on January 1st 1970
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WHO WILL WRITE THE BOOK OF LOVE?
When scholarly Miss Ivy Wareham receives word that she’s one of four young ladies who have inherited Lady Celeste Beauchamp’s estate with a magnificent private library, she packs her trunks straightaway. Unfortunately, Lady Celeste’s nephew, the rakish Quill Beauchamp, Marquess of Kerr, is determined to interrupt her studies one way or another...
Bequeathing Beauchamp House to four bluestockings—no matter how lovely they are to look at—is a travesty, and Quill simply won’t have it. But Lady Celeste’s death is not quite as straightforward as it first seemed…and if Quill hopes to solve the mystery behind her demise, he’ll need Ivy’s help. Along the way, he is surprised to learn that bookish Ivy stirs a passion and longing that he has never known. This rogue believes he’s finally met his match—but can Quill convince clever, skeptical Ivy that his love is no fiction?
He’d known she was attractive—had categorized her as such almost as soon as he saw her in the Fox and Pheasant earlier that day—but even that observation hadn’t led him to imagine what she’d look like in such dishabille. Well, that wasn’t quite true, he amended. His mind had conjured her in much fewer clothes than this before he’d realized just who she was. But any such imaginings had been snuffed out as soon as he’d known her destination. The reality of facing her here, now, in her virginal bedclothes, however, with her lovely red hair framing her face like a halo was far more tempting than his fantasy had been.
So, yes. She was disturbing him, but likely in a way she didn’t even comprehend.
Suppressing the urge to tell her just that, he said instead, “I was too restless to sleep. It takes a bit for me to settle in to a new place. So there’s no harm done.”
Moving farther into the room, she set her candle down on one of the large library tables and wrapped her arms across her chest. “It’s chilly in here,” she said frowning. “I hadn’t expected it this close to the sea. I thought it was supposed to be milder here.”
Wordlessly, he looked away from her and moved over to kneel before the fireplace, stoking the embers back into a blaze. “It’s still early spring,” he said on standing, brush- ing his hands together more for something to do than to remove any soot. “The breeze off the channel keeps the air fairly cool until summer.”
But she wasn’t paying him any mind; instead she scanned the shelves that lined the walls behind him.
“Looking for something in particular?” he asked, not- ing the impatience flash in her gaze before she replaced it with polite indifference. “Something to read before sleep, perhaps? Something to steal?”
Her brow furrowed at his question. He’d meant it to be playful, but her response told him that it had come off more sharply than he’d intended.
“I’d hoped you’d decided to stop treating me like an op- portunist here to steal your inheritance from you,” she said, pursing her lips. “I have it on very good authority that you’ve a great many houses as part of the Kerr estate— ones much grander and more impressive than this one. I do not understand why you cannot manage to accept the loss of this one. Unless, of course, like most boys you dis- like sharing your toys.”
She said this last part dismissively over her shoulder as she stepped past him and openly began to read through the shelves on the far wall.
Turning to watch her move from shelf to shelf, he sighed. “I suppose I deserve that after the way I behaved this afternoon. But let me assure you that it’s no petty childhood jealousy that made me distrust you and your compatriots, Miss Wareham.”
This must have surprised her, for she turned and looked at him through narrowed eyes. “No? Then what?”
He thrust a hand through his hair, fighting the urge to look away. “Have you never faced the removal of a child- hood memory?” he asked, finally. “Never wished to hold onto the last bastion of somewhere that gave you comfort?”
Arrested, she tilted her head. “And that’s what this place was for you?” she asked. “A bastion of comfort?”
He wasn’t sure why, but Quill felt more exposed in that moment than he would have if he were stark naked. But he knew he owed her an explanation. Especially after the way he’d treated her earlier. “For me, for Serena, and for my cousin Dalton,” he admitted. “Our own homes were not particularly . . .” He broke off as he tried to think of a word that wouldn’t shock her. He could hardly tell her about the debauchery that had reigned in his own house before his father died. And the circumstances of Serena and Dalton’s upbringing weren’t his to reveal. “Let’s just say that we found our visits to Beauchamp House to be a relief from our own homes.”
Something flashed behind her eyes. Sympathy? Or something else? Quill wasn’t sure, but he couldn’t fail to note the way she squared her shoulders. As if she’d come to a decision.
Abandoning her scan of the bookshelves, she turned fully to face him, her hands clasped before her so tightly that her knuckles were white with it. “Lord Kerr,” she began, her green eyes shadowed with trepidation. “There is something I must tell you.”
