One
Scandalous Kiss
An
Accidental Heirs Novel
Christy
Carlyle
Genre:
Historical Romance
Publisher:
Avon Impulse
Date
of Publication: September 8, 2015
ISBN:
9780062427991
ASIN:B00V3MGEOA
Number
of pages: 256
Book
Description:
Debut
Victorian historical romance author Christy Carlyle delights in the
first book of her Accidental Heirs series in which a suffragete
bookshop owner agrees to a devil’s bargain that results in one
scandalous kiss. When a desperate Jessamin Wright bursts into an
aristocratic party and shocks the entire ton, she believes it’s the
only way to save her failing bookstore.
The
challenge sounded easy when issued, but the one thing she never
expected was to enjoy the outrageous embrace she shares with a
serious viscount. Lucius Crawford, Viscount Grimsby, has never meet,
or kissed, anyone like this beautiful suffragette. He’s determined
to protect the title he’s unexpectedly inherited and Jess doesn’t
fit into his plans.
When
a country house party brings these two people together once more,
neither can resist the temptation and both find that one scandalous
kiss just isn’t enough.
EXCERPT:
CHAPTER
ONE
London,
September 1890
She’d
never imagined wealth would be so uncomfortable. Nearly every aspect
of the Marquess of Clayborne’s Belgrave Square drawing room made
Jessamin Wright uneasy. There were no books stacked in piles, no
candles whose wax had run down their sides in haphazard sculptures,
and not a spot of ash dusting the hearth—nothing inviting about the
room at all. How could any lived-in space be so clean? The slippery
damask settee felt stiff and unyielding beneath her body. Nothing
about it urged you to sit and stop awhile. Even art was lacking from
the walls, except for a series of watercolors of what must have been
a terribly boring fox hunt. A fire burned low in the grate and
offered a bit of warmth against the autumn chill, but the cool beiges
and tepid pinks of the wallpaper and furnishings made Jess feel
slightly queasy, as if blood had been drained from her body as
thoroughly as color had been drawn out of every surface in the room.
Even the wood was light colored or painted white and lacquered to a
high sheen. It was all wrong. No room should be so spotless. As she
and Alice had yet to meet their host, she began to doubt that anyone
lived here at all. Then again, she’d never before set foot inside a
fine London townhouse. Perhaps they were all this stark and
unpleasant.
Jess
didn’t have to look down to know the room’s pristine neatness
contrasted sharply with her scuffed boots, soot-dusted cloak, and
unfashionable work clothes. She found it impossible to settle herself
in such elegant surroundings. Sitting, then standing, then sitting
again, she rearranged her limbs and scratched her neck in a most
unladylike manner. Finally finding a spot on the settee that suited
her, she stripped off her twice-mended gloves but kept her hands
clasped, careful not to touch anything for fear she might leave a
mark.
Her
cluttered thoughts offered as little comfort as the room. She fretted
about leaving the bookshop managed solely by her assistant, Jack. He
was a longtime employee and utterly trustworthy, but he’d never
been fond of dealing with customers. He simply loved books—acquiring
them, reading them, repairing them—and that was something she
understood. He hadn’t stayed on after Father’s death for her, but
out of loyalty to Lionel Wright. She understood that too. One of
Father’s gifts had been the ability to inspire a bone deep sense of
obligation in others. Since Jess had taken on the shop, other
employees had been hard to come by—few men wished to take their
wages and direction from a woman.
Slipping
Father’s old watch from its place in her skirt pocket, Jess’s
mind sifted through what she had yet to accomplish before resting her
head for the day. It was a long list and —Ah,
that too—now
included
an
article she’d almost forgotten to write for the Women’s Union
journal.
“I
hope Lady Katherine hasn’t forgotten us. To be honest, I won’t be
sad to see the last of this room. It’s all rather cold, even with
the fire. Makes you afraid to touch anything or even breathe.”
