Will laughed. Their driver usually put Phoenix up on the box with him while they waited. He said it kept the rapscallions away. Wrapping an arm around Tia’ shoulders, he pulled her close. “Thank you for coming with me,” he said softly in his ear.

  “Of course,” she said with a brilliant smile, “I’m happiest when I’m helping. Oh, you received a letter from Lord Erskine as I was leaving to meet you.”

  When Will had been called to the bar in 1815, he’d met the esteemed Lord Erskine shortly after. The man was legendary, having worked with the famed William Garrow, who had made huge strides in the law for the defense of the common man. Innocent until proven guilty constantly echoed in Will’s ears since he’d become a barrister.

  The poor, often accused without evidence and based on hearsay—considered fact if coming from a peer—and convicted by statements of witnesses that were rarely verified. Will saw men resign themselves to the gallows because their pleas of innocence were never heard. He would continue to intervene whenever he could, utilizing Erskine and Garrow’s methods, including thorough cross-examination that could be vital in turning the jury in favor of the accused. The law profession was slowly becoming a herald of the truth rather than a crutch for the entitled, and William Page was proud to be part of it.

  Tia had introduced the idea of lending his expertise to the dilemma of animal abuse. The Pages were great animal lovers, and Will couldn’t remember a time when his family had not owned pets. With three brothers and a sister, none of them would agree on a single animal. His father, the Earl of Beecham and a widower, had indulged his children. There had been the usual hounds and horses, a few cats outside the mandatory mousers, a parrot, a hedgehog, and a donkey that brayed each morning like a rooster.

  He and Tia planned to have a menagerie of their own. Hopefully, they would soon add one without fur or feathers.

  “Did I ever tell you about our donkey named George?” he asked.

  “No, but I’m sure it will be an amusing story,” Tia said, laying her head against him.

  “The donkey belonged to a neighbor, and the poor beast wandered onto our property. He’d been beaten mercilessly. Annette decided we couldn’t return him.” Will remembered his sister’s indignation at the animal’s condition. “When the neighbor’s steward came looking for him, my father went out to speak with him. I still don’t know what was said, but George remained with us. We never saw any more mistreated beasties from the adjacent estate either.”

  “George?”

  “He had a whining bray and a potbelly, which Annette said reminded her of George IV, Prince Regent at that time.”

  She laughed, shaking her head. “Your sister is a character. I wish she lived closer.”

  “Do you think, perhaps… just perhaps, if people learned to be kind to animals, they might be more humane to one another?”

  “We can only hope,” Tia said, leaning forward to give Phoenix another rub.

  Out of habit, Will’s fingers rubbed the charm attached to his fob, remembering the eccentric shopkeeper.

  When the shadows threaten to envelop ye, the Fu dog will pull ye to the light and ease yer heavy load.

  “What exactly is that strange little figure?”

  Will smiled and winked. “My good luck charm.” He told her of Percival’s Providence, the Shop of Curiosities and of Phoebe’s, Charles’s wife, discovery of it and his own visit there. “I wear it to help maintain the balance between responsibility and leisure. It came to me at a dark time in my life. But I’ve come to realize that maybe its true power was leading me to you.”

  “Me?”

  “The Foo dog kept my mood from deteriorating. Without it, I don’t think I would have gone to Simon and Meg’s house party.” He turned slightly and bent his head, kissing her softly on the lips. “You are my true balance, Florentia Page. You help me navigate the dark clouds of justice by providing me with love and happiness. I can’t imagine how my life might have turned out without you.”

  “I won’t take all the credit,” Tia said, studying the odd marble figurine. “But I wonder if we should take Addie to visit the place.”

  Will nodded, settling back against the squabs with a smile. Yes, maybe Mr. Percival Peabody could produce another happy ending.

  * * *

  Will and Tia’s story is Book 2 in my new series, Love’s Curiosities.

