"Swashbuckling & scandalous! A Regency romance where tables get turned and the stakes are high!"
Reviewed by Audrey Lawrence
Posted January 25, 2014
Romance Historical
After the joy of one-upping her old, but now despicable
friend, Monica Hargrove, the implications of her smug and
careless triumph over a bonnet began to sink in and the
consequences are dire. With Lord Somerfield, the old Duke,
dying of consumption, her step-brother Augustine would
become the new Duke and the lovely and privileged life they
enjoyed could come to a very unpleasant and abrupt end.
While Augustine cares for his step-mother and her four
daughters, Honor, Prudence, Mercy and Grace, he is totally
besotted with Monica and she is determined to banish them
from their home when they marry.
As the oldest at 22, Honor knows it is up to her to do
something and never mind that Grace at 21 just wants the
pair of them to get married as soon as possible. What if
she could just get that romance off the rails.... she knows
just the person who could help her.
While the sisters were named for the four virtues, Honor
definitely didn't believe that discretion is the better
part of valour, especially with her mother now having
memory problems and their future at risk. She is
determined to make an offer that George Easton, the
unrecognized and handsome son of the King, could not
refuse. Would her reprehensible idea work as planned?
Surely the odds are in her favour... what could go wrong?
With her well-known talent for regency romances, Julia
London has expertly crafted an intriguing and suspenseful
novel with unexpected plot twists and tables being turned
that will just keep you turning the pages just to see how
things unfold. Honor is a wonderful minx of a character:
caring for others, yet self-focused and determined in her
quest, still naïve in some aspects and more swashbuckling
and worldly I others. Easton is the perfect counterpoint
to her....knowledgeable about how the ton would act and
tries
to protect her while lusting after her body and spirit!
London's many fans are sure to find this a very
entertaining read and new readers are sure to fall under
the spell of her writing. As an unabashed Julia London
aficionado, I am thrilled that THE TROUBLE WITH HONOR,
which is a delightful read on its own, is also the start of
a new series about the four sisters. THE TROUBLE WITH
HONOR is filled with the sparking humour, ballroom dances,
sexy scenes and lascivious lovemaking that are hallmarks of
this creative and talented historical romance writer, so go
grab a copy and enjoy this game of high stakes love!
SUMMARY
Passion and scandal collide in New York Times bestselling
author Julia London's brand-new series about four sisters
determined to rescue themselves from ruin…
Desperate times call for daring measures as Honor Cabot, the
eldest stepdaughter of the wealthy Earl of Beckington,
awaits her family's ruin. Upon the earl's death she and her
sisters stand to lose the luxury of their grand home—and
their place on the pedestal of society—to their stepbrother
and his social-climbing fiancée. Forced to act quickly,
Honor makes a devil's bargain with the only rogue in London
who can seduce her stepbrother's fiancée out of the Cabots'
lives for good.
An illegitimate son of a duke, George Easton was born of
scandal and grows his fortune through dangerous risks. But
now he and Honor are dabbling in a perilous dance of
seduction that puts her reputation and his jaded heart on
the line. And as unexpected desire threatens to change the
rules of their secret game, the stakes may become too high
even for a notorious gambler and a determined, free-spirited
debutante to handle.
ExcerptHe eased back, studying her casually. Honor was accustomed
to the way men looked at her. But she had
never felt it quite like this, so intently. Honor’s blood
began to race. She wasn’t certain if she was appalled by
him or entirely aroused.
“Hmm,” he said thoughtfully as he gazed at her collared
gown. “That is not an improvement.”
Honor yanked her spencer closed. “As I said, Mr. Easton,
I did not come here for a dalliance.”
“Apparently not,” he said. “Or, you are woefully
unimaginative in your seductions.” His slow, deliberate
smile made the fluttering in Honor’s breast skirt merrily
down her spine and land squarely in her belly.
“Nevertheless, I should think it would be pleasurable for
us both.”
Honor couldn’t think. Her imagination was galloping away
from her.
“Go on, then, Miss Cabot. You have me on tenterhooks. If
I will not be allowed to show you the pleasure
your young heart has imagined, then please, do say what it
is you want.”
Steady on. Honor ignored her breathlessness, the heat in
her veins, the desire to remove her spencer entirely,
and said, “I will not lie, Mr. Easton. This favor involves a
bit of…persuasion.”
