Hello everyone. I hope your Christmas was merry and your dreams were somewhat fulfilled. I received some wonderful gifts from my family, mainly my spouse who knows me well. And here is a gift to you, a sneak peek at my latest work that will be published in early February,
Noble Assassin, Reluctant Heroes Book Four
It's the story of a former assassin, Ambrose Duchamp, and a lonely governess, Juliet Wallingford. Both have left their homes in Europe and reside at Ravencrest Plantation in the West Indies. Both feel love has passed them by. Juliet is hiding from someone in England, but we'll not worry about that in this excerpt. As they enjoy dinner with their benefactors, the Count and Countess du Rochembeau, the suggestion of Aphrodite finding them is just too difficult for either of them to believe. And yet, as the count and countess share their love story and the unique circumstance of their meeting--against all odds, hope is kindled anew.
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| Huge Thank You to Graphic Artist Kim Killion for this cover |
This Excerpt is the complete Chapter Four of Noble Assassin, copyright Lily Silver.
Juliet wiped her moist hands on her
skirt beneath the tablecloth so no one could observe her anxious movements. She
swallowed hard, and reached for the goblet of water before her. The slight
shake of her wrist might give her away, if one were measuring her closely.
And he was doing just that. Dark brown,
nearly black eyes followed her movements as she lifted the goblet to her lips.
His lips were pursed pensively as if he'd never observed
an Englishwoman sipping a goblet of water before.
The count had been speaking softly to his
wife. Lady Elizabeth answered with a lilting, almost sensual voice.
It seemed they were teasing each other
over some private joke known only to them.
Mr. Duchamp was seated directly across
from Juliet. It was unnerving. He wasn't speaking much. He was just watching
her like a hawk staring down a mouse.
Oh dear, that would never do. She wasn't
a mouse and she would not let that image pollute her thoughts and make her feel
weak and vulnerable.
I
am a sleek feline, a proud tigress, not a shivering rabbit. I am a cat, not a
mouse.
And yet, she was sitting next to the
most beautiful woman she had beheld in recent times.
Juliet swallowed again, fearing her
throat had taken on the attributes of a desert. Compared to the vibrant Lady Elizabeth
Beaumont with her brilliant red hair and exotic sea green eyes, Juliet might as
well be a drab little grey mouse.
She had dressed carefully for this
first dinner with her benefactors. She chose a pale shell pink muslin gown with
gold and beige cording along the sleeves, the neckline, and flounces of gold
lace on the edge of the hem. It was her best gown, purchased
here with funds from the countess when the woman realized she had
clothing suitable for England's climate and not the tropics. It was such light material Juliet felt as if she were floating on a cloud when she first tried it on.
It complimented her blond complexion, she believed. She'd even put a matching
band of gold cording around her hair. She felt pretty it in while gazing at her
reflection in her room.
Now she realized the bland pastel pink
must make her look even more washed out as she sat beside the beautiful countess. Her
ladyship was wearing a dazzling gown of deep emerald silk, a perfect color to
highlight her vibrant hair, unusual eyes and alabaster complexion.
The count took up the head seat at the
table. The odd arrangement struck her anew, as she'd not dined with the family
for some months. Lady Elizabeth was seated next to her spouse, on his left instead of the opposite end of the table, as was the expected
place for the mistress of the mansion.
Juliet glanced at the couple. They did
seem devoted to one another. They spoke with a lightness and openness to each
other that seemed startlingly odd at first, and then refreshing once you
overcame the shock. Most of the nobles were stiff and aloof, being more concerned
with keeping up appearances even with their spouses. The countess was not like
other women of her class. She had natural warmth and did not try to stifle it
for the sake of English etiquette.
It was obvious to any observer that the
count adored his younger wife. He smiled when he looked at her--and the man
almost never smiled that she could recall. That tender smile and those adoring
blue eyes would make any woman ready to swoon. The count had
reached his middle years, being just shy of forty. His hair
had streaks of silver running through it. It did not diminish his
attractiveness, but rather enhanced it. He sat poised on the edge of his seat
and was giving his wife a sweet look as he listened to her talk about something
their little girl said today.
Juliet pulled her gaze from the pair and
met the gaze of the man opposite her.
Such dark eyes, deep pools of mystery.
He was staring at her openly again. Or had he been staring all along? As she
returned his unrelenting look, the side of his mouth twitched up in a sinister
smirk. A queer tingling in her chest made her place a hand there momentarily.
She had never 'tingled' before over a man's deliberate look. And yet, if truth
be told, there were not that many such looks to react to in her life.
