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It Started With a Whisper
It started with a whisper...
Rumors, gossip, and secrets all have a way of unraveling at the worst possible time. Follow each story as it leads you through a path of mystery and intrigue. Lady X's gossip sheet tells all and it leaves everybody talking. The rumors have the potential to ruin lives and with each whisper a new scandal arises.
Will those who find themselves the subject of her scandal sheet escape unscathed and discover who Lady X is along the way?
Deb's Story is Love Me, Lord Tender
and is the start of a new novella series.
Look for Glory's story, Nothing But a Rakehell
coming later this year!
Debutantes fear him. Their mamas shun him. And it’s all the fault of that gossip-monger, Lady X.
William Grey, Lord Tensford, has an old title and an empty purse. He knew it would be difficult to find a Society bride, but after Lady X heeds baseless rumor and brands him Lord Terror, it’s next to impossible.
Until he comes to the aid of Lady Hope Brightley, who staunchly defends him to the ton, causing Lady X to re-dub him Lord Tender.
It’s no improvement. Now he’s a laughing stock as well as a fortune hunter. But Lady Hope means to repay his kindness by helping him to find a bride. But in the end, will she turn him over to the perfect mate? Or ask him to . . . Love Me, Lord Tender?
It started with a whisper...
Rumors, gossip, and secrets all have a way of unraveling at the worst possible time. Follow each story as it leads you through a path of mystery and intrigue. Lady X's gossip sheet tells all and it leaves everybody talking. The rumors have the potential to ruin lives and with each whisper a new scandal arises.
Will those who find themselves the subject of her scandal sheet escape unscathed and discover who Lady X is along the way?
Deb's Story is Love Me, Lord Tender
and is the start of a new novella series.
Look for Glory's story, Nothing But a Rakehell
coming later this year!
Debutantes fear him. Their mamas shun him. And it’s all the fault of that gossip-monger, Lady X.
William Grey, Lord Tensford, has an old title and an empty purse. He knew it would be difficult to find a Society bride, but after Lady X heeds baseless rumor and brands him Lord Terror, it’s next to impossible.
Until he comes to the aid of Lady Hope Brightley, who staunchly defends him to the ton, causing Lady X to re-dub him Lord Tender.
It’s no improvement. Now he’s a laughing stock as well as a fortune hunter. But Lady Hope means to repay his kindness by helping him to find a bride. But in the end, will she turn him over to the perfect mate? Or ask him to . . . Love Me, Lord Tender?
Excerpt:
“But truly, we must get back.” He grimaced. “I don’t want to give Lady X a real scandal to write about.”
“Yes, let’s go. The dancing will begin again soon, no doubt.”
Silently, they slipped back the way they had come, moving together like shadows through the darkened house and along the quiet lane. As he held open the Westmore’s gate, though, he leaned in. “You do know, Lady Hope, that you are fortunate that I enjoy your company?”
She paused.
He eased the gate closed. “This is the second ball I’ve spent in your company and gone unfed.”
She laughed softly. “Oh! I hadn’t considered . . . I am sorry, my lord.”
“It’s fine,” he said airily. “Unless I hear there were lobster patties—and then I will have to seriously reconsider our friendship.”
“Then I will pray that Lady Westmore served only cold, uninspired sandwiches.” She cracked the door leading to the servant’s hall and peered in. “All clear!” She ducked in and raced for the back stairway, feeling him hot on her heels. She rushed upward. “Oh, I hear the musicians tuning their instruments!” she threw over her shoulder. Picking up her skirts, she climbed faster.
He caught her at the top, taking hold of her arm before she could test the door leading into the ballroom.
“Hold a moment. I confess, I am enjoying your scheming, Lady Hope. I can’t wait to see what you’ll come up with next. But we’ve successfully evaded exposure so far, this evening. I’d hate for a stray curl to betray us at the end.” His eyes smiling, he caught a lock of hair that she’d hadn’t felt slip its moors.
The smile faded, though, as he tucked it back into place, adjusting a hairpin to anchor it. His gaze grew heated as, almost reverently, he leaned in to press his face into her coiffure. He breathed deeply.
“Rosemary,” he said roughly.
Her pulse still raced from the climb. She felt hot and flushed and a tad out of breath—and happy. More than that. Triumphant. His hand lingered in her hair. Without thought, she leaned toward him. They breathed together, sharing the same air, feeling the same . . . want.
