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A Rogue of One's Own (A League of Extraordinary Women Book 2) Kindle Edition
“This series balances friendship, politics, history, and romance in just the right mix.”—U.S. Representative Katie Porter
An Indie Next/LibraryReads pick!
An Apple Must Listen Audiobook for September!
A lady must have money and an army of her own if she is to win a revolution—but first, she must pit her wits against the wiles of an irresistible rogue bent on wrecking her plans…and her heart.
Lady Lucie is fuming. She and her band of Oxford suffragists have finally scraped together enough capital to control one of London’s major publishing houses, with one purpose: to use it in a coup against Parliament. But who could have predicted that the one person standing between her and success is her old nemesis and London’s undisputed lord of sin, Lord Ballentine? Or that he would be willing to hand over the reins for an outrageous price—a night in her bed.
Lucie tempts Tristan like no other woman, burning him up with her fierceness and determination every time they clash. But as their battle of wills and words fans the flames of long-smoldering devotion, the silver-tongued seducer runs the risk of becoming caught in his own snare.
As Lucie tries to out-maneuver Tristan in the boardroom and the bedchamber, she soon discovers there’s truth in what the poets say: all is fair in love and war…
"Rich with subplot, historical detail and beautifully descriptive writing that keeps the pages turning until the delightfully unconventional happy ending."—NPR
- LanguageEnglish
- PublisherBerkley
- Publication dateSeptember 1, 2020
- File size6187 KB
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- Mary Wollstonecraft: I do not wish women to have power over men, but over themselves.Highlighted by 578 Kindle readers
- “Society is dumber but stronger than you,” he murmured. “Be devious. Be subtle. If you can.”Highlighted by 354 Kindle readers
- Besides, the whole movement depended on women acting before they felt ready.Highlighted by 234 Kindle readers
From the Publisher

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Editorial Reviews
Review
"With her smart, well-researched stories and wildly appealing characters, Evie Dunmore has a unique ability to write historical romance for the modern reader. Evie Dunmore is my favorite new historical romance author!"—Lisa Kleypas, New York Times bestselling author
“Miss Dunmore is a literary force to be reckoned with. She’s single handedly forging a new historical romance era and I am here. For. It.”—Rachel Van Dyken, #1 New York Times bestselling author
“A swoonworthy romance fueled by electric chemistry.”—Chanel Cleeton, New York Times bestselling author
"Dunmore creates pure magic with this charming, romantic novel featuring a strong, stubborn heroine and a sexy, slightly-broken hero. Full of romance, humor, and heart, all revolving around the fascinating dynamics of the suffragist movement, it’s one of my favorite novels of 2020!”—Jennifer Probst, New York Times bestselling author
"There are few things I love more than a committed rogue…and better yet, his delicious comeuppance at the hands of the only woman who could ever possibly tame him! What a marvelous ride!"—Megan Crane, USA Today bestselling author
"A truly delightful historical romance, with oodles of period detail and lots of laugh out loud moments. Evie Dunmore is an author to watch, and this book will delight fans of Tessa Dare, Eva Leigh and Julia Quinn."—Historical Novel Society
"With a whip-smart suffragist heroine and a charming scoundrel of a leading man, this fresh take on historical romance is definitely one of my favorite reads of the year!"—Stephanie Marie Thornton, USA Today bestselling author
"Evie Dunmore is a phenomenon!...Breathtaking, high stakes romance, with one of the loveliest endings I’ve read in years."—Anna Campbell, author of the bestselling Dashing Widows series
“The perfect intersection of fierce feminism and swoon-worthy romance."—Eva Leigh, author of My Fake Rake
"A modern romance in a Victorian dress, sans the corset."—Amy E. Reichert, author of The Coincidence of Coconut Cake
About the Author
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
Buckinghamshire, Summer 1865
Young ladies did not lie prone on the rug behind the library’s
chesterfield and play chess against themselves. They did not stuff their
cheeks with boiled sweets before breakfast. Lucie knew this. But it was
the summer holidays and the dullest of them yet: Tommy had come home
from Eton a proper prig who wouldn’t play with girls anymore; newly
arrived cousin Cecily was the type of child who cried easily; and, at
barely thirteen years of age, Lucie found she was too young to just
decorously die of boredom. Her mother, on the other hand, would probably
consider this quite a noble death. Then again, to the Countess of
Wycliffe, most things were preferable over hoydenish behavior.