  Book 1 was released in a previous anthology. Books 3 and 4 will be in the next two anthologies of this trilogy, The Rake Effect and Scoundrels Like You. The series will release as individual books in 2027.

  If you would like to read Meg and Simon’s story, click here.

  If you would like to read about Will’s sister, Annette, her story is here.

  Author’s Note

  I always like to share some fun facts with my readers, letting them know where I came up with an idea or what was “real” in the story.

  Animal Welfare Law

  The Irish politician, Richard Martin aka Humanity Dick (1754-1834) was a real figure during the Regency. He petitioned throughout the 1820s for laws protecting bulls and dogs from fighting and other often public exploitations.

  Martin drafted the new bill in consultation with the then retired Lord Erskine as well as with the agricultural writer and animal rights advocate John Lawrence, entitled the "Ill Treatment of Cattle Bill". The bill passed in the House of Commons by twenty-nine to eighteen votes, then through the House of Lords and was signed by the king, becoming the Cruel Treatment of Cattle Act on 21 June 1822.

  The Martin’s Act was a landmark bill evolving welfare standards, as both non-human and human creatures moved from the country to the city, the pasture to the home, their identities in flux as the Industrial Revolution gained momentum.

  He also tried to spread his ideas in the streets of London, becoming the target of jokes and political cartoons that depicted him with the ears of a donkey.

  When animal abusers were challenged—according to Lord Erskine—“what is it to you?” was their answer. In order to refute this argument, Erskine had to convince the public to reject two key Georgian beliefs: the immunity of the servant when ordered to do something by a master, and that owning a creature was a justification for any kind of treatment.

  His denial of the absolute right of a property was radical for the time. His 1809 speech called it a “stupid defence.” He had always been an animal lover; his favorite pets include a Newfoundland dog called Toss who used to accompany him to chambers, a macaw, a goose and two leeches.

  Castle Grounds in Guildford

  Perched above the town, Guildford Castle is one of Surrey's most iconic historic sites. Built soon after the Norman Conquest of 1066, it was the county's only royal castle and once hosted kings and queens including Henry III, Queen Eleanor, and King John.

  Also used as a a prison and a private residence, Guildford Castle and grounds was sold to the Guildford Corporation in 1885. The grounds at Guildford Castle opened as public gardens in 1888 to mark Queen Victoria's Golden Jubilee in 1887. The castle grounds are open 8am to dusk throughout the year.

  The author of Alice in Wonderland, Lewis Carroll (Charles Lutwidge Dodgson), spent his final years, died, and was buried near the ruins in 1898. The grounds feature a popular four foot "Alice Through the Looking Glass" statue, installed in 1990 near the home his sister’s rented, “The Chestnuts,” which stands beside the castle ruins.

  Phoenix

  The rescued Great Dane is based on Tinker, a pathetic skinny rescue we adopted. She was roaming the streets one rainy day when my sister and I came across her. So thin we thought she was a greyhound, she stopped in the middle of the street, blocking our car. When we got out and opened the back door, she jumped in without hesitation.

  Tinker was a beautiful merle Dane, and her story inspired the scene with Phoenix.

  About Aubrey Wynne

  USA Today Bestselling author Aubrey Wynne resides in the Midwest with her husband, dogs, horses, mule, and barn cats. Obsessions include wine, history, travel, trail riding, and all things Christmas. Her Chicago Christmas series has received multiple awards and was twice nominated as a Rone finalist by InD’tale Magazine.

  Aubrey’s first love is medieval romance but after dipping her toe in the Regency period in 2018 with the Wicked Earls’ Club, she was smitten. This inspired her spin-off series Once Upon a Widow and the Scottish Regency series A MacNaughton Castle Romance with Dragonblade Novels. In 2024, Aubrey will launch Paddy’s Peelers, a Regency detective series.

