Return of the Scandalous Lady ( Perilous Secrets Book 4) Historical Regency Romance by Barbara Monajem ➱ Book Tour with Rafflecopter

 

 

Might a scandalous lady with a warm heart and a lively mind be just what a respectable gentleman needs?

Return of the Scandalous Lady

Perilous Secrets Book 4

by Barbara Monajem

Genre: Historical Regency Romance

Years ago, Frances Templestone left her husband and ran away to France with a lover. Now she’s back, widowed and more mature, but mostly unrepentant. A social pariah, she stays out of sight while her daughter Julia has her first London season.

Until Julia, who is as impetuous as her mother, sneaks out to a masquerade with an unsuitable man. Frances hastens to the rescue, and when she sees Julia about to get into a coach with a handsome stranger, she accuses him—very publicly—of being a rake who ruins innocent girls.

Soon she learns that Jasper, Lord Canterwell, is a respectable man. He wasn’t at the masquerade seeking an easy conquest. On the contrary—his daughter is missing, and he is searching for her everywhere. Aghast, Frances offers to help him. Rudely, he spurns her.

But Frances is determined and Jasper is desperate. Might a scandalous lady with a warm heart and a lively mind be just what a respectable gentleman needs?

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Don't miss the rest of the series!

The Smuggler's Escape

Perilous Secrets Book 1

**Start the series for FREE!!**

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His Lordship's Incorrigible Wife

Perilous Secrets Book 2

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The Infidelity Curse

Perilous Secrets Book 3

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Lord Canterwell, who fears his missing daughter was ruined and abandoned to her fate, has resorted in desperation to questioning a prostitute in Covent Garden. But Frances Templestone, who intends to help him whether he wants it or not, interrupts their conversation.

The harlot shook her head and pressed her lips to Lord Canterwell’s cheek, saying softly, “Please, sir, take me to the hackney stand and drive off with me as if we’re going to tryst someplace. It doesn’t look right if I take money for nothing. They’ll reckon I told you something I shouldn’t, and Lord knows what they’ll do to me, but thinking of that poor girl, I couldn’t help myself.”

“Very well,” he said, steering her past two carriages, one of them driving off and the other with the steps down.

“Stop!” cried a familiar female voice. “I must speak to you, my lord!”

“Frances, don’t!” Aunt Horatia pleaded from inside the carriage, but it was too late. Frances was already dashing away, determined to speak to Lord Canterwell before he left with that woman.

She had no intention of interfering with his dealings with the prostitute—that was entirely his business—but perhaps a few short words would make him understand that she’d thought of a way to help him.

He turned and glared at her. “You again! For what do you intend to scold me this time? I hardly think the broadsheets will take me to task for seeking amusement in Covent Garden, but I feel sure they’ll wonder at your unseemly behavior.” He glanced at the carriage and lowered his voice. “While your daughter watches! Are you quite mad?”

Actually, Frances did feel slightly mad. She’d always been impetuous, but she seemed to have lost her habitual self-possession. “I just want to speak with you.”

“I already told you that I shall keep my mouth shut,” he retorted. “Kindly leave me be.”

“I’m trying to help, you stupid man!” Frances turned to the harlot clinging possessively to Lord Canterwell’s arm. “I beg your pardon for interrupting,” she said politely. “I shan’t deprive you of your customer. Give me a moment, and then you may have your way with him.”

The harlot curtseyed and thanked her, but Lord Canterwell’s glare intensified. “In what possible way can you be of any use to me?”

“I may be able to help you find who you’re looking for,” Frances hissed, “but this isn’t the place to discuss it, unless you want your private affairs broadcast to the world. If you would please visit me early tomorrow before the hour for morning calls, I shall explain.”

Her daughter Julia’s sweet voice drifted from the carriage. “Yes, please do, sir. Come to breakfast. Ten o’clock. We all want to help, even Auntie here, despite being scandalized.”

He nodded, giving a heavy sigh. “Very well.”

Frances turned to the harlot. “I see you are admiring my gown,” she said. “This new sort of flounce will be all the rage soon.”

“It’s beautiful. I have never seen the like before,” the woman said ruefully. “Perhaps I shall try copying it.”

“That will require both skill and patience.” Frances bent over, lifted the hem of her gown, and ripped the ruffle off. “Here, take this as a sample.”