Alice
McGregor had an uncanny talent for reading one’s mind and could
always be counted on for blunt and insightful commentary. Of all
Jessamin’s friends at the Women’s Union, Alice was the most
practical and plain-speaking. Delicacy was overrated as far as Alice
was concerned. She said what everyone else was thinking but knew it
impolite to mention.
“No,
it’s not terribly inviting, is it?”
If
Jess could decorate such a room, the colors would be bold and full of
life. Red would do very nicely. And she’d decorate the walls with
art so vivid you’d believe you could smell the pot of basil in a
Holman Hunt painting or hear the swish of silk and satin as one of
Mr. Tissot’s beauties crossed the room. She closed her eyes and
imagined crimson walls covered with art in rich, vibrant colors.
“Miss
Wright, have I caught you napping?” Lady Katherine Adderly’s
giggle was like the clash of two crystal glasses meeting in a toast.
Sharp and clear, it instantly snapped Jessamin out of her fantasies.
As
she swept in, a maid followed close on her heels with a tea tray.
Lady Katherine smelled of flowers, but far too many, the scent
cloying and sickly sweet.
“Forgive
me, my lady.” It was easier for Jessamin to apologize for drowsing
than acknowledge how she loathed the decor.
Jess
and Alice exchanged raised-brow glances as their hostess handed each
of them a fine porcelain teacup and began the process of pouring tea
and offering them confections from plates laden with biscuits and
tiny pastries. It was an elaborate ritual, much more fuss about tea
than Jess had ever made in life. But the rich tang of jasmine in the
brew was delicious and she was grateful for the distraction of the
warm refreshment, even as she sensed the persistent tick of Father’s
watch against her skirt pocket. She had to get back to the shop and
hoped their meeting with the marquess’s daugther wouldn’t take
long.
“I’m
pleased to make this donation to the Women’s Union. You know how I
enjoy the lively meetings.”
Lady
Katherine had attended only three of the group’s weekly meetings
over the course of four months, but she’d been eager to make a
financial contribution and Alice, as the union’s treasurer and
co-founder, was all too happy to accept. Jess wasn’t certain why
Alice had asked her to come along to collect the money, but as editor
of the group’s printed journal and author of many of the speeches
given at gatherings, she supposed she was a visible member of the
organization.
“We
are most grateful for the funds, my lady.” As always Alice spoke
with sincerity, gratitude clear in her tone.
“Oh,
please call me Kitty.”
Alice
took a sip of tea, attempting to hold the cup with all the dignity
Kitty seemed to manage effortlessly.
“I
understand there’s another worthy cause to which I may also
contribute.”
“I’m
sure there are many in London,” Jess offered, thinking of a dozen
ways she might spend charitable funds, not to mention the money
needed to salvage the indebted bookshop her father had left her.
“I
was referring to you, Miss Wright.”
Jessamin
shot Alice a look, wondering just what her scrupulously honest friend
had revealed to Lady Katherine.
“I
understand you have a bookshop and lending library here in town.”
“Yes,
my lady,” Jess bit off, unable to keep the irritation from her
voice. Alice shouldn’t have mentioned her situation to anyone.
Kitty might be feeling benevolent, but the amount needed to clear the
shop’s debt was more than any wealthy aristocrat’s daughter would
wish to spend, no matter how generous they were feeling.
“Would
one hundred pounds be useful to you?”
A
shiver tickled Jessamin’s spine as she contemplated the amount, a
sum she couldn’t earn at the shop in months, perhaps not even in a
year. It wasn’t nearly enough to clear the entire debt, but it
would bring her payments with the bank current.
Jessamin
studied Kitty’s feline smile and tried to unravel the mystery of
the young woman’s wish to help her. She knew Kitty was wealthy, the
daughter of a marquess, and perhaps a bit bored, but she’d never
even conversed with her before today. Kitty was mentioned off and on
in the scandal sheets Jess admitted to no one she indulged in
reading, but she was hardly known as an outstanding philanthropist.
Charity
tasted sour, yet how could she refuse the sum?
