The Wedding Party - A Novella: The Scandalous Redgraves, #0

By Kasey Michaels

A Scandalous Redgraves Novella.

Orphaned at the age of seventeen, and for the past eighteen months the ward of the new Earl of Saltwood, the heiress Alana Wallingford has been residing with her good friend, Lady Kate Redgrave, sister of the Earl, and that woman's grandmother, the Countess Saltwood. It is during Alana's first Season that she meets and falls in love with the dashing Bailey Armstrong, Viscount Netherfield. She is aware of his reputation, especially the rumors about him and the beauteous and wealthy widow, Marianna Wise, but he at last convinces her that he truly loves her, and their marriage is planned for the end of June.

There is, however, one person in all of England who is not aware of that former association, that man being Valentine Redgrave, the youngest Redgrave, newly returned from the continent and happy to invite Marianna down to Saltwood for the nuptials (was it at his request, or her suggestion…he's not sure; he was fairly well-to-go at the time, and in the widow Wise's bed as well).

Clearly, Marianna is out to make mischief. Just as clearly, Bailey knows he's in deep trouble. Lady Kate is incensed and protective, her oldest brother the Earl is to remain oblivious to any problems or else Lord knows what he'll do. The Viscount Max Redgrave volunteers to romance the woman ("to throw her off the scent"), and Valentine, the cause of all this potential disaster, immediately breaks his leg and is confined to his bed.

As the wedding gown hangs in the cupboard, and the wedding itself hangs somewhere in mid-air, it's a dance and duel of wits as Bailey sets out to prove once and for all that his heart belongs to Alana. On the very eve of the wedding, is a seduction of his now hesitant, virgin bride in order? According to the Dowager Countess, "It's the only way, you daft idiot!"

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kasey Michaels
• Release date: Oct 21, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005148348

Kasey Michaels

**For a limited time, get two free books from Kasey > bit.ly/kaseymichaels (just copy and paste into your browser)** Kasey Michaels began her career scribbling her stories on yellow legal pads while the family slept. She totally denies she chiseled them into flat rocks, but yes, she began her career a long time ago. Now Kasey is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of more than 110 books (she doesn't count them). Kasey has received four coveted Starred Reviews from Publishers Weekly, three for historical romance, The Secrets of the Heart, The Butler Did It, and The Taming of the Rake, and a fourth for the contemporary romance Love To Love You Baby (that shows diversity, you see). She is a recipient of the RITA, a Waldenbooks and Bookrak Bestseller award, and many awards from Romantic Times magazine, including a Career Achievement award for her Regency era historical romances. She is an Honor Roll author in Romance Writers of America, Inc. Please visit Kasey on her website at www.KaseyMichaels.com and connect with her on Facebook at www.facebook.com/AuthorKaseyMichaels.

Book preview

One

Was he going to kiss her? He very often looked at her as if he wanted to kiss her. He had kissed her, to seal their betrothal.

But that had been a month ago. More precisely, thirty-two days, ten hours and some minutes ago. There were no clocks in the gardens, of course, but she was fairly certain of at least the hour.

You’d really have to think it was more than time he kissed her again—if you thought of this sort of thing. Which Alana Wallingford did.

Almost constantly.

Not that he hadn’t kissed her hand, every day, rather than to simply bow over her fingertips, as he’d done before their betrothal. And he’d kissed her cheek, at least twice. And, granted, he hadn’t been constantly in her presence since that marvelous, never-to-be-forgotten moment when he’d told her he loved her and asked her to become his wife, which was what she had wanted to hear from him since the very moment they met.

But then he’d left. There had been his mother to visit, to give her the happy news. He’d said he’d be gone for a week, but it had stretched beyond two. There had been something about overseeing the closing off of a room because of the damp, or a fallen-in roof, or some such thing. As he’d said, The estate house is ancient, and huge, and falling down around our ears. But you’ll love it, I swear!

Bailey Armstrong, at the moment the Viscount Netherfield, but heir to the Earl of Whitcomb, had been excruciatingly honest about his fortune, or rather his sad lack of fortune. But that was all right, too, because she was odiously wealthy, or at least that’s what Kate had once told her. You’re quite odiously wealthy, you know.

Alana couldn’t wait to see Bailey’s home. Not that she’d be the lady of the manor, not yet, but she could certainly enjoy watching her fortune refurbish the estate Bailey clearly loved so much.

They talked about it, incessantly. Alana didn’t much care for moving about in Society, and neither did Bailey. They would ship his mother and sisters off to London, which was where they wanted to be in any case. His father already resided in their town house, when he was not shooting, fishing or gaming…mostly gaming, always losing. With the family where it wanted to be, and themselves where they wanted to be, the world would be a lovely place. Alana daydreamed about her soon-to-be married life all the time.

Except when she was daydreaming about Bailey’s betrothal kiss, and wondering if there existed some sort of unspoken rule about not kissing her on the mouth again until they were married. She’d ask Kate, but if Kate laughed, or was shocked, well, Alana would simply expire of embarrassment.

Alana? You don’t care for blue? It doesn’t have to be blue. It probably has been blue for fifty years. It’s just that we’ve always called it the blue room. But we can change that.

She blinked, realizing her mind had taken her away from the moment, and the conversation. That had probably happened when Bailey, sitting beside her on the stone bench, had taken her hands in his and then…well, and then nothing. He’d gone back to speaking about their plans for the drawing room at Netherfield, and she’d tried to do her best not to grab him by the ears and kiss him square on the mouth. His warm, sweet, lovable mouth.

Excuse me? she asked, feeling her cheeks growing hot. I’m afraid I wasn’t attending.

He smiled that special smile that melted her knees and leaned in to kiss her cheek. I don’t blame you. It’s boring stuff, most of it, isn’t it?

Three kisses on the cheek. Alana added it to her tally.

Oh, no, not really. I suppose I was thinking about…about Sunday.

He squeezed her hands. Our wedding day. And then he frowned. It isn’t too soon, Alana? Gideon assured me, since it will be only a simple, family affair, there was no need to—well, he said no reason to drag the bloody business out, but I’m sure he didn’t mean it that way.

Alana smiled. Yes, he did. Gideon has been my guardian these past three years, and he’s never been comfortable with riding herd on me. After Sunday, I’m your worry, as he explained it to me. Gideon is a wonderful man, Bailey, honest, and caring. He…he just hides it well.

Ah, my betrothed is a mistress of understatement, Bailey said, and then he kissed her cheek again.

Four.

I love you, Alana. He let go of her hands and slipped an arm around her shoulder, drawing her into his side. She rested her head on his shoulder. Sighed. This was nice. Very nice.

I love you, too, she said quietly.

They probably made quite the lovely picture, sitting there on the stone bench in the sunshine. Even romantical.

She could wait until Sunday. She really could.

She just wished Bailey couldn’t…

Elsewhere at Redgrave Manor, another young female was not quite so reticent about expressing her feelings.

You idiot!

Valentine Redgrave looked up from his frowning inspection of a small smudge he’d somehow collected on his buckskins. Gone nearly a full year, far from the loving bosom of my family, and yet so little has changed. Including me, I suppose. I’m still an idiot? I’ve only been home a little above an hour, Kate—so how can you tell?

Lady Katherine Redgrave, who in