By: Maya Rodale
Releasing
June 28, 2016
Avon
Avon
In the second novel of Maya Rodale’s enchanting Keeping Up with the Cavendishes series, an American heiress finds her reputation—and heart—in danger when she travels to London and meets a wickedly tempting rake
Terribly Improper
Lady Amelia is fed up with being a proper lady and
wishes to explore London, so one night she escapes . . . and finds herself in
the company of one Alistair Finlay-Jones. He’s been ordered by his uncle to wed
one of the American girls. How lucky, then, that one of them stumbles right
into his arms!
Totally Scandalous
Alistair and Amelia have one perfect day to explore
London, from Astley’s Amphitheater to Vauxhall Gardens. Inevitably they end up
falling in love and making love. If anyone finds out, she will be ruined, but
he will win everything he’s ever wanted.
Very Romantic
When Amelia finds out Alistair has been ordered to
marry her, he must woo her and win back the angry American girl. But with the
threat of scandals, plural, looming . . . will he ever catch up to the woman he
loves?
Lady Amelia Cavendish is bored! She is sick of London and she wanted to
go home to America, where there was no members of the Ton; who were polite to
ones face and made fun of them behind their back. But because of her brother's new title of
Duke kept them in England for good. But after one particular disastrous ball,
when Amelia cause a great scandal by taking of her slippers. But when her
family decided to give her some laudanum; little did they know that it would
inspire a drugged Amelia a midnight stroll through Mayfair; only to be rescued
by an unsuspecting newly returned gentleman…Alistair Finlay-Jones.
When Alistair Finlay-Jones was summoned home from his 6 years of
freedom (and self imposed exile) by Baron Wrotham; his Uncle, former guardian
and the man that holds him responsible for his son's death. Now as his heir,
Alistair was told to marry one of those "American" to fill the coffers of the family. With the
guilt still laying heavy on his heart Alistair didn't protest. But what he
didn't realize till he returned home, was that the Lady he rescued the night
before, is one of his "choices" of bride his uncle demand he marry.
When Amelia awoke in a strange bed, she was worried and maybe a little
scared, but that soon changed into one
of the best day that she had ever had in London! And all in the company of
Alistair. It was unsurprising maybe, that loved bloomed between them, despite
their secrets they kept from each other. But when the day was over and the real
world came back and guilt and responsibility laid heavy on Alistair's
shoulders. But when the truth comes out about Wrotham's decree and the threat
of scandal looms, will Amelia and Alistair be able to find their love again?
I absolutely loved the plot and the writing in this book! I don't think
I have ever read a story like this; it was fresh and addictive and oh my
goodness! It was simply divine! When I say that I related to the characters, it
might honestly be an understatement! I would love to be able to say that if I
was ever a character in a romance novel, I would be Lady Amelia! Bringing
disaster and mayhem in my wake! Lady Amelia's character truly made the whole
book for me! My heart truly bled for Alistair, how horrible for he to be raised
by a man like Wrotham. I think I loved every member of the Cavendish family,
but I have to say that The Duchess is my favorite.
Chasing Lady Amelia is a magnificent book, which is why I give it 5
stars!
“Ah, Lady Nansen. Lord Nansen!” The
duchess and her charges paused before a couple that looked just like all the
others Amelia had been introduced to: they were of an indeterminate middle age,
decked in an array of brightly colored silks and satins, and honestly, a bit
jowly and gray.
“I haven’t yet introduced you to my nephew
and nieces.”
“And we have been dying to make their acquaintance,”
Lady Nansen said, fanning herself furiously. “The ton has spoken of nothing
else.”
The duchess performed the introductions.
Upon meeting James, the new duke, fawning ensued.
Everyone fawned over James these days—but
then when his back was turned they whispered about how his father was a horse
thief and that James had been raised in the stables and how tragic it was that
Durham was now in his hands.
“And Lady Claire.”
Amelia watched as they took in Claire’s
spectacles and her distracted, impatient demeanor. She had not
mastered the slightly vacant look of a simpering miss and with
a brain as sharp as hers, never would. Amelia watched as Lady Nansen decided
that Claire would never be an “incomparable,” or whatever they called the
popular girls of the ton, and flitted her attention to the next sister.
“Lady Bridget.”
Amelia watched as her middle sister glided
into an elegant curtsy. The duchess beamed. Lady Nansen judged.
“Your practicing is paying off,” Amelia
murmured. She’d caught Bridget curtsying in front of the mirror in the ballroom
for an hour last Thursday.
“Do shut up, Amelia,” Bridget said through
gritted teeth. Unlike the other Cavendish siblings,
Bridget actually cared about fitting in here. She was obsessed
with learning and following the rules.
“And Lady Amelia.” She gave a smile
somewhere between gargoyle and simpering miss, but perhaps more on the gargoyle
side of the spectrum.
“You must have your hands full, Duchess,
trying to make so many matches.”
“It
does give one something to do all day,” the duchess replied, with a
tight-lipped smile that
Amelia dubbed the One Where I Am Smiling Even Though I Hate
What You Just Said. “But I do have every confidence that they will make
splendid matches. In fact, I have someone special in mind for Lady Amelia this
evening.”
