Navigating the Nile to uncover the antiquities of Upper Egypt might sound perilous, but Niall Stafford, the Earl of Treyford finds it infinitely safer than sailing the fickle waters of the Beau Monde. He is back in England and on dangerous ground when a deathbed pledge has him delivering an ancient artifact to a colleague’s sister.
Desert bandits are more easily managed than Miss Chione Latimer, but her fascinating mix of knowledge and innocence arouse far more than his protective instincts. Can such an improper aristocrat learn to be the true gentleman that Miss Latimer deserves?
Desert bandits are more easily managed than Miss Chione Latimer, but her fascinating mix of knowledge and innocence arouse far more than his protective instincts. Can such an improper aristocrat learn to be the true gentleman that Miss Latimer deserves?
EXCERPT
Chione straightened her spine and looked to her empty paper with new determination. She doubted the trustees would believe the scarab to be as definitive a sign as she did. Which meant no money coming in and no further hope of rescue, either. It could be years before they decided to release Mervyn’s funds. Her writing had made the family a little more comfortable in the past few months. It would have to do more in the future. Dashing the last tear from her eye, she took up her pen and bent to work.
Nikolas had at last scrambled free of the collapsing tomb when she heard the noise. She dropped her pen and lifted her head, straining to hear.
Chione might not be a mother, but she had the instincts of one. She knew all the noises the old house gave forth as it settled during the night. She knew the far-off buzzing that was Mrs. Ferguson’s snore. She hunched her shoulders each night against the gritty sound of Will grinding his teeth in his sleep, and she recognized the occasional thump that was Olivia falling out of bed. This sound was none of those.
Her candle had burned low, its pool of light spreading no further than the paper she had been writing on. Heart thudding, she left it and rose to slip into the hall.
The noise had come from upstairs. Chione paused long enough to cross to the wall where a collection of ancient knives was hung. She slipped one from its mount, an ancient flint blade with an ivory handle. At the foot of the stairs she removed her sturdy boots, then silently padded up in stocking feet, instinctively avoiding the creaking spots.
Halfway up, she froze.
A muffled sound had come from below, from the direction of the kitchens. Someone was in the house. One person moving about, or two? It did not matter; she had to check the children first.
Chione eased onto the landing and tread as silently as she could into the hall. There was another, smaller noise that still sounded loud in the inky darkness. Her room, she thought gratefully, not Will’s and not Olivia’s.
But Will’s room was nearest and the door was slightly ajar. She put her back against the wall right next to the door and listened. Nothing. Peeking in, she saw only Will, sprawled out fast asleep. But where was Morty? Her customary position at the foot of the bed was empty.
Chione found the dog a little way down the hall, bristling silently directly outside the closed door to her own room. Sending out a silent prayer, she crouched next to the dog and placed one hand on the knob. The ivory knife handle in her other hand had grown warm. She gripped it tight, breathed deep, then gave the knob a quick turn and thrust the door open.
Morty was through in an instant, emanating a dangerous rumble as she went. A bark, a crash, a thump. Cautiously, Chione followed the dog in. Her window was open. Bright moonlight spilled through it, illuminating the shambles her room was in, framing the figure crouched in the window frame, and blinking wickedly off the long blade he held over Morty’s head.
Chione didn’t stop to think. She hefted the well-balanced blade and threw with all her might. The black figure grunted, then turned and went out the window.
“A very nice throw,” a deep voice said right behind her.
Chione gasped, and her heart plummeted to her feet. She spun around and fell back. Two large and capable hands reached out to steady her and she looked up, directly into the brilliant blue eyes of the Earl of Treyford.
Chione straightened her spine and looked to her empty paper with new determination. She doubted the trustees would believe the scarab to be as definitive a sign as she did. Which meant no money coming in and no further hope of rescue, either. It could be years before they decided to release Mervyn’s funds. Her writing had made the family a little more comfortable in the past few months. It would have to do more in the future. Dashing the last tear from her eye, she took up her pen and bent to work.
Nikolas had at last scrambled free of the collapsing tomb when she heard the noise. She dropped her pen and lifted her head, straining to hear.
Chione might not be a mother, but she had the instincts of one. She knew all the noises the old house gave forth as it settled during the night. She knew the far-off buzzing that was Mrs. Ferguson’s snore. She hunched her shoulders each night against the gritty sound of Will grinding his teeth in his sleep, and she recognized the occasional thump that was Olivia falling out of bed. This sound was none of those.
Her candle had burned low, its pool of light spreading no further than the paper she had been writing on. Heart thudding, she left it and rose to slip into the hall.