The smell of leather and dust was in her nose and the library was
pleasantly silent. Morning sun pooled on the chessboard and made the
white queen shine bright like a beacon. She was in peril—a rogue knight
had set a trap, and Her Majesty could now choose to sacrifice herself to
protect the king, or to let him fall. Lucie’s fingers hovered over the
polished ivory crown, indecisive.
Rapid footsteps echoed in the hallway.
Her mother’s delicate heels—but Mother never ran?
The door flew open.
“How could you? How could you?”
Lucie froze. Her mother’s voice was trembling with outrage.
The door slammed shut again and the floor shook from the force of it.
“In front of everyone, the whole ballroom—”
“Come now, must you carry on so?”
Her stomach felt hollow. It was her father, his tone coldly bored and
cutting.
“Everyone knows, while I’m abed at home, oblivious!”
“Good Gad. Why Rochester’s wife calls herself your friend is beyond
me—she fills your ears with gossip and now look at you, raving like a
madwoman. Why, I should have sent her away last night; it is rather like
her erratic self to invite herself, to arrive late and unannounced—”
“She stays,” snapped Mama. “She must stay—one honest person in a pit of
snakes.”
Her father laughed. “Lady Rochester, honest? Have you seen her son? What
an odd little ginger fellow—I’d wager a thousand pounds he isn’t even
Rochester’s spawn—”
“What about you, Wycliffe? How many have you spawned among your side
pieces?”
“Now. This is below you, wife.”
There was a pause, and it stretched and grew heavy like a lead blanket.
Lucie’s heart was drumming against her ribs, hard and painful, the thuds
so loud, they had to hear it.
A sob shattered the quiet and it hit her stomach like a punch. Her
mother was crying.
“I beseech you, Thomas. What have I done wrong so you won’t even grant
me discretion?”
“Discretion—madam, your screeching can be heard from miles away!”
“I gave you Tommy,” she said between sobs. “I nearly died giving you
Tommy and yet you flaunt that . . . that person—in front of everyone.”
“Saints, grant me patience—why am I shackled to such an overemotional
female?”
“I love you so, Thomas. Why, why can’t you love me?”
A groan, fraught with impatience. “I love you well enough, wife, though
your hysterics do make it a challenge.”
“Why must it be so?” Mama keened. “Why am I not enough for you?”
“Because, my dear, I am a man. May I have some peace in my library now,
please.”
A hesitation; then, a gasp that sounded like surrender.
The thud of the heavy door falling shut once more came from a distance.
A roar filled Lucie’s ears. Her throat was clogged with boiled sweets;
she’d have to breathe through her mouth. But he would hear her.
She could hold out. She would not breathe.
The snick of a lighter. Wycliffe had lit a cigarette. Floorboards
creaked. Leather crunched. He had settled into his armchair.
Her lungs were burning, and her fingers were white as bone, alien and
clawlike against the dizzying swirls of the rug.
Still she lay silent. King and queen blurred before her eyes.
She could hold out.
Black began edging her vision. It was as though she’d never breathe again.
Paper rustled. The earl was reading the morning news.
A mile from the library, deep in the cool green woods of Wycliffe Park,
Tristan Ballentine, the second son of the Earl of Rochester, had just
decided to spend all his future summers at Wycliffe Hall. He might have
to befriend Tommy, Greatest Prig at Eton, to put this plan into
practice, but the morning walks alone would be worth it. Unlike the
estate of his family seat, where every shrub was pruned and accounted
for, Wycliffe Park left nature to its own devices. Trees gnarled.
