Janice Preston – Return Of Scandal's Son (страница 1)
Matthew held her gaze, his ragged breathing loud in the silence of the room. She pushed harder against him and stepped back. Instantly his gaze sharpened and he gripped her shoulders, preventing her from retreating further, wringing a gasp from her.
“I have been searching for you … following you … trying to catch up with you …
‘But … why? I thought you were—’
‘You need protection. I—’
‘Protection?’
Eleanor, now with her wits fully about her, stiffened. For one fleeting, joyful second she had thought maybe he had followed her for her own sake—because he felt something for her. As speedily as the thought arose she quashed it, inwardly berating herself for being a romantic fool, beguiled by a handsome face and rugged charm. She and Mr Thomas were worlds apart.
Eleanor, Baroness Ashby, is a rarity: a peeress in her own right. The early English baronies were created by a writ of summons to Counsel or Parliament (rather than by letters patent, as later became the norm). The remainders of these baronies by writ devolve upon the ‘heirs-general’ rather than being limited to male heirs, meaning an only daughter can inherit the barony. It’s interesting that if there are two or more daughters the title will fall into abeyance until the co-heirs can come to an honourable agreement as to which of them will claim the title. The claimant must then petition The Crown to have the abeyance terminated.
I really enjoyed writing about Eleanor—she is loyal, courageous and independent, but her outer confidence masks a deep insecurity at her core. She is also impulsive at times, and I knew she needed a resilient hero. Enter Matthew: strong and honourable, but with a secret in his past that might easily damage Eleanor’s determination to be fully accepted by Society and to gain admittance to Almack’s Assembly Rooms.
I thought it would be fun to see how a proud man like Matthew would cope with falling for a wealthier, higher-ranking woman than him.
If you have read
Return of Scandal’s Son
Janice Preston
JANICE PRESTON grew up in Wembley, North London, with a love of reading, writing stories and animals. In the past she has worked as a farmer, a police call-handler and a university administrator. She now lives in the West Midlands with her husband and two cats and has a part-time job with a weight management counsellor (vainly trying to control her own weight despite her love of chocolate!).
For Elizabeth Bailey, whose encouragement and advice during my early writing attempts was invaluable.
Contents
April 1811
Eyes streaming, coughing and choking, she tugged at the window, but it refused to budge. The floorboards scorched her feet and she could hear the ominous roar of the fire below. Dragging the pungent air deep into her lungs, she screamed.
‘Ellie.
‘What?’
Eleanor, Baroness Ashby, roused to the gently rocking rhythm of her carriage. She stared groggily into the anxious eyes of Lucy, Dowager Marchioness of Rothley. Eleanor levered herself upright on the squabs, her nightmare still vividly real.
‘You screamed. Was it the nightmare again?’