Quill felt his stomach drop, and a pang of disappoint- ment ran through him. Now she’d admit that she and the others actually had found some way to trick Aunt Celeste into leaving them Beauchamp House. The whole business of the competition had sounded like a farce, and though he’d known his aunt to possess a playful streak, he’d never guessed it would reveal itself in such a way. Certainly he’d not supposed she would play fast and loose with the dis- position of Beauchamp House, where she’d spent so many happy years.
“Then by all means,” he drawled, allowing every bit of the world-weary ennui that cloaked him in town to settle over him. “Tell me all, Miss Wareham. I confess I am curi- ous to hear how you all managed it, never having set foot in Beauchamp House before. It must have taken a great deal of coordination amongst the four of you.”
But if he’d expected her to surrender completely, he was to be disappointed. “What?” she asked, her nose wrinkled in puzzlement. “I thought we’d just put that behind us. And yet, here you are with accusations again. You are like a dog with a bone, Lord Kerr. Honestly!”
“If not that, then what is it you wish to tell me?” he de- manded, exasperated. He’d never thought himself to be a particularly emotional man, but since he’d met this chit on the road he’d gone through more feelings than a year in London had elicited from him. He must be sickening for something. “You can hardly blame me for jumping to con- clusions when we’ve just been speaking about my earlier suspicions.”
“I can blame you all too easily,” she retorted with a scowl. “But I will not because I am tired of being at cross purposes with you. And I do not believe your aunt would like it.”
Indicating with a wave of his hand that she should go on, Quill waited.
“I found a letter from your aunt waiting for me in my bedchamber,” she said, her fine features marred by worry. “I greatly fear that Lady Celeste was murdered.”
Copyright © 2017 by the author and reprinted by permission of St. Martin’s Press.
One lucky commenter will win a copy of Ready Set Rogue.
We are curious….
If you were to inherit a part of an estate like our heroine, what would your area of study be?
~~Reviewed by Monique~~
Upon learning of the recent death of his Aunt Celeste, Torquil Beauchamp hastens to the small village of Little Seaford. He is livid at the thought that Lady Celeste bequeathed her home to bluestockings, and all sorts of problems befall him on his way, so that he has to stop at an inn. He is not in a good mood, and to top it all, how dare this bespectacled miss not defer to him, the marquess of Kerr, as does everyone else! Still, he was raised a gentleman, and when the young lady struggles with her huge trunk, he helps her. That’s when Torquil – Quill – notices that she is indeed very pretty in a governess sort of way. Miss Aphrodite Wareham, Ivy to her friends, is grateful for Lord Kerr’s help, and when a drunken lout accosts her, Quill again comes to her rescue, and that’s when he learns that Ivy is one of the detested bluestockings who will invade his childhood haven. Ivy has missed her coach, but Quill asks her to ride with him to the estate, as to keep an eye on who he perceives as a liar and a fraud. However, just as she is about to go to bed, Ivy notices an envelope on her pillow, it’s a posthumous note from Lady Celeste asking Ivy to look into her untimely demise, as Celeste suspects she will not have died of natural causes…
READY SET ROGUE is the first book in the new Studies in Scandal by Manda Collins, and a smashing introduction it is! While Quill first comes off as a pompous aristocrat, he has his reasons for not wanting the Beauchamp estate being taken away from the family, but he his no match for the four bluestockings he is stuck with. Ivy is an ancient language scholar, sisters Gemma and Sophia Hastings, respectively an archaeologist and an artist, and Lady Daphne Forsythe a mathematician; Quill’s cousin Lady Serena Fanning is acting as some sort of chaperon, and Quill is no match for any of those formidable ladies. While Quill and Ivy are attracted to each other, Quill is so determined to get rid of the women as soon as he can, that he makes it very difficult for Ivy to enquire into the death of Lady Celeste until she puts him in his place, and Quill begins to realise that his stubbornness is a hindrance in finding his Aunt’s killer. Those scenes are fantastic, as we cheer for Ivy while she defends her position, and the author makes us see how trying it was for a woman to use her abilities in Regency England.
Manda Collins’s prose is stellar, so smooth and lovely, always in tune with the tone of the era, the dialogues are word-perfect and very witty, and the mystery is well constructed. The romance progresses nicely when Quill finally admits that he’s overreacted, even though he is not pleased; Ivy and Quill’s rapport feels very natural, and the sex scenes are beautiful. I must admit that there was a moment where I was a tad worried that a momentary lapse of reason due to lust would have dire consequences on the story, but I should not have underestimated Ms. Collins’ cleverness as she handled the matter spectacularly well, as it led to better things.
All the characters are truly splendidly defined, with very distinct personalities and voices. I completely fell in love with the dashing, charming duke of Maitland, I desperately wanted more of him, and it seems my wish will come true when I saw the title of the next book. What a great series this will be! I am ready for the next installment right this minute!
I voluntarily reviewed an advanced reader copy of this book.