  * * *

  Social Media Links:

  Website:

  http://www.aubreywynne.com

  Facebook:

  https://www.facebook.com/magnificentvalor

  Aubrey’s Ever After Facebook group:

  https://www.facebook.com/groups/AubreyWynnesEverAfters/

  Twitter:

  https://twitter.com/Aubreywynne51

  Pinterest:

  https://www.pinterest.com/aubreywynne51/

  Instagram:

  https://www.instagram.com/Aubreywynne51

  Bookbub page:

  https://www.bookbub.com/profile/aubrey-wynne

  Goodreads:

  https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7383937.Aubrey_Wynne

  * * *

  Sign up for my newsletter and don’t miss future releases

  https://www.subscribepage.com/k3f1z5

  Also by Aubrey Wynne

  Paddy’s Peelers Mystery (Historical Romantic Suspense)

  Sweet romance,

  Crimes, Conspiracies, and Courtship #1

  Pads, Purses, and Plum Pudding #2

  Poisons, Potions, and Parasols #3

  Rogues, Rotters, and Rubies #4

  Wakings, Wooings, and Wrongdoings #5

  * * *

  Once Upon a Widow (sweet Regency)

  Earl of Sunderland #1

  A Wicked Earl’s Widow #2

  Rhapsody and Rebellion #3

  Earl of Darby #4

  Earl of Brecken #5

  Earl of Griffith #6

  Beware a Wallflower’s Wrath #7

  A Wallflower’s Wassail Punch #8

  A Scoundrel’s Christmas Challenge #9

  The Duplicate Duke #10

  Merry Mazes and Mistletoe Magic #11

  Kiss the Scoundrel Farewell #12

  A Lovable Rogue’s Kiss

  TANYA WILDE

  Foreword

  Dear Reader,

  * * *

  This is Jeremy and Nancy’s sweet best friends to lovers story (you might have run across them in the Daring Mistletoe Kiss, featuring Pippa and Chatteris), and I do hope they give you a smile!

  * * *

  What’s a lady to do when the man she’s loved in silence for years finally notices—just as she’s decided to move on?

  * * *

  Lady Nancy Byrne is finished waiting. After one humiliating confession and a lifetime of loving her best friend in secret, she resolves to turn the page. Preferably with another man. Preferably tonight. If that means approaching a rake and scandalizing half the town? So be it. Regret, after all, is far worse than gossip.

  * * *

  What say, you?

  * * *

  Happy Reading!

  * * *

  Xo,

  Tanya

  One

  Hamilton Ball, 1816

  “I cannot believe you are doing this,” Pippa, Nancy Byrne’s best friend and sister-in-law, muttered into her glass of punch.

  The ballroom shimmered in full command of the season. Candlelight softened the room, a country dance in full progress, and enough hands joined and lost again to make a single indiscretion wonderfully easy to miss.

  “Why?” Nancy asked. “I vividly recall you declaring once that you intended to steal a kiss from the most infamous rake in London.”

  “I didn’t, though.”

  “You still intended to,” Nancy pointed out, placing her glass on the tray of a passing footman. “Before you became the Countess of Chatteris. Now I intend to do the same.”

  “So you are truly moving on from Jeremy?”

  “There is nothing else to do.”

  “You love him.”

  “Unrequited love. The worst kind of love.” The most painful. And the most humiliating.

  “Does Jeremy know about this plan of yours?”

  “To move on from him? Of course not. Have we not established the man is as dense as a log? Besides, if he were to know, he’d probably aid me in my mischief.”

  “The fact you are calling “moving on” mischief, is rather concerning.”

  “It quite feels like it is, to be honest,” Nancy admitted. She was, after all, testing a new version of herself. The version after Jeremy. “Remember to keep my brother’s eyes on you and not me.”

  Pippa grinned, glancing to where Nicholas chatted with the Duke of Mortimer. “Oh, I don’t believe you have to worry about that.” Her friend paused. “Wait, with whom are you planning to move on with?”

  Nancy returned her friend’s grin and pointed to a lone figure leaning against a pillar, watching the crowd with boredom. “The Marquess of Knoxley.”

