A Forbidden Love Novella Series Box Set One: Four Novellas in One Book Read online

  A Forbidden Love Novella Series

  Box Set One

  ( Novellas 1 - 4 )

  by Bree Wolf

  A Forbidden Love Novella Series

  Box Set One

  by Bree Wolf

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, brands, media, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in fictitious manner.

  Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Cover Art by Victoria Cooper

  Copyright © 2017 Sabrina Wolf

  www.breewolf.com

  All Rights Reserved

  This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  To my Readers

  I couldn't have written my stories without your wonderful inspiration

  Table of Contents

  The Wrong Brother

  Prologue

  Chapter One − A Brother's Return

  Chapter Two − A Perfect Match

  Chapter Three − Vows Spoken

  Chapter Four − A Moment of Truth

  Chapter Five − A Heart Stolen

  Chapter Six − A Favour Asked

  Chapter Seven − Notorious Norwood

  Chapter Eight − The Wrong Sister

  Chapter Nine − Unrequited Love

  Chapter Ten − An Unbearable Temptation

  Chapter Eleven − A Confession Long Awaited

  Chapter Twelve − Rewards & Sacrifices

  Chapter Thirteen − Duty & Desire

  Epilogue

  A Brilliant Rose

  Prologue

  Chapter One − In His Brother's Shoes

  Chapter Two − Loyalty

  Chapter Three − A Kindred Soul

  Chapter Four − The Good & the Bad

  Chapter Five − Ties of the Past

  Chapter Six − A Mere Acquaintance

  Chapter Seven − A Chance Encounter

  Chapter Eight − A Night to Remember

  Chapter Nine − A Brother's Return

  Chapter Ten − A Version of the Truth

  Chapter Eleven − A Late Confession

  Chapter Twelve − Deception

  Chapter Thirteen − The Man She Loves

  Epilogue

  The Forgotten Wife

  Prologue

  Chapter One − A Day to be Remembered

  Chapter Two − A Daring Plan

  Chapter Three − A Stranger

  Chapter Four − In the Snow

  Chapter Five − A Scoundrel

  Chapter Six − A Sleigh Ride

  Chapter Seven − A Wakeful Night

  Chapter Eight − A Wife Returns

  Chapter Nine − Dance Practice

  Chapter Ten − Another Wakeful Night

  Chapter Eleven − The Christmas Ball

  Chapter Twelve − The Truth in a Kiss

  Chapter Thirteen − Impossible to Resist

  Epilogue

  An Unwelcome Proposal

  Prologue

  Chapter One − Curse you, Wesley Everett

  Chapter Two − A Ludicrous Plan

  Chapter Three − Whose Brother-in-law?

  Chapter Four − Off to Sanford Manor

  Chapter Five − A Most Unwelcome Proposal or Two

  Chapter Six − Stanhope Grove

  Chapter Seven − For a Lady's Reputation

  Chapter Eight − Lady Eleanor's Demand

  Chapter Nine − To Love or Not to Love

  Chapter Ten − A Wife's Return

  Chapter Eleven − Dance Practise

  Chapter Twelve − A Proposal Repeated

  Chapter Thirteen − The Christmas Ball

  Chapter Fourteen − A Brother's Advice

  Chapter Fifteen − A New Season

  Chapter Sixteen − Lady Rigsby's Proposal

  Chapter Seventeen − A Truly Lucky Man

  Epilogue

  About Bree

  Also By Bree

  Dear Reader,

  Love's Second Chance Series - Overview

  Read a Sneak-peek

  Prologue

  Chapter One - A New Wife

  Chapter Two - On Becoming a Governess

  Chapter Three - The Proposal

  The Wrong Brother

  (#1 A Forbidden Love Novella Series)

  About the Book

  She gave him her hand in marriage.

  Her heart, however, was stolen by his brother.

  Despite her parents' deep love for one another, ISABELLA CARRINGTON has always favoured her mind over her heart.

  Upon meeting CHARLES DASHWOOD, she quickly decides that he is the one for her. After all, he has all the qualities she appreciates in a man; he is kind, honest, and most of all dependable.

  At least until her wedding day when Isabella suddenly desires someone entirely different, or doesn't she?

  In the very moment Isabella whispers her 'I do,' her eyes catch the glimpse of another man. A man whose eyes look unnervingly familiar, and, yet, stir a longing within her heart and soul she has never known.

  Just as she gives her hand to Charles Dashwood, her heart is stolen by none other than her husband's notorious twin, Robert.

  When mind and heart do not go hand in hand, can there be a happily ever after?

  Prologue

  England 1802 (or a variation thereof)

  “Argh!” Robert screamed, raking his hands through his hair. “This is agonizing! Why do we have to study Latin if it’s a dead language?” Shaking his head, he stared at the pages before him.

  “Because it’s the language of scholars,” Charles replied. “Latin and Greek are at the root of every modern language and help us decipher history long forgotten.”

  “Ugh!” Robert exclaimed, crinkling his nose as he looked at his younger twin. “You sound just like Mr. Punham.” Pushing back his chair, he sat sideways, eyes intent on his brother. “But you know what? There is a reason why history is long forgotten, and that’s because it is of no importance. What good will knowing Latin do?”

