Thanks for inviting me here today to share my favorite scene from LADY
MERCY DANFORTHE FLIRTS WITH SCANDAL.
In this scene, Rafe Hartley has been invited to dine at his father's
house where Lady Mercy Danforthe is a guest. Rafe and Mercy have known one
another since childhood, although they were born into different worlds. She's
the daughter of an earl and he's the illegitimate son of a housemaid and a
gentleman. Lady Mercy has grown up in a life of privilege where rules and duty
keep everything in order - oh, and she needs that sense of control. Mercy
doesn't like anything out of place and she has her reasons for that.
Unfortunately for her, Rafe Hartley, former prize-fighter and now a hard-working
farmer, refuses to obey her rules. And he doesn't seem to recognize his place,
or hers.
These two strong and stubborn characters are destined to quarrel every
time they're together. But they have a secret - a three-hour marriage in their
past - a fact they've kept from his family and almost everyone else they know
for five years. Now that they're unexpectedly thrown together again, can they
manage to keep their scandalous secret? Or will they find a way to overcome their
differences and let love break the rules?
This is one of my favorite scenes because it's a turning point. Rafe is
just realizing the truth - that he's not going to be happy with any other bride
except "Lady Bossy Drawers". Even if she once ran out on him after
three hours.
Lady Mercy, on the other hand, is still trying to keep her precious
control of the situation. It's a battleground. And she 's about to be reminded
that dangerously charming and thoroughly rebellious Rafe fights dirty!
Hope you enjoy the excerpt!
His stepmother eyed him above her fan. “I see you made an extraordinary
effort with your own grooming this evening, Rafe.”
“Yes. I
do manage to scrape the dirt of the farmyard off me from time to time.”
“Just
for us. We are honored.”
“I hope so,” he replied tightly,
his gaze focused across the room on the pianoforte. “Lady Mercy does not appear
in any haste to return home. Odd, is it not?”
“Not
especially. She enjoys the country.”
Enjoys meddling, he thought.
“And
her company is most entertaining. Don’t you agree, Rafe?”
He
snorted. “Like a public hanging. Morbid curiosity makes it impossible to look
away.”
“That’s
a fine way to talk of an old friend.”
“Friend?
We do naught but quarrel. Her view of the world is the very opposite of mine.
We agree on nothing.”
His
stepmother laughed in her easy, infectious way. “Exactly. If you were not dear
friends, you would never bother to argue. It would not be so important to make
the other person understand.”
He squared his shoulders against the back of the couch. “She’s a
menace.”
“Your
father used to say that of me.”
“She
gives me a headache.”
“Poor
Rafe.” She beamed over her fan. “I daresay it’s the…tension.”
“Tension?”
He didn’t like the sound of that, or the pause before it.
“Better
stock up on the apothecary’s powders, because I suspect she means to stay a
while yet.”
He
winced. “God help me.”
Miss
Milford now took over the entertainment, and Rafe’s stepmother stood quickly,
beckoning to Mercy as if she had something to say. The young woman walked over,
smiling expectantly, poised to hear whatever urgent message Mrs. Hartley had to
impart, only to discover that she merely meant to give up the seat beside Rafe.
There
was no time to escape the proximity for either of them.
Mercy,
cornered, sat tentatively and folded her hands in her lap. His stepmother,
meanwhile, fanned herself rapidly and gestured to the footman for some wine.
“Is it just me, or is it dreadfully warm in here?”
“It’s
just you,” the two younger people replied sternly in unison.
Mrs.
Hartley persisted. “You look a little flushed, Lady Mercy. Are you sure you do
not feel the heat?”
Rafe
stole a glance at Mercy and saw her face glowing with a tint of pink. “Quite
sure,” she answered softly. The slight vibration of a copper ringlet by her
cheek was the only thing that moved, apart from her lips.
“We
were just talking of headaches, Lady Mercy,” said his stepmother wickedly.
“Rafe seeks a reliable cure. Do you know of any?”
“Our
housekeeper makes an excellent elderberry wine,” came the cool response.
“Although, as I advise my brother, refraining from the known causes of his headaches would be
more beneficial than any cure.”
“There,
Rafe, see? I knew Lady Mercy would have a cure for what ails you.” Having
amused herself, Mrs. Hartley wandered off, leaving them alone together.
Mercy's lips were pressed tight,
her chin lifted, her eyes determinedly focused across the room. While she was
this close and they were separated from the others by a good distance, he felt
the urgent need to make her talk to him. If he did not, the moment would pass.
Always someone or something intervened.
“You
left an item behind at my house, Lady Mercy.”
“I
believe I did,” she replied hesitantly.
“When
will you retrieve it?”
“That
will not be possible.”
“Lost
the use of your legs?”
Her
lips barely moved, her reply little more than a ruffled breath. “Only my wits.
Briefly.”
“They
are recovered, then?”
