Mad About Series Challenge 2024 HRBC. Kobo+. #4 in Hearts of Inquiry Series. MC's h Violet Kent 22, Richard Murray, 32, Viscount Carlisle.
Series Couples
The Duke Who Knew Too Much (Alaric & Emma) baby Olivia - ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
M is for Marquess (Gabriel & Thea) - ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
The Lady Who Came in from the Cold (Marcus & Penny) 3 sons - ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
The Viscount Always Knocks Twice (Richard & Violet)& baby - ⭐️ ⭐️⭐️⭐️
Never Say Never to an Earl (Sinjin & Polly)
The Gentleman Who Loved Me (Andrew & Primrose)
Kent’s
Ambrose ( Marianne ) Marianne’s daughter Primrose 18 & their son Edward 9, Baby Sophia
Primrose & Andrew Corbett (Miranda, Oliver and Lily) Andrew knighted by King for philandthropy.
Harry & (son)
Emma ( Duke of Strathaven) daughter Olivia
Thea ( Marquess of Tremount)son Freddy
Violet (Viscount Carlisle). (son Jamie & more) Friend (Marcus Marquis of Blackwood & Pandora)
Polly & Sinjin Earl of Revelstoke (children)
Quotes
Richard Murray, Viscount Carlisle and Violet Kent
*Richard doesn’t approve of her friendship with his brother Wickham
Red saturated her vision. Her hands acted of their own volition, shooting upward, planting on his chest. They gave a shove—and time suddenly slowed. She had the sensation of watching from the outside as Carlisle stumbled, surprise rippling across his face as he lost his footing in a puddle of champagne, his large body falling backward like a felled tree…
The thudding splash brought her to her senses. In stupefied horror, she took in Carlisle sitting on his behind in the fountain. Blood-red champagne rained merrily over his head and shoulders.
Gadzooks, what have I done?
She took a halting step toward him… stopped at the hellfire raging in his eyes.
He growled, “Get out of here. Now.”
*Viscount tells Violet to stay away from Wickham at the Billings House Party
In tones that brooked no refusal, he said, “I want your word that you’ll stay away from Wick.”
“You’ll get no such promise from me.”
Enmity crackled between them. His blood pounded, the pressure in his veins rising.
“This is no lark, by Jove. Wickham’s life is at stake,” he growled. “You’re no good for him.”
“I’m no good?” Her eyes blazed.
God, he hated how women always twisted his words. “That is not what I said—”
“Well, you’re nothing if not consistent when it comes to judging my character,” she snapped. “To think I was going to apologize for our prior encounter.”
“I don’t expect an apology from you,” he said flatly.
*Proposal & Passion after refusal
“For the last dashed time, Wick is my friend. Get it through your thick skull: I have no designs on your brother whatsoever. In fact, I don’t want to get married at all.”“That’s inconvenient, isn’t it,” he said acidly, “since I’m offering for you.”
A heartbeat passed.
She glared at him. “That is not amusing, Carlisle.”
“I don’t think so either. Unfortunately, it must be done, given what happened between us in the Priest Hole.” He managed to adopt a pragmatic tone, despite the fact that his heart was beating like a fist against his ribs. “I am not in the habit of seducing innocents, Miss Kent, and my honor demands that I answer for my mistake.”
“Your… mistake?”
Her incredulity made his neck heat, yet he blundered on. “Obviously, I wasn’t in my right mind. If I had been, I wouldn’t have gone near you. You’re obviously not the type of female who would suit a man of my temperament.”
“I don’t suit you?”
“Well, yes,” he said impatiently. “It’s obvious that we are opposites in nature. As you yourself have said, I respect tradition. I envision a calm, orderly sort of life, one centered on my duty to my title and estate. Ideally, my wife would share my goals and views on marriage.” Finally, he was on stable ground; he could talk for days about duty. “She would understand the importance of abiding by rules of convention and propriety. She would not be prone to flights of fancy or the silliness which plagues most of your sex Rather, she would strive to live up to the honor which I would bestow upon her.”
“What lottery did she enter to be so lucky?”
