Scandal [NOOK Book]



Rein Montgomery, the Duke of Wroxly, live as a commoner? His late uncle's will is painfully clear: Rein must survive without his wealth or title in the meanest of London's streets for one month, or else lose his entire fortune. Luckily, his ability to charm the ladies has never failed him anywhere, anytime. And he has his newest conquest ...
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Rein Montgomery, the Duke of Wroxly, live as a commoner? His late uncle's will is painfully clear: Rein must survive without his wealth or title in the meanest of London's streets for one month, or else lose his entire fortune. Luckily, his ability to charm the ladies has never failed him anywhere, anytime. And he has his newest conquest in sight: a beguiling market girl named Anna Rose Brooks.

Anna's heart is kind and her intelligence keen, but she's not sure what to make of this dashing stranger lost in the rough district of St. Giles. Is he gentleman or rake? She offers him shelter for one night, but he wants thirty. She tries to keep her distance, but he tempts her to share his bed. She gives in to scandal by becoming his mistress, but he wants her soul. Anna is no fool; she knows the men who come to St. Giles do not often stay. And now she is faced with her biggest fear: that when he leaves, he will take her heart.

Word Count: 88,000 words.
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Editorial Reviews

From The Critics
Brimming with humor and interspersed with moments of growing sensuality, this story is a sexy mix of love and laughter. Sensitive and thoughtful characterizations add depth. Dizzy fun all the way, Tempted is an enticing read indeed.
Brimming with humor and interspersed with moments of growing sensuality, this story is a sexy mix of love and laughter. Sensitive and thoughtful characterizations add depth. Dizzy fun all the way, Tempted is an enticing read indeed.
Publishers Weekly
Shades of My Fair Lady color this farcical Regency from Britton (Seduced), which throws together two disparate characters, Charles Reinleigh Drummond Montgomery, the sixth earl of Sherborne, and Anna Brooks, a bright, ambitious market maid. Rein can't believe his ears when he hears the conditions of his uncle, the Duke of Wroxly's, will. But when he finds himself unceremoniously dumped in one of London's seediest slums, reality slowly sinks in. If he doesn't survive in the slum for a month without the benefit of money or connections, he will lose his inheritance. Before he has a chance to get his bearings, Anna accidentally conks him on the "knowledge box" with one of her many inventions. Rein seizes the opportunity to secure shelter with Anna, but he soon finds himself wanting more from the feisty young woman. Anna isn't immune to their attraction, but she's determined not to let it get in the way of her goal to design a sail worthy of Britain's naval fleet. A handful of minor characters like Anna's market friend, Molly, and her batty grandfather add color, but Britton's portrayal of the slums feels whitewashed, despite her occasional references to the city's mud and grime. But this is a fairy tale, after all, and as a fairy tale, it succeeds. Those looking for a fully fleshed-out romance, however, may find it lacking. Agent, Jenny Bent of Trident Media. (July) Copyright 2004 Reed Business Information.
Library Journal
Determined to overcome the licentious tradition of his ancestors, the Marquis of Warrick is a customs officer par excellence. But when he destroys the livelihood of the locals along the Hollowbrook Coast by clamping down on smuggling, the stage is set for revenge in an unexpected way-a smuggler's daughter-turned-nanny who infiltrates both his home and his heart. An intelligent, outspoken heroine, a hero struggling with his family's reputation and his own feelings, and a willful child in need of attention drive the plot of this fast-paced, highly sensuous tale, which also throws in wickedly sassy humor, a dash of danger, and a mischievous monkey. Britton (Seduced) is an up-and-coming romance writer and lives in Northern California. Copyright 2003 Reed Business Information.
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Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9780446507479
  • Publisher: Grand Central Publishing
  • Publication date: 7/31/2007
  • Sold by: Hachette Digital, Inc.
  • Format: eBook
  • Pages: 356
  • Sales rank: 185,217
  • File size: 812 KB

Meet the Author

A former employee of NASCAR, Pamela Britton is now a full-time romance writer. She lives in Northern California with her daughter and her husband, a bonafide bull rider.