“Even more interesting.” His gaze drifted to her lips. “I
knew that you were a bold one, Miss Cabot. A
young lady of your stature does not appear in a Southwark
gaming hell without a river of audacity running
through her veins.” He smiled as if that pleased him. “What
sort of persuasion did you have in mind?” he
asked, and reached out, taking the end of her bonnet’s
ribbon between two fingers, rubbing the velvet.
She pulled the ribbon from his grasp. “I need you to
seduce someone.”
He reached for her ribbon again and smiled so charmingly
that Honor felt a bit of herself melt. “I am trying,
Miss Cabot.”
She pulled the ribbon free once more. “Not me.”
He chuckled, the sound of it reverberating in her chest.
“A pity. But I suppose you are too tender, after all.
Is it anyone I know, or anyone I choose?”
“Someone I know.” She prepared to explain herself, but
George Easton abruptly reached for her wrist and
wrapped his fingers tightly around it, the thumb pressing
against her vein. Could he feel how her heart raced?
Her heart skipped—she knew a slender moment of terror as
she looked at his hand on her wrist; it looked
enormous compared to her arm. She was so foolish—she had no
idea if he would harm her, if he would force
her—
“What the devil are you talking about?” he asked silkily,
rubbing his thumb across her inner wrist.
God help her, she couldn’t falter now—she’d already
walked out on the plank away from propriety and
decency. “As I said, I very much need you to seduce someone.”
He lifted her arm, touched his lips to her inner wrist
through the keyhole of her glove, then lifted his head
with a knowing smile. “It would seem I am more successful at
seduction in this coach than I thought.” He
pulled her forward. His eyes were blazing. “If not you,
little bird, then who?”
“Miss…Miss Monica Hargrove.”
Mr. Easton blinked. He suddenly let go her wrist and fell
back against the squabs. “Miss Hargrove,” he
repeated disbelievingly.
Honor nodded, thankful for the opportunity to catch her
breath. She pressed her palm to her chest, took a
breath.
“Isn’t Sommerfield affianced to Miss Hargrove?”
Honor nodded again.
“Your stepbrother,” he announced, as if she had not
realized that the Viscount Sommerfield was one and the
same as Augustine.
When Honor said nothing, Easton surprised her with a
laugh to the ceiling. “Of all the reprehensible—”
“Reprehensible!” Honor protested. “Goodness, Mr. Easton,
I am not asking that you ruin her. I merely ask
that you direct her attention elsewhere,” she said, and
fluttered her fingers in a vaguely “elsewhere” direction.
“For what purpose should I direct her attention
elsewhere?” he asked, mimicking her finger fluttering.
“Surely it is clear as to purpose.”
“The only purpose I can see is to make your stepbrother
cry off his engagement, and I cannot imagine what
reason you would have that is in any way founded—”
“I have my reasons,” she said crisply.
“Do you,” he drawled, folding his arms across his chest.
“What are they?”
“You need not know—”
“Bloody hell I need not know. You ask me to turn the head
of your brother’s fiancée and tell me I need not
know why?”
“I certainly hadn’t counted on you arguing with me,” she
said petulantly, and toyed with the fringe of the
window’s sash, thinking quickly. “I cannot divulge what I
know about Miss Hargrove,” she said hesitantly,
“but I can assure you I have very good reason to wish that
she not marry Augustine.” She glanced at Easton
again, who was now looking at her with complete disdain. His
eyes were still blazing, but in a strangely
different way. Honor swallowed. “No good can come of their
union. You must trust me,” she insisted. “And I
thought…I thought that perhaps you might agree to help me.”
“Of course,” he said with mock sincerity. “Because of who
I am.”
“Yes! Because you are a man who takes risks and you are
rather…” She couldn’t help but take him in, his
broad shoulders, his muscular legs, his fine mouth.
“Rather what?” he prodded her, nudging her leg with his
knee again. “Rather a bastard? A man whose
mere association with a debutante casts a shadow on her?”
“No!” Honor said, feeling herself color. “I meant you are
handsome, Mr. Easton. And…and wealthy. At
least there is some speculation that you are. Naturally, I
would not know firsthand.”
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