Fortune's Brides Series by Regina Scott

After spending the last ten years following her late husband on campaign, the irrepressible Jane Kimball finds herself badly in need of a position to support herself. Marriage holds no appeal; she’s not likely to find a husband like her Jimmy again. But when Miss Thorn of the Fortune Employment Agency offers her a post with the Duke of Wey, Jane feels drawn to help the lonely widower with his three daughters. He may seem a bit aloof, but Miss Thorn’s cat Fortune approved of him... moreAfter spending the last ten years following her late husband on campaign, the irrepressible Jane Kimball finds herself badly in need of a position to support herself. Marriage holds no appeal; she’s not likely to find a husband like her Jimmy again. But when Miss Thorn of the Fortune Employment Agency offers her a post with the Duke of Wey, Jane feels drawn to help the lonely widower with his three daughters. He may seem a bit aloof, but Miss Thorn’s cat Fortune approved of him. Why should Jane doubt a duke? Alaric, Duke of Wey, commands his staff, his tenants, and the halls of Parliament, managing vast holdings in England and across the seas. Why is it he cannot manage his own daughters? As an old danger rears its head, he comes to rely on Jane’s practical nature, her outspoken ways to navigate the waters of fatherhood. And when necessity dictates he take a wife, thoughts turn to an unlikely governess who might make the perfect bride. This sweet, clean Regency romance is the first in the Fortune’s Brides series. Previous praise for Regina Scott’s work: • “Regina Scott’s irresistible characters will win your heart.” Eloisa James, NYT and USA Today bestselling author • “If the book has the name Regina Scott on its cover, it is sure to please. Highly recommended.” Huntress Reviews Here’s a taste: The duke’s smile was wry. “You have no need to apologize, Mrs. Kimball. We disturbed your well-earned rest, invaded your privacy, and called you names. You’d have every right to tender your resignation.” Jane returned his smile. “Oh, I don’t give up so easily. Besides, where else would I have the opportunity to see a unicorn?” “There is that.” His smile faded. “I’ll speak to my daughters in the morning. I begin to see why the other governesses left.” “Cowards,” Jane told him. “I’ve seen too much to be frightened of a voice in the wardrobe.” “I’m glad, Mrs. Kimball.” Suddenly he made a face, making him much more human. “I wonder, would you mind if I used your first name?” That fluttering feeling was building again. She ought to refuse, keep her distance. Her mouth opened before she could stop it. “Not at all, Your Grace.” “Thank you, Jane.” Why was it she felt as if he’d caressed her cheek? Her first name was only one syllable while her last name was two. He was probably just being efficient. “And on behalf of my entire family, I apologize.” He swept her a bow as if to prove it. “You have been like a summer breeze through this place, clearing out the cobwebs and chasing away the dark.” How beautiful. Once again, she clamped her mouth shut against the words building behind it. “And perhaps we can dispense with the ‘Your Grace’ business,” he suggested. Jane fidgeted. This was dangerous ground. The maids and footman were just down the corridor. Mr. Parsons the butler had to be waiting. But still she felt as if the world had come down to the duke and her. “I don’t know your first name,” she pointed out. “And I imagine Mr. Parsons would have apoplexy if I used it. Perhaps Wey? And only in private.” “I will settle for Wey. I’ll leave you to enjoy the rest of your evening. Thank you, Jane, for not giving up on us.” She saw him to the door, closed it behind him, and leaned her back against it. less