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Read an Excerpt


By Pamela Britton

Warner Books

Copyright © 2004

Pamela Britton-Baer
All right reserved.

ISBN: 0-446-61130-1

Chapter One

No red cape.
No pitchfork.
No horns.

All in all Mary Brown Callahan would say that the Devil Marquis of Warrick
didn't look a thing like she expected.

Oddly enough, she felt disappointment. Of course, she couldn't see his lordship
all that well what with him sitting upon a bleedin' throne of a chair behind his
bleedin' monstrosity of a desk.

"Please have a seat," he said without looking up, his eyes firmly fixed upon a
document before him, a clock on a mantel behind him tick-tick-ticking in an
annoyingly sterile way. Somewhere off in the distance another clock chimed the
quarter hour, the bong-ding-dong-dong finding its way into the room. Muted
sunlight from the right reflected off the flawless, polished perfection of his
desk. The ink-blotter lay exactly square, almost as if someone had used a
measuring tape to place it. Papers were stacked at perfect right angles. A
fragrant, rather obnoxious-smelling truss of red roses and rosemary squatted in
a fat vase. It made Mary long to reach forward and mess it all up.

Instead, she took a seat, nearly yelping when the plush blue velvet did its best
to swallow her like she were Jonah and the chair a whale. She jerked forward,
lookingup to see if his lordship had noticed. No. The swell were still
engrossed in his work. Hmph.

She waited for him. Then waited some more. Finally, she began to tap her foot
impatiently, her toe ticking on the floor in time with the clock ... quite a
merry beat when one got into the tapping of it.

The scratching of his quill abruptly stopped. His head slowly lifted.

Two things hit Mary at once. One, Alexander Drummond, Marquis of Warrick, had
the prettiest eyes she'd ever seen, blue they were, the color of a seashell when
you turned it upside down.

Two, he was not the ugly ogre she'd been expecting, which just went to show a
body shouldn't believe all the things that are said, especially when those words
came from her silly baboon of a father, Tobias Brown.

His lordship blinked at her, frowned, then said, "I'll be with you in just a
moment," slowly and succinctly-as if she had a whole hide of wool in her
ears-before going back to work.

She narrowed her eyes. Would he now? Well la-de-da. His high-and-mightiness were
right full of himself, wasn't he, in his fitted jacket made of a black wool
woven so tight, the fabric looked as shiny and as soft as a well-bred horse's
coat. His cravat wasn't tied as intricately as some of those she'd seen-those
worn by the dandies who strolled up and down Bond Street with silver-tipped
walking sticks that they jabbed into the ground like the very earth offended
them. No, his lordship's cravat was simply tied, seeming to cup the chin of what
was a very handsome face. No sense in denying it.

Nothing slug-faced about it, which was how most lords looked, to her mind at
least. This cull had a chin that was almost square, his nose not at all large
and aquiline, but rather narrow and-could it be-a bit crooked? Above the eyes
that she'd noted before sprang midnight black hair with strands of gray that
peppered the bulk of it, those strands pulled back in a queue, the whole
combining to form a face that would make a bold woman stare and a shy woman

"Did your daughter give you that?" she found herself asking, more because she
wanted to look into his extraordinary face again, rather than down the edge of

And so once again he looked up. His quill stopped its annoying scratch, the
black jacket he wore tightening as he straightened. Thick, very masculine brows
lowered. "I beg your pardon?"

"The gray hair," she said, pointing with a gloved hand at his hair, and then
motioning to her own carrots in case he needed further clarification.

And now those black brows lifted. "As a matter of fact, no. 'Tis a genetic trait
inherited from my father. All Drummond men have it."

She pursed her lips, liking the way his voice sounded. Low and deep and
perfectly controlled, as if each syllable was measured and weighed before let
loose on the world. "Only the men? What would you do if a woman were born with
it? Strangle the lass?"

