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Publication date: February 2nd, 2023
Synopsis:
A defiant Victorian wife fights to escape a bad marriage but her love for a forbidden man jeopardizes her chance at freedom.
James Standish knows how to play society's game. He'll follow the rules, marry a virginal debutante, and inherit a massive fortune. At least, that's the plan until he meets Francesca Thorne. She's not the sort of woman a respectable gentleman like James could ever marry--not least because, strictly speaking, she's married already.
Francesca is determined to flout convention and divorce her philandering husband. When James sweet talks his way into her life tasked with convincing her to abandon her dream of freedom, she's unprepared for the passion that flares between them.
Torn apart by conflicting desires, James and Francesca must choose whether to keep chasing the lives they've always wanted or take a chance on a new and forbidden love.
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Excerpt
"Oh, this blasted feather!" Fran snapped.
From the lofty height of his own mount, James glanced to where she struggled with her own sorry beast. To be fair to the horse, Fran's choice of headwear was the real problem. The black plume atop her hat kept drooping into her eyes. Every time she attempted to blow it back up with a short, sharp puff, down it fell again.
In deference to her obvious foul temper, James had allowed the first six incidents to pass unremarked. "I thought feathers were supposed to be jaunty," he said now.
"Well, this one isn't."
She'd been cross since they'd set out. At first, he'd assumed she was angry because he'd bamboozled her into meeting him this afternoon. He still wasn't sure why he'd done it. He'd woken to see her standing over him in the crush room and felt absurdly pleased to see her face. He hadn't been ready to relinquish the feeling when Mrs. Ashton interrupted them.
Despite today's ill humor, she looked fetching in her dark green riding habit. It hugged every curve. What a pity she had such a deplorable seat. The business with the feather made her shuffle about in the saddle, which must be very distracting for her poor horse.
"I'd take the whole hat off and throw it away but, according to my lawyer, I can't afford a new one."
"You're always talking about money," he said as they passed through Apsley gate. "It's very ill-bred of you. Happily, I enjoy the occasional lapse into bad taste. Let's hear it, then. Why can't you afford a new hat?"
"Because divorce is expensive."
He reined in his horse and waited for her to come alongside. "Ah. So that's the reason for this black mood."
"My mood is black because, despite the necessary future outlay of a great deal of money, I cannot be certain of a happy outcome."
He leaned over and plucked the offending feather from her hat. "Much better. I think you should avoid plumes in future. You cannot manage them." A dubious piece of gallantry, but it won him a small smile.
They ambled along, side by side, in companionable silence.
"I don't think divorces are supposed to be easy," he said, after several minutes had passed. "If they were, I predict fully one third of English couples would want one, and that would never do. Again, and at the risk of making you very angry, why not just accept a legal separation?"
"For a whole host of reasons. Why should a woman whose husband repents his choice suffer? Why must she resign herself to a life of loneliness while he is free to start anew? It's unjust, and if saying such makes me unwomanly, so be it."
"You could never be unwomanly. Impractical perhaps, but then ideals are rarely practical."
He watched her out of the corner of his eye. She remained an uncertain rider but, with the feather gone, at least she'd ceased bouncing about in the saddle. They turned onto Rotten Row, along with several other rides, then picked up the pace slightly to avoid the ire of their fellows.
"I suppose the practical thing to do is take the money," she said.
"Perhaps."
"That's what you think I should do, isn't it?"
Did he? He didn't know anymore. He might be disappointed if she gave up now. Strength and determination like hers were rare. Rare and magnificent.
"Perhaps it's just what I would do if I were in your place," he said, and nodded to an acquaintance whose name he couldn't for the life of him remember. "I couldn't do what you did the other day. Turning Thorne down like that."
"Why?" She guided her mare closer. "It's just money."
"No, it isn't. It's an entire way of life. I don't mean being received and all that twaddle. I couldn't care less about any of those dreadful people who shun you. Most of them are boring and stuffy anyway. No, I like my expensive tailoring and my quiet, lazy life. I couldn't give it up. Not for anything."
His words appeared to make her thoughtful. "Well," she said, after a while, "it's a good job you'll never have to."
Though her chestnut mare did more or less as bid, he was pleased when Fran said she wanted to walk for a while. She didn't look in imminent danger of falling off, but neither was she entirely comfortable. He dismounted and steadied her as she slid from the horse's back.
"I've been such a fool," she said, lowering her voice. "I spent the afternoon looking at the household accounts, such as they are. My first time. I never once bothered before. Edward's mother always took care of that, and I let her because I'm stupid."
He opened his mouth to acquit her of stupidity, but she wasn't finished.
"I never realized, until I tried to live by myself, how completely dependent I was on Edward. He paid for the roof over my head and the clothes on my back, and I never gave a thought to where it all came from. I have an income of my own, but I've been frittering it away for years. It never occurred to me to save it. I used it as pin money, for heaven's sake." She stopped walking and turned towards him. "What about you? Do you fritter?"
Fran must know the rules of good form as well as he did and her question was a serious violation. "I do believe you're the most vulgar girl I've ever met," he told her, struggling manfully to keep a straight face. "It's bad enough you pollute my ears with all this talk of accounts books and pin money, but it's beyond imprudent to pry into my finances in this fashion."
"Balderdash."
He gave a shout of laughter and then quickly stifled it. Hyde Park was hardly the place. "I've been known to fritter on occasion. The truth is I'm a dependent as you. All my money comes direct from Aunt Miriam." Fran's candor must be contagious; James wasn't usually prone to self-disclosure.
"Oh, I remember Aunt Miriam," she muttered, darkly.
"Everyone says her name in that tone, but she's really very sweet. Generous too. All expenses paid."
"And one day it will all be yours. Thank heaven for great expectations." She tossed him a wicked smile. Another one of those and he'd get lightheaded. "So, the money she gives you, do you spend it all?"
"Most of it." This time, he didn't notice her complete disregard for social nuances until after he'd answered the question. He must be getting used to her.
"Ah, so you did save some. You see? Even you are less foolish than I."
Even him? He glimpsed her quickly concealed smile.
"Fran, thus far good manners have kept me silent, but now I find I must ask. What's your horse's name?"
Her brow wrinkled in confusion as he'd intended. She kept him perpetually off balance, and he was glad to get a little of his own back. He wouldn't mind seeing her smile again either.
"Strawberry," she said. "Why?"
"I knew it. Strawberry. That explains a great deal. You sit that beast almost as well as a drunken bedlamite, but what can one expect from a woman who gives her horse a cow's name?"
"I happen to like strawberries." She looked a picture of mock dignity. "What's yours called anyway?"
"Hades," he said, all innocence.
She laughed low and throaty--a wonderful sound.
"Have a care, Fran. You'll wound his feelings."
"I apologize. I was aiming for yours. While we're on the subject, he's a stallion, is he not?"
"If you need me to tell you that, there's no hope for you."
"Wouldn't a gelding be more tractable?"
He raised both eyebrows suggestively. "What a typical feminine attitude. What's poor Hades ever done to you?"
"It's quite all right. I understand perfectly. If riding a stallion helps you to feel manly, who am I to gainsay you?"
"You have a wonderful laugh. Although, I think I detected a hint of a snort that time."
"You certainly did not." She turned quite pink, which made her look adorable. "Well, perhaps a small one."
JULIA BENNET writes historical romance with passion, intrigue, dark humor and the occasional animal sidekick. A tea-sodden English woman, she's the only girl in a house of boys and yearns for all things pink and fluffy. If she isn't writing, she's probably reading everything she can get her hands on, spending time with her boys or procrastinating on the internet.
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