John Fitzhugh Barrett has grown up in the country and
believed he was an illegitimate son. He was treated poorly
by his grandmother; the Dowager Marchioness of Somerset
and
was left to a family in a country as an unwanted
illegitimate child. Now John is surprised to learn that he
is the heir to a Marquess, it seems that the marriage
between his mother and father was never annulled and he is
the true heir not his half-brother. Even though he has
been
elevated to the title of Lord Hartley, he still hasn't
been
accepted by aristocrats.
He is angry with his family for
abandoning him when he was a child and refuses to go to
the
family seat in Somerfield Park, but he wants to take
advantage of being a lord, unfortunately he ends up with
some bad friends and spends his time gambling, drinking
and
going to Whitechapel's the most notorious boxing crib.
Miss Rebecca Kearsey is the daughter of a destitute baron
and much like John isn't accepted by aristocrats.
When she is kidnapped and taken to Whitechapel's g as a
reward for the boxing winner, she is lucky that John is
there and
recognizes her. He fights hard to win and save her.
Rebecca is attracted to John from the first time they met
in a museum and now that he saves her, she wants to help
him
to accept his family and be prepared for his title.
The Dowager Marchioness wants to make up for her mistake
by finding a wife for her grandson in the house party and
who is better than Rebecca to convince John to join the
house party (of course his grandmother doesn't count
Rebecca
as a potential bride just a help).
NEVER RESIST A RAKE is the second book in Somerfield Park
series and it can be read stand-alone.
It is a fun historical romance with lots of characters and
modern dialogue; I usually prefer that the dialogue and
the
story be in the same time period but still found this
interesting.
This story was more focused on the character development,
the growing love between hero and heroine, and reuniting
families.
Can he fool his new family? John Fitzhugh Barrett, surprised to learn he is heir to a marquessate, is determined his new status won't mean giving up his freedom. But as families from all over England descend upon Somerfield Park for the shooting season, their unmarried daughters are lining up to bag the newest trophy buck-him.
Or is he only fooling himself? John's instinct for self- preservation inspires him to divide his attentions between a scandalous young widow, and the safely ineligible Rebecca Kearsey, daughter of a destitute baron.
The charade gives John the illusion of controlling the game but when he loses his heart to the beautiful Rebecca, all bets are off.
Excerpt
“Thank you for coming, Rebecca,” he said, his voice a dark summons that set her stomach aflutter. “I wasn’t sure you would.” “Your invitation had me at a disadvantage,” she whispered. “It’s hard for me to resist the stars.” There was no need to let the man know she felt an even stronger tug toward him. “No need to keep quiet now,” he said. “No one will hear us up here.” “But we might hear something if we listen hard enough.” He cocked his head. “What?” “The music of the spheres.” Rebecca lifted her arms to the Milky Way spilling across the heavens, a frothy band of white against the eternal dark. When she was a child, she imagined the cloud of stars flowed in an unending stream from a giant’s upturned milk pail. The image still made her smile. “Music of the spheres? That’s hokum, surely.” “Pythagoras didn’t think so. Neither did Sir Isaac Newton,” she told him. “There is a demonstrable relationship between sound and mass and movement.” John stood silent for a moment. Wind sighed through the garden below. An owl hooted in the distant woods. No grand symphony dropped to them from the sky. “I don’t hear anything out of the ordinary,” he said. “I’m not surprised. I’m convinced it’s not something we can hear with our ears,” Rebecca said. “But I believe if I listen hard enough, someday I’ll hear the music of the spheres with my heart.” “Then I’ll have to trust you to describe it to me, since my heart is probably not able to perceive anything so sublime. But there’s nothing wrong with my eyes, and I expect to see some fireworks in the sky. Come.” He led her to a place roughly in the center of the roof, near the octagonal skylights that looked down into Somerfield Park’s foyer four floors below. If the foyer’s crystal chandelier had been lit, this would have been a wonderful vantage point to spy on the nocturnal comings and goings in the great house. Next to the skylights, John had made what looked like a camp bed. There were a couple of straw ticks topped with a feather one, so that it reached Rebecca’s mid-calf. He’d layered several blankets on the ticks. He blew out the candle and set the holder down on the roof beside the mattresses. “What’s this?” “It’s chilly here on the roof, so I figured we’d need blankets,” he said. “And is there a better position for stargazing than flat on your back?” She’d often taken a quilt from her bed and lain out on her terrace to watch the stars wheel overhead. “No, I suppose not.” He lifted one corner of the blankets. “John, did you even think for a moment about how improper this is?” “You mean did it occur to me that this is a thinly veiled attempt to get you into my bed? Of course. But you can’t deny it’s also a sensible way to stay warm and look at the night sky. Two birds. One stone.” He caught up her hand and brought it to his mouth for a soft kiss.
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