"The humidity is increasing,"
Mr. Duchamp said in that intoxicating French accent as he watched her hand retreat
from her bosom and drop to her lap. "It is always more pronounced after the
cooling rains have ceased."
Juliet felt the color rise in her cheeks.
Did he think it proper to draw attention to her discomfort? The cad. She glared
at him, not grateful in the least for his comment. A gentleman should never
remark on a lady's condition in polite company.
But then, he wasn't a gentleman, was he?
"You speak the truth," Lady
Elizabeth agreed, startling Juliet momentarily as she feared she'd spoken her
thoughts aloud. The countess signaled to the footman in the corner to start the
large fan above their table moving with the paddle.
A rush of breeze cooled Juliet's face. She
sighed slightly, relieved to feel the gentle caress of moving air. Her
skin had a moist sheen. She resisted the urge to dab at her neck and face with
her napkin.
Perhaps cad was a strong word after all.
She shot a quick glance in Duchamp's direction. He lifted his water glass to
her in a silent salute, and then took a sip with those full, sensual lips.
Juliet watched the movement of his Adam's apple as he swallowed, mesmerized by the masculine action.
Oh, dear. This would never do. She must
not allow her sensibilities to be clouded by a pair of strong, tan hands or an
intriguing pair of deep, dark eyes. She could not allow herself the luxury of
an entanglement. She could not lose her situation here. She
had no place to go if they turned her out.
The third course had been removed. A
light course of dessert cakes and fruits were being served.
“I have the most wonderful news. You'll
never guess it!” The countess's light voice buoyed the atmosphere in the room
as the men focused their attentions upon her.
Juliet felt her lips curve into a smile.
Yes, the news of Chloe and the captain. That should take the attention off her and her heated skin that must be shimmering in the candlelight. Her
complexion would also be mottled due to the heat. Her hair had
been upswept into a neat coil on her head, but it felt limp and clammy. The humidity rising, as Duchamp had said. Her
anxiety on this first evening dining as her ladyship's favored guest was making
her perspire more than usual. And having the man across the table bring attention
to her discomfort only unnerved her more.
“Our dear Chloe has had quite the
adventure in Spain,” Lady Elizabeth sang out in a pleasing voice. The men eyed
her carefully. “I received a letter today from London.” She clapped her
ungloved alabaster hands together with glee at the last.
Juliet was grateful the countess's
relaxed dress code for dinner, as gloves in this sultry climate would be sheer
torture. Light muslins and sheer cotton was de rigor in the tropics for
most women. How her ladyship could endure the silk she was wearing tonight was
a puzzle.
“I had a letter from Jack, my sweet,”
the count said. “I haven't opened it as yet, do go on.”
Juliet was puzzled by the count's
behavior. He was being solicitous and attentive to his wife, more so than seemed proper.
He took her hand and gazed at her with tenderness. It was sweet.
It was also a painful reminder of her own status in the world; utterly alone
with no family and few friends.
Lady Elizabeth paused dramatically and
gazed around the table at her audience. She gave Juliet a generous smile and
then turned to regard her spouse once more. "They arrived in
Spain only to find that her uncle was not at his home in Cadiz.
Jack advised her to stay in Cadiz and wait for her Uncle Miguel to return. And she refused to do so. Chloe was determined to go into the interior to meet him at his almond
plantation.”
“That was foolish,” Mr. Duchamp sighed and
took a sip of his wine. “Dangerous. I hope he made her stay in Cadiz, my lady.”
He was talking, taking an interest in the conversation, which was not his usual
behavior at table, or so the footmen said in the servant’s hall. Duchamp was a
quiet man, and a dangerous man. He made most people uncomfortable. The
countess did not seem to be intimidated at all by Mr. Duchamp and his dark
aura of menace.
Lady Elizabeth gave a little huff of indignation.
“I beg to differ, Mr. Duchamp. Chloe is a grown woman, capable of making
prudent, intelligent decisions. She does not need a man to tell her what to do.
Miss Wollstonecraft says—“
“Lizzie, my sweet,” the count
interrupted his wife, "can we skip the lessons from Miss Wollstonecraft
this once and move on with Chloe's adventures?” His voice was strained, having
an edge of impatience to it, yet he smiled at his darling with true affection.
Juliet felt a little thrill. Lady
Elizabeth was a bluestocking, and she was quite the staunch supporter of the
late authoress who had written a treatise advocating equal rights for women.
She suppressed a giggle as she didn't wish to offend the count or his lady with her amusement.
“I suppose, just this once,” Lady
Elizabeth's voice had become hard as she replied to her spouse. “But if I were
to go into a battlefield, would you physically prevent me from doing so because
I am a woman?"