The noise had come from upstairs. Chione paused long enough to cross to the wall where a collection of ancient knives was hung. She slipped one from its mount, an ancient flint blade with an ivory handle. At the foot of the stairs she removed her sturdy boots, then silently padded up in stocking feet, instinctively avoiding the creaking spots.
Halfway up, she froze.
A muffled sound had come from below, from the direction of the kitchens. Someone was in the house. One person moving about, or two? It did not matter; she had to check the children first.
Chione eased onto the landing and tread as silently as she could into the hall. There was another, smaller noise that still sounded loud in the inky darkness. Her room, she thought gratefully, not Will’s and not Olivia’s.
But Will’s room was nearest and the door was slightly ajar. She put her back against the wall right next to the door and listened. Nothing. Peeking in, she saw only Will, sprawled out fast asleep. But where was Morty? Her customary position at the foot of the bed was empty.
Chione found the dog a little way down the hall, bristling silently directly outside the closed door to her own room. Sending out a silent prayer, she crouched next to the dog and placed one hand on the knob. The ivory knife handle in her other hand had grown warm. She gripped it tight, breathed deep, then gave the knob a quick turn and thrust the door open.
Morty was through in an instant, emanating a dangerous rumble as she went. A bark, a crash, a thump. Cautiously, Chione followed the dog in. Her window was open. Bright moonlight spilled through it, illuminating the shambles her room was in, framing the figure crouched in the window frame, and blinking wickedly off the long blade he held over Morty’s head.
Chione didn’t stop to think. She hefted the well-balanced blade and threw with all her might. The black figure grunted, then turned and went out the window.
“A very nice throw,” a deep voice said right behind her.
Chione gasped, and her heart plummeted to her feet. She spun around and fell back. Two large and capable hands reached out to steady her and she looked up, directly into the brilliant blue eyes of the Earl of Treyford.
REVIEWS
A captivating tale from beginning to end, An Improper Aristocrat will leave a smile on your face and another author on your auto buy list.
Cataromance.com
Marlowe unfurls a treasure hunt for gold, jewels, missing persons and love in this fast-paced read. At every turn, new characters are introduced that seem to be red herrings, but they’re always intrinsic to the plot. Readers will breathlessly follow the hero and heroine as they race from one clue to the next.
–Linda Roberts, Romantic Times Book Reviews
AN IMPROPER ARISTOCRAT is an excellent romantic-adventure story. Throughout the tale, readers are given few clues as to the eventual outcome. There are a myriad of characters that all play important roles, and there’s plenty of excitement as we try to figure out the underlying mystery of Chione’s past. The dialogue is realistic, and the plot is truly unique as this fast-paced book careens to a very surprising, and very satisfying, conclusion. Both Trey and Chione must do some heavy soul-searching as they are thrown together to solve the mystery of Mervyn’s disappearance.
A brilliant, well-written novel, AN IMPROPER ARISTOCRAT is sure to warm up the cold winter nights with its thrilling, sensual story.
–Jani Brooks, Romance Reviews Today
Action, adventure, romance, mystery and danger all serve to make AN IMPROPER ARISTOCRAT by Deb Marlowe a wonderfully thrilling read.
–Romance Reader at Heart, a Top Pick Rose!
A captivating tale from beginning to end, An Improper Aristocrat will leave a smile on your face and another author on your auto buy list.
Cataromance.com
Marlowe unfurls a treasure hunt for gold, jewels, missing persons and love in this fast-paced read. At every turn, new characters are introduced that seem to be red herrings, but they’re always intrinsic to the plot. Readers will breathlessly follow the hero and heroine as they race from one clue to the next.
–Linda Roberts, Romantic Times Book Reviews
AN IMPROPER ARISTOCRAT is an excellent romantic-adventure story. Throughout the tale, readers are given few clues as to the eventual outcome. There are a myriad of characters that all play important roles, and there’s plenty of excitement as we try to figure out the underlying mystery of Chione’s past. The dialogue is realistic, and the plot is truly unique as this fast-paced book careens to a very surprising, and very satisfying, conclusion. Both Trey and Chione must do some heavy soul-searching as they are thrown together to solve the mystery of Mervyn’s disappearance.
A brilliant, well-written novel, AN IMPROPER ARISTOCRAT is sure to warm up the cold winter nights with its thrilling, sensual story.
–Jani Brooks, Romance Reviews Today
Action, adventure, romance, mystery and danger all serve to make AN IMPROPER ARISTOCRAT by Deb Marlowe a wonderfully thrilling read.
–Romance Reader at Heart, a Top Pick Rose!