The Swan And The Rake (The Shifter Season Book 4) Read online

  The Swan And The Rake

  The Shifter Season #4

  Laura Greenwood

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Epilogue

  Author Note

  Also by Laura Greenwood

  About Laura Greenwood

  © 2022 Laura Greenwood

  All rights reserved. This book or parts thereof may not be reproduced in any form, stored in any retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means – electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording or otherwise – without prior written permission of the published, except as provided by United States of America copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher at “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at the email address; [email protected].

  Visit Laura Greenwood's website at:

  www.authorlauragreenwood.co.uk

  Cover by Ammonia Book Covers

  The Swan And The Rake is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  If you find an error, you can report it via my website. Please note that my books are written in British English: https://www.authorlauragreenwood.co.uk/p/report-error.html

  To keep up to date with new releases, sales, and other updates, you can join my mailing list via my website or The Paranormal Council Reader Group on Facebook.

  Blurb

  Letitia has been warned her whole life about the risks of falling for a rake, but that doesn't stop her from getting swept into the arms of a handsome swan shifter.

  Philip has no intention of settling down and getting married, but when the two of them are caught in a compromising position, all of that changes.

  Now married, can the two swan shifters learn to love one another?

  -

  The Swan and the Rake is a paranormal Regency romance with swab shifters. It is part of the Shifter Season series. It has a forced proximity m/f romance and is Letitia and Philip's complete story.

  One

  Letitia

  I enter the ballroom behind my mother, my head down and demure, though my intentions for the evening are anything but. There is plenty of enjoyment to be had once Mother is distracted by her own friends, which is sure to happen at any moment.

  A small part of me has always wondered whether she counted down the days until I was presented and she could entertain herself this way.

  Or if it is the only reason she had a daughter in the first place.

  I banish the thoughts, aware that they lead nowhere good and it is better for me if I focus on the fun I can have myself now that we're at the ball.

  "Mother?" I ask.

  She turns to face me. "Yes, Letitia?"

  "Would you excuse me so that I may go and see my friends?" I ask, having spotted Georgiana and Mary across the room. If I am hasty, Mary won't disappear before I get there like she is wont to do.

  Mother sighs, but I can tell from her expression that she's secretly pleased. "Very well." She waves her hand, shooing me off.

  I hurry across the ballroom, nodding to guests I recognise and have been introduced to, but not stopping to speak with any of them. Small talk can be saved for later in the evening.

  Georgiana snaps open her fan, using it in an attempt to divert the stuffiness of the room away from her, while Mary seems to be searching for any reason to escape.

  "I see some things do not change," I say as I reach my friends.

  "Have you seen Miss Rodyle anywhere?" Mary asks, still searching for the lady in question.

  "Not yet. Are you expecting her?" I ask.

  "I am. She promised to make an introduction to Lady Batloam. She's hosting a gathering next week and I require an invitation."

  I raise an eyebrow. "I don't believe I've heard of Lady Batloam."

  "That does not surprise me, Letty. She doesn't run in your circles."

  Georgiana smothers her laughter, hiding her face with her fan, though I already know she's amused at my expense.

  "I am able to have an intellectual conversation," I remind my friends.

  "You can," Georgiana agrees. "But we're all aware that your attention is often caught by less serious matters."

  "Perhaps you forget that finding a husband is a serious matter for those of us who are not already betrothed," I point out.

  "Mary isn't engaged," Georgiana counters.

  "She has her books," I murmur.

  "And you have your flirting," she teases. "Speaking of, isn't that Lord Cygnus making his way over here?" She flips her fan shut and gestures with it to where the handsome swan shifter is making his way over.

  "I believe it is," I say, straightening my back and resisting the urge to smooth out my dress.

  "If you dance with him again, people might start to talk, Letty," she warns me.

  "Let them. There are dozens of couples dancing with one another multiple times. No one will pay us any mind."

  "Yet you don't have any intention of marrying him."

  "Of course not," I assure my friend. "It is a flirtation, nothing more. Merely for fun and diversion."

  For a moment, I believe she is going to argue with me and say that I should take these things more seriously, but instead she merely nods.

  "Miss Falnor, Miss Rocke," Lord Cygnus says, dipping his head to each of my friends in turn.

  "Lord Cygnus," Georgiana responds, though Mary is already too distracted to go through the courtesy greeting.

  "Miss Swanley," he says, turning to me and looking at me with his piercing gaze. "Would you do me the honour of accompanying me for the next dance?" He holds his hand out, knowing that propriety says I shouldn't refuse, and that I have no desire to anyway.

  "The honour would be mine, My Lord," I respond in a sultry tone, slipping my hand into his.

  Georgiana makes a small squeak and flicks open her fan in order to hide her response.

