A Hellion in Her Bed

“ANYONE WHO LOVES ROMANCE MUST READ SABRINA JEFFRIES!”

—
New York Times
bestselling author Lisa Kleypas

HELLIONS OF HALSTEAD HALL

The “captivating” (
Booklist
) and “essential”
(
Library Journal
) new series from
New York Times
and
USA Today
bestselling author

SABRINA JEFFRIES

Praise for
THE TRUTH ABOUT LORD STONEVILLE

“Jeffries pulls out all the stops with a story combining her hallmark humor, poignancy and sensuality to perfection.”

—Romantic Times

“The first in a captivating new Regency-set series by the always entertaining Jeffries, this tale has all of the author’s signature elements: delectably witty dialogue, subtly named characters, and scorching sexual chemistry between two perfectly matched protagonists.”

—Booklist

“Lively repartee, fast action, luscious sensuality, and an abundance of humor make the first installment of the Hellions of Halstead Hall essential for libraries.”

—Library Journal

This title is also available as an eBook

“
The Truth About Lord Stoneville
has the special brand of wit and passion for which Sabrina Jeffries is recognized, where each enthralling scene will thoroughly capture your imagination.”

—singletitles.com

“Sabrina Jeffries excels in the historical romance genre, and
The Truth About Lord Stoneville
is no exception.… Starts another excellent series of books which will alternatively have you laughing, crying and running the gamut of emotions.… Enjoy Oliver’s transformation from unreformed rake to devoted husband, and I guarantee you will have a tear in your eye.”

—Romance Reviews Today

More acclaim for Sabrina Jeffries and the “warm, wickedly witty”
(
Romantic Times
) novels in her national bestselling series

THE SCHOOL FOR HEIRESSES

WED HIM BEFORE YOU BED HIM

“Includes all the sweet, sexy charm and lively action readers have come to expect, and true love triumphs over all obstacles. . . . Bravo to Jeffries.”

—Library Journal

“An enchanting story brimming with touchingly sincere emotions and compelling scenarios. . . . An outstanding love story of emotional discoveries and soaring passions, with a delightful touch of humor plus suspense.”

—singletitles.com

DON’T BARGAIN WITH THE DEVIL

“The sexual tension crackles across the pages of this witty, deliciously sensual, secret-laden story. . . . Teases readers with hints of the long-awaited final chapter,
Wed Him Before You Bed Him
.”

—Library Journal

LET SLEEPING ROGUES LIE

“Consummate storyteller Jeffries pens another title in the School for Heiresses series that is destined to captivate readers with its sensuality and wonderfully enchanting plot.”

—
Romantic Times
(4½ stars)

“Scandal, gossip, greed, and old enmities spice up the pot in this fast-paced sexy romp that bubbles over with Jeffries’s trademark humor and spirit. . . . Sparkling dialogue, stirring sexual chemistry, and an engrossing story.”

—
Library Journal

BEWARE A SCOT’S REVENGE

“Irresistible. . . . Larger-than-life characters, sprightly dialogue, and a steamy romance will draw you into this delicious captive/captor tale.”

—
Romantic Times
(Top Pick)

“Exceptionally entertaining and splendidly sexy.”

—Booklist

Also by Sabrina Jeffries

The Hellions of Halstead Hall Series

The Truth About Lord Stoneville

The School for Heiresses Series

Wed Him Before You Bed Him

Don’t Bargain with the Devil

Snowy Night with a Stranger (with Jane Feather and
Julia London)

Let Sleeping Rogues Lie

Beware a Scot’s Revenge

The School for Heiresses (with Julia London, Liz
Carlyle, and Renee Bernard)

Only a Duke Will Do

Never Seduce a Scoundrel

The Royal Brotherhood Series

One Night with a Prince

To Pleasure a Prince

In the Prince’s Bed

The sale of this book without its cover is unauthorized. If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware that it was reported to the publisher as “unsold and destroyed.” Neither the author nor the publisher has received payment for the sale of this “stripped book.”

Pocket Star Books A Division of Simon & Schuster, Inc. 230 Avenue of the Americas New York, NY 10020 www.SimonandSchuster.com

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2010 by Sabrina Jeffries, LLC

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information address Pocket Books Subsidiary Rights Department, 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020

First Pocket Star Books paperback edition October 2010

POCKET and colophon are registered trademarks of Simon & Schuster, Inc.

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.

Illustration by Alan Ayers; handlettering by Iskra Johnson.

Manufactured in the United States of America

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

ISBN 978-1-4391-6754-0
ISBN 978-1-4391-6757-1 (ebook)

To the two women who’ve been essential to
my career from the beginning: Micki Nuding, otherwise known as
Super Editor, and Pamela Gray Ahearn, aka Super Agent. I greatly
appreciate your using your superpowers on my behalf !