His lips parted. His jaw dropped, but he was only struck all-a-mort for a
moment. Too bad.

"No, Mrs...." He looked down, his white cravat all but poking him in the chin
as he pulled sheets of papers toward him. She recognized them as the ones John
Lasker had forged. John had the best penmanship in Hollowbrook. "Mrs. Callahan.
We do not shoot our children."

Got his ballocks in a press, hadn't she? Hah. She almost smiled.

"And," he continued, "Since it would appear as if you're determined to interrupt
me, I suppose we should just begin the interview for the position. That way, you
can be on your way, and I can return to my work."

Mary perked up. At last. Two, maybe three minutes and she'd be out of his
lordship's home. For one thing Mary Callahan didn't want, and that was to nurse
his daughter. No, indeed. She'd sooner let those fancy gents what practiced with
their pistols down by the Thames use her for target practice. She'd only come to
appease her monkey-brained father, a man who'd gone a wee bit crackers with his
plot of revenge against the marquis.

(Although now that she'd met the man, she could well understand her father's
aversion to the cull.) No, indeed.

She'd do everything in her power to thwart that sap-skulled fool, that she
silently vowed. And then she'd return to her real job, which was a fair way from
St. James Square.

"I see you're from Wellburn, Mrs. Callahan." She leaned forward, placing an arm
nonchalantly on his desk as she pretended to look at the papers. He smelled
nice, almost like cinnamon, which made her wonder if he'd used the spice in that
fancy coffee of his, the one whose smell she could still catch if she inhaled
deeply enough, which she did, which he must have heard because his brows lifted
again. Next he looked at her arm, up at her, then at the arm again. Pointedly.

"Is that wha' it says?" she asked, not removing her elbow, and not trying to
smooth her Cockney accent, something she could do, if she had a mind to. She
tilted her head, and Lord knows why, but when their gazes met, she smiled. Mary
Callahan had a bonny smile. Truth be told, she had a lot of bonny traits-or so
she'd been told.

Fine green eyes. Dimples. And an endearing way of looking at a man from beneath
her thick lashes, not that there was any reason to look up at his lordship that
way. The marquis, however, didn't appear fazed. "You're not from Wellburn?" he
asked, his face blank.

He had the composure of a corpse.

"If that's what it says, then I suppose I am." She leaned back, noticing that
his eyes darted down a second.

Quickly. As if he'd glanced at her breasts, found them interesting, then looked
away again because he couldn't believe he'd done something so common. They were
a fine, ripe bushel, though she was surprised his lordship here would be
noticing. She'd have thought that kind of thing was beneath his hoity-toity

"You suppose?"

She shrugged, one of the seams in the dress Fanny Goodwin had sewn popping a bit
at the shoulder. It was blue with darker blue ribbon trimming the demure, long
sleeves, and yet there was nothing demure about it. The bloody thing was sewn in
such a way as to lift her breasts and hold them out for his lordship's
inspection like they were pudding molds sent up from the kitchen just to suit
his taste. And perhaps they did for she could have sworn he glanced down again,
though he covered it under the guise of moving his gaze to his papers again.

"Been travelin' a lot," she said. "Hard to keep track." "I see." And the words
were clipped out: I. See. Gritted teeth. Stiff jaw. Bayonet up his backside. He
kept his gaze on the papers. "Do you enjoy being a nurse, Mrs. Callahan?"


His head snapped up again. He was going to get a bleedin' neck ache if he kept
that up. Up. Down. Up. Down.


She shook her head. "Can't stand children." She had the rum-eyed pleasure of
seeing his mouth drop open. "But it says here you love them." "Who said that?"
she asked, and she really was curious. Fineas Blackwell, her father's longtime
chum, must have made John write that down. He had a wicked sense of humor, and
saying she liked children was laughable indeed.

