloves before they had a chance to contaminate the freshly scrubbed deal table on which she had been about to deposit them, and ran with them instead to the sink in the adjacent scullery.
With numbed white fingers, Hester fumbled the buttons of her overcoat undone. Emily came back in time to see her drape it over the back of the chair she had just vacated and stretch her hands out towards the fire.
‘Where’s your bonnet?’ Emily asked as Hester tucked a wayward coil of her distinctive vibrant auburn hair behind her ear. ‘You came out in this weather without one?’
‘Of course not,’ Hester said. ‘I was prepared for any eventuality when I set out. I had a bonnet, and a shawl wrapped over it to keep the wind off, and a basket full of provisions over my arm. You want to know where they all are now? In the bottom of a ditch, that’s where.’
Emily blinked at the circle of greenish slime that was dripping on to the flagged floor from the uneven hem of Hester’s skirt.
‘The only eventuality for which I was not prepared,’ Hester continued through gritted teeth, ‘was that I should step out of the lodge gates at the exact same moment when his Lordship, the high and mighty Marquis of Lensborough, happened to be rounding the bend in the lane at breakneck speed. That reckless, foul-mouthed…’ she struggled to find an epithet black enough to express her wrath, coming up eventually with ‘Marquis!’ as though it were the lowest form of insult she knew ‘…was going too fast to stop, and clearly deemed it imprudent to take evasive action. He might have injured his horses, mightn’t he, if he had veered towards the ditch, or scratched the paintwork of his shiny curricle against the park wall if he had tried to swerve the other way. Do you know what he chose to do instead?’ She continued before Emily even had a chance to draw breath. ‘He swore at me for flinging myself under his horses’ hooves. I’ve never heard such language.’
Emily