  Lord Cygnus leads me away from my friends and towards the dance floor where other couples are taking their places. "I dare say that one of these days, Miss Rocke will outright say that she disapproves of me," he says, amusement dancing in his dark eyes.

  "I don't believe she ever would, My Lord."

  "Because she doesn't disapprove?"

  I let out a small laugh. "I believe it is more likely that she is aware of the disparity between your stations and doesn't wish to bring any displeasure on her family or her betrothed."

  "Ah, yes, that does tend to stay some people's tongues."

  "It does."

  "Though what of you, Miss Swanley? Will your tongue be stayed should I displease you?"

  "I am yet to find out, My Lord."

  The music begins before either of us can say anything else, which is always a shame. The excellent thing about practising my flirtations on Lord Cygnus is that I know he has no intention of asking me, or anyone else, to marry him. It rather takes the pressure off.

  "How are you finding the evening, My Lord?" I ask while we wait for our turn to dance.

  "I must admit to it being a bit of a bore, though I believe that is set to change now I am being afforded a moment of your company."

  "Flattery, Lord Cygnus? Do you not worry that I will start to misunderstand your intentions?"

  "I believe you are a lady of your word. You say you do not wish to be married yet."

  "And it is true."

  "Though not a sentiment shared by many of your friends," he observes.

  "I believe they see these balls and gatherings as a necessity," I respond. "Whereas I see them for what they are, a welcome diversion with which to pass the time."

  "Here I was thinking that Miss Falnor was the scholar and not you."

  Surprise rises within me at his astute appraisal of my friend. "I was not aware you spent so much time thinking of Miss Falnor." I try to ignore the hint of jealousy rising within me. I know Mary isn't interested in exchanging more than a passing word to Lord Cygnus.

  "I do not, but you have mentioned her on more than one occasion, Miss Swanley."

  "Ah." That makes sense.

  "I believe it is our turn," he says, nodding to the couple coming to stand in place.

  I smile and dip into a curtsy, making sure to lean forward just enough that Lord Cygnus is able to appreciate my decolletage.

  A small smirk plays at his lips as he bows in response, not taking his eyes off me.

  My heart flutters at the attention, though I am not in any way naive enough to think that he does not offer the same amount to every other lady he dances with. I am merely the current object of his attention.

  And that is enough for me. I have no intention of this being any more than a flirtation. There will be lots of fun to be had, I'm sure, but it will never go further than that.

  While an enjoyable companion with whom to pass a dance set, I do not imagine Lord Cy
gnus would make a particularly good husband, and that is certainly the minimum I require from the gentleman who will eventually fulfil that role.

  Two

  Philip

  I lean back in my chair, swirling the brandy around my glass and letting the noise of the club wash over me. The only reason I have chosen to come here this evening is to avoid Mother trying to talk to me about which of the newly presented young ladies would be a suitable wife. I'm aware that she means well, and that her main concern is the grandchildren she believes she should have by this point in her life, but that is not reason enough for me to marry.

  Someone clears their throat, and I look up, half expecting one of my usual drinking companions to be waiting in front of me. Instead, Father looks down at me with a combination of annoyance and relief.

  "Father, I wasn't expecting you at the club," I say.

  "Neither was I, but when you weren't at home, I saw no other option." He gestures for a drink and sits opposite me, leaving no doubt in my mind that he's here to speak with me and not because he wishes to spend time here.

  "Is it not something that can wait?" As far as I'm aware, everything is up to date with regard to our properties and assets, and there is nothing more that needs to be done. But perhaps something unexpected has come up and required our attention.

  "Your mother is concerned." His drink appears, but he ignores it.

  "I don't know what about. I paid her account at the modiste last week, and settled her latest gambling debt with Lady Felsby."

  "You are doing well in that regard," Father agrees. "However, she has informed me that you are not giving the proper attention to your search for a wife."

  There is a foolish part of me that wants to inform him that is because I do not wish to have one. At least, not yet. "I do not wish to rush anything," I say instead.

  "Hmm." His expression leaves no doubt that he doesn't believe me. Which would be fair, given the status of my thoughts. "Even so, she would like you to consider several of her suggestions, all of which she believes would make excellent future Countesses."

  "Is she so eager to rid herself of that title?" Or perhaps it is him she is eager to be rid of. While there never appears to be any animosity between them, it is clear to everyone that they were not a love match.

  Perhaps I should listen to Mother's suggestions after all. If she is choosing based on the criteria she judges herself on, then there is a chance that the ladies she thinks of as future countesses will mostly leave me to my own devices.

  "I understand that finding the right wife is an important duty..."

  "I am not sure how true that is," Father says sternly. "I have heard rather alarming reports of your reputation from members of the ton. If you are not more careful, it may become difficult for us to procure you a wife of proper standing."

