HISTORY, ROMANCE AND...CATS!
Grace Elliot leads a double life as a vet by day and author of intelligent historical fiction by night. Grace is an avid reader and believes that smart people need to read romance - as an antidote to the modern world!
Grace is also obsessed by all things feline.
humiliating a suitor, Celeste Armitage is sent from the ton in disgrace. Exiled to the country she discovers a sketch book
of nude studies and is shaken to discover the artist is her hostess’s eldest
son, Ranulf Charing, Lord Cadnum. This darkly cynical lord is exactly the sort
of dissipated rogue she most despises – and yet her blood heats at the thought
Charing, Lord Cadnum is being blackmailed over his late brother’s debts. Whilst
visiting his mother, he discovers her new companion, Miss Celeste Armitage, to
be a woman of unusual perception and starts to fall in love. But then the
jealous fury of the blackmailer is unleashed and Cadnum must cast Celeste aside
in order to protect her. However, in underestimating her resolve to clear his
name – Cadnum places his true love in mortal danger…
in which Ranulf Attends His Mother.
Lady Cadnum’s private sitting room was
large and airy. Two tall bay windows swathed of mint silk, Sheraton sofas
upholstered in peppermint and cream, and gilt framed mirrors reflected beeswax
candles, whilst vases of hyacinths scented the room with their heady perfume.
With mud clinging to his breeches, smelling of rain and sweat, Ranulf was as
out of place as a horse in a bedchamber.
He approached a figure swathed in
bombazine, stretched languorously on a chaise on the far side of the room. Even
in the depths of mourning, Lady Sophia Cadnum still remembered to arrange the
folds of her gown to best show a pair of dainty black silk slippers.
“Thank you for coming, my dear.”
There was no denying Lady Sophia possessed presence; even without the advantage
of youth her legendary cheek bones still merited attention as she held out her
hand. With a few long strides Ranulf crossed the room and pressed her cool
fingers to his lips. Much to his relief his mother showed no sign of crying.
Sharp words he could endure, tears were more difficult…
“Mother, you sent for me.” The
muscles of his jaw hardened, dark eyes unreadable as it occurred to him that
his mother’s health was not in danger as he had been led to believe. “I came
with all haste. You are unwell?”
Conscious of his suppressed anger
Lady Cadnum dabbed a handkerchief to her pale cheek and sniffed. “Oh Ranulf,
something awful has happened…and with your father abroad…I feel so helpless…” A
tear glistened in her eye.
Shifting his weight from one foot
the other, Ranulf’s stomach churned. He gazedstubbornly into the distance, suddenly fascinated by the detailing
on the architrave and paralysed by her weakness. He couldn’t think. Obviously
she expected him to comfort her, but his mind remained stubbornly blank. Lady
Sophia dabbed her eyes and regarded him expectantly. In vain he trawled his
memory for platitudes, but the appropriate response eluded him. A knot of
indignation grew bitter in his stomach. He was here. Was that not reassurance
Silence ached between them.
Disappointment flashed across his mother’s face; an expression he was well used
to, nay, come to expect. Ranulf grimaced. Edmund would have known what to say.
Her beloved Edmund, he thought bitterly. His little brother always was mother’s
favourite. If he hadn’t got himself killed then she wouldn’t be grieving now
and he would still be in London
relaxing at his club.
“Ranulf?” If there had been a moment
of mutual understanding then it had passed. Lady Sophia took a weary breath.
“Honestly Ranulf…” Recovering something of her formidable spirit, Lady Sophia
wrinkled her aquiline nose. “Honestly Ranulf you smell like a stable yard…and
those boots! That rug is an oriental antique…Lady Jacinta would kill for it…now
just look at the mud…. Did you not think to change?”
Ranulf frowned, inverted crescents
framing his wide lips.
“I received your note at my Club. It
implied my presence was required as a matter of urgency. Fearing the worst I
half killed Fable to get here. Changing my boots seemed…unimportant.”
If he was truthful, the message had
been a convenient excuse to leave London.
Things that once satisfied him left him empty and adrift, restless to his core.
Even Lydia, sweet Lydia
with her comforting curves and soft lips had become suffocating. Poor besotted
ninny, perhaps he had been unnecessarily blunt but there was a limit to how
many adoring looks a man could stomach before it grew wearisome. His Mother’s
summons had been just the ticket for a swift exit.
Lady Sophia regarded Ranulf strangely.
“And I am indeed most grateful you came.”
Ranulf stared out across the lawns. “Mother,
I came because I feared for your health. So what else, pray tell, demands such
an urgent summons?”