Welcome back to Sweet Saturday Sample!  All excerpts here are rated PG-13 or milder. Today I’m continuing to post from the second book in my House of Pleasure series, Only Marriage Will Do,  set in Georgian London.

I’m still editing this Saturday, but I’ll be taking breaks this week to hop to your blogs.

Seems to be a little mystery afoot here.  Amiable has stepped in to rescue a damsel in distress and to his amazement the damsel–who he’s never seen before–is calling him husband and introducing him as the Earl of Manning (who, if you may recall, is Katarina’s brother from Only Scandal Will Do and a friend of Amiable’s).  Amiable is a tad confused,  but gamely carries on with the subterfuge.  He too is interested in why her suitor claims she is his wife and seeks a more thorough explanation.

“And now, miraculously, twelve or so months later, you manage to appear in England with this unsubstantiated tale of a marriage?”

“I managed to get passage on an Irish ship leaving Paris and from Dublin I made my way to London.”

“Your timing is exquisite, Philippe.  Duncan has just left for Italy and will not return for some months.”  Juliet glared at the Frenchman with disdain.

“This need not concern the marquess.  I can arrange for your marriage to this gentleman,” St. Cyr waved his hand at Amiable dismissively, “to be annulled and then we can. . .”

“I am afraid that is out of the question, St. Cyr,” Amiable broke in.  “Disabuse yourself of the idea that I will have my marriage to Juliet annulled, with or without her brother’s consent.  She is my wife and there’s an end to it.  You have upset her enough for one day and I will thank you to leave.”  Amiable tried hard to keep a civil tone when he really wanted to take the young fop by the seat of his satin breeches and throw him out the front door.

“Juliet, ma chere,” St. Cyr reverted to his native French.  “You cannot have a serious regard for this monstrous oaf?”  His eyes raked Amiable’s form contemptuously.  “He is a barbarian compared to me, my dear.  I can make you forget him, forget any of his crude gestures.  Do you remember our embrace?  At the King’s Christmas court ball?  Such a quaint custom of the mistletoe.  You seemed to long for more than just my tongue that night, my sweet.”

“Philippe!”  Juliet stared at him in horror, blushing until her face matched the hue of her dress.

“I fear you did not heed my words earlier, St. Cyr.” Amiable’s flawless French did not disguise his deadly tone.  His hand dipped until it rested on the hilt of his sword.  “You have just besmirched the honor of my wife and I will have satisfaction of you.”

“Jack, no!”  Juliet tugged on his arm, tried to pull him away from the confrontation that was a hair’s breadth away from exploding in the reception room.  She managed to move Amiable to a corner of the room where she spoke to him quietly.  “Please do not engage him, sir.  We can hardly have a scene here without. . . without. . .”  Distressed eyes met his.  “You have no true reason to challenge him.”

Amiable gazed into her frightened eyes and lifted his hand to caress her cheek.  “There you are wrong, my dear.  It is any gentleman’s duty to defend a lady’s honor.”  He smiled at her then turned back to St. Cyr.

“May I suggest, my lord, that you apologize immediately unless you are willing to meet me tomorrow morning?  I will be much obliged to cut that offensive tongue from your mouth.”  Amiable glowed inwardly in anticipation of such a meeting.

St. Cyr seemed to pale a trifle as he glanced from Amiable to Juliet.  “Forgive me, ma chere,” he finally addressed Juliet, “for recalling our past intimacies.  They should have remained in the memories of just we two.”  At this Amiable bowed slightly, acknowledging the apology.

“I have no such memories, Philippe,” Juliet returned, also speaking in French.  “Nor do I want anything else from you except to be left alone.”

“Oh, but that is impossible, ma chere.  We are man and wife and I will not leave you alone in the care of another man. I insist that you accompany me back to my hotel.”

Stricken, Juliet looked from St. Cyr to Amiable, panic rising in her eyes.  “If you do not leave, Philippe, I will send to Bow Street for one of the Runners to come and arrest you!  There are laws in England that prevent men from forcing women to marry them.  Especially,” she added lamely, clearly as an afterthought, “when they are already married.”

“But you are already married to me, Juliet,” St. Cyr said softly, a cruel smile playing over his lips as he devoured her with his eyes.  He looked triumphantly at Amiable.  “And only to me.”

So who is Juliet really married to?

Hope you enjoyed a little more of Only Marriage Will Do.  Stop by SSS tomorrow for more from Only Scandal Will Do.  And today be sure to click here to visit more Sweet Samples.