The Duchess and the Highwayman
By Beverley Oakley
Beverley is giving away a $10 Amazon Gift Certificate and an
ebook The Mysterious Governess.to randomly drawn winners via rafflecopter
during the tour. Please use the RaffleCopter below to enter. Remember you may
increase your chances of winning by visiting the other tour stops. You may find
those locations here.
BLURB: She’s on the run from a murderer, he’s in pursuit of one…
In a remote Norfolk manor, Phoebe, Lady Cavanaugh is wrongfully accused by her servants of her brutal husband’s murder.
There’s little sympathy in the district for the duchess who’s taken a lover and made clear she despised her husband. The local magistrate has also vowed revenge since Lady Cavanaugh rebuffed his advances.
When Phoebe is discovered in the forest wearing only a chemise stained with the blood of her murdered husband, she persuades the noble ‘highwayman’ who rescues her that she is Lady Cavanaugh’s maidservant. Hugh Redding has his own reasons for hunting down the man who would have Phoebe tried and hanged for murder. He plans to turn ‘the maidservant with aspirations above her station' into the 'lady' who might testify against the very villain who would see Phoebe dead.
But despite the fierce attraction between Phoebe and the 'highwayman', Phoebe is not in a position to admit she's the 'murderous duchess' hunted across the land.
Seizing an opportunity to strike at the social and financial standing of the man who has profited by her distress, Phoebe is drawn into a dangerous intrigue.
But when disaster strikes, she fears Hugh will lack the sympathy or understanding of her unusual predicament to even want to save her a second time.
Buy Links: Amazon | All other buy links ~*~*~*~*~*~
Excerpt:
It was an evening like any
other: dull with a hint of menace and tension so thick Phoebe imagined slicing
a neat hole in it and disappearing magically into a new life.
Any would do.
Any would do.
The company had retired to
the dim, close drawing room, gentlemen included, following a gluttonous dinner.
By the fireplace Phoebe worked at her embroidery, glad to be ignored though she
knew that wouldn’t last for long.
The reprieve was even
briefer than she’d anticipated. Brutus exhaled on a shuddering snore truncated
by a yelp as he chased rabbits in his dreams; this caused James the footman,
who was stooping over Ulrick in the act of offering his master a drink, to jump
in fright and deposit a snifter of brandy upon her husband’s waistcoat. Not
that it would concern Ulrick who was snoring more loudly than Brutus and whose
waistcoat was already stained with drool.
The footman cast the
mistress a sideways glance as he unwound his lordship’s stock and dabbed at the
sticky mess but Phoebe held her tongue and made do with a dispassionate look.
She’d never liked James. She was certain he’d conspired with Ulrick on more
than a few occasions to put her on the back foot and to tarnish her name below
stairs. Despite her obvious disdain, she was afraid of the power he wielded.
“That will be all, James.”
She rose with a dismissive wave and the rustle of silken skirts. “I’ll attend
to my husband. Please see Mr Barnaby and Sir Roderick out.”
Sir Roderick, that most
unwelcome of neighbours, appeared before her, bony and wraithlike; malevolent as
ever. “I believe your dog that needs more attention than Lord Cavanaugh.” His
thin mouth turned up in a parody of amusement as he wafted a fastidious hand
about his nose, indicating Brutus’s greater guilt than his master’s snoring.
Phoebe offered Sir Roderick
a cold smile. On the other side of the room Ulrick’s two other guests conversed
in low voices by the window.
She inclined her head as
she ignored his attempt at levity. “Good night, Sir Roderick.”
Sir Roderick straightened
his spare, weedy frame, which she saw trembled with supressed outrage at being
so summarily dismissed by the lady of the house.
Phoebe refused to turn away
from his challenging gaze. Sir Roderick was another who couldn’t wait until the
doors of Blinley Manor were closed against her the moment Ulrick breathed his
last. She’d offended his honour, having bitten his lip and kneed him in the
groin six months before when he’d accosted her in a dimly lit corridor and
suggested in lewd terms how he might assist in the creation of an heir for the
already ailing Ulrick. An heir that would ensure Phoebe kept a roof over her
head.
~*~*~*~*~*~
Author Info:
Beverley Oakley was seventeen when she bundled up her first
her 500+ page romance and sent it to a publisher. Unfortunately drowning her
heroine on the last page was apparently not in line with the expectations of
romance readers so Beverley became a journalist.
Twenty-six years later Beverley was delighted to receive her
first publishing contract from Robert Hale (UK) for a romance in which she
ensured her heroine was saved from drowning in the icy North Sea.
Since 2009 Beverley has written more than thirteen
historical romances, mostly set in England during the early nineteenth century.
Mystery, intrigue and adventure spill from their pages and if she can pull off
a thrilling race to save someone’s honour – or a worthy damsel from the noose –
it’s time to celebrate with a good single malt Scotch.
Beverley lives with her husband, two daughters and a
Rhodesian Ridgeback puppy the size of a pony opposite a picturesque nineteenth
century lunatic asylum. She also writes Africa-set adventure-filled romances
tarring handsome bush pilot heroes, and historical romances with less steam and
more sexual tension, as Beverley Eikli.
You can get in contact with Beverley at:
a Rafflecopter giveaway
no
ReplyDeleteThanks so much for having me here today. :)
ReplyDeletemy pleasure, Beverley :-)
DeleteI think I've got at least one on my TBR, but haven't yet had the pleasure--looking forward to diving in!
ReplyDelete