Enter to Win a Print Set of the Spinster House Series Bks 1&2
HOW TO MANAGE A MARQUESS
Spinster House #2
Sally MacKenzie
Releasing April 26th, 2016
Zebra: Kensington Books
In USA
Today bestselling author Sally MacKenzie’s charming Spinster House
series, love is always a welcome guest…
Two possible futures loom before Miss
Anne Davenport. The first option: sharing an unhappy home with her father and
soon-to-be stepmother. The second: a life of independence at the Spinster
House—if only her friend, Cat, would vacate the premises and marry the Duke of
Hart. A well-placed whisper about the pair’s secret tryst might speed the
course of true love. But the duke’s stubborn cousin poses an obstacle. A
ridiculously handsome, very persuasive obstacle…
Nate, Marquess of Haywood, has spent
his life looking out for the duke, hoping to stave off a family curse. The only
way to keep his cousin alive is to keep him single. That means convincing the
intriguing Miss Davenport that her lovely lips could be put to far better use
than gossiping. Kissing, for instance. In fact, Nate is beginning to hope that
Miss Davenport’s destiny lies not in the Spinster House at all, but with him …
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Excerpt
Haywood
Castle, 1797
Ten-year-old
Nate stopped with his hand on the library door.
“I
just got word from Wilkinson,” he heard his father, the Marquess of
Haywood, say from inside the room. “The Spinster House spinster has
died.”
Something—a
book?—slammed into something else. “God’s
blood! And now poor
Marcus will have to choose the new spinster. Oh, how I hate
Isabelle Dorring. I hope
she’s burning in hell.”
Nate
gasped. His mother never talked that way.
His
parents must have heard him, because the door swung open.
“Nate!
What are you doing lurking there?” Father asked.
“I-I
left a book in the library, Father.” Nate swallowed. His cousin
Marcus lived with them because Marcus’s father had died from
Isabelle Dorring’s curse. “Is Marcus all right?”
Father
smiled, putting a comforting hand on Nate’s shoulder. “Of course
he is. He just has to go to Loves Bridge and choose a new tenant for
the Spinster House, that’s all.”
Nate
didn’t like that. His mother had told him many, many times how her
father and Marcus’s father, how all
the Dukes of Hart since
the third duke, had died before their heirs were born, all because
Isabelle Dorring had cursed their line. He was certain Isabelle was
an evil old ghost, haunting the Spinster House.
“Can
I come, too?” He was two weeks older than Marcus. He was used to
watching out for his cousin.
Father’s
smile widened. “That would be splendid, Nate. I’m sure Marcus
will be happier with you there.” He looked at Mum and said, with
false enthusiasm, “We can make an outing of it.”
Mum
frowned and shook her head. “No. No, I wish I could go with you.
You know I do. But I can’t bear that place.” She came over to hug
Nate. “Keep Marcus safe for me, Natey.”
Mum
always said that. And Nate answered the way he always did.
“Of
course I will, Mum.”
Haywood
Castle, 1808, eleven years later
Nate
sat by his mother’s bed, heart heavy. His father had died the month
before; he was afraid his mother was dying now. It was as if she’d
lost all desire to live in a world that did not include her Philip.
Still, he hadn’t thought she’d fade this quickly. She’d been
fine—well, sad, but still alert—last night. This morning, however
. . .
She
was so pale and shrunken. She’d been in and out of consciousness
ever since her maid had called him to her bedside an hour ago.
He
frowned. Marcus would want to be here. He’d sent word to London,
but it was unlikely his cousin would arrive in time. Mum’s
breathing was so labored—
Her
eyes flew open. “Gerald,” she croaked, mistaking him for her
long-dead brother.
“It’s
Nate, Mum.” He leaned close so she could see his face. “Do you
want a sip of water?”
“Nate!
She grabbed his hand, ignoring his offer. “Nate.” She swallowed.
“Keep Marcus safe.”
He
patted her fingers to calm her, swallowing his brief annoyance that
she was using her last breaths to talk about his cousin rather than
him. “I will, Mum. You know I will.”
“I
couldn’t”—she struggled for air. “I couldn’t keep Gerald
safe.”
She
was too agitated. He needed to calm her, but how?
He
hated feeling
so helpless.
“It’s
all right, Mum.”
She
acted as if she hadn’t heard him. “If I hadn’t been so selfish
. . . if I hadn’t married Philip . . .”
“But
you loved Father.” He’d never doubted that. His friends’
parents might have taken lovers, but not his. Their dedication to
each other had been as much a constant in his life as the sun rising.
Her
head moved fretfully on the pillow. “Yes, but Philip could have
married anyone. Gerald had only me.” Her hold tightened, her nails
digging into his skin. “Keep Marcus safe for me, Natey.”
“Of
course I will, Mum.” The words flowed from long practice.
“The
curse . . . it will get stronger. When Marcus turns thirty, you’ll
have to watch him very, very closely.” She tried to sit up.
He
pressed her gently back against the pillows. “Perhaps Marcus will
fall in love, Mum,” he said soothingly, “and break the curse.”
For
a woman who appeared to be on the verge of death, her grip was like
iron. “No, he won’t.”
“But
he might, Mum.” Love matches weren’t common among the ton,
but they did happen. “He’s only twenty-one. He’s got time. And
when he does find a girl to love, the curse will end. It will all be
over.”
“No!”
Her fingers convulsed, her eyes boring into his, a wild desperation
in their depths. “Don’t you see? The curse can’t
be broken.”
“Of
course it can. If a Duke of Hart marries for love—”
Her
face twisted. “That’s a lie.
My father loved my mother. I know
he did. And he still
died.”
Mum
had never said this before. She must be confused. It wouldn’t be
surprising. No matter how strongly one believed in an afterlife,
facing death must be terrifying.
And
if love wouldn’t break the curse, Marcus was condemned to a long,
lonely life.
Well,
not a long life.
Nate
made soothing noises. He didn’t know what else to do.
“Promise
me—” Mum gasped for air. “Promise me you’ll keep Marcus
safe”—she swallowed—“for as long as you can. Even if you have
to put off marrying yourself. Nothing
is more important than Marcus’s safety, Nate.”
Poor
Mum. He would promise her anything if it would ease her passing.
He
struggled to speak calmly. “Yes, Mum. Don’t worry. I’ll watch
over Marcus. I swear I will.”
At
last the stiff fear drained from her face. She let go of his hand,
giving him a sweet smile. “You’re such a good boy, Natey. I know
you’ll keep your word.”
And
then she lay back, her eyes drifting closed. A look of peace flitted
over her face just before the last bit of color left it.
His
mother was dead.
A native of Washington, DC, Sally MacKenzie still
lives in suburban Maryland with her transplanted upstate New Yorker husband.
She’s written federal regulations, school newsletters, auction programs, class
plays, and swim league guidance, but it wasn’t until the first of her four sons
headed off to college that she tried her hand at romance. She can be reached by
e-mail at sally@sallymackenzie.net. Please visit her home in cyberspace at
sallymackenzie.net.
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