About the Book:
An Earl mired in melancholy is no match for a determined woman…
Widower Benjamin Romilly, Earl of Furness, has given up hope of finding happiness. His wife died in childbirth five years ago, leaving him with a broken heart and a child who only reminds him of his loss.
Miss Jean Saunders is a cousin by marriage. She doted on Benjamin’s late Countess, and can’t bear it when she hears rumors that the Earl is too bereaved to care for his young son. She arrives on the scene to evaluate his fitness as a father, and if necessary, to take his son away.
Jean’s sudden eruption into the Earl’s household simultaneously infuriates and invigorates him. She may be the only person who can breathe life into his neglected home—and his aching heart…
Read an Excerpt:
Toward the far end of the attic, Jean came upon a row of leather trunks bound in brass. Resettling her lamp securely, she opened the first. The scent of camphor wafted out at her. Pushing aside a layer of tissue paper, she unearthed a swath of satin brocade in an exquisite shade of peach. Although the fashion of another era, it was one of the loveliest gowns she’d ever seen.
There was no one around, and she was so tired of the few outfits she had with her. She couldn’t resist. She slipped off her much plainer gown, placing it out of the dust on a sheet of tissue, and slithered her way into the peach creation.
The dress was a bit large on her. Fortunately, it laced up the side so she could reach to pull it tighter, but the shoulders still threatened to slip off. Her shift and stays showed above the low neckline, and without the elaborate underpinnings such a garment required, the skirt sagged around her in heavy folds. Even so, she felt very grand.
“Very elegant,” said an appreciative male voice.
Jean whirled and nearly lost the dress. She frowned at Lord Furness, who stood near the head of the attic stair, as she pushed the shoulders back into place. “What are you doing here?”
“This is my house.”
“Yes, but you went riding.”
“And I returned.” Benjamin strolled toward his disheveled houseguest. In his ancestress’s gown, Miss Saunders was an unsettling combination of little girl playing dress-up and lush courtesan, with her clothes falling off and her curling hair making a determined break for freedom.
She gathered the heavy skirts and retreated to a rank of trunks a little distance away. “I was just… I’ll put on my own gown.”
Benjamin walked a bit closer.
“If you will go .”
“But I came up to help you look for toys for Geoffrey.” It was an increasing delight to tease her. There was something so charming about the look she got, which said she knew precisely what he was up to and refused to stoop to acknowledge it. And yet she couldn’t help but react.
“I haven’t found any.”
“Only a hoard of finery.” Benjamin walked along the row of trunks and glanced inside them. He picked up a satin coat. “I think I remember my grandfather wearing something like this, with lots of lace at his shirtfront. Perhaps it was this very coat.” He held it up and looked closer. “I’m not sure. He died when I was around Geoffrey’s age.” He smiled at his disheveled companion. “Grandpapa didn’t care much for change at the last. Or for what people thought of his appearance. He wore what he liked.” Geoffrey would have appreciated that attitude, Benjamin thought. “He had a dueling scar across his cheek.” His hand went to his own face to demonstrate. “A bit puckered and quite frightening, as I recall. They don’t seem to go together—all this frippery and bloody sword work.”
“I imagine gentlemen took off their coats when dueling,” replied Miss Saunders.
“You should try it on,” she added in an odd tone.
He looked at her, hands clutching the brocade bodice to keep it from sliding off, a beam of sunlight shining through the uninhibited glory of her hair. Holding her gaze, Benjamin slowly took off his coat. “No wigs,” he said. “I draw the line there.”
“I haven’t found any,” she answered breathily.
He donned the bright satin garment. It fit well enough, only a little tight in the shoulders. It felt strange to have wide skirts around his legs. He made an elaborate bow. “Pon rep, my lady, I am so pleased to see you. I hope I find you in better health?”
“What do you mean, better?”
Benjamin straightened. “I’ve been concerned about you since—”
“I’m fine,” she interrupted. “My…outburst in the library was quite uncharacteristic, I assure you. It won’t happen again.”
“No apology is necessary.”
“I wasn’t apologizing.” Coppery glints snapped in the depths of her eyes. “Only informing you that all is well.”
He didn’t believe her, though he couldn’t have said why. Her bearing and expression were calm, her manner quelling. Clearly, she didn’t want to talk about the bout of weeping, and he had no right to press her. Why should he wish to? “I don’t know how ladies moved about in those gowns.” He indicated the sweep of peach brocade trailing over the floorboards.
“With stately elegance,” she replied.
“That is to say, very slowly. Have you seen the sort of shoes they wore? Teetering along on four-inch heels must have made it hard to run away.”