  “Oh, God, please don’t,” Pippa replied, a horrified hand lifting to her breast.

  “Why not?” Nancy crossed her arms. “Knoxley is a kitten compared to who you intended to steal a kiss from.”

  “But you’re planning to move on,” Pippa said. “That man is not someone you move on with!”

  Nancy’s grin widened. “He’s the perfect man, and this,” she motioned to the ballroom, “is the perfect setting. Candles alight everywhere, lively music⁠—”

  “Viscount Graford retching in the potted plant over yonder.”

  Nancy shot her friend a flat stare, refusing to look and spoil her vision. “Retching aside, it’s the perfect night to turn the page.”

  Her friend blinked at her. “I probably should have asked this earlier, but what do you mean by moving on? Kissing? Courtship?”

  “I haven’t decided quite what it means, yet.” Which was what made her decision rather bittersweet. Sweet, as in the thrill of something new, bitter, as in realizing her affections would never be returned and it was best to let go of this love, reluctant though she may be.

  Honestly, she hadn’t asked to fall in love with Jeremy Locke.

  It just . . . happened. Not an explosion of feeling. No grand moment to mark it. Simply a smile directed at her and oh.

  However, she might have been a potted palm in the corner for all the man noticed her. Unless someone retched on her, perhaps. And that was not the way she wanted to be noticed. She’d fooled herself long enough.

  Two full years.

  Perhaps if they hadn’t been best friends the dynamic might have been different, but there was no escaping his presence. It lived in her as surely as it did in the spaces their friendship had claimed. Hope, she had learned, was a remarkably comfortable place to remain stuck. Pippa’s wedding, fortunately, had clarified matters. There was, after all, no clearer—nor more humiliating—way to receive such clarity than by drunkenly confessing her love and being promptly, and unequivocally, rejected.

  “Well, don’t look now,” Pippa murmured. “But Jeremy just arrived.”

  Nancy allowed herself a single glance and immediately wished she hadn’t. That rogue was as handsome as they came. His legs were impossibly long, the sort that made one drag one’s gaze up them first to discover the man attached to them. His hands, Lord, his hands, were strong but slender. How many times had she envisioned them settling at her waist? Lifting her with careless ease, tossing her over his shoulder like a caveman and stalking off to ravage her. His shoulders were broad, too. Not excessively so. Just enough to have a woman imagining how they’d envelope her in protection. And seduction.

  Then, there was his face. That face. His cheekbones must have been chiseled by the gods themselves. How else to explain such perfection, framed by an unruly mop of brown hair? But what she loved best, were his eyes. Filled with his dry sense of humor. Mischievous. More often than not rolling to the sky. Pools of amber freckled with gold.

  If only they held affection of a different kind.

  Hah. Loving rogues was the worst of all.

  Enough was enough.

  Nancy lifted her chin and directed her attention to Knoxley. “I’m ready, Pippa. Wish me luck.”

  Jeremy Locke, the seventh Earl of Silverton, had the peculiar sense he had arrived late for something important. Usually, he prided himself on noticing things, however, tonight had left him inexplicably out of step. It had started as an unremarkable restlessness while tying his cravat and had grown stronger with every step toward the ballroom, until he very nearly broke into a run.

  He found Pippa laughing up at her husband near the tall windows overlooking the gardens, Nancy notably absent.

  Jeremy threaded his way through the crowd with uncharacteristic haste, nodding to passing acquaintances on his way. The last time he’d felt so on edge was right before his mother informed him she was departing for the Continent with her Italian lover. Of course, he wished his mother every happiness. He could not, however, entirely escape the sense of having been left behind. That same foreboding pressed upon him now.

  “Pippa,” he greeted as he reached his friends. “Chatteris.”

  “Jeremy!” Pippa smiled up at him. “You’re late.”

  Late, his mind echoed.

  “Only just,” he replied lightly. Where was Nancy? “I trust I have not missed anything of importance.”