“Neither
a borrower nor a lender be” had been one of Father’s favorite
lines from Hamlet.
But
it was an adage he’d failed to uphold. His gambling had turned him
into the worst sort of borrower, taking loans from friends and money
from the bookshop he’d worked so hard to build up. For Jess’s
part, she’d become a lender soon after her father’s death,
finally instituting the lending library she’d been envisioning for
years. It seemed neither of them had heeded the Shakespearian
admonition at all.
Kitty
watched Jess closely and appeared to notice the moment she’d almost
made up her mind to accept the money.
“I
am so pleased you’ll allow me to help you, Jessamin. And in return,
I’m certain you won’t mind assisting me with one tiny request.”
Alice
frowned and set her teacup on the table between them, edging forward
on the settee as if she meant to get up and leave. “I’m not sure
that’s quite right.”
“What
is the favor, Lady Katherine? Please, let’s speak plainly with one
another.” It didn’t surprise Jess in the least that Kitty
expected something in return. No one offered such a sum without
expecting something in return.
“Kitty,
please. Do call me Kitty. It’s a simple favor, really. As simple as
a kiss.”
Jess
choked. “Pardon?” she squeaked, when she’d finally managed to
swallow her mouthful of tea and could breathe again.
“Just
a kiss, Jessamin. Surely you don’t object to kissing.” Kitty’s
teasing tone belied the glint of steel in her gaze. “You’re a
modern, free-thinking woman, after all. You believe in the suffrage
and equality for our sex. You should feel quite free to kiss any man
you like.”
Kissing
men had nothing to do with Jess’s interest in social reform or
gaining a voice for women in the political sphere. If Kitty thought
it did, she hadn’t been to nearly enough meetings.
“You
want me to kiss a man?” Jess spoke the words as if it was an
extraordinary feat. And it was. She’d never kissed a man. Not
really. A childish, graceless kiss on the cheek from Tom Jenkins when
she was twelve years old hardly counted.
“This
seems a rather strange favor, Kitty.” Alice’s precise tone cut
through the quiet of the room.
Kitty’s
tinkling laughter rang out. “Yes, I suppose it does. But it’s
merely a harmless bit of revenge.”
“Revenge.”
Jess waited. There had to be more.
“Oh,
all right. If you must know, the dreadful man snubbed me.” Kitty
plumped her bow-shaped mouth in a pout.
Was
she the shallowest heiress in Belgravia? The thought that Kitty
wished to seek revenge because a man did not prefer her company was
ridiculous. Her beauty and wealth could secure her any suitor she set
her cap at. In fact, the question of why the man rejected her was as
intriguing as her desire for Jess to kiss him.
“Why
did he snub you?”
“Why,
indeed!” Kitty straightened up in her chair and slid her fingers
into honey blond hair, tucking her already neatly pinned coiffure
more firmly into place. “Perhaps because he is an odious man. If he
wasn’t a viscount, soon to be an earl, and so irredeemably
handsome, I wouldn’t have bothered with him. Never mind Papa’s
mad notion I marry Lord Grim. Freddie is much more fun, even if he
doesn’t have a farthing to his name.” Kitty turned the full force
of her bright green gaze on Jess. “You’ll do it then?”
“I’m
still not sure I understand.”
Kitty’s
tone became pedantic, as if she was speaking to a child who needed to
be set aright.
“My
dear, it couldn’t be simpler. Viscount Grimsby snubbed me at a
soiree last week and I would like your help to put him in his place.
He’s a dour man, as cold as marble. Some call him Lord Grim. And so
he is. Grim and heartless. He needs a little comeuppance.” As an
afterthought, she added, “He’s against the vote for women, of
course.”
As
if that made the whole ridiculous scheme noble. As if kissing him
would change his mind about women’s suffrage.
“And
where does kissing come into play?” It all sounded wrong to Jess,
like the discordant notes of an untuned piano playing over and over
in her mind, but Kitty waved away her concern dismissively.