“From what?” she asked with a quizzical glance.
“Anything.” Benjamin had spoken randomly. All his attention was on her, leaving his tongue unsupervised. “Bears.”
“Bears?” She laughed.
It was a delightful sound. Benjamin realized he hadn’t heard it nearly often enough. Irresistibly drawn, he stepped closer. “Or impertinent admirers.”
“The gentlemen wore heels, too,” Miss Saunders said. “So it would have been an equal race, mincing along the cobblestones in a satin-draped procession.”
She looked up at him, still smiling. Her eyes were suffused with warmth now, her lips a little parted, and Benjamin couldn’t help himself. He moved closer still and kissed her.
Just a brush of his mouth on hers, an errant impulse. He pulled back at once.
She leaned forward and returned the favor, as if purely in the spirit of experiment. Benjamin felt a startling shudder of desire.
In the next moment, she’d twined her arms around his neck, and they were kissing as if their lives depended on it. He buried his fingers in her hair, as he’d been longing to do for days. It sprang free and tumbled over his hands, a glorious profusion of curls. Hairpins rained onto the attic floor.
Then she pulled back and blinked at him, her eyes wide, dark pools. Her arms dropped to her sides. She took a step away, and another. “Oh.”
The small sound was a breath, a worry, an astonishment. Benjamin struggled with his arousal, glad now of the long, concealing coat.
Miss Saunders put her hands to her wild crown of hair. The lovely lines of her body were outlined in peach brocade and sunlight. “Oh dear.”
“I could help pin it up, if you like.” Benjamin bent and gathered a handful of hairpins.
“No, you couldn’t.”
He gave her the pins. “I have a deft hand,” he said.
“My hair is beyond deftness. It has to be wrestled into submission.”
He nearly lost his careful control at the phrase and the thoughts it elicited. “I have strong fingers.”
Benjamin Romilly, Earl of Furness lost his wife, Alice, five years ago as she gave birth to their son, Geoffrey. Since then, Benjamin basically retreated from the world, paying no attention to his estate, his household, or his son. He spends his time in the library, gazing at the portrait of his dead wife, and wallowing in his misery. His son is a stranger to him, referring to him as, “the lord,” instead of, “Papa.” Benjamin can’t even bear to look at Geoffrey, as he’s the image of his mother. Geoffrey is a precocious and intelligent boy, but without any love or stable supervision, he’s become something of a hellion.
Jean Saunders is a distant cousin to Alice, and when she hears of the situation Geoffrey is in, she coerces Alice’s parents into agreeing to take him into their home and raise him. On a wave of righteous indignation, Jean storms into Benjamin’s house, announcing that she is taking Geoffrey away. The ruckus lures Benjamin from the library, and the situation finally pierces the fog of grief and indifference he’s been living in. No one is going to remove his son from his home. And he certainly hasn’t been neglecting Geoffrey……or, has he?
On the heels of Jean, Benjamin’s uncle, Arthur, arrives, adding yet another unwanted guest at Furness Hall. Uncle Arthur had the best of intentions when he discussed his nephew’s situation with Jean, but he never imagined she’d attempt to take the boy away from his father. He only hoped that Jean may have been the person who could shake Benjamin awake, and bring him back to the land of the living. Arthur, himself, is a widower, and knows all about grief.
As Jean and Benjamin clash over Geoffrey, Benjamin begins to look around him and see the true state of his house, and how his son really has been neglected. Slowly, he begins to take an interest in everything he’s ignored for the last five years, including his son. Much to his own surprise, Benjamin finds that he’s interested in Jean — he feels desire, and starts to feel alive again. Once Jean sees that Benjamin is making a start to repair his broken family, she agrees to stay and help with Geoffrey.
I truly admire Benjamin’s love and devotion for his first wife, but his wallowing in self pity for years when he had a son who needed him was pitiful. As he began to reinsert himself into the real world, I could see and like the man he once was, and is becoming once again. Jean charged blindly into this situation without any true authority, but with the best of intentions. Her own childhood was fraught with neglect and mistreatment, so she was over zealous about her cousin’s young child. When she calmed down, I liked her very much. The slow building romance between these two damaged people seems like a match made in heaven – or, made at the instigation of Uncle Arthur. Geoffrey is wise beyond his young years, and a tough young man. It was especially poignant to see him showing some emotion late in the story. BRAVE NEW EARL is a gentle, warm romance which I greatly enjoyed reading. I’m a true believer that sometimes love is better the second time around. ~Rose
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