  "You're an earl," I point out. "I doubt many of those partaking in the Season will be in the slightest bit concerned by my reputation."

  A brief hint of anger crosses his face, revealing some of his true feelings about the matter. "Whether you accept it or not, your reputation is important, both to the Earldom, and to your future marriage. You need to take both of those commitments a lot more seriously than you do now." He rises to his feet, not even taking a sip of his drink. "There will be consequences if you do not make reasonable changes to your behaviour and start taking the search for a wife more seriously."

  "Yes, Father." The agreement stings, but I'm not foolish enough to think that any other response will be accepted.

  "Good. Lady Ferrington is holding a ball on Thursday. You should start there."

  "Are there any criteria you have for my future wife?" There's a hint of bitterness in my voice, but there is nothing I can do to avoid it.

  "She should be from a good family with an impeachable reputation. Yours is bad enough for the both of you. Other than that, I have no criteria beyond that she exists," he responds, choosing not to engage with my annoyance.

  "And her shifter type?"

  "I have no stipulations," he says. "Though I do believe there are several eligible swan maidens this Season. There is something to be said for keeping to the same shifter type. But in truth, it is of no matter."

  "Right." At least that's something. I do not particularly wish to find myself a wife, but being able to choose from a wider range of ladies is something.

  "I will see you on the morrow, we need to discuss a business matter," Father says.

  Shock rushes through me. "Should we not discuss the matters now? You are here already."

  "No."

  I nod, trying not to let his dismissal frustrate me. He is the current Earl of Swancove and I am merely his heir. The decisions about running the earldom come from him alone and I need to accept that, even if I dislike it.

  He merely nods to me as a farewell and makes his way out of the room.

  I sigh and lean back in my seat. I need to find a way to avoid being rushed into marriage. I've always known that I'd be expected to marry. It's the duty of every firstborn son to find a wife and have children to carry on the family name.

  Despite knowing it's something I have to do, I know I'm not ready to be a good husband to anyone. A future countess deserves better than someone with a reputation like mine. But if Father has decided it is time for me to be married, then I am not entirely certain what there is I can do about it except hope I can stall long enough to become the man I should be.

  Three

  Letitia

  Despite knowing I shouldn't, my gaze flits across the ballroom, searching for Lord Cygnus. I have to admit to enjoying his company, even though I know I should not.

  My heart skips a beat as I notice him heading in my direction. I flick open my fan and cast my gaze down, trying to appear demure and not as if I've been waiting for him. I know this is foolish, and that it can not go anywhere, and yet something keeps drawing me back to him.

  Perhaps because he seems to enjoy a flirtatious exchange as much as I do. If not more.

  "Miss Swanley," he says once he reaches me.

  "My Lord." I dip into a low curtsy, looking up over my fan once I'm at the lowest point.

  Desire deepens in his eyes as he watches, and he clears his throat. "Would you care to dance?"

  "I'm rather fatigued from my previous turns on the dance floor," I say in a low voice. "Perhaps you would do me the honour of escorting me for a brief rest instead?" I raise an eyebrow, knowing he'll catch on to my meaning.

  Something unknown to me crosses his face, making me fear that he will reject my proposal.

  "It would be my honour," he responds, holding out his arm.

  I slip mine through his, enjoying the strong feel of his forearm through the fabric of his jacket.

  With an eye on the surrounding members of the ton to make sure that no one is watching us too closely, we slip into one of the retiring rooms.

  "We should not be here," Lord Cygnus says.

  "And yet we are."

  "I am serious, Miss Swanley, we should stop meeting one another at balls like this."

  I frown. "Have you changed your views on trying to find a wife?" To my knowledge, he does not wish to marry any more than I do.

  "I have not, but unfortunately, my family has other ideas."

  "I did not believe men were subject to the same whims as unmarried ladies."

  He chuckles deeply, the sound warm and inviting. "That does not seem to be the case."

  "Then we should make the most of the time before you are wed," I say, stepping closer to him. "This can not continue once you are."

  "It should not continue now," he responds, but I can hear how little he means the words in his voice.

  And see it in the way his gaze bores into me.

  "Neither of us wish for you to ruin me, I am aware of that."

  "Being caught would trap us both in something we do not wish to be forced into," he says, closing the distance between us so I can feel the warmth radiating from his body.

  "I believe that is part of the fun, is it not, My Lord?"

  A sharp intake of breath reveals how he is just as affected by our proximity as I am.

  "You will be the ruin of us both, Miss Swanley," he murmurs.

  "Only if we're caught," I remind him. "And we haven't been so far." I purposefully ignore the fact that isn't true. But nothing came of us being discovered at the Ferrington ball, which means that we have nothing to concern ourselves with.