And to Claudia Dain, Deb Marlowe, Liz Carlyle, Caren Crane Helms,
and Rexanne Becnel—ya’ll are the best friends an author could
ever wish for. Thanks for always talking me off the ledge!

A Hellion in Her Bed

Eton College

1806

T
hirteen-year-old Lord Jarret Sharpe didn’t want to spend the night in hell. He glanced out the coach window at the moon and shuddered. It must be nearly eight—they would arrive at Eton just when the boys were being locked into the Long Chamber. And hell would begin.

Tugging at his black cravat, he looked over at his grandmother. What could he say to make her change her mind? Six months ago, she’d carried them off to live with her in London—away from Halstead Hall, the best place in the whole world. She wouldn’t take him to the brewery with her anymore. And she made him go to horrible school. All because of how Mother and Father had died.

A chill froze his soul and he felt like something had died in him, too. He couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep … he couldn’t even cry.

What kind of monster was he? Even his older brother Oliver had cried at the funeral. Jarret
wanted
to cry, but the tears wouldn’t come. Not even late at night, during his nightmares about Father in the coffin.

He’d read the newspaper accounts of how the bullet had “shattered his lordship’s face,” and he couldn’t forget that image. Bad enough that he was still haunted by seeing Mother, stiff and pale, lying in the casket with her snowy gown covering her bullet wound. Every time he thought of what Father’s closed casket must mean, he could hardly breathe.

“Tell Oliver I expect him to write me every week, do you hear?” Gran said.

“Yes, ma’am.” A sharp pain seized his chest. He’d always secretly believed he was Gran’s favorite. But not anymore.

“And you, too, of course,” she added, her voice softening.

“I don’t want to go to school!” he burst out. When her eyebrows lifted, he added hastily, “I want to stay home. I want to go to the brewery every day with you.”

“Jarret, my boy—”

“No, listen!” He mangled the mourning gloves in his lap as his words came out in a rush. “Grandfather said I’ll inherit the brewery, and I already know everything about it. I know how the mash is made and how long to roast the barley. And I’m good at math—you said so yourself. I could learn to manage the books.”

“I’m sorry, lad, but that’s just not wise. It was wrong of me and your grandfather to encourage your interest in the brewery. Your mother didn’t want that for you, and she was right. She married a marquess precisely because she wanted greater things for her children than mucking around some brewery.”

“
You
muck around it,” he protested.

“Because I have to. Because it’s the primary support for you children until your parents’ estate is settled.”

“But I could help!” He yearned to be of some use to his family. Plumtree Brewery was far better than learning about
who crossed the Nile and how to conjugate Latin; what good were those to him?

“You can help more by taking up a respectable profession, the kind you can only get at Eton. You were born to be someone far greater—a barrister or a bishop. I could even bear your being in the army or the navy, if that’s what you wanted.”

“I don’t want to be a
soldier
,” he said, appalled. The very thought of holding a pistol made his stomach roil. Mother had accidentally shot Father with a pistol. Then she had shot herself.

That part was confusing. Gran had told the newspaper that when Mother had seen Father dead by her hand, she got so sad that she shot herself. It didn’t make sense to him, but Gran had ordered them not to speak of it again, so he didn’t. Not even to ask questions.

It hurt something awful to think of Mother shooting herself. How could she have left the five of them alone? If she had lived, she might have let him have tutors at home, and he could have kept going to the brewery with Gran.

His throat tightened. It wasn’t fair!

“Not a soldier, then,” Gran said kindly. “Perhaps a barrister. With your sharp mind, you could be a fine barrister.”

“I don’t want to be a barrister! I want to run the brewery with you!”

Nobody at the brewery ever said nasty things to him. The brewers treated him like a man. They would never call Mother “the Halstead Hall Murderess.” They wouldn’t tell vile lies about Oliver.

When he realized Gran was watching him, he smoothed the frown from his face.

“Does this have to do with the fights you got into at
school?” Gran asked with worry in her voice. “Your headmaster said he’s had to punish you nearly every week for fighting. Why is that?”

“I don’t know,” he mumbled.

A look of extreme discomfort crossed her face. “If the other boys are saying nasty things about your parents, I can speak to the headmaster—”

“No, damn it!” he cried, panicked that she could read him so well. She mustn’t speak to the headmaster—that would only make everything worse!

“Do not curse at me. Come now, you can tell Gran. Is that why you don’t want to go back to school?”

He stuck out his lower lip. “I just don’t like studying, is all.”

Her sharp gaze searched his face. “So you’re lazy?”

He said nothing. Better to be branded a laggard than a tattletale.

She gave a heavy sigh. “Well, not liking to study is no reason to come home. Boys never like to study. But it
is
good for them. If you apply yourself and work hard, you will do well in life. Don’t you want to do well?”