“Quite
robustly recovered,” she assured him firmly.
He was disappointed to hear it,
although it was no less than he expected. A few nights ago, this woman had lain
on his bed, exploring his body with eager hands, her warm laughter tickling his
cheek. Now she was cold marble again, a statue in a museum or a grand house,
something to be admired from a distance. No touching. No trespassing.
In his
peripheral vision, he watched each deeply troubled breath lifting the sweet
mounds that peeked shyly above her jade-green bodice. Her stiff demeanor was
betrayed by that clue—a hint of vulnerability. His hunger quickened, pulse
pacing like the paws of a caged tiger. “I suppose I can make use of what you
left behind.”
She
drawled wearily, “As you wish.”
“I’ll
put it on my scarecrow. That should scare the blackbirds from my seed beds.”
He
watched her feign a yawn, but she could not hide the indignant flame in her
eyes at the idea of her corset being used in such a manner.
“Miss
Milford plays very well,” he said, swallowing a chuckle.
“I
suppose she does.”
“I suppose it was lucky you
played first. Miss Milford would be a hard act to follow.”
She
tapped her closed fan against the palm of one hand. “Do you infer that my skill
is inferior?”
“I
merely point out that she is very accomplished.”
“At the
pianoforte, certainly.”
“She is
also a young lady with humility, and has a very sensitive way about her.”
“How
observant of you to know this already.”
“I find
her conversation light and civil, her manner pleasingly demure.”
“You spoke to her for five minutes.
I daresay that was not quite enough time for her to disagree with you on any
point.”
“Some
women could learn from her example.”
The
tapping of her fan quickened.
“Perhaps
you don’t like my honest opinion, my lady?”
Her
delectable breasts, enticingly flushed, rose and fell ever more rapidly. He
wondered if they might spill out with a little more encouragement. His
stepmother was right, he realized; it was a form of tension he felt around her.
A tightening of all his nerves and tendons. It couldn’t be healthy to let it
continue without relief of some kind.
“I’m
sure I don’t care one way or the other for your opinion, Rafe Hartley.”
“No.
But everyone must always care to hear yours.”
Her
lips moved, ready to argue.
“One
should learn to admit one’s faults,” he added, reminding The Brat of her own
words to him just a few days prior. “Or else one might never improve.”
To
his surprise, she was silent. Even seemed to shrink slightly. Had he made a
dent in her armor? He stretched his fingers over his knees, before they might
feel tempted to start cracking knuckles. Or reach for her hand.
Jayne Fresina
LADY
MERCY DANFORTHE FLIRTS WITH SCANDAL BY JAYNE FRESINA – IN STORES
JUNE 2013
When
a Perfectly Proper Lady...
Lady
Mercy Danforthe always has a plan. It's what makes her such a successful
matchmaker, and why she's obligated to spend a great deal of time generously
organizing the lives of her friends and family. But there's one man beyond her
help. One man whose recklessness she can't rein in; whose chaos she can't
contain. Her ex-husband, Rafe Hartley. Her one—and only!—mistake.
Flirts
with a Reckless Rogue...
Rafe
has never forgiven Mercy for running out on him. Their hastily annulled
marriage may have one lasted three hours, but that doesn't mean he needs her
help finding a proper wife. Someone needs to teach little Miss Know-It-All a
lesson about keeping her adorably freckled nose out of other people's business.
And it just so happens that Mercy "Silky Drawers" Danforthe still owes
him a wedding night...
A
Scandal's Never Far Behind!
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Jayne
Fresina sprouted up in England, the youngest in a family of four girls. Entertained by her father’s colorful tales of
growing up in the countryside, and surrounded by opinionated sisters— all with
far more exciting lives than hers— she’s always had inspiration for her
beleaguered heroes and unstoppable heroines. Look for the fourth book in the
Sydney Dovedale Series, Miss Molly
Robbins Designs a Seduction in March 2014. For more information, please
visit www.jaynefresina.com.
To purchase Lady Danforthe Flirts
with Scandal:
Contest:
One lucky person will win a copy of The Wicked Wedding of Miss Ellie Vyne (the book directly preceding Lady
Mercy Danforthe Flirts with Scandal in the Sydney Dovedale Series). Contest is open to US and Canada residents only. Leave a comment and make sure to include your email address, winner will be drawn June 26th.
Thanks for inviting me on today!
ReplyDeleteI love books about scandals. The reading is so juicy.
ReplyDeletedebby236 at gmail dot com
Nice excerpt
ReplyDeletebn100candg at hotmail dot com
I think this series sounds like a lot of fun, I love the titles of the books and the covers are outstanding.
ReplyDeleteBarbed1951 at aol dot com
I love the sound of this book. The scandal of the annualled marriage and the fact that she owes him a wedding night! Can't wait to read this :)
ReplyDeleteJune
manning_J2004 at yahoo dot com