#RomanceWednesday with a historical
WHO WILL WRITE THE BOOK OF LOVE?
When scholarly Miss Ivy Wareham receives word that sheβs
one
of four young ladies who have inherited Lady Celeste
Beauchampβs estate with a magnificent private library,
she
packs her trunks straightaway. Unfortunately, Lady
Celesteβs
nephew, the rakish Quill Beauchamp, Marquess of Kerr, is
determined to interrupt her studies one way or another...
Bequeathing Beauchamp House to four bluestockingsβno
matter
how lovely they are to look atβis a travesty, and Quill
simply wonβt have it. But Lady Celesteβs death is not
quite
as straightforward as it first seemedβ¦and if Quill hopes
to
solve the mystery behind her demise, heβll need Ivyβs
help.
Along the way, he is surprised to learn that bookish Ivy
stirs a passion and longing that he has never known. This
rogue believes heβs finally met his matchβbut can Quill
convince clever, skeptical Ivy that his love is no
fiction?
Don't miss Ready Set Rogue, the first in Manda
Collins' new series set in Regency England!
Excerpt Heβd known she was attractiveβhad categorized her as such almost
as soon as he saw her in the Fox and Pheasant earlier that dayβbut
even that observation hadnβt led him to imagine what sheβd look
like in such dishabille. Well, that wasnβt quite true, he amended.
His mind had conjured her in much fewer clothes than this before
heβd realized just who she was. But any such imaginings had been
snuffed out as soon as heβd known her destination. The reality of
facing her here, now, in her virginal bedclothes, however, with
her lovely red hair framing her face like a halo was far more
tempting than his fantasy had been.
So, yes. She was disturbing him, but likely in a way she didnβt
even comprehend.
Suppressing the urge to tell her just that, he said instead, βI
was too restless to sleep. It takes a bit for me to settle in to a
new place. So thereβs no harm done.β
Moving farther into the room, she set her candle down on one of
the large library tables and wrapped her arms across her chest.
βItβs chilly in here,β she said frowning. βI hadnβt expected it
this close to the sea. I thought it was supposed to be milder
here.β
Wordlessly, he looked away from her and moved over to kneel before
the fireplace, stoking the embers back into a blaze. βItβs still
early spring,β he said on standing, brush- ing his hands together
more for something to do than to remove any soot. βThe breeze off
the channel keeps the air fairly cool until summer.β
But she wasnβt paying him any mind; instead she scanned the
shelves that lined the walls behind him.
βLooking for something in particular?β he asked, not- ing the
impatience flash in her gaze before she replaced it with polite
indifference. βSomething to read before sleep, perhaps? Something
to steal?β
Her brow furrowed at his question. Heβd meant it to be playful,
but her response told him that it had come off more sharply than
heβd intended.
βIβd hoped youβd decided to stop treating me like an op- portunist
here to steal your inheritance from you,β she said, pursing her
lips. βI have it on very good authority that youβve a great many
houses as part of the Kerr estateβ ones much grander and more
impressive than this one. I do not understand why you cannot
manage to accept the loss of this one. Unless, of course, like
most boys you dis- like sharing your toys.β
She said this last part dismissively over her shoulder as she
stepped past him and openly began to read through the shelves on
the far wall.
Turning to watch her move from shelf to shelf, he sighed. βI
suppose I deserve that after the way I behaved this afternoon. But
let me assure you that itβs no petty childhood jealousy that made
me distrust you and your compatriots, Miss Wareham.β
This must have surprised her, for she turned and looked at him
through narrowed eyes. βNo? Then what?β
He thrust a hand through his hair, fighting the urge to look away.
βHave you never faced the removal of a child- hood memory?β he
asked, finally. βNever wished to hold onto the last bastion of
somewhere that gave you comfort?β
Arrested, she tilted her head. βAnd thatβs what this place was for
you?β she asked. βA bastion of comfort?β
He wasnβt sure why, but Quill felt more exposed in that moment
than he would have if he were stark naked. But he knew he owed her
an explanation. Especially after the way heβd treated her earlier.
βFor me, for Serena, and for my cousin Dalton,β he admitted. βOur
own homes were not particularly . . .β He broke off as he tried to
think of a word that wouldnβt shock her. He could hardly tell her
about the debauchery that had reigned in his own house before his
father died. And the circumstances of Serena and Daltonβs
upbringing werenβt his to reveal. βLetβs just say that we found
our visits to Beauchamp House to be a relief from our own homes.β
Something flashed behind her eyes. Sympathy? Or something else?
Quill wasnβt sure, but he couldnβt fail to note the way she
squared her shoulders. As if sheβd come to a decision.
Abandoning her scan of the bookshelves, she turned fully to face
him, her hands clasped before her so tightly that her knuckles
were white with it. βLord Kerr,β she began, her green eyes
shadowed with trepidation. βThere is something I must tell you.β
Quill felt his stomach drop, and a pang of disappoint- ment ran
through him. Now sheβd admit that she and the others actually had
found some way to trick Aunt Celeste into leaving them Beauchamp
House. The whole business of the competition had sounded like a
farce, and though heβd known his aunt to possess a playful streak,
heβd never guessed it would reveal itself in such a way. Certainly
heβd not supposed she would play fast and loose with the dis-
position of Beauchamp House, where sheβd spent so many happy
years.
βThen by all means,β he drawled, allowing every bit of the world-
weary ennui that cloaked him in town to settle over him. βTell me
all, Miss Wareham. I confess I am curi- ous to hear how you all
managed it, never having set foot in Beauchamp House before. It
must have taken a great deal of coordination amongst the four of
you.β
But if heβd expected her to surrender completely, he was to be
disappointed. βWhat?β she asked, her nose wrinkled in puzzlement.
βI thought weβd just put that behind us. And yet, here you are
with accusations again. You are like a dog with a bone, Lord Kerr.
Honestly!β
βIf not that, then what is it you wish to tell me?β he de- manded,
exasperated. Heβd never thought himself to be a particularly
emotional man, but since heβd met this chit on the road heβd gone
through more feelings than a year in London had elicited from him.
He must be sickening for something. βYou can hardly blame me for
jumping to con- clusions when weβve just been speaking about my
earlier suspicions.β
βI can blame you all too easily,β she retorted with a scowl. βBut
I will not because I am tired of being at cross purposes with you.
And I do not believe your aunt would like it.β
Indicating with a wave of his hand that she should go on, Quill
waited.
βI found a letter from your aunt waiting for me in my bedchamber,β
she said, her fine features marred by worry. βI greatly fear that
Lady Celeste was murdered.β
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