Miss Sophie Valentine was definitely not known for her
patience or meekness. Rather her strong will and self-
determination constantly elicited calls from her family to
be reined in with a firmer direction for her outrageous
conduct. Yet, even when she expected a bit of trouble from
doing it, the stubborn, almost 30 year old spinster still
went ahead and placed a wee ad in the Farmers
Gazette: "Wanted, one husband, not too particular"... but
never in her wildest imagination, did she expect a tall
handsome stranger named Lazarus Kane to walk into her small
village of Sydney Dovedale to claim her hand.
The lovely Sophie could have had position and money had she
accepted the marriage proposal from James Hartley years
earlier. Yet, she would rather fly off a balcony wall than
follow the life he wanted her to lead. Now, with her
parents dead, she has been boxed into a narrow life by her
debt
laden pompous brother, Henry, and his lazy and over-
indulged domineering wife, Lavinia. But, as Kane charmed
the local girls in the village and worked hard to fix up
the place where he secured lodgings, Sophia battled with
her interest and desire for him. Could she really even
consider marrying a total stranger?
Yet, when James shows up in response to the ad, Sophia is
faced with a dilemma. Was he a better man than before? His
wealth certainly could help her family. Would his kiss set
her heart beating more than the one impishly stolen by the
stranger?
Set in the lush summer countryside of 1810 England, Jayne
Fresina brings another unstoppable heroine to life in THE
MOST IMPROPER MISS SOPHIE VALENTINE, which is an
unusual romance, complete with interesting plot development
and strong, quirky characters, like Sophie's loveable
elderly Aunt Finn and childhood friend, Elly. Fans of
Fresina's other works will enjoy how the spirited and
scarred Sophie gradually comes to terms with her own
behavior while using her wit and determination to
sidestep others attempting to impose their will on her.
Lazarus Kane is an unusual hero with his strong inner
strength of character beleaguered by dark secrets from the
past. With a little learning and a haircut, who knows what
will happen?
\"Wanted: one husband, not too particular. Small dowry,
several books, sundry furnishings, and elderly aunt
included. Idlers, time-wasters, and gentlemen with other
attachments need not apply.\"--Miss Sophie Valentine
Sophie Valentine knew placing an ad for a husband in the
Farmer\'s Gazette would bring her trouble--and she was
right. When the darkly handsome, arrogantly charming,
Lazarus Kane shows up on her doorstep, the nosy residents of
Sydney Dovedale, are thrown into a gossiping tizzy. After
all, it\'s common knowledge that Sophie is a young lady In
Need of Firmer Direction. But even Sophie isn\'t so
scandalous as to marry a complete stranger...is she?
Lazarus Kane has been searching for Sophie half of his life.
She may not remember him, but he could never forget her.
The night he first laid eyes on his wayward angel is burned
into his memory, but the past is a dangerous thing. And
it\'s best if his remains secret if he wants to tempt Sophie
with...
A MOST IMPROPER PROPOSAL
Excerpt
Chapter 1
September 1810
Endangering
the pristine quality of her new white muslin gown, Sophia
Valentine leaned over the stone balustrade, assessed the
shadowy distance to the lawn below, and wondered exactly
what steps were necessary to "gird one's loins." She hovered
on the brink of an abyss and felt this was surely the very
moment for such an action, if she only knew how it might be
done, for tonight she faced several dark dilemmas. Enlarged
by an overly active imagination and one too many cups of
punch, they seemed monstrous in dimension.
Much to
her chagrin, precarious situations were prevalent in
Sophie's life, and good common sense less frequently
encountered, appearing long after it was needed, in company
with that most frustrating of all commodities: "hindsight."
She was generally in too much haste to stop and find the
quality of prudence whenever it was most in need. Her
reaction to situations of perceived emergency often created
calamity of a genuine nature, rather than any escape from
them. She knew all this but couldn't seem to stop herself.
At nineteen, Sophie recognized she had yet to grow into
anyone very admirable. She was a young woman with little
beauty, many failings, and considerable desire for rebellion
with no real direction, and was the first to admit her own
shortcomings. But she had occasional signs of hope-when she
chanced to catch her reflection in flattering light or heard
herself saying something witty. Neither happened often.
Behind her, muffled by French doors, the music of a
dignified quadrille currently led the other guests around a
ballroom. Soon the rumor of an unseemly encounter would
dance its own insidious steps through the crowd, causing
Sophie to be pointed out, yet again, as a Young Lady in Need
of Firmer Direction. This, however, was the least of her
problems. Foremost among all her quandaries was this one:
Where, for pity's sake, were all the real heroes? Where was
her fiercely sculpted, steely-eyed knight on a fine black
warhorse, charging up to carry her off over his shoulder?
Did they exist only in novels? If they were real, they
didn't appear to be looking for her. Perhaps, she mused
unhappily, they came only for radiant maidens with
cupid's-bow lips, limpid blue eyes, and alabaster brows. In
which case, mediocre girls like she were destined to be
cornered by Achingly Polite Milksops, Old Gropers with
snuff-stained nose hairs, and the ever-annoying,
self-proclaimed Rakehell, who fancied himself irresistible
to all women, and whose greatest concern was whether the
running at Newmarket was likely to be firm or soft that
week.
And then there was James Hartley, a young man
of considerable advantages, who had-much to her
bewilderment-just proposed marriage. Most folk who knew them
both would say it shouldn't have been such a shock to her,
since they'd known each other for years, and he'd paid her
many attentions she didn't deserve. But he had never courted
her officially. His grandmama did not approve. Sometimes
Sophie thought that was exactly why he'd chased her to
London, and she, flattered to have his notice, encouraged
it.