The count did not respond. He appeared
to be choosing his words wisely. This must be the start of one of those
stimulating debates Chloe always spoke about with fondness.
Juliet's heartbeat increased. She held
her breath, waiting to hear his reply. She hoped this would not turn into a
nasty argument. For all her sweetness, Lady Elizabeth was reputed to have a
temper and his lordship--well, no one crossed words with him and came out the
victor. She shot quick glance at Duchamp. He was gazing down at his fingers as
they outlined the stem of his water goblet. He, too, looked uncomfortable. His
eyes lifted, and caught hers. He grinned.
Juliet’s insides did a queer little
twist in response. Oh dear. Why does this
man affect me so?
"My lady, if I may be so
bold," Duchamp began. "It is not a matter of what a woman is permitted
to do, but rather, if I may, what a man would do to protect his
beloved."
"Yes," the count agreed with an unnatural exuberance.
"Thank you, Ambrose, you've helped me clarify my thoughts. Lizzie,
dearest, if you were about to walk into a battlefield, I would run after you,
pounce upon you and push you to the ground in the hope that the cannons firing
would take my head off instead of yours. That's love, my darling, it isn't
prejudice."
Juliet felt her eyes widen as she gazed
his lordship with awe. He diffused the situation, turned his response into an
act of love and sacrifice and managed not to offend his lady in doing so.
“And,” Duchamp's lush French voice added
in the silence, “if the situation were reversed, I am confident you would do
the very same to protect his lordship. Now, please tell me how our Mrs.
O'Donovan fared in Spain. Did she find her father's family?”
Lady Elizabeth was silent for a full
minute, perhaps two.
“Were they accosted by soldiers? I have
read that the French are pressing Spain hard due to a question of their continued allegience,”
his lordship prodded.
“And you told me earlier, my lady, that
they were forced to flee Spain.” Juliet tried to aid the men in soothing her
ladyship's ruffled feathers so they might hear the rest of the story. Much as she might enjoy a debate on the subject of
women’s rights, tonight she just wanted to get through this tense first dinner
without offending either the lord or lady of the manor.
Goya's painting depicting French troops in Spain, 1808
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“Yes, they searched the southwestern
portion of Spain for her Uncle Miguel. They traveled through a forest,
were set upon by Spanish highwaymen and they lost one guard to a stray bullet.
Jack hurried them through that dangerous place and set them up at a
monastery for the night. Chloe found it most uncomfortable as the monks
treated her and her maid as if they were harlots accompanying the men on their
journey.”
“Who did they lose?” Duchamp asked. “Not Jinx or Lt. Morgan?”
“No, thank goodness,” Her ladyship was
quick to soothe him. “It was a Spaniard they hired to
ride atop the coach as an armed guard. Chloe was greatly troubled that
they were not able to bury the man properly, but had to flee immediately to save their own
lives.”
Juliet hadn't met either men Duchamp mentioned, but assumed they were members of Captain Rawlings crew. “Mrs. O'Donovan must have
been horrified by such an experience.”
“Yes.” Lady Elizabeth signaled for the footmen to remove their plates and
begin serving a special dessert she'd had prepared to celebrate news of Chloe’s
nuptials; English Trifle. The cake slices were mixed with local
fruits--pineapple, mango, guava--and clotted cream. Once the footmen began
placing their portions before them, their hostess continued her tale.
Lady Elizabeth spoke of other incidents
bedeviling the couple in Spain, giving a detailed report from her letter. The couple
had to hide in a deep ravine in the woods to escape capture by French soldiers, and Chloe ended
up losing her trunks of fine clothing. Lady Elizabeth ended her tale with
the announcement. “And as to my
wonderful news, our dear Chloe and the captain have wed! We must
celebrate their nuptials.”
The men were silent. Both faces
registered surprise.
“Jack, married?” the count scoffed, and
looked at Duchamp. “Never thought he'd let down his guard regarding his prized
bachelorhood.” His gaze shot to the butler behind him. “Bring champagne. We
must celebrate Jack’s capture by the fairer sex.”
The butler nodded and left the room
quickly.
“Why would you say that?” Lady Elizabeth
asked with annoyance. “He would have married Chloe years ago, if Gareth hadn't
asked her first.”
The count rolled his eyes. “Jack has
been in mourning for his fiancée for twenty years. He'd never look at another
woman, mark me, I'm in his confidence, my sweet.”
“Oh?” Lady Elizabeth's voice rose with
mock surprise and a hint of superiority. “So Jack didn't come to you in private
during the first annual Christmas Eve Ball ten years back and ask your advice
on wooing Miss Ramirez and gaining her hand in marriage?”