"Mrs. Thistlewillow." That explained it. "Mrs. Thistlewillow would claim
Beelzebub loved children."

His lordship had fine teeth, she noticed. And she had occasion to study them
because his mouth hung open again. Not a rotted one in the lot. "Mrs. Callahan.
I get the feeling that you have not read your references."

She snorted. Couldn't help it. She'd no intention of getting hired for the job,
so why read forged references? "I make a point not to read what others say about
me." And she was bloody proud of that fact. She might be a poor smuggler's
daughter. She might be a wee speck on his lordship's boot heel, but Mary
Callahan-lately of the Royal Circus-stood on her own two feet ... literally as
the case may be. Damn the rest of the world.

He shook his head, picked up her references, then tapped the edges of the papers
on the desk as he said, "Mrs. Callahan. Thank you for coming, but it appears as
if a mistake has been ma-"


Mary's arse fair puckered to the chair. Blimey, what a screech. The door swung
open with a resounding boom that rocked all around it, including her eardrums.
She swiveled toward the door. At least, she tried to. The bloody chair held her
backside down like a Scottish bog.

"Papa, Simms says you're interviewing another nurse."

A little girl of about eight ran by, her hair streaming behind her. Black it
was, and in sore need of a good brushing. She landed in a puppyish jumble of
arms and legs in her father's embrace, dust motes circling like buzzards in her
wake. "I don't want a nurse. I told you that." Ah. The little termagant herself.

Mary held her breath as she waited for his lordship to look up, to dismiss her,
which he'd obviously been about to do before the hellion had come in.

"Gabby," the marquis said. "Be polite and say how do you do to Mrs. Callahan."

Polite? Bugger it. Mary wanted to leave. "No," the little girl snapped. "Do it,
Gabby. Now."

The little girl drew back, her face only inches away from her father's. They
were practically nose-to-nose, the marquis' handsome, arrogant face stern and
disapproving. Lord, the man could scare kids on All Hallows' Eve with a look
like that.

The bantling wiggled on his lap. Then her face turned resigned. She shimmied
down, landing with that soft shush of leather soles on fine carpet. The gray
dress looked stained with juice, Mary noted, her black slippers that peeked out
beneath white petticoats smudged with dirt. But she was a cute little moppet
with her father's startling blue eyes and dark, curly hair that rustled as she

"How do you do," she said, dropping into a curtsy that somehow seemed, well,
mocking. And then she rose, looked sideways out of her eyes, and that cute
little moppet with the pretty blue eyes stuck out her tongue. Mary stiffened.

And that seemed to be the reaction wanted for the hellion gave her a smug smile.

Mary's eyes narrowed. Never one to be gotten the best of, especially by some
pug-nosed whelp, she stuck her tongue out, too.

"Papa," the little girl breathed without missing a beat. "Did you see that? She
stuck her tongue out at me." Mary looked up at the marquis. What? Wait a

"Gabby," he said. "I know well and good that you stuck your tongue out first.
Apologize to Mrs. Callahan immediately."

"No," the little girl snapped, her tiny hands fisting by her sides.

"Do it," he ordered. "No," she yelled.

Mary covered her ears. "Land's alive, m'lord. Don't argue with her. I'll lose me
hearing. 'Tis plain as carriage wheels that she's not going to apologize."

For the second time that day-the first being the time he'd caught his first
glimpse of the stunning Mrs.

Callahan-Alexander Drummond, marquis of Warrick, felt speechless. It defied
belief, the things that kept coming out of the nurse's mouth. Simply defied. "I
beg your pardon?"

She arched red brows, and was it his imagination, or did those pretty green eyes
of hers narrow? "She's not going to apologize. What's more, I don't want her
bloomin' apology. Fact is, I don't want to be her nurse, either."

Alex thought he'd misheard her again, was even tempted to lift a finger to his
ear to clean it out in the event there was something wrong there, but then Gabby
said, "Good. Leave," verifying that the unexpected words had, indeed, been
correctly deciphered.