  Putting down his quill, Charles turned to his brother. Although they shared the same coppery brown hair and hazel eyes, the smirk that usually decorated his twin’s face spoke volumes of the differences in character they couldn’t seem to overcome. “It allows us to read ancient texts and discover how people lived thousands of years ago, what their form of government was, what science they had and−”

  “As I said,” Robert interrupted, “it is nothing but a waste of time.” Lifting his eyes, a longing smile came to his face. “We should be out there.” He gestured to the window and the open fields beyond, running all the way to the horizon, only bordered by a thick-growing forest to the east of Bridgemoore Manor. “That’s the real world. Adventure awaits out there. This,” he gave his book a hard shove so that it went over the edge of the table and hit the floor with a loud thud, “this is just boring.”

  Shaking his head, Charles leaned down and picked up his brother’s book. “If you don’t study, Father will not let you come to the exhibit at the British Museum.”

  Robert sighed. “Well, I’d say that would be good news…although going to London would be something. I bet there is a lot going on there apart from dusty museums and such.”

  “But they have the Rosetta Stone on display,” Charles objected, feeling excitement bubble up in his veins. “It is the key to deciphering−”

>   “Why would I care about some old stone?” Robert whined. “Charles, the world is not only what you find between the covers of your books. It is out there.” Rising from his chair, he strode over to the window, an awe-filled expression in his eyes as he gazed at the stretch of green leading from the home he had been born to and the title he was to inherit to adventures unknown. “Let’s go,” he said, then turned and grabbed his brother’s arm.

  “Go where?” Charles protested, trying to pull his arm free.

  Dragging his brother behind him, Robert yanked open the door then peeked down the corridor. “Let’s shoot some arrows,” he whispered. When the coast remained clear, he proceeded down the corridor, still holding on to his brother’s arm.

  “Arrows?” Charles gasped, trying to free himself. “But Father said we were too young. He said−”

  “He did when he was our age,” Robert objected. “And besides, what could happen?”

  “We could get hurt.” Unable to wrench himself from his brother’s tight grip, Charles reluctantly followed him outside. “How would you know what to do? Have you ever even held a bow and arrow?”

  Turning his head, Robert winked at him.

  Charles’ eyes bulged. “You have? When? Father said−”

  “Father is just as much a bookworm as you are,” Robert snapped. “I taught myself.”

  After retrieving a bow as well as a quiver with arrows from a hiding place in the stables, Robert dragged his younger twin toward the tree line, always ducking behind bushes and running from tree to tree so as to stay out of sight.

  “Is this truly your idea of fun?” Charles heaved, trying to draw in a deep breath, his face flushed with exertion.

  Frowning at his brother, Robert shook his head. “You sound like Aunt Patty, always wheezing as soon as she takes a single step. You should really pull your head out of your books more often and join me in the real world.”

  Proceeding deeper into the forest, Robert finally stopped at a fallen log. “This is where I come to practice.”

  Staring at him dumbfounded, Charles shook his head, wondering if this boy, who was just now fitting an arrow into the bow, could truly be his brother.

  “This is how you do it,” he instructed, eyes concentrated. Never had Charles seen him so focused on anything. “Don’t clench your hand. Then pull back the arrow as much as you can, aim a little higher than the target you have your eye on and…,” he took a deep breath, “release!”

  The arrow shot forward, sailing through the air, and hit its mark−feathers and string tied into a circular pattern hung up in a tree at least fifty yards away.

  “Yes!” Robert cheered, hopping up and down in a victory dance. “I told you I could do it!” Then he turned to his brother, and Charles knew that something was up. “Do you want to try?”

  Eyes wide, he shook his head.

  “Just once,” Robert said, holding out his bow. “If you try it, I promise I’ll study all afternoon tomorrow.”

  “Really?” Charles whispered, eyeing the bow and his brother suspiciously. “Only once?”

  “Only once.”

  Reaching out his hand, Charles reluctantly took the bow, surprised how light it was. Then he accepted the arrow his brother offered him and stepped up to the mark. Taking a deep breath, he followed Robert’s instructions, carefully fitting the arrow onto the string. Bracing himself, Charles let it slide over his hand as he pulled back the string and took aim.

  Beside him, his brother grinned, and Charles felt goose bumps crawl up his back. What had he gotten himself into?

  “I promise I’ll study with you,” Robert said, eyeing his brother with a satisfied grin.

  “All right,” Charles said and pulled back the arrow as far as he could, feeling beats of sweat pop up on his forehead. His fingers began to tremble with the exertion.

  “But only if you hit the mark,” Robert whispered into his ear.

  “What?” Startled, Charles spun around, staring at his brother, who instantly ducked as the arrow was released and shot past his head through the thicket of the forest.

  Staring after it, both brothers winced when a pained howl reached their ears mere moments later.

  “Drat!” Robert exclaimed, his hand once more closing around his brother’s arm. Dragging him forward, he found his way through the thicket and out of the forest. When the meadow came in sight, voices echoed over from the stables, and they found their tutor, Mr. Punham, lying in the grass, hands wrapped around his left calf, face distorted painfully.