That was something Juliet never knew
about, despite her friendship with Chloe. Of course she wouldn't, as Chloe
Ramirez had married the count's uncle and no lady would talk openly of another
courtship prior to her marriage.
“No . . ?” The count's eyes grew wide as
he gazed at his wife. “I suspect you are implying he did so with you. You never shared that with
me, my sweet.”
The count's mother's story
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The sensation of triumph radiated from
her ladyship briefly. She gave a light
laugh. “Oh, my lord, it was such a busy holiday that year I clearly forgot
about the incident until this moment.”
She turned to Juliet to explain further. “We were newlyweds, you see. My
grandfather, the earl, was here scowling at us all, and rumored to be at death's
door. My brothers were severely injured from a brutal attack days earlier
by an escaped indenture. The count’s mother arrived late on Christmas Eve and
she was furious with him for not writing her the news we had wed three months earlier. Chloe and Gareth were
married in secret at dawn on Christmas Day and then we had the count’s
mother's wedding a two weeks later. And I had learned just days before
Christmas that I was expecting the twins, and so sometimes I reflect on that
holiday as a time of supreme confusion."
Elizabeth's first Christmas
|
“Our first Christmas as man and wife was
quite memorable.” His lordship seemed amused by the horrific list his wife had
just given him as her reasons for forgetting to tell him of his friend's
interest in Miss Ramirez, as Chloe was known then by all.
“Miss Ramirez was an intoxicating young
woman.” Duchamp had a wistful smile that softened his sharp features
considerably. “I might have courted her myself, back then.”
“You?” the count's voice rose with
disbelief. “I swear, the men I consider my trusted friends keep their
secrets well. I am the last to learn of these stray passions and private
desires.”
“You spend too much time with your
horses, my lord,” Lady Elizabeth chided playfully. “You miss the subtle nuances
between humans when they are attracted to one another.”
The men chuckled, and Juliet allowed
herself the indulgence of a light laugh as well.
“I fear you may have a point, my sweet.
And yet, none can claim to have the skills you possess in discerning these secrets of the heart.” His lordship took his wife's hand impulsively, another indication of
their relaxed attitudes regarding etiquette and showing affection in polite company.
“If I may be so bold, my lady,” Juliet
inquired carefully, “why did the captain come to you for aid in courting Mrs.
O'Donovan--before she was Mrs. O'Donovan, I mean?”
The countess turned to Juliet, her eyes
bright with reminiscence. Obviously, she was enjoying this dinner conversation,
and it had nothing to do with Juliet's presence at table. Her ladyship
had the full attention of the men and she was being praised and indulged by her
spouse.
“It was two hours past dawn on Christmas
morning, my dear Miss Wallingford,” the countess's voice floated amid the
sparkling crystal goblets and the warm candlelight. “We had just returned from
Chloe's secret wedding to Gareth. Only my lord and I were attendance. I was in
the library preparing myself to be hostess to a family holiday for the first
time in my married life. A knock came to my door, and the butler informed me
that Captain Rawlings sought a private audience with me.”
“Where was I?” his lordship
asked, offence in his voice.
Lady Elizabeth gave a slight shrug and
glanced at him thoughtfully. “The stables, I suspect, managing your horses or managing
young Mr. O'Reilly, your new stable master.”
Duchamp gave a low chuckle. He was amused by the countess's jest.
The butler returned with the champagne.
He opened it and began pouring glasses for them. Juliet gazed at the light liquid set before her. She never had a reason to taste the expensive beverage
as teachers at her school did not have reason to celebrate, nor had her past
employer been one to share such luxuries with the members of his staff.
“And the captain confessed his desire to
win Chloe’s hand and asked if I might speak well of him to her so she might
favor his suit. I had the unfortunate task of telling the poor man Chloe
had been wed but two hours earlier."
“What wretched timing. I wish I had
known of this." The count's voice was ladened with sadness. All signs of joy
were gone from his features. “I cannot imagine sitting at the table with the
woman you are secretly in love with and her spouse, month after month, year
after year, pretending you don't care. It had to have been hell for him.”
“He hid it well,” Duchamp added. “We had
our differences, but I would not
wish such a cruel fate upon the fellow. I always wondered why he never took a
wife.”
“I thought he was married to sea, as he
so often said," the count added. "And considering his tragic history with his fiancée dying years
ago, I thought him still in mourning for his lost love."
“But he has found his happiness!” Lady Elizabeth's
voice revived its prior joy. “As has our dear Chloe. Both had tragic pasts, and they have found true love."
“To true love. To Captain and Mrs.
Rawlings!” The count lifted his glass and the three of them did likewise. “May
they be blessed with every happiness and a brighter future.”