"I will," she answered right back, rising from her chair.

"Sit down," Alex ordered. Granted, a minute ago he'd been about to tell the
outspoken lady to leave. Now, oddly, he found himself taking her side.

"Please," he added when-good lord-the woman looked ready to defy him.

She slowly sat, but she didn't look too pleased about it.

"Gabby, you may leave. I will speak with you upstairs."

His daughter's lips pressed together, something he knew from experience meant a
tantrum. "I'm a bastard," she yelled in a last-ditch attempt to put the nurse

Alex winced. He knew the child was inordinately sensitive to the fact that her
mother had left her on his doorstep. He could sympathize, still incensed himself
that a woman could do such a thing.

He looked at Mrs. Callahan to gauge her reaction, but she merely lifted a brow.
"Are you now?"

"I am."

"Is that the excuse you use for your poor manners?" Gabby sucked in a breath.
"Did you hear that, father? She said I have poor manners." "Well, you do," Mrs.
Callahan said. "Do not."

The nurse snorted, the inelegant sound somehow seeming to fit the redoubtable
nurse perfectly. "You don't even know how to curtsy properly." "Do, too."

"Not by the looks of the one you just gave me." To Alex's absolute and utter
shock, his obstinate daughter took a step back, straightened, and then gave the
nurse a curtsy that would have done her mother proud ... if she'd had one.

"There," she said upon straightening. Mrs. Callahan wrinkled her tilted nose.
"Hmm. I suppose that was a wee bit better, but no proper little girl disobeys
her elders."

Gabby glared. So did the nurse. Alex decided he'd had enough. "Gabby, go to your

His daughter opened her mouth to give her standard protest. But an odd thing
happened. He saw her stiffen again. Saw her clench her fists. Saw her
straighten. "As you wish, Papa."

Alex just about fell off his chair. She turned, gave him a quick, perfect
curtsy, nodded to Mrs. Callahan-who, of all things, stuck her tongue out
again-then left.

Silence dawned. Alex could only stare.

"If that's the way she behaves, 'tis a wonder someone hasn't given your daughter
a basting." Her full lips pressed together. "Fair wanted to do it meself." He
blinked, found himself clearing his throat. "Mrs.


Excerpted from Tempted
by Pamela Britton
Copyright © 2004 by Pamela Britton-Baer.
Excerpted by permission.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

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Customer Reviews

Average Rating 4.5
( 8 )
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Sort by: Showing 1 – 9 of 8 Customer Reviews
  • Anonymous

    Posted April 20, 2013


    Very good. At first i thought it would be stupid. She hit him in the head with a kite! But it tturned out to be the best book ive read in awhile. 233 pages and i read it in a day and a half

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted May 24, 2004

    Another FABULOUS Tale by Ms. Britton!!

    Ms. Britton does it again in this romantic and witty tale of a Duke forced to live as a commoner for a month in order to keep his inheritance and a smart and sassy 'commoner' who is not so common at all. Rein Montgomery is dismayed to learn that, in order to keep his inheritance, his uncle the former Duke of Wroxly, has set up a scheme that he must live as a commoner for a month and survive by his wits alone. Literally dropped from his carriage in the middle of St. Giles, the recklessly wicked duke is immediately set upon and knocked a kite! The kite's owner, a Miss Anna Brooks is a market maid by day, and an inventor in her spare time. She is anything but common, from her unnatural beauty, to her sassy wit, and the very unfeminine-like pursuit of actually using her brain! She is a smart girl, brought low by circumstances, and yet still manages to keep her spirits and values. This unlikely pair soon find themselves falling in love-with each other, while trying to survive everyday life in St. Giles, win a competition, and run for their very lives. They then have to overcome their own issues of self confidence and the extreme difference of their stations in life to see if love really can conquer all. I definitely recommend this book, and if you haven't read any of Ms. Britton's others, get to the bookstore and pick them up! This one is destined for my keeper shelf, right next to her others!