The astonished prostitute thanked her. Lord Canterwell seemed equally astonished, but not in a good way.

Thank heaven for Julia, thought Frances as she climbed into the carriage, because he absolutely loathes me.

EXCERPT 2

When Frances, Lady Templestone, realizes her daughter Julia is not at home in bed, she knows where to find her – at a forbidden masquerade with an ineligible man. She hastens to the rescue…

At last, the hackney drew up at the masquerade, just behind a smart-looking curricle pulled by a pair of impatient greys.

And there was Julia, her abundant dark hair out of its pins, but she was masked, thank God. A tall, broad-shouldered man in a black domino guided her toward the curricle, his hand at the small of her back. Julia smiled up at him, chattering away without the slightest notion of what was about to befall her.

“Stop!” Frances cried. She jumped down without waiting for the steps. “Wait!” She picked up her skirts and ran.

 Julia halted just at the door of the fellow’s coach. “Mama!”

The man murmured, “Discretion, remember?”

“Oops, but I’ll fix it.” Julia hurried forward and bobbed a curtsey at Frances. “Oh, my lady, please forgive me. I’m so terribly sorry. I’ll never do it again. Please, please don’t dismiss me.” Which was clever of her, but Frances was in no mood to applaud her daughter’s quick thinking.

“Foolish girl,” Frances said, out of breath. She’d forgotten to don the crimson mask, but it hardly mattered, since she needn’t go indoors. She grabbed Julia’s hand. “Have you no sense at all?” She turned her glare on the man, who was unmasked. “As for you, sir, you should be ashamed of yourself, cozening an innocent maiden to her ruin.”

She tugged Julia toward the hackney, but the girl held back, protesting. “It wasn’t like that, Ma—my lady. He was protecting me!” Julia grimaced. “You were right. I shouldn’t have gone to the masquerade with Lieutenant Sands. Ugh!”

The man doffed his hat politely. “The fellow was forcing his attentions on your, er, maid,” he said in a low, pleasant voice in just the sort of caressing tone a seducer would use. In the light cast by the flambeaux, she saw his face clearly enough—a handsome countenance with a firm mouth and a warm gleam in his dark eyes.

Oh, Frances knew that sort all too well.

“This is Mr. Canterwell,” Julia said, “and he’s a very kind gentleman, but now that you are here, we need no longer trouble him.” She grinned at him. “Thank you, sir.”

“It was no trouble,” he said in that same caressing voice. “I am completely at leisure and was happy to help.”

“Ha!” Frances scoffed. “At leisure, were you? In other words, alone and seeking amusement.”

The man’s eyes had lost their gleam, but he said nothing, merely watching her in a calmly assessing way. He could have denied the accusation, could have tried to explain himself, but he didn’t—not that Frances would have believed a word.

“That’s unfair, Ma-my lady! He was about to take me home, so everything’s fine.” Julia turned as if to offer her hand to the fellow. Clever she might be, but she hadn’t the faintest notion how to behave like a servant.

Frances yanked her wayward daughter away. “That’s just the sort of thing a rake would say. About to take advantage of you, more like.”

Julia burst into tears. “That’s not true!” she sobbed, but Frances pulled her inexorably toward the hackney. As Julia climbed in, weeping, Frances turned to see the tall gentleman still standing there. A number of other people—she hadn’t noticed them earlier—stood about. How much had they heard? Or guessed?

Frances didn’t care. In fact, it was her duty to make sure others knew what sort of monster prowled at the masquerade. She raised her voice. “You, sir, may go back to the devil where you belong!”

USA Today bestselling author and winner of the Daphne, Maggie, Holt Medallion, and Epic awards, Barbara Monajem is the author of more than thirty novels and novellas. She wrote her first story at eight years old about apple tree gnomes. After publishing a middle-grade fantasy, she settled on historical mysteries and romances with intrepid heroines and long-suffering heroes (or vice versa). Sometimes there’s a bit of fantasy mixed in, because she wants to avoid reality as much as possible. 

Barbara used to have two items on her bucket list: to make asparagus pudding and to succeed at knitting socks. She managed the first (don’t ask) but doubts she’ll ever accomplish the second. This is not a bid for immortality but merely the dismal truth. She lives near Atlanta with an ever-shifting population of relatives, friends, and feline strays. Learn more at www.BarbaraMonajem.com.

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