Now that he'd actually proposed, the game was
over. She'd enjoyed it for the laughs and excitement but
never expected to win. It was fun to play in James's world
occasionally. Not so much fun, she suspected, to live there
forever, forced to conform to the rules. She saw how it wore
on him, and he'd been raised in it, whereas she was just a
gawky country girl beneath her fancy new gown.
But
this was the time of reckoning. They could no longer go on
being merely friends. The cards would be put away, the chips
counted. No more playing. Suddenly, it was serious.
She clutched her glass of punch as the brisk air cooled
her face, and she struggled with her fears. Surely she was
ready to fall in love-better now than at twenty-five or
thirty, when she was too old to enjoy it. And there was much
to be said in favor of her suitor. She and James had a great
deal in common. Both were frequently in a hurry, and both
preferred a lively country-dance to a subdued minuet. James,
she suspected, had never paid attention to a sermon in his
life. As for she, rather than read books written for the
guidance of young ladies, she read sentimental novels and
silly romances-although she skimmed the pages and never
finished any. With a similar desire for mischief and instant
gratification, they were, in many respects, two like souls.
So she ought to be in love now, with Mr. James Hartley.
After all, she could be at the peak of her "beauty," in
which case, she should take this chance, grab James before
he realized his mistake.
He was exceedingly handsome
and would, one day, come into a large fortune. There was
nothing more a young woman like she should dare ask for.
However, there was something else she wanted, and it wasn't
the sort of thing young ladies could talk about. Sophie
wasn't even sure she knew the right words.
That
evening, James had made love to her for the first time,
apologizing profusely throughout the two and a half minutes
it lasted. When a couple of stray guests had entered the
billiard room and found them using the green baize surface
for something other than billiards, Sophie was still waiting
for the heavens to part and showers of stars to rain down on
her. She was completely unaware that it was already over. So
much for the romance and passion for which she yearned.
Soon, whispers of that scandalous encounter would travel
the length of Lady Honoria Grimstock's glittering ballroom,
to make yet another black mark against her. A guest of her
fine Grimstock relatives, Sophie had been in London
precisely one week, and was already accused of showing her
ankles in public and using a curse word over a game of
whist. But this latest transgression would surely outdo all
that. She wouldn't mind so much if it had been actually
worth all the fuss.
Now, here she stood, wondering if
she was right to accept his proposal. A small voice inside
her was screaming in protest. She began to feel boxed in by
other people's expectations, stripped of her own.
Playing for time, she'd sent James off to find her velvet
shawl, but he would return all too soon; hence the necessary
girding of loins. A decision must be made.
If they
hadn't been caught on that billiard table, would he still
have proposed, or had he been cornered into it, much as she
felt the same pressure to accept?
Her mind sputtered
and sparked with questions, flaring to life and petering
out, like fireworks in rain. Would it be fair to him? She
really couldn't think what he saw in her.
And what
if, somewhere out there...?
The punch made her
light-headed. Swaying, she looked down again over the
balustrade. Darkness had yet to descend but was only a
breath away as dusk finally surrendered its sultry grip and
slid behind a distant line of precisely manicured hedge. She
should have worried about catching cold, but the crisp,
uncluttered night air was a welcome relief from the stifling
warmth and thick, waxy perfume of the ballroom.
She
blinked drowsily as her gaze searched the lawn below. She
thought she saw someone standing there, staring up at her.
As the next brittle breath shattered in the cool air around
her mouth, the shadows shifted again, and the shape was
gone. Although she dismissed the vision as a result of too
much punch, her heartbeat took on a new rhythm, and it
seemed to say, Jump, jump, jump, and I'll catch you, over
and over again.
She glanced back through the
glass-paneled doors and saw James strolling around the
perimeter of the dance, looking for her. A young maid,
holding a tray of empty glasses, stood aside for him to
pass, but he stopped. And then Sophie saw him slyly check
over his shoulder before raising a hand to the girl's
blushing cheek. He stroked it with one finger and gave her
chin a tweak. It was a brief gesture and went unnoticed in
the crowded ballroom, but Sophie, standing on the outside
looking in, saw it all. He whispered in the girl's ear, and
her lashes fluttered, her blush deepening. She was a plump,
well-developed girl, slightly younger than Sophie. Her hair
was very dark, almost raven. So were the adoring eyes she
raised to James Hartley's face.
Sophie stepped back
and stumbled against the balustrade.
As she clutched
the mossy stone, she turned and gazed out over the
wind-ruffled ivy. That vast lawn undulated softly, daubed by
alternate splashes of moonlight and shadow, a magical carpet
waiting to carry her far away.
Jump, jump, jump, and
I'll catch you.
It would be a considerable leap, but
suddenly flight into the unknown was preferable to facing
the predictable future.
She heard voices below,
people moving about in the quilted shadows.
"Where
'ave you been, boy?"
"Trimmin' the ivy, sir."
"You shouldn't still be out here now. What can you see to
trim in the dark? Oh..." There was a pause. "I see what kept
you, young scoundrel!"
She heard a low "ouch"
followed by a mumbled curse. "You didn't 'ave to do that,
sir. Now me ears are ringin'."
"And so they should
be."
"I weren't doin' no harm. Only lookin'."
"Listen, boy, these fancy folk don't want their evenin'
spoiled by seeing the likes of us about. Remember what I
told you? We're not to be seen, only the results of our hard
work."
And the young man answered, "Then we don't
exist to people like them? People like her-up there?"
Alarmed, she stepped away from the balustrade. Since
she'd been unable to see them, she'd assumed they wouldn't
see her either.
"That's right, boy," came the
distracted reply. "No. Leave that now and get out o' sight.
You can fetch it in the mornin'."
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