Olivia Willow is missing a day from her life and now the new Earl of Teirn-Cope suspects she had a hand in his brother's death.
"A conflict, supported by an alpha hero and strong-willed heroine and entangled with a mystery, turns Jewel's tale into a delightful battle-of-wills romance, tinged with suspense. Jewel handles complex plotting with ease and creates a compelling story and characters that captivate." Kathe Robin, Romantic Times
:It was so enjoyable to see that obsession grow and morph Sebastian. When the story begins he is an entirely self-sufficient military man focused on his career and indifferent to women. He needs a wife, yes, but for dynastic purposes only. When Olivia crosses his path, he sees her bright red hair and forthright ways and assumes she is both easy and prey. That she is neither is a realization that creeps up on him." Rachel Potter, Likes Books
Olivia faced the portrait again, absorbing the austere face. “Cold, those eyes,” she said, thinking how different he seemed from Andrew. “As if he had no heart at all.” A rather harsh opinion to hold of the man she used to imagine would fall helplessly in love with her. Not that she ever believed he would. Valorous sea captains might fall in love with redheaded spinsters, but, alas, noblemen did not.
“Miss Willow,” said Julia Cage. “We find him dreadfully handsome. Even if he were not a hero, all we ladies would think him quite the gallant. If you were still in your youth, I’m sure you’d feel the same.”
“Certainly,” she said.
“You see, Miss Willow?” Fitzalan said. “Not cold. Just stern. Don’t you agree? As an officer must be.”
Olivia spoke softly. “Tell me, Lord Fitzalan, were you well acquainted with the previous earl?”
“He stopped coming to London two or three years ago, but before that we saw each other now and again.”
“Since you have known them both, what is your opinion of him?” From the corner of her eye, she saw Miss Cage watching and listening intently. The subject of Tiern-Cope fascinated everyone.
“Captain Alexander, or, I should say, Lord Tiern-Cope, may not have his brother’s charm, but do not discount him on that score. He is—” Fitzalan tipped his head to one side, searching for the correct word “—formidable.”
Diana gasped. “He’s been disfigured, hasn’t he?”
The room fell silent.
“James?” Diana sat straight. One hand drifted to her bosom, and eyes big as sixpence fixed on her brother, pleading for a denial. “Maimed in the war,” she said. “And ashamed to show his ruined face.”
A collective gasp came from the ladies. Were all their hopes, then, to be pinned not on an earl by all accounts eager to take a wife, but on a viscount who’d so far proved immune to marriage-minded ladies?
Fitzalan’s smile faded. “Surely, ladies, the allure of nobility and wealth will overcome the impact of any infirmities?”
“He is disfigured.” Diana closed her eyes. When she opened them, they glistened with tears. “How badly has he been scarred? Tell me, James. Please, I must know.”
“Nonsense, Miss Royce,” Olivia said. “He was wounded in the chest. On the side, just here.”
Fitzalan said, “Who told you that?”
The pile of coals in the fireplace tumbled down with a hiss and a flare of light. But that wasn’t what made Olivia look away from the viscount. She looked away because the salon door swung open with a faint whoosh of air over the Chinese carpet, and the earl of Tiern-Cope walked in.
--This text refers to the
Kindle Edition
edition.
"A conflict, supported by an alpha hero and strong-willed heroine and entangled with a mystery, turns Jewel's tale into a delightful battle-of-wills romance, tinged with suspense. Jewel handles complex plotting with ease and creates a compelling story and characters that captivate." Kathe Robin, Romantic Times
:It was so enjoyable to see that obsession grow and morph Sebastian. When the story begins he is an entirely self-sufficient military man focused on his career and indifferent to women. He needs a wife, yes, but for dynastic purposes only. When Olivia crosses his path, he sees her bright red hair and forthright ways and assumes she is both easy and prey. That she is neither is a realization that creeps up on him." Rachel Potter, Likes Books
Olivia faced the portrait again, absorbing the austere face. “Cold, those eyes,” she said, thinking how different he seemed from Andrew. “As if he had no heart at all.” A rather harsh opinion to hold of the man she used to imagine would fall helplessly in love with her. Not that she ever believed he would. Valorous sea captains might fall in love with redheaded spinsters, but, alas, noblemen did not.
“Miss Willow,” said Julia Cage. “We find him dreadfully handsome. Even if he were not a hero, all we ladies would think him quite the gallant. If you were still in your youth, I’m sure you’d feel the same.”
“Certainly,” she said.
“You see, Miss Willow?” Fitzalan said. “Not cold. Just stern. Don’t you agree? As an officer must be.”
Olivia spoke softly. “Tell me, Lord Fitzalan, were you well acquainted with the previous earl?”
“He stopped coming to London two or three years ago, but before that we saw each other now and again.”
“Since you have known them both, what is your opinion of him?” From the corner of her eye, she saw Miss Cage watching and listening intently. The subject of Tiern-Cope fascinated everyone.
“Captain Alexander, or, I should say, Lord Tiern-Cope, may not have his brother’s charm, but do not discount him on that score. He is—” Fitzalan tipped his head to one side, searching for the correct word “—formidable.”
Diana gasped. “He’s been disfigured, hasn’t he?”
The room fell silent.
“James?” Diana sat straight. One hand drifted to her bosom, and eyes big as sixpence fixed on her brother, pleading for a denial. “Maimed in the war,” she said. “And ashamed to show his ruined face.”
A collective gasp came from the ladies. Were all their hopes, then, to be pinned not on an earl by all accounts eager to take a wife, but on a viscount who’d so far proved immune to marriage-minded ladies?
Fitzalan’s smile faded. “Surely, ladies, the allure of nobility and wealth will overcome the impact of any infirmities?”
“He is disfigured.” Diana closed her eyes. When she opened them, they glistened with tears. “How badly has he been scarred? Tell me, James. Please, I must know.”
“Nonsense, Miss Royce,” Olivia said. “He was wounded in the chest. On the side, just here.”
Fitzalan said, “Who told you that?”
The pile of coals in the fireplace tumbled down with a hiss and a flare of light. But that wasn’t what made Olivia look away from the viscount. She looked away because the salon door swung open with a faint whoosh of air over the Chinese carpet, and the earl of Tiern-Cope walked in.
