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Lady Fiasco: A Humorous Traditional Regency Romance (My Notorious Aunt Book 1) by [Kathleen Baldwin]
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Lady Fiasco: A Humorous Traditional Regency Romance (My Notorious Aunt Book 1) Kindle Edition

4.2 out of 5 stars 596 ratings

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Editorial Reviews

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

Excerpted from Chapter 1 Coming Home He stood like a smoldering statue, and if she were not his mother he would have strangled her. "Tyrell, for pity sake, won’t you please dance. You’re embarrassing me. Surely one of these young ladies..."

Not bloody likely.

"Your father would have wanted it this way. He abhorred excessive mourning. You know he did. He would have wanted you to have a proper welcome home. You’ve been gone so long, it’s only right to reintroduce you to the neighborhood. Really Tyrell, I planned this whole party for your sake."

He knew exactly why she’d thrown this abominable ball and for what purpose.

"It’s true." She fanned herself a little harder. "How can you doubt my intentions? I am, after all, your mother. It’s my duty to look after you." Knowing how punishing silence can be, Tyrell said nothing. "Have you no heart?" she sniffled. Heart? No. That useless mechanism stopped working in Spain, on the battlefields of Badajoz to be precise. Music jangled through his ballroom, infuriating him with the sound of frivolous plinking harpsichords and squealing violins. Candles flickered, as dancers stirred up the air bounding across his floor like a flock of mindless sheep. He would rather be trapped in a bat-ridden cave than here. To distract himself from his mother’s prattle he studied Fiona Hawthorn as she made her way through the guests on the other side of the room. She looked nothing like the sobbing young girl who had run after him as he rode away to war. She’d grown into a woman, shapely and undeniably striking. And now, his idiotic neighbors stepped out of her path as if she had the plague. The women backed away clutching their skirts like frightened children in the wake of a specter. Superstitious morons. His mother whispered a plea that lashed across his thoughts. "How can you treat me so ill? All I ask is one small grandson, so I’m not thrown out in the cold should anything happen to you." He remained as immovable as a wax general at Madam Tussaud’s. The dower cottage would serve her adequately. "I simply can’t bear to think of my home entailed to some distant-uncle’s-cousin-or-other, who won’t care two figs for what happens to me." She clutched at his arm. "A baby boy I can dandle on my knee, that’s all I’m asking, an heir. Is that so much?" Yes, too much, much more than he could give. Sons required fathers, preferably with the aforementioned heart intact. He continued to watch Fiona as she moved to the rear of the ballroom, away from the dancers and the gabbing, giggling circles of young women. She sat on a chair swathed in shadow behind a column. Hiding. Tyrell clamped his jaw tighter. "Must you seethe like some sort of caged tiger? Truly, it isn’t good for you. You’ll rupture your spleen." What would she have him do? Upturn the tables? Shove all of her unwanted guests down the stairs and out of his house? Smash that musician’s squeaky fiddle over his white-wigged head? "Our friends came here with the perfectly reasonable expectation that you would honor at least one of their daughters. You simply must dance with one of these young women or I shan’t be able to show my face in society again. We have our name to consider. At the very least you could--" "Very well. One." He marched straight across the ballroom, heedless of the dancers, who moved quickly out of his way while trying to maintain their places in the set. The heels of his shoes reported loudly against the wood floor, but he didn’t slow his pace until he stopped squarely in front of Fiona’s chair behind the column. She sat in a dreamlike pose, swaying to the rhythm of the country-dance. He cleared his throat and waited for her to open her eyes and focus. He continued to wait as her gaze slowly climbed up to his face. She blanched. "Oh dear," she murmured and rose abruptly upsetting her chair. In a tangled string of movements she reached back, caught the chair before it clattered to the floor, curtseyed, and then seemed to loose her breath before she could speak. He forestalled her. "Good evening Elf." --This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title.


"A winning mix of wit and humor. Baldwin makes delightful mischief in her debut Regency romp." -- Elisabeth Fairchild, RT Career Achievement Winner --This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title.

Product details

  • ASIN ‏ : ‎ B00GK9MCNS
  • Publisher ‏ : ‎ Ink Lion Books (November 1, 2013)
  • Publication date ‏ : ‎ November 1, 2013
  • Language ‏ : ‎ English
  • File size ‏ : ‎ 4306 KB
  • Text-to-Speech ‏ : ‎ Enabled
  • Screen Reader ‏ : ‎ Supported
  • Enhanced typesetting ‏ : ‎ Enabled
  • X-Ray ‏ : ‎ Enabled
  • Word Wise ‏ : ‎ Enabled
  • Print length ‏ : ‎ 256 pages
  • Lending ‏ : ‎ Enabled
  • Customer Reviews:
    4.2 out of 5 stars 596 ratings

Customer reviews

4.2 out of 5 stars
4.2 out of 5
596 global ratings
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Janet Lesley
5.0 out of 5 stars Decent Read
Reviewed in the United Kingdom on March 31, 2021
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3.0 out of 5 stars A very limited success
Reviewed in the United Kingdom on May 24, 2015
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2.0 out of 5 stars Don't expect historical accuracy!
Reviewed in the United Kingdom on January 20, 2015
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Evelyn Tidman - historical fiction author
4.0 out of 5 stars Entertaining Regency Sweet Romance
Reviewed in the United Kingdom on February 7, 2016
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4.0 out of 5 stars Delightful read
Reviewed in the United Kingdom on June 14, 2014
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