Shrubbery sprawled. The air was sweet with the fragrance of forest
flowers. And he had found a most suitable place for reading Wordsworth:
a circular clearing at the end of a hollow way. A large standing stone
loomed at its center.
Dew drenched his trouser legs as he circled the monolith. It looked
suspiciously like a fairy stone, weathered and conical, planted here
before all time. Of course, at twelve years of age, he was too old to
believe in fairies and the like. His father had made this abundantly
clear. Poetry, too, was forbidden in Ashdown Castle. Romantic lines ran
counter to the Ballentine motto, “With Valor and Vigor.” But here, who
could find him? Who would see? His copy of Wordsworth and Coleridge’s
Lyrical Ballads was at the ready.
He shrugged out of his coat and spread it on the grass, then made to
stretch himself out on his belly. The fine fabric of his trousers
promptly grated like chain mail against the broken skin on his backside,
making him hiss in pain. His father drove his lessons home with a cane.
And yesterday, the earl had been overzealous, again. It was why Mama had
grabbed him, Tristan, and he had grabbed his books, and they had taken
off to visit her friend Lady Wycliffe for the summer.
He tried finding a comfortable position, shifting this way and that,
then he gave up, unhooked his braces and began unbuttoning the fall of
the pesky trousers. The next moment, the ground began to shake.
For a beat, he froze.
He snatched his coat and dove behind the standing stone just as a black
horse thundered into view in the hollow-way. A magnificent animal,
gleaming with sweat, foam flying from its bit. The kind of stallion
kings and heroes rode. It scrambled to a sudden halt on the clearing,
sending lumps of soil flying with plate-sized hooves.
He gasped with shocked surprise.
The rider was no king. No hero. The rider was not a man at all.
It was a girl.
She wore boots and breeches like a boy and rode astride, but there was
no doubt she was a girl. A coolly shimmering fall of ice-blond hair
streamed down her back and whirled round her like a silken veil when the
horse pivoted.
He couldn’t have moved had he tried. He was stunned, his gaze riveted to
her face—was she real? Her face . . . was perfect. Delicate and
heart-shaped, with fine, winged eyebrows and an obstinate, pointy
little chin. A fairy.
But her cheeks were flushed an angry pink and her lips pressed into a
line. She looked ready to ride into battle on the big black beast . . .
She made to slide from the saddle, and he shrank back behind the stone.
He should show himself. His mouth went dry. What would he say? What did
one say to someone so lovely and fierce?
Her boots hit the ground with a light thud. She muttered a few soft
words to the stallion. Then nothing.
He craned his neck. The girl was gone. Quietly, he crept forward. When
he rose to a crouch, he spotted her supine form in the grass, her
slender arms flung wide.
He might have moved a little closer . . . closer, even. He straightened,
peering down.
Her eyes were closed. Her lashes lay dark and straight against her pale
cheeks. The gleaming strands of her hair fanned out around her head like
rays of a white cold winter sun.
His heart was racing. A powerful ache welled from his core, an anxious
urgency, a dread, of sorts—this was a rare, precious opportunity and he
was woefully unprepared to grasp it. He had not known girls like her
existed, outside the fairy books and the princesses of the Nordic sagas
he had to read in secret . . .
An angry snort tore through the silence. The stallion was approaching,
ears flat and teeth bared.
“Hell,” Tristan said.
The girl’s eyes snapped open. They stared at each other, her flat on her
back, him looming.
She was on her feet like a shot. “You! You are trespassing.”
She had looked petite, but they stood nearly eye to eye.
He felt his face freeze in a dim-witted grin. “No, I—”
Stormy gray eyes narrowed at him. “I know who you are. You are Lady
Rochester’s son.”
He remembered to bow his head. Quite nicely, too. “Tristan Ballentine.
Your servant.”
“You were spying on me!”
“No. Yes. Well, a little,” he admitted, for he had.