After caring for a crotchety countess, Patience Ramsey wants a more purposeful position. So, when Miss Thorn of the Fortune Employment Agency offers her the post of assistant to amateur apothecary Augusta Orwell, Patience jumps at the chance. Then her new employer introduces her at an Easter house party as the bride-to-be of her nephew Sir Harold Orwell. Miss Thorn’s cat Fortune may approve of Sir Harry, but Patience has no interest in borrowing the handsome baronet... moreAfter caring for a crotchety countess, Patience Ramsey wants a more purposeful position. So, when Miss Thorn of the Fortune Employment Agency offers her the post of assistant to amateur apothecary Augusta Orwell, Patience jumps at the chance. Then her new employer introduces her at an Easter house party as the bride-to-be of her nephew Sir Harold Orwell. Miss Thorn’s cat Fortune may approve of Sir Harry, but Patience has no interest in borrowing the handsome baronet. She’s had her heart trampled on by false promises before. Sir Harry has enough on his hands trying to restore the family name while spying for the English against the French. But the pretty Patience could cover for him when he must ply his trade during the house party, so he convinces her to agree to the charade. As Harry’s work brings danger closer, he begins to realize Patience embodies everything he could want in a wife. Can he convince her to overlook the scandals surrounding him and exchange their false engagement for a true love? This sweet, clean Regency romance is the sequel to Never Doubt a Duke. Fortune’s Brides: Only a matchmaking cat can hunt true love. Here’s a taste: “What happened?” Patience asked, plucking the fabric away from the cut on Harry’s arm. “Caught myself on a briar on the way home,” he said, watching her. “I would commend you on your ability to lie,” Patience said, “but it’s not a convincing lie. No briar, sir, cuts through a sturdy wool coat and muslin shirt. I cannot tend to the wound unless I can see all of it. Remove your shirt, please.” It was likely the urgency that made her speak so boldly. It was likely his injury that made him obey. She went to fetch the washbasin and cloth that had been left for her. Turning toward him, she tried not to stare at the bands of muscle, the sprinkling of dark hair. Clearly, he did something other than gamble and drink the days away. “If you must know,” he said, “I was shot at. One of the pitfalls of chasing a married lady.” Oh, but he was wicked. “You are fortunate the husband was such a poor shot.” She wet the washcloth with the rosewater and dabbed at the wound. The blood was congealing now, oozing slowly from the gash. “I only wish I’d run faster,” he replied. “Ouch!” Patience glanced up with her sweetest smile. “Forgive me. It will be tender for some time. Unlike your feelings for the lady, I suspect.” She busied herself opening the jar and dipping up a fingerful of the ointment. He flinched back. “You’re certain it’s safe?” Patience raised her brow. “I’m hardly going to poison you, Sir Harold.” “Why not? Gussie tries on a regular basis.” “And why would your own aunt want to poison a gentleman of your standing?” That grin popped into view, bringing out the dimple again. “As you can see, she has countless reasons. Very well, do your worst. I’ll endeavor to bear it like a man.” Patience bit back a response but spread the ointment over the wound. “And when I’m finished, you must retire to another room.” He inspected her handiwork, then refolded the cravat to tie it over the wound. “But you’ve made me so comfortable here.” Patience handed him his shirt. “I’ve done all I can. If you refuse to leave, I’ll simply have to ask your aunt for other accommodations. Even if Miss Thorn, Miss Villers, and her brother are in residence, there must be somewhere I can sleep undisturbed.” In the act of pulling on the shirt, he stiffened. “You can’t ask Gussie. Not in front of the Villers.” Why did he look even paler than a moment ago? Well, she was about to make it worse yet again. He could not rise in the morning innocent to his aunt’s machinations. “I must,” Patience told him. She drew herself up. “And you may as well know all. Your aunt asked me to pose as your betrothed. If you don’t leave this room immediately, you may have no other choice than to follow through and marry me.” less

The saucy Yvette de Maupassant is used to danger. She’s spent the last 10 years spying for England in Napoleon’s court. Now that her work has been discovered, she must hide, and what better place than the remote wooded estate of the Earl of Carrolton? Her friend Miss Thorn and that delightful cat Fortune place her in a position where she can pretend to be companion to the earl’s sickly mother. Yet one look at the earl has Yvette rethinking why she wants to stay... moreThe saucy Yvette de Maupassant is used to danger. She’s spent the last 10 years spying for England in Napoleon’s court. Now that her work has been discovered, she must hide, and what better place than the remote wooded estate of the Earl of Carrolton? Her friend Miss Thorn and that delightful cat Fortune place her in a position where she can pretend to be companion to the earl’s sickly mother. Yet one look at the earl has Yvette rethinking why she wants to stay. Gregory, Earl of Carrolton, is used to power. So why does one moment in the company of his mother and spinster sister leave him feeling powerless? And why does the look in a certain Frenchwoman’s eyes leave him weak at the knees? As danger draws closer, Gregory and Yvette must work together to protect her, his family, and the future of England, as they discover the greatest danger and delight is falling in love. This sweet, clean Regency romance is the sequel to Never Borrow a Baronet. Fortune’s Brides: Only a matchmaking cat can hunt true love. Here’s a taste: Men. They must have been discussing what to do about her situation, yet they all stared at her as if she’d floated down from the ceiling dressed in chicken feathers. Mr. Villers’s mouth even hung open. “Vite, vite,” Yvette said, coming to join them. “You must be quick. Meredith is with her ladyship, but I will be wanted shortly.” Mr. Mayes brightened. She’d met the solicitor last month at Foulness Manor, the home of her friend Harry. Of course he would want news of Meredith—unless Yvette missed her guess, he intended to court the lady. “Miss Thorn is still here?” he asked. “For the time being,” the earl told him. Then he stepped forward to take Yvette’s hand in his. Such a large hand. Hers disappeared inside it, yet she felt perfectly comfortable. “Miss de Maupassant,” he said, “Mr. Mayes and Mr. Villers came to let us know they have identified the man pursuing you. You must be brave. It is your cousin.” The room dimmed. She must have swayed on her feet, for his hand slipped around her waist as if to hold her upright. She clung to his hand, to his warmth. She could not let her fear rule her. “I should have known Claude would be involved,” she made herself say. “I am only surprised he crossed the Channel himself. Where is he now?” “We’re not sure,” Mr. Mayes admitted. “One of our best men, Lord Trevithan, nearly caught him in London, but he managed to escape.” He would, even from the dashing Lord Trevithan, who’d recruited her for a spy. Her cousin was a survivor. So many wrongs could be laid at his door, yet he always escaped capture, like a cockroach scuttling away from the light. “You’re safe here,” the earl said in his deep voice, hand still holding hers. “He has no idea where you are.” Yvette shook her head. “He had no idea where I was. Why do you think he allowed you to see him in London? He wanted you to know he was in England. You hurried to tell me, and he will hurry to follow you.” Mr. Villers straightened, and Mr. Mayes’ handsome face tightened. “You’re right,” the solicitor said. “We were fools. Carrolton, there’s nothing for it now. We’ll have to find another place for Miss de Maupassant.” The earl stiffened, but once more the room seemed to darken. Leave Carrolton Park? She had only been here a few days, but she felt as if ribbons bound her to the place. less