“It
won’t be a real kiss, my dear. Not the kind that matters. Just a
kiss that knocks him off his pedestal a bit. It will cause him a
trifle of social bother. Stir up some tittle tattle.”
For
a moment Kitty’s expression altered, the corners of her mouth
turning down as if she’d fallen into troubled contemplation. Jess
wondered if she was already regretting her petty scheme? Then she
lifted her head, a satisfied cat-at-the-cream grin lifting her
cheeks.
“The
next time I see the man at a ball, perhaps he’ll manage a bit of
humility. And since no one else will wish to stand up with him, I
suspect he’ll be more than happy to dance with me.”
None
of Kitty’s words put Jess’s mind at ease. She’d never heard of
Lord Grimsby but from Kitty’s description, kissing the man
certainly didn’t sound appealing.
“I
happen to know he’ll be at an art gallery in Mayfair this evening.”
“And?”
Jess was growing impatient. Who had time for games when she had a
business to run?
“There
will be a gathering at the gallery. Mrs. Ornish is a great fan of art
and has sponsored one of the artists whose works will be featured. I
do wonder why he always goes to Mrs. Ornish’s events. Could he have
his eye on Meredith, do you think?”
Of
course, Jess had no idea who Mrs. Ornish or Meredith was. She might
share their love of art, but they were the kind of women with wealth
enough to offer an artist patronage. Jess couldn’t even afford to
buy a painting. Her walls were decorated with cut-out prints culled
from books and newspapers.
“Kitty,
please just tell me. What must I do?”
Kitty’s
crooked her mouth alluringly. Jess supposed she used the simpering
expression to charm everyone. Everyone except Lord Grimsby,
apparently.
“I
want you to show up at the gallery event and stride up to Lord Grim.
Yes, you’ll just walk up and plant a kiss square on that cruel,
unsmiling mouth of his.”
“I
really don’t think—“Alice’s voice had taken on the same pitch
and volume she used to quiet the women’s group meetings.
Jess
knew what she was going to say and cut her off. “Wait. Let me
consider a moment.”
Jess
closed her eyes and breathed deeply. She had to do it. She needed the
one hundred pounds Kitty offered. There was no denying what the woman
proposed was scandalous, not to mention farcical and childish. But
Jess had no reputation to protect. As Kitty said, she saw herself as
a free-thinking woman, unhampered by society’s strictures and eager
for changing women’s roles. She had no idea how kissing a complete
stranger would strike a blow for woman’s rights, but she knew her
desperation for funds made her beholden to Kitty’s whims.
“Come,
Jessamin.” Kitty’s sing song voice was cajoling. “I dare you.”
Because
Jess’s speeches encouraged action over words, perhaps Kitty saw her
as brave and daring. But if she was brave, it was because Father died
and took all of her options with him. She’d lost everything—her
home, a modestly comfortable lifestyle, freedom to study and spend
her days more or less as she wished—and put all her energy into
maintaining his business, even after discovering the massive debt
he’d accumulated. She was beginning to make inroads toward repaying
the debt and Kitty’s funds would be another step toward financial
success for Wright and Sons Booksellers.
“Fine.
I’ll do it.”
Kitty
gasped with delight and clapped her hands together.
Alice
shot her a look as if Jess had taken leave of whatever sense she’d
been given.
Jess
couldn’t match Kitty’s enthusiasm nor acknowledge Alice’s
concern. She was too busy fighting off the sense of dread that
settled in the pit of her stomach at the prospect of what she’d
agreed to do.
About
the Author:
Christy
Carlyle writes sensual, and sometimes downright steamy, historical
romance set in the Victorian era. She loves heroes who struggle
against all odds and heroines who are ahead of their time. A former
teacher with a degree in history, she finds there is nothing better
than being able to combine her love of the past with her die-hard
belief in happy endings.
Website:
http://www.christycarlyle.com/
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Thanks for featuring me and my book! :)
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