Her Rogue for One Night: Wicked Widows' League, #2

Her Rogue for One Night

Her Rogue for One Night

WICKED WIDOWS’ LEAGUE

BOOK TWO

DAWN BROWER

...when pain is over, the remembrance of it often becomes a pleasure.

JANE AUSTEN, PERSUASION

Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Epilogue

Thank You

Excerpt: To Bargain with a Rogue

Blurb

Prologue

Excerpt: A Lady Never Tells

Blurb

Prologue

Wicked Widows’ Books

Acknowledgments

About Dawn Brower

Also by Dawn Brower

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Her Rogue for One Night © 2023 Dawn Brower

Cover art by Mandy Koehler Designs

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

For all those that find strength when they need it most. Do not give up. You never know what you might discover in the middle of your journey.

Prologue

Claudine Grant glanced up at the dark clouds in the sky. They were an omen of some sort. She had a feeling in her stomach that unsettled her and had since she’d woken earlier that morning. That feeling of dread wouldn’t go away, and as the day progressed, it worsened.

Even if the clouds were not an omen of bad things to come, they alerted her to one thing with certainty. A storm was brewing. She should go back inside, but she couldn’t make her legs move.

She had a letter from her husband, James, waiting for her inside. Claudine hadn’t opened it yet. Letters from James rarely came. He was away at war fighting against Napoleon. It seemed like an endless war, and she feared she would never see him again. What if this was the last letter she ever received from him?

They married one day before he left for war. Their marriage had been quick. Well, as quick as it could be done. The banns were read and after the third week they said their vows. They’d had one night together, and then he had to leave. Then she was alone in their small home. Claudine had two servants—a maid and a cook. James was the third son of a viscount. His commission had given him his rank and position. He was a lieutenant in the Calvary.

All Claudine wanted was for her husband to return to her. She should read his letter. She glanced up at the sky once more and headed home. It didn’t take her long to reach the entrance. She went inside and to her writing desk. Claudine pulled out the letter and broke the seal. Inside another letter had been folded inside. It only had her name scrawled across it. Her hands shook as she picked it up. It wasn’t in James’ handwriting. Who else would send her a letter?

She set it aside and ran her fingers over the words James had written her. His handwriting was so familiar to her. She finished unfolding it and started to read it from the beginning.

My Dearest Claudine,

Today was a good day. There are not too many of those here. The sky was a brilliant blue, and the sun bathed us in its light. The warmth felt wonderful against my skin. I wish I could have enjoyed it more. I wish I could have spent this day with you cradled in my arms.

This letter I’m writing out of necessity. These words should come from me. If the worst should happen… God, I can’t imagine the worst. Everyone should be able to live their lives with the freedom of not considering that possibility. As a soldier, I am not so fortunate. If I had not chosen this life, I would be with you.

But if that possibility should happen, I don’t want to leave anything unsaid. My wonderful, beautiful wife—I adore you. There are no words that can adequately describe how much I love you. The greatest day of my life was when you agreed to be my wife. Our wedding day will be forever honored in my memory. As far as regrets go, that is one thing that will not be tallied under that column. My heart will forever be yours. I will always belong to you, and only you.

My hope is that this letter will be fodder for a fire one day and you will never read it. That soon I’ll be home and kissing you, loving you, and spending the rest of my days by your side. However, I must be pragmatic. If you are receiving this letter, then, my love, I am no longer amongst the living. Confirmation will come from someone of authority, but for now, this will have to do.

Before I left, I ensured that all my particulars were in order. You will be taken care of, and if you so choose, you may remain in the home we lived in together. If it doesn’t suit you, sell it and find another. And my love…try to let me go. I want you to be happy. Please visit my father. He will handle everything. I’ve already spoken to him about you and what should be done.

All my love,

James

A tear fell down her cheek. She should have avoided reading the letter longer. She could have remained in blissful ignorance. This couldn’t be real. James was not dead. Claudine refused to believe it. She picked up the other folded piece of paper. There was a quick note jotted down there. Almost as if an afterthought…

She needed to read the letter. Claudine’s hands shook as she stared down at the parchment. The missive wasn’t long. Perhaps that meant it wasn’t the news she feared? No. That possibility was unlikely. She had to read it and find out. All the supposition was not helping her.

Dear. Mrs. Grant,

I served with Lieutenant James Grant. He is…was an honorable man. He died in service to his country. You can be proud of the man he was and all that he did. His actions saved the lives of several men in our unit. Without him, there would be more men being mourned. I am sincerely sorry for your loss. Lieutenant Grant will be missed by us all.

Yours truly,

Colonel Andrew Roberts

This letter sounded far more official. She should visit James’ father right away. He should know more about what James’ letter inferred to. She closed her eyes and held back the tears that threatened to fall. Now was not the time for giving in to tears. It was time to plan and get answers.

Claudine glanced out the window. The storm had rolled in. The sky had opened up and rain poured down. It bang against the window like a constant beat of a drum. The roads would be muddy in the morning, making them nearly impassible. She would not let that fact stop her. This trip was too important. She’d pack and go to London in the morning. There she would visit the viscount and find the truth. Whatever that truth might be…

One

Claudine didn’t understand why she was about to visit the Dowager Countess of Wyndam. When she had received the invitation, she had considered declining it, but then reconsidered. She had been staying with her husband’s father for several months, and she longed to return to her home in the country. There was no reason to stay in London any longer. In another few months she could go into half mourning or just skip that part if she so wished—did she really want to don clothing to announce to the world she was a widow? She had to move on with her life and try to let go of her husband once and for all.

She walked up to the townhouse. The door was a rich mahogany, but other than that, nothing stood out about the elegant home. It was simple, but Claudine would never live anywhere this nice. Not that there was anything particularly wrong with her home. It was enough and always had been. If her husband had lived through the war, they would have been blessed to have it to raise their family. She would probably never have a