When the thoroughly poised Charlotte Worthington requests that Miss Thorn and her cat Fortune find her a position, she never dreams the savvy employment agency owner would reunite her with Matthew Bateman, her brother’s former bodyguard. Matthew is about to be knighted for an act of valor, and he and his sisters could use some polishing if they’re to enter Society after his elevation... moreWhen the thoroughly poised Charlotte Worthington requests that Miss Thorn and her cat Fortune find her a position, she never dreams the savvy employment agency owner would reunite her with Matthew Bateman, her brother’s former bodyguard. Matthew is about to be knighted for an act of valor, and he and his sisters could use some polishing if they’re to enter Society after his elevation. Yet how can Charlotte maintain her calm, cool demeanor as their sponsor when she harbors a secret love for him? Matthew Bateman cannot forget the beauty who is miles out of his league. Once a boxer called the Beast of Birmingham, Matthew would like nothing better than to be worthy of Charlotte’s hand. As old enemies and new ones attempt to bring him low, can Matthew prove to Charlotte that their love is meant to be? This sweet, clean Regency romance is the sequel to Never Vie for a Viscount. Fortune’s Brides: Only a matchmaking cat can hunt true love. Here’s a little taste: Charlotte inclined her head. “That’s settled, then. What about you?” He frowned. “Me? I’m fine.” She was watching him. “You’ve been told what will be expected of you at the levee, then?” By no less than three lords, all of whom had seemed certain he’d embarrass himself even with their wise counsel. He shrugged. “More or less.” She puffed out a sigh. “Come now, Beast. You must know there are expectations for your behavior.” He could feel his frown deepening. “Like what?” “Like introductions, for one. How do you bow to the prince?” He rose and inclined his head. She stood and put her hand on his shoulder. “Deeper. He is the sovereign.” “And I’m a knight,” Matthew reminded her. “Or I will be soon. Don’t I deserve some dignity? If you’re supposed to keel over for a kingly sort, do you at least kneel to a knight?” “Never,” she said. “Your obeisance is tempered by the elevation of the person you are greeting. Knights, even the hereditary ones, are at the very bottom.” “No, that’s reserved for us common folk,” he said. Either the tone or the look on his face must have said more than he’d intended, for her eyes dipped down at the corners, and she removed her hand from his shoulder. “Now, then, you and your sisters may need to brush up on Society’s expectations, but you know many things I’ve never been taught.” “Like what?” he asked, struggling to see her as anything less than perfect. “Like boxing,” she said with certainty. Matthew snorted. “Fat lot Society needs to know about that.” “Some know far more than they should,” she informed him primly. “But my point was that you are an expert in that area. For example, how would you go about besting me?” His brows shot up. “What? You think I fight women?” She laughed, a warm sound that made him want to move closer, as if he’d stepped through the door of his own home for the first time in a long time. “No, of course not. But you must have a strategy. Appearing before the prince is no different. You have to know what you hope to achieve.” Matthew stuck out his lower lip. “All right. But when I fight, I mostly think about staying alive, avoiding injury.” She frowned. less

Shy Ivy Bateman has always felt more comfortable behind the scenes than front and center. She is happiest caring for her family and baking sweet treats. She certainly never expected the wealthy Marquess of Kendall to propose marriage, especially a marriage of convenience. It seems his baby daughter needs a mother, and Ivy cannot deny the attraction of the role, or the attraction she feels for the handsome marquess... moreShy Ivy Bateman has always felt more comfortable behind the scenes than front and center. She is happiest caring for her family and baking sweet treats. She certainly never expected the wealthy Marquess of Kendall to propose marriage, especially a marriage of convenience. It seems his baby daughter needs a mother, and Ivy cannot deny the attraction of the role, or the attraction she feels for the handsome marquess. Kendall had asked Miss Thorn of the Fortune Employment Agency to find him a particular sort of lady. His heart went to the grave with his first wife. Now, all he cares about is ensuring his frail daughter doesn’t follow it. Installing Ivy Bateman as his next marchioness will not disrupt his life or make him question his love for his dead wife. But as he comes to appreciate Ivy’s sweet nature, he begins to wonder about their future. When an old enemy strikes at Miss Thorn and all her ladies, a grieving lord and a shy lady must work together to save the day. In doing so, they might just discover that love, and a good cinnamon bun, can heal all wounds. less