Ignoring the interjection, he said, “You, on the other hand, are a modern female, which means… well, I don’t know what it means exactly, other than you’re prone to scrapes, flirtations, and generally wreaking havoc wherever you go. In sum, you are nothing like the sort of wife I had imagined for myself. Nevertheless,” he said, holding up a hand when she made to speak, “I am willing to overlook those differences between us because of the weakness of a moment. It happened, there’s no going back, and thus, I must do the honorable thing. So will you?”
She was staring at him. “Will I… what?”
“Marry me,” he said.
Violet was not a girl prone to romantic delusions. Growing up, she hadn’t been one to dream of a knight in shining armor sweeping her off her feet because she’d wanted to be the one riding the steed—and not side saddle either. Knights, to her mind, received the better end of the bargain: they got to ride off on exciting quests while their poor wives were left to slave away in some drafty old castle.
So, no, she wasn’t a particularly sentimental girl. But that didn’t mean she expected her first and only marriage proposal to be slung at her like mud. Anger blasted through her.
“I’d sooner… eat a horse than marry you!” Her voice shook. “And I adore horses.”
She had the satisfaction of seeing Carlisle’s expression harden. “So your answer is no.”
“You have a screw loose if you think I’d say yes to such a proposal!”
Emotion smoldered in his eyes; it was quickly banked. “Then my duty is done.”
“I wouldn’t marry you if you were the last man on earth.”
“Spare me the clichés,” he clipped out. “Your answer has been duly noted, and, I might add, with no little relief.”
Relief? Her fury found fresh legs. “Your relief could not be possibly greater than mine. As wrong as I may be for you, you are infinitely more wrong for me. You’re nothing like the sort of man I would wish to marry.”
A muscle ticked in his jaw. “Your behavior in the Priest Hole would suggest otherwise.”
Heat scalded her cheeks. “It was dark. A moment of weakness.”
“Admit it, you little baggage. You wanted me,” he gritted out.
She refused to give him the satisfaction. “You could have been any man.”
A dark flame leapt in his eyes as he leaned over her. “So you would have allowed any man’s tongue between your lips? Any man’s hand down your bodice? You’d ride any man’s thigh and pant in his ear?”
“You… you’re no gentleman.” Not the strongest riposte, but it was difficult to think when she could scarcely breathe. His nearness made her feel lightheaded. More than a little crazed. Clinging to her last vestiges of rationality, she shot back, “Only a troglodyte would say such things.”
“Troglodyte? Impressive word.” His eyes glinted like raw ore. “But can you spell it?”
That does it.
Black lines exploded across her vision. Her hand raised to slap him.
He caught her wrist. Her other hand automatically came up, but he caught that one too. Before she knew what was happening, he’d driven her backward, her spine pressing up against the end of a bookshelf. He caged her, pinning her hands above her head with one big hand. Bosom heaving, staring into his glinted like raw ore. “But can you spell it?”
That does it.
Black lines exploded across her vision. Her hand raised to slap him.
He caught her wrist. Her other hand automatically came up, but he caught that one too. Before she knew what was happening, he’d driven her backward, her spine pressing up against the end of a bookshelf. He caged her, pinning her hands above her head with one big hand. Bosom heaving, staring into his dark impassioned eyes, she felt… anticipation.
“By Jove, you drive me mad, woman,” he growled.
Her heart hammered in her ears. “Not as mad as you drive me.”
Pure masculine triumph flashed in his eyes.
“Then let’s go to Bedlam together,” he rasped.
His mouth slammed onto hers All thoughts of honor and duty were washed away by a flood of red—anger and desire so intertwined that there was no hope of separating them. Together, they lashed at him, whipping him into an animal frenzy. Control slipped from his grip, replaced by the burning, driving need to tame and claim the recalcitrant goddess in his arms.
He ravaged her soft lips, shuddering when they parted on a breathy moan. When she licked his invading tongue, he felt that lush swipe all the way down in his groin. His balls swelled, his engorged cockhead butting against his trousers.
Her sweet, hot flavor wiped reason from his brain. He was driven by one imperative.
Make her mine.
Dr. Seuss’s Horton the Elephant
She was no namby-pamby miss; she meant what she said and did what she set out to do