Upcoming Release: The Baron’s Halo

Book 2 of The Welwyn Marriage Wager is set to release September 8. Check out this romantic Victorian era novella.

BLURB:

If love’s a game, he’s playing to win.

For reasons of her own, Isabelle Devereaux isn’t looking for a husband. Yet thanks to her mother here she is, in the middle of the social whirl of the Little Season. Thinking to refuse any gentleman who offers for her, Isabelle endures the lavish entertainments, saddened that she’ll remain a spinster.

Enter Baron MacKay, Sandy to his friends, in search of a wife to win a family wager. Dazzled by Isabelle’s beauty, he’s drawn to the vulnerable young lady. From the moment they meet, he charms her with his kind and generous nature until, against her will, Isabelle falls in love with him. Even though she knows marriage to him may end in disaster, she can’t resist his kisses…or where they lead.

Desperate to marry Sandy, Isabelle puts her misgivings aside, but circumstances spiral out of control as their wedding approaches. Isabelle must confront the demons that haunt her and make an agonizing decision: can she marry Sandy without telling him the one impediment that may shatter their happiness forever?

EXCERPT:

Another time she’d love to lean a new card game with him, but she could scarcely keep her mind on the conversation at the moment. Trying to actually learn something would end up disastrously, with Lord MacKay thinking her the worst of ninnies and never wishing to call upon her again. He must think her the most abominable partner imaginable, given her recent performance with his cousin. Best not add more fuel to the fire. “As you can see, my lord, tonight is simply not my night for cards. I’d better leave it to another night, if you wouldn’t mind. You saw my poor showing at whist—and I’ve been playing that game for years.”

“Sometimes the cards simply don’t fall your way, I’ll admit that.” He shuffled the cards one more time, then neatly dropped them into the ivory inlaid card box. “So if you will not play cards, how shall we pass the time?”

There might have been the faintest touch of suggestion in Lord MacKay’s voice, but Isabelle actually welcomed it. She’d spent most of the games tense as a toad, wondering if Lady Augusta had set her cap for Lord MacKay. The lady obviously was disinterested in Lord Boxtd—painfully so as the evening progressed. Did that mean she’d requested Lord MacKay particularly to partner her and Lord Mackay had brought Isabelle along as a consolation prize for his cousin? Isabelle had been surprised she hadn’t been partnered with Lord MacKay after his declaration yesterday, but tried to think nothing of it. Unfortunately, she could think of nothing else during their play. She’d been much more intent on Lord Mackay than her own partner, which had likely contributed to their overwhelming defeat. Every time Lord MacKay had met his partner’s eyes, or smiled at her, or laughed Isabelle had felt the stirrings of jealousy ignite in her soul.

Lord Boxtd also seemed to mark the couple, keeping his attention on Lady Augusta during most of the games. No wonder they had done so poorly at whist. Too distracted to form a strategy, Isabelle had discarded willy-nilly, which cost them hand after hand. Her partner had done no better, and she could sympathize with him whole heartedly. Which, when she thought about it, made no sense whatsoever. Why should she be jealous of Lord Mackay paying attention to Lady Augusta? She certainly didn’t wish to marry the gentleman.

But she had, somehow, come to expect Lord MacKay’s attention to be focused solely on her. A foolish notion, to be sure. They’d scarcely met one another. It had been only two days since Lady Winslow’s ball. And she’d long decided she couldn’t entertain the idea of marriage at all.

Yet, now she apparently longed for Lord MacKay’s attentions and resented anyone else who usurped them from her.

“Miss Devereaux?”

Isabell shook her head, as if awakening from a dream. “Pardon me, my lord. I was—”

“Woolgathering?” His tone was rueful, but his eyes glinted with amusement. “By now you must have gathered together the largest bag of wool in London.”

Laughing, Isabelle caught his eye and the warmest connection she’d ever experienced with another person made her glow with happiness. “I should become a sheep farmer, shouldn’t I, my lord? I’d have an endless supply.”

“No one would ever be able to gain your attention, Miss Devereaux. You’d be forever sheering and gathering the wool.” His chuckle was deep and throaty, sending tingles down her spine. “I have sheep on my farms up in Scotland. You could gather wool there if you ever visit my castle in Carnwath.”

Isabelle’s breath caught in her throat, suddenly unsure of everything again. Was he or was he not attracted to her? That statement could be considered an invitation to visit him. Or she was making too much out of nothing. Probably the latter. Best to keep their banter light “Only after I’ve managed to purloin all the wool in England.”

“At your given rate of woolgathering, that should be about,” Lord MacKay took out a pocket watch and consulted it, “two hours and fifteen minutes from now.”

Giggling at the nonsense they’d created together, Isabelle’s tension relaxed. Lord, it was good to laugh again. To share such silliness. She’d been so sad and bitter for so long. Lord MacKay seemed to be able, as no one else had, to bring her out of herself. To make her forget…at least for a little while. Quite like an angel looking out for her, one might say.