It was the worst moment to remember that the flap of his trousers was
still half undone. Reflexively, he reached for the buttons, and the
girl’s gaze followed.
She gasped.
Next he knew, her hand flew up and pain exploded in his left cheek. He
staggered back, disoriented and clutching his face. He half-expected
his hand to come away smeared with red.
He looked from his palm at her face. “Now that was uncalled for.”
A flicker of uncertainty, perhaps contrition, briefly cooled the blaze
in her eyes. Then she raised her hand with renewed determination. “You
have seen nothing yet,” she snarled. “Leave me alone, you . . . little
ginger.”
His cheeks burned, and not from the slap. He knew he had barely grown an
inch since his birthday, and yes, he worried the famous Ballentine
height was eluding him. The runt, Marcus called him. His hand curled
into a fist. If she were a boy, he’d deck her. But a gentleman never
raised his hand to a girl, even if she made him want to howl. Marcus,
now Marcus would have known how to handle this vicious pixie with
aplomb. Tristan could only beat a hasty retreat, the slap still pulsing
like fire on his cheekbone. The Lyrical Ballads lay forgotten in damp grass.
Product details
- ASIN : B082H39QNK
- Publisher : Berkley (September 1, 2020)
- Publication date : September 1, 2020
- Language : English
- File size : 6187 KB
- Text-to-Speech : Enabled
- Screen Reader : Supported
- Enhanced typesetting : Enabled
- X-Ray : Enabled
- Word Wise : Enabled
- Sticky notes : On Kindle Scribe
- Print length : 444 pages
- Best Sellers Rank: #49,899 in Kindle Store (See Top 100 in Kindle Store)
- #536 in Women's Historical Fiction
- #807 in Victorian Historical Romance (Kindle Store)
- #2,573 in Women's Romance Fiction
- Customer Reviews:
About the author

Debut author Evie Dunmore wrote BRINGING DOWN THE DUKE inspired by the magical scenery of Oxford and her passion for romance, women pioneers, and all things Victorian.
In her civilian life, she is a consultant with a M.Sc. in Diplomacy from Oxford. Evie lives in Europe and pours her fascination with 19th century Britain into her writing.She is a member of the British Romantic Novelists' Association (RNA).
Customer reviews
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Top reviews
Top reviews from the United States
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They are forced together when they both buy 50% shares in women's magazine. For Lucie it's to publish a damning pamphlet and for Tristan it is to have a place to continuing publishing his poetry.
This was such an interesting and new read for me I'm sitting in the literary afterglow. I went in not knowing a lot about the plot and I don't want to give too much away. However, if you're one to be open to the very serious- and sadly relevant- plight of women and the severely marginalized, then this is the book for you.
**** SPOILERS FROM HERE***
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There was a lot that struck me here.
The good: Loved loved loved that Lord Ballentine was sexually fluid. It's something that is never seen in a book so popular and it's done so well. A lot of his openness comes from the shear fact that he is incredibly good looking and attracts everyone.
I thought it was well placed and served the story well. By the end of the book he sees that there are a lot of social struggles in front of him that he ignores for himself. The fact that a man who only prefers men could never live openly and that a woman who can't control her life post-marriage could never fully become and stand for her Cause. He figures out that he is free in a way that a large majority of people aren't.
At first I hard time with Lucie's complete obstinance with not marrying Tristan. Then that made me think, why am I having a hard time with this? What does that say about me?
The setup and payoff of all HEA historical romances is marriage and babies. It's just become the norm and the longer I sat in it the more I realized that it's exactly the place we are now. Women have lost their rights and holding on to that last thin thread was the best Lucie could do to keep her Cause with her. It was refreshing to have a story where they get an HEA but it's completely on both their terms.
I give this one 4.25 stars. I rounded her up cause I couldn't stomach the 4.
The biggest issues I had were really just the flow and formatting. It's 50 pages too long and the story feels stretched for pages. Once they start having an affair the story gets cookin. Everything starts to speed up but we lose a little from the beginning- like all her friends and his poetry.