The duchess beamed at her charges, as if
they hadn’t been foiling her every effort to marry them off. Amelia began to
dread meeting “someone special.”
“I say, Duke,” Lord Nonesuch or whatever
began, “do you have an opinion on any of the horses running Ascot?”
The lords always asked James for his
opinion on which horse would win a race, so they might win a wager. And then
they turned around and made snide remarks about his experience raising and
training horses—as if he were beneath them because of this knowledge. Even
though he now outranked them.
“I do,” James said, smiling easily.
“Don’t suppose you’d tell a friend who you
think will be the winner?” Lord Nansen or Nancy said jovially, with a wink and
a nudge.
“I might,” James replied.
This was a conversation he’d had before
and Amelia had begged him to do something nefarious, like deliberately suggest
a losing horse. But James refused and just smiled like he knew the winner and
never said a word.
“I suppose you’re going to build up
Durham’s stables,” his lordship said.
“Nansen, he doesn’t have time for horses,”
his wife said in that exasperated way of wives. “He must find a bride first.”
The duchess beamed, an I-told-you-so
smile.
Then Lady Nansen turned and fixed her
attentions on Amelia. Her fan was beating at a furious pace.
“And Lady Amelia, have you found any
suitors you care for?”
“After having met nearly all of England’s
finest young gentlemen, I can honestly say that no, I have not found any
suitors that I could care for,” Amelia said. “But I do have a new appreciation
for spinsterhood. In fact, I think it sounds like just the thing.”
Just the thing was
a bit of slang she had picked up. Sticking forks in her eye was just
the thing (but only with the good silver!). Flustering old matrons with
an honest and direct statement was just the thing.
Lady Nansen stared at her a moment,
blinking rapidly as she tried to process what Amelia had just said.
“Well your sister seems to have snared the
attentions of Darcy’s younger brother,” she said, evidently disregarding Amelia
and focusing on Bridget, the one who cared about fitting in and finding
suitors.
“Are Lord Darcy and Mr. Wright here
tonight?” Bridge asked eagerly. Too eagerly. “I haven’t seen them.”
“It’s not a party without Darcy,” Amelia
quipped.
Darcy spent the majority of every social
engagement standing against the wall, glowering at the company, refusing to
dance, and begging the question of why he even bothered to attend.
But that was neither here nor there and no
one deigned to reply to Amelia, so she sighed and lamented her choice in
footwear quietly to herself. When Lord and Lady Nansen took their leave and
sauntered off, the duchess turned and fixed her cool, blue eyes on Amelia.
“You might endeavor to be a touch more
gracious, Lady Amelia.”
The Duchess always said everything in
perfectly worded, excruciatingly polite phrases. Translation: Lord
above, Amelia, stop acting like a brat.
“I’m just . . . bored.”
And homesick. And unhappy. And dreading
the future you have planned for me. And a dozen other feelings one does not
mention when one is at a ball.
“Bored?” The duchess arched her brows.
“How on earth can you be bored by all this?” She waved her hand elegantly, to
indicate everything surrounding them. “Is all the splendor, music, and the
company of the best families in the best country not enough for you? I cannot
imagine that you had such elegance and luxuries in the provinces.”
Everyone here still referred to her home
country as the provinces, or the colonies, or as the remote American backwater
plagued by heathens, when Amelia knew that it was a beautiful country full of
forthright, spirited people. It was her true home.
They operated under the impression that
there was no greater fun to be had than getting overdressed and gossiping with
the same old people each night, in crowded ballrooms in a crowded city.
She missed summer nights back home on
their farm in Maryland, when she would slip outside at night with a blanket, to
look up at the vast, endless expanse of stars.
This, no matter what the duchess said,
just did not compare.
Amelia shrugged.
“We already met half these people at the
six other balls we have attended this week,” she said. “The other half are
crashing bores.”
Crashing bores was
a phrase Amelia had read in the gossip columns. The violence of it appealed to
her.
“I suppose it would be too much to ask you
to pretend to act like an interested and engaging young lady.” Then, turning to
Lady Bridget, the duchess said, “I daresay she couldn’t.”
With that, the duchess turned away.
She turned away,
leaving the words hanging in the air, floating to the ground, just waiting for
Amelia to pounce on them.
“Well that was a challenge,” Claire said.
“I’m not certain she could manage it.”
Bridget sniffed.
Really? Really?
“Is that a dare?” Amelia asked,
straightening up. Oh, she would pretend all right. She would pretend so well
they’d all be shocked. It would give her something to do at least. “Because I
will take that dare.”
“I’d like to see you try,” Bridget
replied. Then, muttering under her breath she added, “For once.”
Amelia reddened. Admittedly she hadn’t
been taking this whole sister-of-the-duke business seriously. But she would
show them. So instead of sticking her tongue out and scowling at Bridget,
Amelia stuck her nose right up in the air and turned away.
Maya Rodale began reading romance novels in college at her mother’s insistence and it wasn’t long before she was writing her own. Maya is now the author of multiple Regency historical romances. She lives in New York City with her darling dog and a rogue of her own.
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Thank you so much for sharing your lovely review!
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