His hand slid down, trailing along the curve of her neck, sending shivers up and down her spine, and then, easily, naturally, she stood on her toes and kissed him.
He stiffened.
A great shudder passed through him. She thought he would rear back, but instead he yanked her closer. She had started it, but he quickly took over, moving his mouth over hers, searching and finding all the ways their lips fit together.
Desire was a spear that transfixed her. Everything else was lost in heat and the forbidden thrill of his lips coaxing hers and the velvet touch of his tongue.
His hands moved to her back. She tilted her head as the kiss deepened, but then gasped in shock and pleasure as he brought her hard against him and she was confronted with the large and thrilling evidence of his enthusiasm.
The sound must have broken the spell. He ended the kiss, dragging his hands from her and taking a step back.
She stared up at him, breathing heavily.
Silence stretched between them.
“Bad idea,” he whispered.
“But—”
“No. We cannot.” He said it flatly.
On the other side of the wall, a sprightly reel struck up.
“You should go out there.” He gestured.
“Alone?”
“Yes. If someone asks, say you needed a maid to help you with your gown.”
“You’ll follow?”
He waved her on.
She stepped to the door, looked back over her shoulder. “I would offer an apology, but it would be a lie.”
“Yes, let’s go. The dancing will begin again soon, no doubt.”
Silently, they slipped back the way they had come, moving together like shadows through the darkened house and along the quiet lane. As he held open the Westmore’s gate, though, he leaned in. “You do know, Lady Hope, that you are fortunate that I enjoy your company?”
She paused.
He eased the gate closed. “This is the second ball I’ve spent in your company and gone unfed.”
She laughed softly. “Oh! I hadn’t considered . . . I am sorry, my lord.”
“It’s fine,” he said airily. “Unless I hear there were lobster patties—and then I will have to seriously reconsider our friendship.”
“Then I will pray that Lady Westmore served only cold, uninspired sandwiches.” She cracked the door leading to the servant’s hall and peered in. “All clear!” She ducked in and raced for the back stairway, feeling him hot on her heels. She rushed upward. “Oh, I hear the musicians tuning their instruments!” she threw over her shoulder. Picking up her skirts, she climbed faster.
He caught her at the top, taking hold of her arm before she could test the door leading into the ballroom.
“Hold a moment. I confess, I am enjoying your scheming, Lady Hope. I can’t wait to see what you’ll come up with next. But we’ve successfully evaded exposure so far, this evening. I’d hate for a stray curl to betray us at the end.” His eyes smiling, he caught a lock of hair that she’d hadn’t felt slip its moors.
The smile faded, though, as he tucked it back into place, adjusting a hairpin to anchor it. His gaze grew heated as, almost reverently, he leaned in to press his face into her coiffure. He breathed deeply.
“Rosemary,” he said roughly.
Her pulse still raced from the climb. She felt hot and flushed and a tad out of breath—and happy. More than that. Triumphant. His hand lingered in her hair. Without thought, she leaned toward him. They breathed together, sharing the same air, feeling the same . . . want.
His hand slid down, trailing along the curve of her neck, sending shivers up and down her spine, and then, easily, naturally, she stood on her toes and kissed him.
He stiffened.
A great shudder passed through him. She thought he would rear back, but instead he yanked her closer. She had started it, but he quickly took over, moving his mouth over hers, searching and finding all the ways their lips fit together.
Desire was a spear that transfixed her. Everything else was lost in heat and the forbidden thrill of his lips coaxing hers and the velvet touch of his tongue.
His hands moved to her back. She tilted her head as the kiss deepened, but then gasped in shock and pleasure as he brought her hard against him and she was confronted with the large and thrilling evidence of his enthusiasm.
The sound must have broken the spell. He ended the kiss, dragging his hands from her and taking a step back.
She stared up at him, breathing heavily.
Silence stretched between them.
“Bad idea,” he whispered.
“But—”
“No. We cannot.” He said it flatly.
On the other side of the wall, a sprightly reel struck up.
“You should go out there.” He gestured.
“Alone?”
“Yes. If someone asks, say you needed a maid to help you with your gown.”
“You’ll follow?”
He waved her on.
She stepped to the door, looked back over her shoulder. “I would offer an apology, but it would be a lie.”