The other issue was the setup and lack of payoff. There was some but it wasn't what I hoped. It was really sweet to find out that Tristan gave Lucie her cat but I wish we had got to explore a little more of Tristan's poetry and the fact that Lucie was his muse for his first published book. We got a couple lines but it would have been nice to sit in it a little longer and learn more of where his craft came from. He also showed some signs of forming verses again when he starts sleeping with Lucie but nothing comes from it.
Cecily's story was lacking as well. She did a lot of really effed things throughout the book and blamed everyone else. I feel like the angry other woman trope is misused almost 100% of the time. This one had the potential for more. A lot of it wasn't Cecily's fault. She was obviously lied to and told the engagement was all but official. Her hopes were dashed and she reacted poorly. I just found it hard to understand her hatred for Lucie when she hadn't even seen her in 10 years and she was really young when Lucie left home.
But truly- I loved this book. I can't wait to keep reading whatever Evie Dunmore puts out. She can only keep getting better from here and it's exciting to keep reading this voice.
has been a thorn in her side since they were children. He may have earned the Victoria Cross for his heroism in Afghanistan, but is known for his risque behavior in Oxford and London. Lucie and her fellow Oxford Suffragists are pooling their money to buy half ownership in a publishing company. What better way to spread the cause! Unfortunately after the sale, guess who owns the other half? Tristan has his own secrets for publishing and he plans to keep control on all the publications. During one of their explosive confrontations, Tristan offers Lucie the majority ownership in exchange for one night in his bed. Will one night lead to two...or more? Lucie and Tristan both carry a lot of baggage and pain from their families. Neither one likes to be controlled. It's no wonder they clash when they're together. Enemies to lovers to friends. A lot of explicit sex and a different HEA.
In place of the detailed descriptions of ball gowns, glittering social events, and petty intrigues to marry well, you have the story of Lucie, a woman who has been cast out from her titled, affluent family when she persists in speaking out about the utter inequality between men and women in marriage relationships. The focus of this part of the suffragist movement is not on getting women the right to vote as much as it is about helping women retaining their legal personhood after marriage. Any one currently under the age of 40, would likely have a hard time comprehending the restrictions faced by women after their marriage that persisted up until the mid 1970s.
What about our hero, Tristan, a titled gentlemen, described as physically beautiful, a war hero, a true rogue, and a poet sought out lustfully by both women and a few men? By this description, it would appear that these two with their divergent interests, wouldn’t have much in common and might be considered natural enemies when in fact, much of the structure of their formative years is very similar and both are misfits, actively chaffing against the norms and expectations of their gender and station in life.
This intriguing pairing along with the depth of research into the social and political dynamics of this period made for great reading. The pacing is excellent and the plot twists and turns are as believable as they are heart wrenching. I believed Lucie’s sacrificial single mindedness to The Cause and Tristan’s dogged determination to be himself despite his father’s efforts to beat, bribe, and threaten him out if it. Most importantly of all, I believed their love story even as fraught as it was, as they each had so much to lose by loving one another. These two characters were so finely drawn that I became very invested in them both, which is unusual for me given much of the romance literature I’ve read lately. I was utterly absorbed.
Be advised, the whimsical cover of this book gives no clue as to the darker elements found between its covers. I refer to to some significant emotional darkness, some uncomfortable truths about relationships, and the often soul-searing sacrifices that must be made to accomplish important goals. Lastly, kudos to the author for the somewhat unconventional HEA. Had it been anything other than what it was, the strength of this book’s incredible storytelling would have collapsed like a house of cards. This would make an excellent book club selection.
Top reviews from other countries


A Rogue of Ones Own was a swoonworthy, tension filled, historical romance that captivated me since the very beginning. I absolutely fell in love with Lucie and Tristan, they were full of heart, full of soul. Lucie was an empowering suffragette who wanted a better world for us all. Tristan was a scoundrel with a heart of gold. The chemistry. The poetry. The banter. Boudicca. The mix between history, business and romance. I loved every aspect of this book. It’s definitely one of my new favorite historical romances, right next to Bringing Down the Duke. I can’t wait for Hattie’s story.
