A Willful Lady and a Daring Lord.
Lady Sybil Hayworth might be petite, but her looks are deceiving—she comes from iron-willed stock. Her family claims a winding descent from Margaret Beaufort and they are unwavering in defense of their honor. An insult is easily taken, it invariably leads to a feud, and a Hayworth feud will continue until all parties to it have expired.
Richard Smythe, Marquess of Lockwood and heir to the Duke of Gravesley, has the misfortune of becoming one of those enemies. He knew of the plot against Cassandra Knightsbridge, and that is quite enough for Sybil.
Throughout the season, Sybil had enjoyed finding herself led into dinner by the lord, but all that must now come to an end. She will travel to a house party in Yorkshire and she is determined to forget about the gentlemen of the dukes’ pact, especially Lord Lockwood.
As her carriage leaves London and rumbles north, Sybil might be wise to remember that Lord Lockwood is a war hero and there is no risk he will not dare. Lord Lockwood, on the other hand, might be wise to understand that it will take more than pushing into Lord Hugh’s house party to win this particular battle.
#2 in The Dukes’ Pact Series—six dukes take dire steps to force their heirs to marry, while those heirs fight just as hard to remain bachelors. A sweet regency romance.
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Lady Sybil Hayworth comes from a long line of Cornish Folk who are well known for their stubbornness and holding a grudge. Our heroine has been very cross with a certain group of men who tried to interfere in her friend's life. There is no way she will forgive them.
Richard Smythe, Marquess Lockwood is one of the group of young men whose fathers have laid down a very strict and unfair rule that they marry quickly or have their funds cut. Our hero has apologized several times for his transgressions but has not been forgiven. When he is forbidden to do something, he naturally wants to do it all the more. Nobody can get in his way.
This is a fun filled historical romance with very contrary characters. Lots of people are up to all sorts of mischief. Most of them have good intentions, but who will win in the end??
Really good fun.
AMAZON.US * AMAZON.UK * AMAZON.ES
By the time I was eleven, my Irish Nana and I had formed a book club of sorts. On a timetable only known to herself, Nana would grab her blackthorn walking stick and steam down to the local Woolworth’s. There, she would buy the latest Barbara Cartland romance, hurry home to read it accompanied by viciously strong wine, (Wild Irish Rose, if you’re wondering) and then pass the book on to me. Though I was not particularly interested in real boys yet, I was very interested in the gentlemen in those stories—daring, bold, and often enraging and unaccountable. After my Barbara Cartland phase, I went on to Georgette Heyer, Jane Austen and so many other gifted authors blessed with the ability to bring the Georgian and Regency eras to life.
I would like nothing more than to time travel back to the Regency (and time travel back to my twenties as long as we’re going somewhere) to take my chances at a ball. Who would take the first? Who would escort me into supper? What sort of meaningful looks would be exchanged? I would hope, having made the trip, to encounter a gentleman who would give me a very hard time. He ought to be vexatious in the extreme, and worth every vexation, to make the journey worthwhile.
I most likely won’t be able to work out the time travel gambit, so I will content myself with writing stories of adventure and romance in my beloved time period. There are lives to be created, marvelous gowns to wear, jewels to don, instant attractions that inevitably come with a difficulty, and hearts to break before putting them back together again. In traditional Regency fashion, my stories are clean—the action happens in a drawing room, rather than a bedroom.
As I muse over what will happen next to my H and h, and wish I were there with them, I will occasionally remind myself that it’s also nice to have a microwave, Netflix, cheese popcorn, and steaming hot showers.
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