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted June 23, 2004


    I hate to gush but I'm just so amazed by this author. I was very impressed with SEDUCED and TEMPTED but to my joy she just gets better and better. SCANDAL is the sequel to TEMPTED so if you liked that book you definately need to read this one too. Anna Brooks is a market maid with a tragic past. When she meets Rein Drummond she knows immediately that he's a gentleman. Unfortunately she's also responsible for injuring the man and so she's forced to take him in. But he speaks as if he's a duke (he is) and he makes it perfectly clear that he wants more than one night from Anna. He wants HER. Oh boy. That's the set up, and it sounds simple, but Ms. Britton is a master at taking the familiar and making it her own. Believe me, I was laughing and tearing up the whole way through this book and when I was done I was so upset!! I didn't want it to end. Don't hesitate to buy this book if you love Ms. Britton's work. And if you love to laugh buy this book. Oh man! Just buy the book because I really don't think you'll be disappointed.

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted July 9, 2004

    I LOVED IT!!!!!

    Set in 1819, England. Fantastic, didn't want to put it down. It brought tears to my eyes towards the end. I can't decide if I like this book more than I liked 'Tempted'. They're both sooo good, I think these two were much better than the first 'Seduced'. Also 'Scandal' reminded me of the book 'The Seduction' by Julia Ross. There's a wager to be won in that book also. Ms Britton does get better and better.

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted June 6, 2004


    One of the great things about being a reveiwer for an online e-zine is the chance to reader wonderful books before they come out. Scandal is one of those rare books. This is an author who, in just a year, has proven herself to be THE up and coming author of historical romance novels. Her stories never fail to make this reviewer laugh and cry. But with Scandal, she reaches new heights. By far her best book to date, I don't want to spoil the plot for you by revealing the details of the book. Just trust me. This is Britton at her best.

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted May 15, 2004

    fine Regency tale

    The Duke of Wroxley never hid that he detested his nephew Charles Montgomery for taking his son and heir down a wastrel path filled with pranks. So when his son died and Charles became the heir, the Duke insured that the young man would prove worthy with a stipulation in his will. Charles must live in the St. Giles slum for one month without telling anyone or receiving outside help to inherit anything not entailed.<p> In 1819, Charles becomes the Duke and learns of the codicil when he is unceremoniously dumped in St. Giles. Almost immediately, he is knocked out cold by a kite owned by resident Anna Brooks, who takes the injured duke to recover for a few hours in her home. However, he wants to spend more than a few hours with the lovely intelligent Anna and her zany uncle; soon he wants a lifetime with his savior.<p> This is a fun tale due to the antics of Anna, inventor extraordinaire, and her wacky uncle. Dog lovers will agree with Charles¿ uncle that his nephew is a reprobate. Still to his credit, even as he realizes that he is clearly out of his element in the London slums, he is willing to remain there for a lifetime if it is with Anna. Regency readers will enjoy this fine fish out of sea tale.<p> Harriet Klausner

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted May 22, 2012

    Tad Disappointing

    I read the reviews and was SO excited to read this book. I was already laughing after reading the sample, so I figured it wouldn't be so bad to spend $10.00 on a good book. I was totally wrong. Where was the SCANDAL in this book??????? I don't want to give anything away but please trust me that there is no scandal worthy of the title. Just one money hungry person lying and that is definitely not a scandal. And Annie started out to be such a great female but quickly seemed as though she had PMS throughout the book. Almost as soon as Rein entered her life, she lost her spark. The two sex scenes were so lackluster and uninspiring........saying I was disappointed would be the understatement of the year!!!! I really wish there was a way to get my money back. Needless to say, I will never purchase another book by this author. (FRG)

    0 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted February 8, 2011

    No text was provided for this review.

  • Anonymous

    Posted January 28, 2010

    No text was provided for this review.

Sort by: Showing 1 – 9 of 8 Customer Reviews

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