HIS HAND-ME-DOWN COUNTESS (Lustful Lords, #1) by Sorcha Mowbray is now LIVE!
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BLURB:
His brother's untimely death leaves him with an Earldom and a fiancée. Too bad he wants neither of them...
Theodora Lawton has no need of a husband. As an independent woman, she wants to own property, make investments and be the master of her destiny. Unfortunately, her father signed her life away in a marriage contract to the future Earl of Stonemere. But then the cad upped and died, leaving her fate in the hands of his brother, one of the renowned Lustful Lords.
Achilles Denton, the Earl of Stonemere, is far more prepared to be a soldier than a peer. Deeply scarred by his last tour of duty, he knows he will never be a proper, upstanding pillar of the empire. Balanced on the edge of madness, he finds respite by keeping a tight rein on his life, both in and out of the bedroom. His brother’s death has left him with responsibilities he never wanted and isn’t prepared to handle in the respectable manner expected of a peer.
Further complicating his new life is an unwanted fiancée who comes with his equally unwanted title. Saddled with a hand-me-down countess, he soon discovers the woman is a force unto herself. As he grapples with the burden of his new responsibilities, he discovers someone wants him dead. The question is, can he stay alive long enough to figure out who’s trying to kill him while he tries to tame his headstrong wife?
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EXCERPT:
London,
May 1860
Stone
heard the butler intone his name and title loudly enough for all of London to hear, let alone the population of the Devonses’ ballroom. Had anyone suggested
three years ago he would bear the family title, Earl of Stonemere,
never mind be contemplating his future nuptials, he would certainly have
laughed. True, he never actually laughed anymore, but he certainly would have
found such a claim incredulous.
It
was no longer an amusing matter.
Having
survived the receiving line, he eased through the crowded ballroom. Every few
feet, he stopped to speak with one acquaintance or another. Not so long ago,
these same people would have been running for the hills and hiding their
daughters. But fate, a fickle mistress to
say the least, had other plans.
Moving
with a quickness born of desperation, he barely acknowledged the next three men
as the heat from the crowd paired with the stench of perfumes and body odor to
choke him. After his service in India, crowded entertainments such as a ball
had grown difficult to endure. The press of bodies and the loud murmur of conversation punctuated by the
occasional shrill laugh smothered him, too similar to the roar of battle and
the cries of the dying.
Moving
past a swarm of silk skirts, he spotted a dark, hidden alcove, an oasis from
the overwhelming onslaught, both real and imagined. If he could shut it down
quickly enough, he wouldn’t embarrass himself. If he failed, all of London would learn just how broken he was.
He
was an earl. Not a soldier. Never again a soldier.
Once
the cool darkness enveloped him, he opened his mouth and drew a breath. His
pounding pulse eased as the vise around his chest released and his damp skin
dried. After another quarter hour spent tucked away,
he believed he could manage the crowd long enough to find his betrothed.
As
any good officer would, he had a strategy. Find her, claim his dances, and then
await each one either on the balcony or on the dance floor, if required. Even
the cardrooms at these soirees bordered on disabling.
He
reached for the drapes to his hideaway,
but hesitated as two women tittered in the immediate vicinity.
“Why,
Gladys, I heard his name announced earlier. I’m certain Matilda invited
Stonemere despite all the gossip.”
“I
simply cannot imagine what she was thinking,” the one called Gladys said.
“Can’t
you? Having one of the Lustful Lords
in attendance at your ball? I daresay everyone who is anyone will wish to be
able to say they were here. It’s all so deliciously scandalous and yet possible
now the unmitigated rake is off the market.” Gladys’s friend sighed with a bit
more drama than anyone in their right mind or otherwise
would deem necessary.
“Well,
one should hope that man can contain himself what with all these poor young
virgins parading around. It would serve Matilda right if he debauched each and
every one of them while here under her auspices.”
“Oh,
do be sensible, Gladys. He could perhaps ruin four or five in one night, but
all of them?”
Past
ready to find his fiancée and escape his hidey-hole, he stepped out next to the
ladies in question, turned to them, and
bowed over each of their hands. The shock on their faces far outweighed any
notion of good manners on his part. “Why, ladies, you both give me far more
credit than I deserve. Even in my heyday of debauchery, I could only service
three ladies in a single evening.”
As
the two ladies sputtered, he departed their corner. The temptation to turn and
wink at the gossipers won out, which caused another round of tittering and sputtering from behind him. Of
course, he was well aware of what proper Society called himself and his
friends. But the Marquess of Flintshire, Earl of Brougham, Baron Lincolnshire,
and Viscount Wolfington—as well as himself—held little regard for polite
society. Each of them had learned the hard way that they had no place amongst
their peers.
AUTHOR BIO:
Sorcha Mowbray is a mild mannered office worker by day…okay, so she is actually a mouthy, opinionated, take charge kind of gal who bosses everyone around; but she definitely works in an office. At night she writes romance so hot she sets the sheets on fire! Just ask her slightly singed husband.
She is a longtime lover of historical romance, having grown up reading Johanna Lindsey and Judith McNaught. Then she discovered Thea Devine and Susan Johnson. Holy cow! Heroes and heroines could do THAT? From there, things devolved into trying her hand at writing a little smexy. Needless to say, she liked it and she hopes you do too!
For more information about Sorcha, please visit her website, “Like” Sorcha on Facebook and follow her on Twitter, Instagram and Good reads. Join Sorcha’s newsletter to be the first to hear about upcoming releases. She’s loves hearing from her readers. Email her directly at sorcha@sorchamowbray.com.
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