Regency Improprieties: Innocence and Impropriety / The Vanishing Viscountess

Regency Improprieties: Innocence and Impropriety / The Vanishing Viscountess
Diane Gaston

A resolute man and a determined innocentIn dissolute company Jameson Flynn hears Rose O’Keefe’s beautiful voice and decides to rescue her and her virtue. But then the man who can make or break Flynn’s career desires Rose as his mistress. Soon Flynn will have to choose what matters to him most – success or love…A woman of innocence and notoriety… Adam Vickery, Marquess of Tanerton, was drawn to the notorious Vanishing Viscountess’s defiance. He didn’t recognise Marlena Parronley – the once innocent, hopeful debutante he had danced with years ago. Marlena saw the dashing, carefree Marquess of her dreams and knew she couldn’t let him help her escape. Not if she wanted him to live…Two classic and delightful Regency tales!

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About the Author

As a psychiatric social worker, DIANE GASTON spent years helping others create real-life happy endings. Now Diane crafts fictional ones, writing the kind of historical romance she’s always loved to read.

The youngest of three daughters of a US Army Colonel, Diane moved frequently during her childhood, even living for a year in Japan. It continues to amaze her that her own son and daughter grew up in one house in Northern Virginia. Diane still lives in that house with three very ordinary housecats. Visit Diane’s website at http://dianegaston.com

REGENCY

Improprieties

Innocence and Impropriety

The Vanishing Viscountess

Diane Gaston

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

Innocence and Impropriety

Diane Gaston

To the ‘Roses’ in my life:

My sister, Marilyn Rose

(though she was never fond of her middle name)

and my sister-in-law, Rosemarie

Chapter One

London—July 1817

Vauxhall Gardens was not a place Jameson Flynn would have chosen to spend his night hours, but his employer, the Marquess of Tannerton, required his presence.

To Flynn, Vauxhall was all façade. Mere wooden structures painted to look like Greek temples or Chinese pavilions. Revellers were equally as false, wearing masks to disguise whether they be titled, rich, respectable, or rogue, pickpocket, lady of ill repute.

‘Have some more ham.’ Tannerton handed him the plate of paper-thin ham slices, a Vauxhall delicacy of dubious worth.

Rich as Croesus, Tanner—as he liked to be called—ate with as much enthusiasm as if he were dining at Carlton House instead of a supper box at Vauxhall. Flynn declined the Vauxhall delicacy but sipped his arrack, a heady mixture of rum and Benjamin flower that redeemed Vauxhall only a little in his eyes. It was not unusual for Tanner to seek Flynn out for companionship, but Flynn had no illusions. He was Tanner’s secretary, not his friend.

To look at them, you might not guess which one was the marquess. Flynn prided himself on his appearance. His dark brown hair was always neatly in place, his black coat and trousers well tailored. Tanner, a few years older and lighter in colouring, took less care, often giving the impression he’d just dismounted from his horse.

Flynn placed his tankard on the table. ‘You brought me here for a purpose, sir. When am I to discover what it is?’