Read if you like :Historical romance •Enemies to lovers•Witty banter •A League of Extraordinarily Women series •Poetry •Oscar Wilde •Cats •Fierce strong women during the suffrage era
“Because when a woman happened to acquire a rogue of her own, she might as well make good use of him.”


Reviewed in Mexico on November 22, 2021
A Rogue of Ones Own was a swoonworthy, tension filled, historical romance that captivated me since the very beginning. I absolutely fell in love with Lucie and Tristan, they were full of heart, full of soul. Lucie was an empowering suffragette who wanted a better world for us all. Tristan was a scoundrel with a heart of gold. The chemistry. The poetry. The banter. Boudicca. The mix between history, business and romance. I loved every aspect of this book. It’s definitely one of my new favorite historical romances, right next to Bringing Down the Duke. I can’t wait for Hattie’s story.
Read if you like :Historical romance •Enemies to lovers•Witty banter •A League of Extraordinarily Women series •Poetry •Oscar Wilde •Cats •Fierce strong women during the suffrage era
“Because when a woman happened to acquire a rogue of her own, she might as well make good use of him.”



The beginning is a bit slow but I found that it made sense in the end, as we get insight into our main characters and it allowed to understand them better later on.
Lucie was actually the kind of female character I expected to read about when I first started A League of Extraordinary Women, while I think that Annabelle’s story followed the typical historical romance scenario and roles the characters have in it, with a few twists that added to the originality and freshness. Compared to Annabelle who is the type of character who you feel and root for from the beginning, Lucie is flawed and, like in real life, it takes time and getting to know her for reader to warm up to her. Lucie says it the best herself in one of her conversations – her friend Annabelle possesses the rare combination of attributes that is not common in both men and women, and we cannot expect all women to possess it in order to deserve respect. I found that extraordinarily insightful because we often read about this young, beautiful, clever women who by possessing those attributes achieve their happy endings. But what about the less fortunate, who are not beautiful, young or clever enough, do they not deserve to be heard too, to be given voice and respect? I can’t express how much I loved that this book posed that question, and many others.
The star of this book for me is definitely the heroine, but I like Tristan as well. I found his story a bit of a cliché, as this type of family drama is often used in HR, but it added nicely to his arc and I loved his devotion to Lucie and how he saw her for the great person she is from the beginning.
This was well researched, emotional story that felt fresh and modern while respecting the time period.


Reviewed in Germany on November 8, 2021
The beginning is a bit slow but I found that it made sense in the end, as we get insight into our main characters and it allowed to understand them better later on.
Lucie was actually the kind of female character I expected to read about when I first started A League of Extraordinary Women, while I think that Annabelle’s story followed the typical historical romance scenario and roles the characters have in it, with a few twists that added to the originality and freshness. Compared to Annabelle who is the type of character who you feel and root for from the beginning, Lucie is flawed and, like in real life, it takes time and getting to know her for reader to warm up to her. Lucie says it the best herself in one of her conversations – her friend Annabelle possesses the rare combination of attributes that is not common in both men and women, and we cannot expect all women to possess it in order to deserve respect. I found that extraordinarily insightful because we often read about this young, beautiful, clever women who by possessing those attributes achieve their happy endings. But what about the less fortunate, who are not beautiful, young or clever enough, do they not deserve to be heard too, to be given voice and respect? I can’t express how much I loved that this book posed that question, and many others.
The star of this book for me is definitely the heroine, but I like Tristan as well. I found his story a bit of a cliché, as this type of family drama is often used in HR, but it added nicely to his arc and I loved his devotion to Lucie and how he saw her for the great person she is from the beginning.
This was well researched, emotional story that felt fresh and modern while respecting the time period.