  “I hit him,” Charles whispered, staring at the arrow protruding from his tutor’s lower leg. Blood seeped from the wound, staining his stockings as well as the grass.

  ***

  Waiting in their father’s study, Charles couldn’t get the image of Mr. Punham’s distorted face out of his head. “I shot him,” he whispered for the millionth time. The man had taught him Greek and Latin, opened up the world to him of the beauties of ancient societies, and now, he lay bleeding in the downstairs parlour.

  “He will be all right,” Robert whispered beside him, his own cheeks a slightly paler colour as well. “After all, it is only a flesh wound.”

  Staring at him, Charles shook his head. “How can you say that? How can you−?”

  The door opened, and both boys shot to their feet.

  Never had Charles given his father cause for displeasure, and so when the man’s stern eyes fell on him, Charles felt tears stinging his eyes. “I am so sorry,” he whispered, eyes fixed on the floor.

  Coming to stand before them, their father shook his head. “I am severely disappointed in you.” His voice rang cold, not resembling the kind-hearted man Charles knew him to be. “I might have expected such behaviour from you, Robert, but Charles, what in the devil’s name has gotten into you? Shooting an arrow at your tutor?” Again, he shook his head, disbelief darkening his eyes. “I thought you to be a responsible, young man, not a reckless child.” Sighing, he closed his eyes. “I suppose I was mistaken.”

  His gaze shifting from one son to the other, Viscount Norwood crossed his arms, and Charles knew that he was about to find out what punishment he was to receive. “Since I cannot trust that you will display appropriate manners when in London, I am afraid I have no choice but to leave you here.” Charles gasped, feeling the blood rush from his head. “You are to stay at Bridgemoore under Mr. Punham’s strict supervision−should he decide to stay on−and spend your summer reviewing the appropriate behaviour of a gentleman. Am I understood?”

  “Yes, Father,” Charles whispered as stars began to dance before his eyes and the breath caught in his throat. “I am so sorry.”

  “Well, it is a bit late for−”

  “Father!” Robert interrupted, taking a step forward. “Charles is not at fault here; I am.”

  Unable to believe his ears, Charles stared at his brother.

  Lord Norwood’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean? Did Charles not shoot the arrow? When we came upon you, he was holding the bow in his hand.”

  Straightening to his full height, Robert raised his head. “He took it from me. In fact, the only reason he was out there was to try to stop me. It was my idea. The bow and arrows are mine as well. I have been practising for a while now, and when Charles found out, he told me I was not to continue. However, I did not listen.” He took a deep breath. “I know I should have. I did not mean to hurt Mr. Punham. It was an accident.” He glanced at his brother. “Do not punish him. He is merely trying to protect me.”

  For a moment, Lord Norwood remained silent, glancing back and forth between his sons, his eyes narrowed with suspicion. “Is that true?” he finally asked, looking at Charles.

  Feeling the blood drain from his face once more, Charles didn’t know what to say. He glanced at his brother, stammering unintelligibly.

  Nodding his head imperceptibly, Robert’s eyes urged him to agree.

  “Well, I…” He took a deep breath and then looked at his father. “Yes, it is.”
/>   “I see.” For a moment, Lord Norwood’s eyes lingered on his younger son before they moved to Robert. “In this case, it is you who will remain at Bridgemoore for the summer, and you will remain indoors and study.” Robert swallowed. “You do not set a foot outside, am I understood?”

  Robert drew in a sharp breath before nodding his head. “Yes, father.”

  Returning to the seat behind his desk, Lord Norwood bid them to leave. “Oh, and Charles? Although it is noble to want to protect your brother, I would strongly advise against lying to your father! Is that clear?”

  Charles nodded, then followed his brother out into the hall. The second the door closed behind them, he pulled Robert back. “Why did you do that? It was my fault. I shot Mr. Punham.”

  Robert shrugged. “That may be so, but the only reason you were out there was because I did not give you a choice.”

  “That’s not true,” Charles disagreed. “I could have just left. You did not force me to pick up the bow.”

  “Maybe not, but I distracted you.” When Charles opened his mouth to protest, Robert lifted a hand to stop him. “Leave it be, Charles. Go to London, see that stupid stone of yours, and who knows, a day may come when I need you to protect me.” Smiling, Robert clamped a hand on his brother’s shoulder then turned around and walked down the corridor.

  Charles simply stared after him, for the first time understanding the true meaning of brotherhood.

  Chapter One − A Brother's Return

  Fifteen Years Later

  Breathing in the early night air, Robert Dashwood looked up at the looming structure of Bridgemoore Manor. It had been years since he had been here. Not since his father had died and passed on his title to him.

  The very sight of his childhood home made his insides quiver. Memories resurfaced of careless days spent in leisure with his brother, with his friends. A smile drew up the corners of his mouth as he remembered the many days he had spent in detention, punishment for yet another reckless deed he had felt compelled to do. Those days had been good; yet, the moment he had come of age, Robert had left, his feet trembling with the need to get away and see the world.