Juliet took a sip of the sparkling
beverage. She was amazed by the lightness of champagne, as wine was usually much
heavier on her palate. "Oh,” she giggled, and resisted the urge to wipe her
nose as the bubbles tickled it without mercy.
“To Jack and Chloe,” Mr. Duchamp made a
second toast. “A weather-hardened seaman wins the heart of an alluring
young widow. Proof that all men may find a safe harbor for their hearts, no
matter their age or disposition."
“To Jack and Chloe!” They all drank a
toast to the happy couple.
“And to the strange proclivities of
Aphrodite,” the count continued. “She stalks all men and makes them trip over their
true love when they least expect it.”
Again, they raised glasses to the
count's toast. This time, Juliet could not resist brushing her nose with her
napkin after taking a sip of the bubbly liquid. She was relieved to find the
countess doing the same beside her.
“And who will be next in our circle to
find love?” the count's deep voice became soft and slightly sensual. At least,
that was how Juliet perceived it after three sips of champagne following two
goblets of wine at dinner. “Ambrose, is there anything you wish to tell me?”
All eyes moved to the steward. He did
not appear amused by his lordship's jest, but irritated. Juliet felt a pang of concern. What dark
secrets were hidden in his past life in France?
“Aphrodite crossed me off her list of
favorites long ago, my lord.”
“You are too hard on yourself, Ambrose,”
the count replied. “What happened in France
does not need to define you for a lifetime. Love will find you if you'll allow
her to lead you to your true heart's companion. You've spent enough years lurking in the shadows and sulking
like a ghoul.”
The man actually grimaced at his
lordship's words. And then he looked directly at the count with his chin held
up and his eyes defiant. “And where were you, my lord, when Aphrodite
dropped from the sky and dragged you to your true love's door?”
“The stables,” the count replied hastily
with a chuckle, “minding my own affairs.”
“With Michael,” the countess added in
the same moment. The couple looked to each other and laughed together. “We’d fallen on
hard times Miss Wallingford. My brother worked at the stables to support us after his father
lost everything, including our home, to gambling.”
“If Fletcher hadn’t lost everything
and brought you with him to hide in the country, I might not have found you, my
darling lass.” The count clutched her hand and lifted it to his lips, shocking
Juliet with his bold display of affection. She was shocked by his forwardness, but not offended.
The couple gazed at each other with deep affection. Her ladyship's girlish laugh brought a lighter note to the room
after Mr. Duchamp's dark comment about not being worthy of Aphrodite's magic.
“Donovan was visiting Lord Hamilton's
stable in the hope of purchasing one of his mares as breeding stock.” Lady Elizabeth had the good
grace to explain further.
“--and Lizzie's younger brother invited
me to their home for dinner.”
“--it was my birthday. Michael brought
Donovan to me as a present.”
“I had no idea I was her gift,” the count quickly said.
“Oh, it wasn't like that”" Lady Elizabeth corrected. “Michael knew I enjoyed witty
conversation so he brought home a clever new friend to liven my birthday
dinner. I was enchanted when my lord said hello to me in that delightful Irish
brogue he used back then. He was pretending to be an Irish commoner, you see, said he worked for a French count. I didn't know until the wedding that he was that same French lord. Donovan liked his disguises in those days, didn't you dearest.”
“Yes, and even incognito, I was struck down by cupid the moment I
saw Lizzie's sweet face.” The count pointed at Ambrose. “You see, I was
tending my affairs, in the stable in England, and the goddess found me. Have a care,
Ambrose, once the goddess of love has you in her sights, it won't matter where
you are hiding, she'll find you at drag you into your true love's path.”
Juliet could not restrain her wide
smile. It was not polite to grin so freely amid the upper classes, and yet, she could not contain her
pleasure in hearing the story of how the count and countess met, or their
teasing of the solemn man seated across from her. She glanced at Mr. Duchamp and found him
staring at her with such intensity it brought a chill to her skin and a light
fluttering of dragonfly wings inside of her belly.
He was looking at her with accusation, as if she had somehow conspired with the fair Aphrodite
regarding his future. ~~End of Excerpt. Noble Assassin, copyright Lily Silver, 2015.
Noble Assassin is scheduled for release in early February. If you sign up for my mailing list, you'll receive first notice of the release and also receive a free copy of another full length historical romance. Check the subscription form on the upper right hand side of this blog for details.
Added Bonus, leave a comment below with your email address and you will receive a free copy of the first book in this series, Dark Hero, A Gothic Romance. Be sure to specify if you need an epub version or a kindle version for your e-reader. Happy Holidays to each of you.
Lily Silver
