"After a scandal scars them both, a young lord and a fiery miss play out the battle of the sexes."
Reviewed by Auriette Lindsey
Posted January 30, 2013
Romance Historical
Miss Rose Balfour knew she shouldn't go alone into the
garden with the wicked Earl of Sinclair, but she fancied
herself in love. For his part, Lord Sin thought the girl
looked young, but he didn't know she actually was young. His
passionate kisses landed him in a fountain, facing years of
ridicule, while Rose was hurried away to her family's
country home. This begins Karen Hawkins' HOW TO CAPTURE A
COUNTESS.
Six years later, Rose has been well and truly ruined by the
scandal, and Lord Sin has fought the mocking laughter by
engaging in wild and reckless activities. Sin's aunt
speculates that "The Incident" meant more to both of them
than either of them let on at the time, so she draws them
together for a house party. Sin is more than happy to
attend, so he can seek his revenge on Rose. After a
breakneck horse race, a competitive game of pall-mall, a
bloody archery contest, and a bruising encounter in the
library, Rose and Sin decide to take their relationship to
the next level -- but can they survive being that close to
each other?
I enjoyed Rose and Sin's battles of wits as well as their
more physical encounters. These two were drawn to each other
from first meeting, but even after reaching a truce, they
fight the attraction. Ms. Hawkins' gives us plausible
reasons for the two of them keeping their distance until the
very end, and by giving Rose two flower-named sisters back
home, she's also giving us the chance to look forward to the
sequels.
SUMMARY
Urged by her favorite nephew, the intimidating Duchess of
Roxburghe agrees to transform a thorny Scottish rose into a
lovely bloom. But even she isn’t prepared for fiery Rose
Balfour.
At seventeen, Rose fell wildly in love with Lord Alton
Sinclair, known as Lord Sin for his wicked ways. Stung by
his indifference, the starry-eyed girl tried to win an
illicit kiss, but then panicked and pushed the notorious
rakehell into a fountain. Leaving Lord Sin floating among
the lily pads to the mocking laughter of his peers, Rose
escaped back to the obscurity of the Scottish countryside.
Six years later, Sin convinces his aunt, the Duchess of
Roxburghe, to invite Rose to her annual house party, where
he plans to get revenge by making Rose the laughingstock of
polite society. To his astonishment, he finds she has become
an alluring woman who threatens to turn the tables on his
nefarious plans. Thus Sin and Rose begin an epic battle of
the sexes that becomes more passionate at every turn.
Eventually, one will have to surrender . . . but to
vengeance? Or to love’s deepest passion?
ExcerptThat was it; he was leaving. He'd leave the carriage for
his grandmother and order a hackney to take him home.
Jaw tight, Sin turned and almost tripped over a slight
bit of a girl who'd apparently been hovering at his elbow.
For a nerve–wracking moment, he juggled his precious
glass of whiskey.
As the glass settled back into his hands, he scowled at
the chit who dared impede his departure. Slight of statue,
unusually tanned, with a smattering of freckles across a
snub nose in a small face framed by wildly curling black
hair barely held in place by a profusion of ribbons. Worse,
she wore a dowdy white gown that was far too large for her,
the style and coloring doing little to enhance her sallow
skin and too–slender figure.
"H–How do you do?" She offered a hurried curtsy
with a desperate smile.
He tamped down the desire to curtly wish her to the
devil. "Pardon me," he said in an icy tone and started to
walk around her.
"Oh, do wait!" Her hand gripped his arm.
A jolt of heat raced through him.
Sin stopped dead in his tracks and looked down at her
gloved hand. He'd felt that zap of attraction through three
layers of material as surely as if she'd brushed his bare
skin with her fingertips.
He found himself looking directly into her eyes. Pale
blue and surrounded by thick black lashes, they showed the
same shock that he felt.
Her gaze moved from his face to her hand and back. "I'm
sorry. I didn't expect – " She shook her head, color
flooding her skin, tinting the brown an exquisitely dusky
rose.
Are her nipples that same dusky color? It was a shocking
thought, but plain and loud, as if he'd said it aloud.
She jerked back her hand as if it burned. "I didn't
mean—I'm sorry, but I—" She gulped as if
miserable.
His irritation returned. "I'm sorry, but do I know you?"
She looked crestfallen. "I saw you at the Countess of
Dunford's luncheon only a week ago."
"Did we speak?"
"Well, no."
"I don't remember." He'd been far too in his cups to
remember much of that day at all, anyway.
"We also met a week and a day ago at the Melton House
Party."
He'd spent most of that evening in the library with the
men, planning a hunting party for the next day. "I'm sorry,
but I don't—"
"The Faquhars' soiree?"
He shook his head.
"The MacEnnis Ball? The Earl of Strahtham's dinner
party?"
He shook his head at each.
She looked crestfallen, which set off an unusual flash
of remorse followed by annoyance. Bloody hell, he couldn't
remember every chit who spoke to him, much less feel sorry
for them all.
But then, none of them had ever caused such a reaction
by merely touching my sleeve.
A footman came by and his companion captured a glass of
champagne from the man's tray. To Sin's surprise, she took
a deep breath and tossed it back, swallowing it in several
fast gulps.
She caught his surprised gaze, and flushed. "I know.
That's unladylike, but—" She scrunched her nose and
regarded her glass with disgust. "It's so horrid I didn't
wish to taste it."
He had to laugh and all of his irritation disappeared.
Who is this girl? He sipped his whiskey and regarded her
over the edge of his glass. "So you like champagne then?"
Good champagne, that is?"
"Yes, but there's not a drop of good champagne to be
had, so . . ." Without the slightest hint of embarrassment,
she eyed an approaching footman and, with a slight move to
her left, managed to replace her glass as he passed by and
grab another, which she disposed of as neatly as the
first. "At least it's cold," she said in a pragmatic tone.
Sin burst out laughing. She looked so incongruous, this
innocent–looking chit, with her freckled nose and
black curls and wide blue eyes, snapping back flutes of
champagne with a calm disdain for society's concept of
propriety. Sin didn't know when he'd been so charmed.
What do you think about this review?
Comments
No comments posted.
Registered users may leave comments.
Log in or register now!
|
© 2003-2025 off-the-edge.net
all rights reserved Privacy Policy